Cursed (Book # 3 of Hunted)

Professor Hardwicke

The teacher was a very lean woman in her early thirties. She glanced over the class and then leaned back through the doorway whispering something to someone within. The younger students who hadn't started coming into their powers couldn't make out a thing, but I could and I wasn't entirely certain what to make of what I heard. It sounded like, "Leave the leash on until I give the signal" and "Should we remove the cuffs?"

My brow furrowed and I stared down at my desk. Brooke said that Prof. Hardwicke usually brought in an interesting creature for the first day of class. I tried listening, honing in on whatever was in that back room. I was bombarded by the sound of dozens of heartbeats. I wondered briefly if that was how the world sounded to Zane...a symphony of thundering drums. But there was a rhythm behind the twittering chorus...something slower, heavier...

"Hello, class. How do you do?" Prof. Hardwicke chimed and the world came rushing back. Her face was flushed though the room was cool. She smiled and tucked her hair behind her ears saying, "Welcome first years. I'm Professor Hardwicke and this is Intro to Creatures of the Dark." She paced across the front of the room and shut off the projector, pulling the cord that sent the screen spiraling up to the top of the whiteboard behind it.

"I've got something real special to show you today to give you a little taste of the kind of things we'll be learning about in this class. Please be aware that some of the creatures you will see in this class are very dangerous, but if you follow the rules no harm will come to you." She smiled brightly and I heard a rustle of anxious whispers and increased heartbeats shiver across the room.

"Alright, Andrew, bring him out," the professor said and all eyes focused on the doorway to the back room. There emerged a slight man in his mid-twenties wearing a pair of thick leather gloves that reached all the way up to his elbows. In his left hand he gripped a thick chain. The level of fear and excitement increased. What sort of creature required this much protection? The man Andrew was now fully in the room, the chain pulled tight.

"Come on," he said softly giving the chain a gentle tug. Everyone held their breath as the creature moved sluggishly into the classroom and then...let out a collective sigh of confusion. It was just a man. A very attractive man, but a man all the same. I looked at him and felt pity and disgust stabbing at my heart. He was wearing a muzzle.

A collar, not unlike those worn by the werewolves I had seen in the mess hall on my first night here, circled the man's throat. To this the chain was attached and he wasn't just wearing cuffs, he was wearing elbow-length metal mesh gloves similar to the cut-resistant gloves worn by butchers.

I found it hard to believe that all of this was necessary. Perhaps it was only for show...to give the first years a scare. The man had messy, silvery blond hair and was staring aimlessly into space with glazed eyes the color of gold. He didn't seem to know exactly where he was as he stumbled along after Andrew. In fact, he seemed almost...Oh God. Clay said that the collars were capable of administering a mild sedative. Whatever this guy was on, it was not mild.

Andrew and the 'creature' halted in front of the class and everybody stared waiting with bated breath. Prof. Hardwicke stepped forward excitedly and said, "This specimen is a relatively new addition to the Academy's collection. He has only been with us for a little over a year and our handler Andrew has finally deemed him fit for interaction. You lucky first years are the first ones to see him."

"So, this is a test run?" the kid next to me muttered and Prof. Hardwicke, making excellent use of her Hunter hearing said, "Yes, Mr. Mott. This is a test run. You are the first COD class I've had today and will thus be my little guinea pigs." I heard Lex swallow hard.

"Alright, Andrew, why don't you have him introduce himself to the class and then we'll start the lesson," Hardwicke said and Andrew nodded. The class watched as Andrew hooked the end of the chain he was holding onto a metal loop on his belt and carefully reached up to remove the muzzle that was strapped tight across the man's mouth. The man barely seemed to notice what was happening. He was still staring dazedly over our heads.

Andrew was murmuring softly as he unhooked the complicated muzzle; the way one might speak to an overly anxious or aggressive pet. Though the man appeared neither anxious nor aggressive. Several seconds later the contraption fell into Andrew's hands with a muted jingle. The muzzle had been so snug that there were rosy indentations slowly fading around the man's full pale lips. He opened his mouth and the whole class leaned forward expecting him to speak. Instead, he yawned hugely exposing pearly white teeth and a soft pink tongue pierced by a stainless-steel barbell. Then silence.