The Gray Institute (The Gray Institute Trilogy Book 1) (4 page)

'This is some weird fetish club where you all play out your fantasies? You abduct strangers and pretend to turn them into vampires – like you? Inject them with drugs and keep them docile, cut open their necks and drink their blood? No fucking way,' I shake my head, edging backwards. 'I'm not joining your freaky, wannabe-vampire club. Whatever you've done to me, undo it and let me go or I'll call the police.'

A spark of amusement flits across Sir Alec's eyes, his smirk on show with no attempt to hide it.

'Firstly, we tend to steer clear of the word '
vampire
,'' He informs me calmly. 'Though that is, by all means, what we are; the term has been romanticised and made a mockery of to the extent that we no longer wish to go by it. '
Immortals
' or '
Our Kind
' are the accepted vernaculars.

Secondly, it's impossible to undo your transformation. In all senses of the word, you are no longer alive. Your organs don't function, your blood doesn't pump; you are frozen as you are now for the rest of eternity. Even we can't bring someone back from the dead.

And thirdly, any attempt to call the police would be pointless and – quite frankly – hysterical. There are no phones and you are miles away from civilisation.

This is no joke, Miss Ryder, no fantasy club house. Your reaction is anticipated and will be tolerated for the moment, but sometime soon you will have to come to terms with the fact that what you previously thought to be fiction – is actually fact.'

'You're a vampire? That's what you want me to believe?' I tilt my head sarcastically. 'Why don't you prove it then? Do something vampiric?'

'Miss Ryder, I hardly think that's necessary or appropriate –  '

'You people are sick,' I spit, feeling sudden anger bubble in the pit of my stomach. 'How dare you prey on a desperate and vulnerable woman. I was committing suicide! And what, you just picked up my body and brought it here?

I've heard about people like you; you prey on the weak and the desperate, string them along to your freaky little club, initiate them and pretend like you saved their life – like you gave them a purpose. Do you thrive on control? Or having disciples? Do you – ' 

My furious monologue is swiftly cut off as Sir Alec suddenly vanishes from sight. One moment he's perched on the window ledge, the next his fingers are around my throat, lifting me up with one hand until my feet dangle off the floor. His movements are so quick I barely register them and, as he bares his teeth, I suddenly realise that he's absolutely right – this is no joke.

Every story I've been told, every tale I've dismissed as myth or fantasy was based on reality. There are real monsters in the world, the supernatural does exist – the man before me is a being of a whole other realm.

The logical half of my brain pushes these thoughts aside, dismisses them with a wave of its hand, but the more accepting and creative side is winning. 

'Miss Ryder,' Sir Alec Gray's voice is an inhuman growl. Its depth and tone vibrates my bones and for the first time in my life, I feel mortal fear.

'It is perfectly understandable that you may find this information difficult to digest. Anger, confusion, fear – these are all acceptable emotions at a time like this. But your impoliteness has gone far enough and I will not stand for it a second longer, is that understood?'

I nod my head hastily, clawing at his fingers until he releases his grip, setting me back on my feet with a bump. He eyes me for a moment – his pupils dilated – before he takes a deep breath, composing himself.

'I'm more than happy to answer your questions, Miss Ryder. Please forgive my lapse of self-restraint. But you must understand that this is not a trick, it's not a joke, it's not a role-play game.  

You can choose to cast aside your previous convictions, open your mind and allow yourself to believe that you are what I say you are. Or you can live the rest of what will be a very long life attempting – to no avail – to deny it.'

I consider his words carefully, allowing myself a few moments with my thoughts. Could I believe that I am now a vampire? An Immortal? The suggestion is so absurd it's hard not to laugh.

Perhaps if I lived in the eighteenth century, when vampires and dragons, demons and witches were the norm. But I live in these modern times, where once a person had to be convinced a fellow human being
wasn't
a witch, we must now be convinced
of
the supernatural. We are born sceptics – relying on science and hard proof to fuel our beliefs.

But if it's science and proof I ask for, I need look no further than my own body. My heart no longer beats in my chest, no longer pumps the blood through my veins, and I've long since figured out that I have no need to breathe. I should be dead – yet I'm not.

What about Sir Alec? He travelled at a speed not possible of a human right in front of my eyes not thirty seconds ago. Displayed enormous, almost unfathomable strength.

If this were an experiment, the conclusion would be vampire. If this were a court case, the evidence would suggest vampire.

Yet my logical mind still screams a rejection at what appears to be hard fact.

'If I were to believe – ' I choose my words carefully as my ears struggle to comprehend what my own lips are saying. ' – Then what is this place? What exactly do you train...
our
kind in?' I emphasise the '
our
', careful to express my unwillingness to identify myself with him.

Sir Alec's triumphant smile infuriates me; I'm not yet ready to give in to the impossible, not yet ready to accept that stories of vampires and witches are historical fact. It goes against my entire belief system.

'Allow me to show you something first of all,' Sir Alec Gray extends a hand to me, which I don't take; instead I follow him to a seemingly uninteresting tall wooden cabinet. It's oak – like the doors – but intricately carved with impressions of devils and saints, etched into the fine woodwork by expert hands.

'Do you like it?' He asks, eyeing the cabinet.

'It's exquisite.' I admit with a slight nod.

'Thank you,' He smiles. 'I made it back in Egypt, many years ago.'

I ignore him – still unconvinced that this isn't one big joke – and he swings one of the cabinet doors open to reveal a full length mirror bolted to the inside. The woman in the reflection looks a little like me, but isn't.

She's five foot and six inches – like me – with poker-straight black hair nestling on her shoulders and shocking green eyes. Her skin is pale, her legs long and her clothes are withered and worn. She wears an exterior of dirt and grime, but beneath her shabby costume is a beautiful, inhuman woman.

Beneath the slime and grease, her hair is vibrant, full of life and shimmering in the candlelight. Her eyes are a brilliant emerald with flecks of blue and yellow – the whites clean, the lashes thick. Her skin is smooth as porcelain and flawless – like alabaster – and it shines and ripples beneath the light. Her limbs – once gangly and awkward – are elegant and endless, her muscles taut, her body lithe.

I'm breathless, astounded by my healthy, unearthly appearance. I've never been ugly, but I've certainly never been beautiful. It's easy to see I'm different – not just from my usual self, but from other people, too. I have an ethereal presence, something I can't quite put my finger on but which is undoubtedly there.

The ability to turn my nose up at Sir Alec's Immortal claims is becoming harder by the second; though I remain stubborn – unconvinced it isn't merely a trick of the light.

'Have a seat, Miss Ryder, and I will explain our purpose in recruiting you,' Sir Alec gestures to the chair, waiting patiently as I hesitate.

I've frequently used the phrase 'seeing is believing' and firmly stuck to that notion, but if that's what I truly believe; I'm hard pressed to find an alternate explanation for the changes of my body.

I'm reluctant to sit and listen to Sir Alec's reasoning, but I know I have little choice and must simply accept – for the moment – the bizarre and unbelievable situation I find myself in. I must decide what is fact and what is fiction later.

Sir Alec takes his seat opposite me – appearing much more chipper now that I'm co-operating – and smiles, linking his fingers together and resting his chin atop his hands.

'As I stated before; some of the information I'm about to give you will be hard for you to accept. It will seem fantastical and most of it fictional, but I assure you – every word is fact and nothing but truth. Whether you choose to believe it right now is entirely down to you, but after just a few days here, I'm sure you'll be hard pressed to deny it.'

'A few days?' I squeak, hardly believing my ears. Sir Alec sighs.

'Miss Ryder, this process will be much quicker and substantially easier if I'm not interrupted. I will explain each detail to you – I assure you. I will answer your questions in due course,'

I suppress a snappy comment and lean back in my chair, attempting to show willing.

'You have been carefully chosen by a select few members of Our Kind to be changed and put into training here at the Institute. Their reasons for choosing you are first and foremost because of your circumstances, but aside from this, your personality and attributes have also been taken into consideration. For example; whether you will be strong enough to cope with the transformation, and whether you will thrive and be of value to us as an Immortal. 

You no longer live in the world as you know it; you are a part of our world now, which we like to keep hidden. We have our own rules and laws to abide by – like the human world – except, for breaking ours there are far tougher consequences.

The Institutes were commissioned hundreds of years ago and a five year stay in order to complete training is mandatory for any and every Immortal. You must fulfil your five years, if you do not – you will not be released back into the world. This is in order to protect yourself, the rest of us and, of course, the human population.' Sir Alec pauses a moment, for me to catch up. It sounds like he's reading from a manuscript, like he's recited these words a thousand times, but to me, this all sounds like a sci-fi film that I've somehow ended up playing the lead role in.

'During your stay here – which you will find exceedingly comfortable – ' he continues.  ' – You will attend classes in order to better your understanding of our world, its laws and its history; as well as your understanding of yourself.

There are five separate year groups and you will be assigned a Mentor from the third year for you to shadow. They will show you the ropes, help you learn the Institute, find your way around and introduce you to other students.

There are a few rules we enforce here at the Institute – some more fiercely than others. In due course, all of the rules will be carefully explained to you; but for now, I will give you only the most imperative one:

You are not permitted to leave the Institute until your five year training is up.

The punishment for breaking this rule is severe and not one I would wish on such a young, incapable Immortal. Please, heed my advice: do not try to escape. Do not try to return to loved ones or to the human world. I can not stress the importance of this advice.' Sir Alec's strange grey eyes bore into my very soul as he utters his warning. A cold shiver creeps along my spine, coupled with a feeling of disbelief. I breathe out heavily through my mouth, blowing my fringe upwards in a sigh of defeat.

'If this is real, you're asking a hell of a lot of me,' I shake my head. 'To stay here for five years against my will and train to be – ' It's so ridiculous, I can't even utter the word.

'I'm not asking anything of you, Miss Ryder. You have been given a gift – ' I scoff at Sir Alec's words, not sure how to take the news that I'm now a supernatural being and must stay within the same walls, surrounded by people I don't know for five years, and believe it's a dream come true.

'It is a gift.' Sir Alec states, his tone harsh, final. 'Immortality is a gift some people can only dream of. You have been taken from a wasted life and given a chance to start over with a clean slate, better advantages and in an entirely different world.'

'Immortal?' I frown. Up until this moment, I believed that the phrase was simply an inaccurate vernacular of 'Our Kind.' Was Sir Alec suggesting that I, he and many others are truly immortal? That we'll remain untouched by disease, refrain from ageing – never die?