??s we’ve drawn. “There are twenty-five spots available, so it’s possible that an entire team will be eliminated. I expect the absolute best from each of you.” He nods down at the test administrator. “Begin.”
I turn to Sawyer and show him the number ‘six’ on my slip of paper.
“Five,” he sighs regrettably, waving his own paper around. He shrugs my backpack off his shoulders and hands it to me, his eyes scanning the crowd behind me gathering into groups.
I heave my bag back up and head straight for the people I somehow know I just ‘happened’ to get paired up with. I’d curse my luck if it wasn’t so expected. Somehow these things always work out this way.
Standing together with identical smirks and slips of paper bearing the same number as mine are Piers, Owen, and Bennett.
“So it’s going to be me and you three?” I say, flatly.
“Looks like it,” Owen sneers at me. “Now, sweetheart, don’t worry about this. We’ll do all the hard work.”
Bennett nods, and Piers grins, saying, “We’ll pick up your slack.”
“A—are you all sixes?”
I turn. The nervous girl from the bathroom is standing there, trembling slightly. This day just keeps getting better.
“Yeah, that’s us,” I say.
“Oh. Nice to meet—um—all of you. I’m Erin.” She sticks her hand out as if expecting me to shake it. I don’t, and none of the boys make a single move to show they’ve even seen her. After a long, awkward moment, she lets her hand drop down to her side.
“Let’s get this party started,” Owen says, and despite my dislike for them … I can’t stop myself smiling. It’s more than the anticipation of the hunt, my first look at a monster, or even the adrenaline coursing through my veins. It’s watching them, and knowing they feel the same … no matter how they try to hide it. And in Owen’s case, he isn’t very good at hiding it. He’s got a spring in his step as he leads us to the back of the chamber.
Owen doesn’t seem so bad, really, and neither does Bennett. Bennett seems quiet, the sort of quiet, watchful type that offers Erin a smile when she catches her staring at his towering size. She smiles back timidly.
Lord knows why she’s even here to begin with. She doesn’t exactly look like the type to pursue this sort of career. Erin looks more suited to a desk job than one that’s going to involve a whole lot of blood and guts—and not necessarily someone else’s.
What a team we make.
The test administrator has finally made his way around to our group. He says nothing as we approach, just holds out his hand to see the number on our paper.
“Monster number six,” he says, looking at the slip Owen hands him. “You’re going last, then. Follow me.”
With a longing look over my shoulder toward Sawyer and his slightly-less-dysfunctional group, I follow.
We don’t get to watch the others.
As the final group, we are meant to wait in silence in another underground room surrounded by thick concrete walls. The antechamber is empty aside from two long wooden benches and a screen on the wall that updates each time one of the other groups finishes their final task.
From what I’ve come to understand, we’re actually below the menagerie. There’s a sort of amphitheater in the middle where each group demonstrates their abilities while the rest of us wait in the many rooms branching off from it in a circle, not unlike the spokes of a wheel. No one’s told me this, but there’s always a bit of a pause between the groups; a kind of reset period that makes me think it must be the case. One thing I can’t gather, however, is whether it’s a good thing or not when there seems to be a long stretch of time between them. I guess it depends on what’s getting cleared out—monsters or hunters.
The air this far underground is stale and slightly astringent.
Piers paces impatiently around the perimeter of the room. Owen has pulled out his phone and some earbuds and is listening to music so loudly I can hear it from all the way over here. He’s started drumming along on the tops of his thighs to the sound of shredding guitars. Bennett, like me, is focused on the score screen. He stands stock still in front of it, eyes scanning it constantly.
Erin sits next to me on the bench, shakily putting bolts into the crossbow she’s chosen as her weapon. I had honestly thought she would be useless, but at least she knows her weaknesses and picked something that won’t force her to get close to … whatever it ends up being.
“The first group is done,” says a deep voice. Startled, I look over at Bennett. This is the first time I’ve heard him speak. He turns from the screen to scan the room. Since no one else appears to be paying much attention, he locks eyes with me. “They did well, but we can do better.”
I nod in agreement. He turns away and begins stretching, distracting me from the numbers on the screen before us. He’s got to be at least 6’5”, 6’6” if I had to guess—with huge, bulky muscles that would look more at home on a bear.
He reaches his hands up and his plain gray T-shirt lifts, exposing a swath of bare skin. He turns, arms still over his head, and I’m treated to an amazing view of his abs. If Erin shot a crossbow bolt at those abs right now, it would probably shatter when it hit them. I feel my stomach lurch and I tear my eyes away, searching for anything else to look at, but the lurching in my belly doesn’t stop. Piers is stretching too, and he’s removed his shirt completely.
Piers is leaner than Bennett, but since Bennett is basically some sort of bear-human hybrid, that’s not saying much. He’s got an excellent tan, the sort gotten on the deck of a yacht in the Mediterranean. He sits on the ground, leaning over his legs to stretch his hamstrings, before reclining back and giving me the full view of his chest and abs. I have to look away. These boys are going to wear out my heart before I can even get into the arena with a monster.
Why is it always the bad ones who look like gods?