Page 8 of Ever Dark Academy: Vol. 1

It was too late now to try and hide what he could do. His unconscious mind had reacted, saving him, Sam and Gregory from severe injuries. The metal and glass door had been hurled towards them. The glass would have sliced skin. The metal would have broken bones. Besides, he had a feeling that she, like the predators he’d met on the streets, would need to be dealt with and his powers were the only real way to stop people like her.

“How are you able to use telekinesis?” she asked. Her voice was cultured. There was a faint accent to her English, but he couldn’t place it. Maybe Spanish or she could be from somewhere in Mexico or South America. “You are not of the Ashyr Bloodline. In fact, you are not a Vampire at all.”

“V-Vampire?” Sam stammered and there was a scraping sound as he scuttled a little away from Grayson.

Grayson felt that terrible empty pit open in his stomach when people retreated from him. That Sam would have been afraid of him, someone he had known for years, someone he had had helped and who had helped him, versus this woman dug into Grayson’s greatest fears about himself.

But Sam saw what he could do.

Humans couldn’t do that, right? That’s what the news said. That’s what the scientists claimed. That’s what the Vampires led on anyway.

And there were rumors that Vampires killed homeless people, those who wouldn’t be noticed. They might drink daintily from willing folks, but with the homeless they could simply let go of all restraint and drain them dry. Sam clearly believed him to be one of those. But he wasn’t a Vampire unless there was such a thing as a Vampire that was mortal, could go out under the sun and didn’t drink blood. He was something else, he supposed. Something singular. But his cheeks flared with hot color and the shame of what he could do–of not being normal, of being actually dangerous–flooded him like it had so often.

“He’s not and that’s what is so odd,” she answered. “Not a Vampire, but with the powers of one. I wonder…”

The woman stepped into the shop. She kicked away a stray piece of glass that had splintered out of the door that Grayson still held in place with more and more difficulty. It made a tinkling sound as it slid away and disappeared beneath one of the metal shelves.

“Don’t,” Grayson told her, his voice low and steady. “Don’t come closer.”

She froze. One foot in and one foot out of the store. Her silver eyes–like liquid mercury–flashed at him. “Or what?”

“Or you’ll find out that as easily as you blew this door in here that I can wrap it around you like a scarf,” he told her.

He hadn’t used his powers in some time though. Not since he’d gotten this steady job and a place to live that wasn’t in an abandoned building. Having roommates with fellow homeless, many of whom were slaves to drugs or crippled by untreated mental illness, had kept Grayson on his toes. Not to mention those who were simply interested in hurting others weaker than them that roamed the streets. He’d used his powers to protect himself from all of them. No one would believe what many saw as the refuse of humanity said. So his secret had been kept safe.

But it had been several years since he’d done anything large like this. That he’d wake from those strange nightmares and everything in his apartment would be floating, including him and the bed, didn’t count, because he wasn’t consciously in control of it. But at least the door and pieces of metal were steady and so was he. For now.

“I see.” She tilted her head to the side.

“Is she one of them, Gregory?” Grayson asked the wounded man without looking at him. He was surprised that Gregory hadn’t reacted to her entrance. “Did she hurt you?”

Gregory had told him that the Sect of Dawn was responsible for his injuries. But this woman had blown the door in. Humans couldn’t do that except… Well, he did things like that. But he had this feeling that she wasn’t like him. Maybe she wasn’t even human.

He was not able to get his answer though. Because his only response to Grayson’s questions were wheezes and then the wounded man fell from the stool and collapsed onto the ground. Grayson dared to look away from the woman for a moment. Gregory’s eyes were shut. His mouth was open as he struggled to breathe. His skin was gray like parchment.

“Sam, get him on his back! Put pressure on the wound!” Grayson ordered.

Even though Grayson’s hands were “free” and he could have done it himself he likely would have lost control of the door. He needed all of his attention to keep it up. Sam though did not move.

The homeless man was sitting on the ground with his knees up to his chest. His rheumy eyes were huge. He was highlighted by one of the fluorescent lights and the veins in his face stood out. His cheeks were ruddy, not with health, but because his skin was chapped. His lips were dry and cracked. He looked older than Grayson had ever seen him and scared. So scared.

“Sam, please, it’s me,” Grayson said and he hoped he didn’t sound as pleading to Sam and the woman as he did to himself.

Sam let out a groan and reached for the discarded shirt. He rolled Gregory over. There was a small gush of air that exited Gregory’s mouth. There was blood at the corner of his lips. Sam again applied pressure to the wound. Would it be enough? Maybe if the ambulance arrived in the next few moments. But there was still no sound of sirens. The night was abnormally quiet.

The terrible, dark irony that Gregory had been going to a school where he could have been made immortal was not lost on Grayson in that moment. And he also remembered Gregory’s insistence that Grayson could get away, could stop his killers from getting their hands on the golden ticket, that this was all that could be done.

You need to take that golden ticket and go. Go. Go. Go, Gregory’s words echoed in his head.

Part of him wanted to go. Part of him wanted to run. To send the door flying at the woman and to just take off into the night. He would leave Sam and Gregory behind. Who could blame him? Other people just slowed you down. He couldn’t do anything further for either of them, could he?

But this came from the little, frightened boy inside of him who had been hurt and let down countless times. The man he was, or maybe should have been, didn’t move. He stayed. He would stay. He wouldn’t leave Sam and Gregory to whatever terrible fate this woman had in store for them.

This is crazy. I’m crazy, he thought.

But he still stayed.

There was a faint scrape and Grayson’s head shot back towards the woman. She was two steps nearer to them. The little smile on her face indicated that she knew he noticed and found it amusing. He moved the door so that it was directly between them. He had the small pieces of metal spinning in her direction. His lack of practice had a tremor running through him. How long could he keep this up?

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