Page 4 of Black Onyx
All the guy’s eyes flick between us rapidly.
“You two know each other?” Reaper asks.
“We’ve had a run in,” I say vaguely.
“I see. Well, this is Farren. You probably recognise her. She’s Magistrate Godfrey’s daughter.”
“Like fuck is she going to be on my team!” Storm explodes. “She’s weak.”
“He’s right. There’s got to be some mistake. She’s got no training and got in here purely on the fact that the magistrate is her father, and her uncle works here. Don’t get me wrong, I have the utmost respect for Magnus, but this is taking the fucking piss.” Mayhem adds in.
My anger simmers quietly. It’s not like I want to be on their fucking team, as much as I hate to admit it, Storm was fucking right. I will get them killed, just not for the reason that they think.
“Unfortunately, boys, there’s nothing I can do. I will do some research and reach out to some contacts. I can see if the connection can be severed, but until then, you will have to make do. There won’t be any missions for a while since it’s the beginning of term. Hopefully, I will have some good news for you by the time you get your first assignment.” The Headteacher says, completely disregarding me.
Deep breath Farren, keep your fucking cool.
“Speaking of which, please pass this letter on to your father.” He adds, finally turning to me.
I take it reluctantly, like hell will I give it to him. That would mean actually having some sort of contact with him. I’ll have to ask Magnus what to do with it.
“Now, show her to her room and then it's straight to combat.” He finishes dismissing us all.
Storm immediately strides off down the hall, all but Loki following him. He sighs as he watches them.
“Come on; I guess it’s up to me to show you,” he says, glancing down at me. “Don’t worry. We’ll get this all sorted out and go easy on you. Well, I will. I can’t guarantee that the others will. Being a part of a team is serious, and we put our lives in each other’s hands. Having someone untrained and spoi . . . I mean, someone who is used to a different lifestyle is dangerous for you, as well as us.”
Wow, even the sunshine of the group is a judgemental prick, fantastic. I am going to need to let off some steam in combat.
He silently leads me up several flights of stairs and down an ornate corridor. Finally, stopping at a large door. He opens it to a circular room. The central part of the room is open plan and houses a kitchen and living area as well as a mezzanine area in the rafters. Around the edge are several doors leading to what I assume to be bedrooms.
“Each bedroom has its own bathroom, and this one is yours.” He says, gesturing to the third one on the left.
“This is mine?” I ask, unable to hide the unbelieving note in my tone.
I have never, ever, had a room this nice before. I mean, it actually has a fucking bed with blankets and everything! I almost grin.
He frowns at my reaction, watching me closely for a second before obviously deciding I’m taking the piss. I mean, why would the daughter of a magistrate be in awe of what anyone else would consider a simple room? It puts his back up, and whereas before he was cold, now, he’s decided to take a similar route to the others and become damn right degrading.
“I hope you packed some sensible clothes in there.” He gestures to all my bags, “I need to get down to the gym, dump your stuff and get changed into something suitable for combat class. I imagine you’ll be sitting out for a while until Magnus can convince someone to teach you the basics. No weapons are allowed in the rooms. There are lockers down in the gym where we keep them. That won’t concern you though, as I highly doubt you’ve bought anything other than clothes and shoes.” He sighs, pinching his nose as if he’s exasperated with me.
Stay calm, Farren.
“The gym is two flights down. Take a left, and then it’s the door on the end. The class starts in five minutes. Don’t be late.”
With that parting statement, he storms out of the room. Well, this is off to a great start.
I glance around the room, and it's heaven. It would be simple in most people’s eyes, just a basic room. I guess it is, but it’s a thousand times better than anything I have ever had. Not only does it have a bed, but it has a soft-looking carpet on the floor and a freaking window. Fresh air! I immediately stride over to it and open it wide. The air may still have a distinctive chill to it, but the fact that I actually get fresh air in my room is such a novelty that I'll happily take a bit of cold. Next, I take a quick glance in the bathroom, turning on the tap and revelling in the warm water that immediately comes out.
No fucking way I get hot water too? And privacy?
Right, okay, pull yourself together, Farren. You can explore more later. But, for now, you need to get going.
I'm not too fond of the idea of putting all of my weapons in a locker so far away from me. Anyone could mess with them. I have some fun prevention I can set up on the locker to stop that from happening, but I would still rather that they were kept close to me. Of course, the other problem is that some of my weapons are unique. It would take just one person to recognise them, and that would be it. People would realise who I am and what I've done. I can't risk that, but I also can’t give them the satisfaction of thinking that I don’t own any weapons. I quickly sort through my weapons bags, placing all of my more unique ones in one bag and reluctantly storing it under my bed. Not the safest place for weapons that could reveal my identity, but it's the best I've got in the short time frame I have. I will have to find a more suitable hiding place for them later. I look down at my outfit: black jeans, a black tank and a leather jacket. I ditch the jacket. It means that the scars and tattoos are visible on my arms, but I stopped caring about what other people thought about them years ago. I’ve had them for so long that they have very definitely become a part of who I am, and I'm proud of them. They're proof that I survived.
I am aware that they are likely to bring me even more attention. Supernaturals don’t scar.
My father and some other assholes found a way around that though.
