“No,” I say, not taking my eyes from Piers. “These three were just wishing me luck on the next trials.”
“Oh.” Sawyer grins and turns to Piers and the others. “Hey, you …” he says, pointing at Piers. “You’re Mason Dagher’s kid, right?”
Piers’ chin lifts a little, and he smirks. “Yeah? What of it?”
“Wow. It’s really cool to meet you. Is your dad here today?” Sawyer’s interest oozes fanboy in an adorably embarrassing way. It’s much less aggravating when it’s not directed at me.
“Yeah, but he’s not out here,” Piers replies coolly, his eyes staunchly avoiding mine. “Conflict of interest. He’s in the main building, waiting on the results.”
An awkward silence falls between us, broken only by Owen slapping his hands against his thighs.
“I think we got what we needed, don’t you?” he says, looking to Piers. “Let’s head out.”
“Yeah.” Piers’ eyes finally lock with mine as he and his boys turn on their heels and stalk back towards the tests.
Sawyer moves to stand beside me as I watch them go.
“Is it just me, or did something weird just go on between you four?”
“Nope,” I say, shouldering my bag. “It’s just you.”
I breeze through the instincts trials.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m not sure how much of it was due to my actual talent. I’m not even sure most of these tests can rely on talent. As they’re so aptly named … most of it is just … instinctual.
Some things, like sharpshooting and knife throwing, I’ve practiced … but never blindfolded. If anything, my aim improves without the sense of sight. I might’ve gotten a perfect score in the latter if Piers, Owen, and Bennett didn’t make a sudden noise and throw me off. Rather than landing dead-center in the target in front of me, the knife embeds itself into the tree just inches away from Piers’ nose.
Really, they’re the lucky ones … that’s the only knife that missed.
A crowd begins to follow me as I move around the stations. They look on as I correctly guess the creature imitating a rabbit, a dangerous al mi’raj, simply by the touch of its fur. Until this moment, I didn’t even know what an al mi’raj was. But then they lift the lid from the box and show me the fang-toothed, horned creature that, at first glance, feels and appears to be an ordinary rabbit. I can’t explain how I knew, only that when my hand brushed across its soft fur amongst the other actual rabbits in the box, I just knew something was wrong.
With each station, the crowd around me grows. I stop the attendant from lifting a mandrake from the earth—an action that might have deafened or killed all those who stand too close. I taste poison that shouldn’t be able to be detected, and then don’t fall ill from its effects … even when Piers, behind me, has to stop and vomit behind a clump of trees. It goes on—more tests meant to gauge my natural reaction to the world around me.
For some, with great practice, they might be able to do this on their own. But for me … I hate to admit it so soon after the boy’s accusations … there’s really only one explanation. There’s a reason my parents were famous for what they did. And those same reasons, those same instincts, it seems they
’ve passed on to me.
I won’t let the boys’ accusations spoil this for me.
For the first time in my life, I feel a connection to the people who brought me into this world. A real, living, breathing connection—and it makes me proud.
Now, as the advancing students head towards the Menagerie, the underground area where they house captive monsters, I look around at the group. When I arrived, there were almost a hundred of us. Now we’re down to thirty.
“Getting smaller, huh?” Sawyer says, noticing my glance. He’s walking beside me, carrying my backpack at his insistence.
I nod. To my utter surprise, the nervous girl from the bathroom is still with us. She’s wringing her hands as she walks by, looking around as though any of the students may turn and try to yank the hair from her scalp at any moment.
No worries sister, if you’re anything like me … you’ll do that to yourself first.
Sawyer nudges me with his elbow. “Did you do something to Piers?” He nods over at Piers, and all three boys, Piers, Owen, and Bennett, shift their gazes away as I look their way.
“Somebody pissed in their cereal this morning, I guess,” I say.
Sawyer laughs. “Man, those looks they were giving you. You’d think you called Bennett tiny.”
“Now that you mention it, maybe I did remind Owen that he hadn’t touched his hair for a whole five seconds.” I grin up at Sawyer, and he smiles back. His eyes are really beautiful; almond-shaped, golden brown, with long, dark eyelashes.
“Hey, Avery,” he says quietly, “did you know about—”