The Gray Institute (The Gray Institute Trilogy Book 1) (18 page)

'Anyone who doesn't wish to participate in today's Practical lesson, please step to this side of the hall.' He commands, his expression cold as eighty percent of the class step forward. Tia's feet edge forth, her body poised to move but I grip her arm tightly, forcing her to stay. She frowns menacingly at me but I shake my head.

'Don't,' I mutter, eyeing Sir Alec who's watching us with interest. 'It's a test. He won't just let them get away with this; they're disobeying his orders.'

'Are you mad?' She hisses, shaking her arm free but remaining in place. 'It's not a test.' She states, but she doesn't sound sure as she, too, glances at Sir Alec. 'You're going to do this?' She asks after a moment's deliberation.

'Yes. I don't care if I get into trouble, but you and Richard will too.' I remind her. She hovers, desperate to do the right thing. I don't need to worry, the mention of Richard getting his comeuppance is enough to make her concede.

Sir Alec is already eyeing the non-participating students like insects, deciding how to crush them.

Only a handful of us remain; Tia and I, Tomos and Richard, Max and Michael and Logan Marshall. Sir Alec throws us all an approving glance – his eyes lingering on mine uncomfortably – whilst he tactically ignores the rest of the students.

Alexandrov beckons Logan forward silently, positioning him five or so feet before the human boy. From my position in the three foot gap, I'm able to see both sides of the screen and I watch as a resigned tear slides down a young, human girl's cheek. 

Logan flexes his muscles in preparation, an expression of anticipation on his handsome face. He will enjoy this; he has no remorse and – unlike his third year Mentor – he will not disappoint Sir Alec. He won't participate out of fear, like Tomos and I, he will participate for one simple reason; he wants to.

'He's not trained; the boy will suffer.' Richard mutters, pure anger in his words. Though I know this is our nature, that we must feed like every living creature, I don't want to inflict unnecessary cruelty on my prey. But I don't think Logan Marshall is of the same mind set. 

'When you are ready.' Alexandrov encourages, shuffling his feet excitedly.

Logan re-enacts my attack on Tia to the last detail, sprinting around the boy to assault from behind. He obviously hopes to gain Alexandrov and Sir Alec's approval as he glances to them for encouragement before proceeding. 

He launches himself at the boy, who remains motionless aside from his quivering hands, as Logan forces his weight on top of his victim and shields his face from the floor with his arm. The attack makes little noise – aside from the thud when both men hit the floor – and is too quick for the boy to cry out or whimper.

With no restraint, Logan sinks his teeth into the human's supple neck, slurping greedily as his body slowly goes limp. I've never witnessed a death and a lump catches in my throat as the boy's life gradually drains away, the whole room watching like a macabre audience.

It's undignified and inhumane – just like Penelope Carmel said – and Tia turns her face away, refusing to watch. Logan finishes, standing with pride and turning immediately to Alexandrov who beams at him.

'Excellent, Marshall!' He grins, giving Logan a satisfied pat on the back. Blood is smeared across Logan's mouth and I hear Richard give a grunt of disgust.

Katarzyna steps forward, scooping the limp corpse up in her arms and exiting the room hastily, careful to use the main doors so as not to pass the other humans. They make no noise – aside from the occasional sob – and I feel a sense of panic as I realise I may not be able to follow in Logan's footsteps after all.

'Okay, let's have... O'Brien next.' Alexandrov smiles as Tomos hesitantly steps forward, glancing to Richard for reassurance.

'Mr Oblonsky?' Sir Alec interrupts, leaning forward again. 'Perhaps we might see Miss Ryder instead?' He raises an eyebrow, shooting a pointed glance at me. I gulp loudly, wobbling on my feet to feel Tia's strong grasp hold me in place.

This is my punishment, I realise with a start. Sir Alec is making an example of me, exposing me to be a ruthless killer, turning all my friends and fellow classmates against me. He is testing my will, my restraint, my obedience; seeing how far I'll go to please him, to keep him on my side. 

For a moment the absurd notion enters my mind that this entire fiasco – the humans, the faux attacks – was meant for me. It was all building up to this.

'Ah... but... well certainly.' Alexandrov stutters, nodding enthusiastically as he gestures for me to step forward.

Tia squeezes my arm, throwing me a sympathetic glance as I force my feet forward, feeling my knees buckle. Alexandrov crosses the partition and grabs the first human he lays his hand on, dragging her around to the opposite side. He chooses a girl, younger than me and pretty, with fair hair and clear skin. There are tears in her eyes and she shakes all over as she follows Alexandrov, positioning herself five feet before me. She keeps her eyes down and wipes her nose with her tied hands, sniffling quietly.

I feel a surge of anger as I recall the other faces amongst the human crowd, many much older than this girl, who can only be about fifteen. Why did he have to choose her? Why must this child be forced to partake in a barbaric experiment for the amusement of Sir Alec?

For it is nothing more. So young in our development, this exercise serves us no purpose. Four years into our training, perhaps it would be prudent to use live subjects, but not as a first resort.

I can barely look at the girl, shivering in a white t-shirt and three-quarter length joggers. She is so young, so innocent; not a murderess or a drug addict, just a young, lost girl and – as she glances up daringly to look at me – I see no sign of the green fire in the depths of her eyes.

Sir Alec regards me with amusement, his grey eyes resilient to my pleading stare, though I notice a hint of wariness in his gaze. He's tense, worried almost, perhaps that I might back out and show him up. 

Lorna Gray averts her eyes; from me, from her father and from the young girl, choosing instead to stare with forced interest at her own knees. 

Tia has dissolved into despair, Richard's arm clutched tightly around her, his face only a little braver than hers and for my benefit alone.

'When you're ready, Ryder.' Alexandrov's tone is polite but firm as Sir Alec becomes impatient. I draw in a deep breath, facing the girl head on, the same questions revolving around my mind. Am I ready to become a monster? A murderer? And of someone so innocent, young and pure?

I can't make this decision by myself and time is running out, Sir Alec's patience wearing thin. He expects a fantastic show and doesn't want to be disappointed.

'A moment, Mr Oblonsky?' I ask, without waiting for a reply, before I stride in Tia's direction, watching her eyes widen in panic. I've thrown her into the spotlight, into an association she didn't want and she backs away slightly when I reach her.

'Tia, tell me I can do this,' I beg, taking her hand, forcing her to look at me as I plead with her. 'Tell me I have to do this. Tell me anything!' My voice is low and hushed but every student can hear.

Tia's eyes dart wildly around the room, focussing on Sir Alec and widening with fear. Richard places his hand firmly on her shoulder as the room falls silent.

'I...' Tia stutters, her face stricken. She glances at the human girl and her eyes sadden. I watch her resignation. 'I can't, Eve, I'm sorry.' She shakes her head, her averted glance apologetic.

My heart sinks at her words; even kind, generous, loyal Tia can't pretend to justify what I'm about to do. I hang my head, staring resolutely at the floor and feel Richard's hand pat my shoulder in a gesture of comfort.

'Ryder?' Alexandrov makes no attempt to mask the impatience in his voice and I realise that I have no choice. It's too late to back out now; I must kill an innocent, young human being in cold blood as an experiment to determine whether more innocent, young human beings will be killed in cold blood.

I turn – beaten and defeated – to assume my position before the young woman, but as I step towards her, another human, huddled amongst the crowd, catches my eye.

A male; in his early fifties, with greying dark hair and weathered skin. He is short and plump, a stained grey t-shirt straining over his bulging stomach. His eyes are set far back in his head and glint curiously, reminding me of a pig. But within their muddy brown irises blazes a green fire so bright it's blinding, visible even across a room.

Though nervous, he shakes with an unfathomable excitement, and though he faces certain death in a mere few minutes, he still finds time to stare hungrily at the well-dressed woman in front of him, licking his chapped lips like a dog with a bone.

An instant realisation hits me, like a sudden idea, but I know without question that it's the truth; this man has killed his own kind. He derives sexual pleasure from the torture of women. And he cares for no-one but himself.

Where this sudden epiphany comes from, I have no idea, but my gut instinct tells me that it's fact – an undeniable sense.

In less than a second, I make a decision and step away from Tia, towards Alexandrov.

'Mr Oblonsky, Sir Alec?' I eye them both in turn, my voice confident and authoritative as they stare with curiosity. 'May I be permitted to change subjects?' My request is bold, I know, and Alexandrov shifts nervously, glancing at Sir Alec who glares at me sceptically. He pauses a moment – deliberating – before nodding slowly, waving a careless hand.

A confused Alexandrov leads the girl back to blend in with the humans before stepping aside, awaiting my choice. I nod to the old man and Alexandrov brings him forward, setting him in the girl's former position and retreating to Sir Alec's side.

I resume my place in front of my victim – comfortable now in the knowledge that he is far from innocent – and feel a thrill of exhilaration at my task. He appears confident, even in the face of death and I smile, his arrogance only serving to enhance my malice.

I will enjoy killing him, knowing that I'll be doing every human woman justice, wreaking revenge for the defenceless whose lives he has stolen.

As if for confirmation, I cast a glance at Tia who stares open-mouthed and confused, Richard's hand clasped in hers. I smile at her reassuringly, ignoring her inquisitive look and focus my full attention on the human. His stance is slack and comfortable – he's all too easy prey.

I flex my fingers and absent-mindedly stretch my muscles, before bending my knees in preparation.

Glancing once at Alexandrov – who nods quickly – I sprint, working my legs at an inhuman speed before straightening my knees, thrusting my weight upwards. My feet lose contact with the ground and I sail through the air, judging the distance with a natural instinct.

When I'm only a couple of feet from him, I open my arms and legs into a starfish position and let myself fall, wrapping my thighs around his bulging waist and my left arm around his neck. My right hand finds the back of his head and supports it as he crumples to the floor.

I watch his eyes and laugh silently as he realises what's happening – not until I'm on top of him, straddling his waist. His eyes widen, pupils dilating as his confidence turns to fear and I don't hesitate before leaning down to sink my teeth into his neck.

The skin is soft, like marshmallow, and the thick, warm blood oozes instantly from the puncture wound, seeping over my lips and dripping to the floor. I suck greedily, swallowing great gulps of red liquid, feeling a satisfaction greater than any orgasm, greater than any hit of heroin.

It consumes my body and mind, filling my senses with its rich, meaty scent. In the canteen we are served but a fraction of this amount, not enough to take complete control, the way it has now.

I panic as I feel the flow begin to stem and suck harder, attempting to claim the last dregs of his life. I'm oblivious to anything but the fresh blood coursing through my hungry body, can focus on nothing but its smoothness, its taste.

When there's not a drop left to drain, I begrudgingly pull back, alarmed by his appearance. His skin has sagged, just a thin layer of tissue coating his bones – like a popped balloon – and his dark eyes bulge from their sockets as he lies limp and lifeless at my knees.

I glance up at the faces surrounding me, some shocked, some horrified. Tia's expression is of absolute bewilderment.