Chapter 1

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Sitting before the large, shiny mahogany table, I notice the gleaming nameplate sitting smugly on the clutter-free desk. Sir David Moore, Vice-Chancellor, University of Cambridge, it read. With my arms draped over the armrest, I sink into the seat, shifting my butt in an attempt to get comfortable in the hard seats. Like that’s gonna happen, I groan inwardly. It seems as if these seats were made to be impossibly uncomfortable with odd angles poking around my back and sides. An audible low groan from my right tells me that Blake is having trouble, as always. He’s never been one to sit still and it’s worse that these hard seats aren’t doing him any favors.

“For crying out loud, Blake, it’s not going to get any less uncomfortable no matter what you do!” Exasperation lacing Nate’s tone. Like me, he hasn’t moved much since he sat down on my left, unlike Blake who’s been fidgeting every five seconds. “I just can’t understand why they’d put these uncomfortable chairs in here anyway. I mean, how much would it cost to put a sofa here instead, huh?” Blake mutters under his breath.

Just as I open my mouth to give my witty retort, the door swings open and in steps an elderly male around sixty, his 6’ 5” stature standing tall and confident. Everything about this man screams power, but his expression is anything but stoic and cold. His smile, warm and his eyes, kind. This must be Sir David Moore, I mused, before all three of us scramble to our feet, heads slightly bowed as a sign of respect.

With a hint of humor in his eyes, Sir David looks at Blake and says “Mr. Evans, this is not an issue of money and cost. If we put sofas in here, my visitors would never leave! Now that would be a tragedy for me. I haven’t got all day to entertain everyone so I commissioned these chairs such that no one would stay longer than necessary. That leaves me to my peaceful solitude.” I look over and notice Blake’s eyes widening in surprise before mirroring Sir David’s cheeky expression, “Wicked!”

Walking over to me, Sir David holds out his hand, “Mr. Winters” and then moving on to Nate, “Mr. Mitchell”, before turning back to Blake, “Mr. Evans. It’s nice to finally meet all of you. I must say, I was quite surprised to receive your applications…” Gesturing to an adjacent room, Sir David waves us through.

At Sir David’s invitation, we made our way to the adjacent room with Nate leading the way, followed closely by me and Blake. As we entered the room, I notice that it was circular in shape. Skimming my eyes around quickly, I mentally estimated the room to be about 20 feet in diameter with a 10 foot high ceiling. The next thing I took in were the floor to ceiling bookshelves that wrapped around the room, filling up every inch of wall space, except where the door stood. This must be his personal library. Before I could go on any further with my assessment of the room, I hear Sir David say “Let’s get comfortable, why don’t we” and then I heard it, the distinct rumble of heavy mechanical locks sliding into place, bolting the doors shut and sealing us all in.

A couple of things happened all at once. I whipped my body around instinctively, muscles tense, staring directly at Sir David. At the same time, both Nate and Blake appeared at my sides, flanking me as they were trained to. I could hear Nate asking me what was happening, through our mind link, which was drowned out by Blake’s a-mile-a-minute panic rambling, “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, what did we get ourselves into? Isn’t he the Twelve? Why is he acting this way? Oh my god, oh my god, he’s gonna kill us! We’re so dead! But he’s the Twelve! How can he kill us? Oh my god, oh my god, he’s THE Twelve, he can SO kill us!! Oh my go-

Shut up, Blake!!” Nate and I both barked at him. I kept my eyes trained on Sir David while hastily issuing orders to the two of them. “Nate, take the left. Blake, take the right. Find us an escape route. We don’t fight unless he makes the first move.” Knowing that Nate and Blake will do as ordered, I take in every inch of the man standing in front of me. I need to read him, to know what he’s up to. His posture was still very much relaxed, although he hasn’t moved an inch; not even a slight fidget or a shift of his body weight. His warm smile gone, replaced by an impassive mask. I look into his eyes, trying to decipher the meaning of his behavior and our “imprisonment”. Finding nothing menacing or sinister hiding beneath as far as I could tell, I relax but keep alert in case it was a trap.

Guys, I don’t think he means us any harm. I’m going to talk to him to see what’s going on but keep finding us a way out of here in case it’s bad news” Taking a step forward, I clear my throat. Before I got the words out of my mouth, Sir David interjected. “Gentlemen, welcome to my sanctuary. I’ve christened it, ‘The Cocoon’. Personally, it’s my favorite place on the whole campus. It not only houses my prized books but it’s also one of the thirteen safest places on earth for our kind.”

If I hadn’t been clenching my teeth together, no doubt my jaw would have touched the floor at that revelation. “You mean, we’re in one of the thirteen Globes?” I heard Blake ask. “That’s correct, Mr. Evans. Surely you would have expected it, seeing as all twelve council members have access to one Globe each” Sir David responds, amusement clear in his voice.

“But how is it possible?” Nate whispers. “Globes are made out of pure silver, twelve inches of pure silver around the entire building, above and below, like a sphere, keeping the people inside, in and the people outside, out. With that much potent silver, even if it were covered by cement or other metals, we shouldn’t be able to hear or feel the outside world. But I can hear the passing of cars and smell the freshly cut grass. How?”

“Very good, Mr. Mitchell. This one’s been lined with tungsten, by the way, before we had the cement poured in. To answer your question, there are microscopic holes drilled through the layers of cement, tungsten and silver so that we’re not totally cut off from the outside world. This way, we can still hear and smell impending doom. Brilliant, isn’t it?” A grin creeping onto Sir David’s face, as if he was pleased with himself or something.

Although I appreciated the fascinating information, I couldn’t help but wonder what we were doing in a room designed to keep us in, with the one man who could let us out standing between us and freedom. That predicament did not sit well with me. “With all due respect sir, what are we doing here?” I hoped my voice didn’t come out sounding laced with worry.

Sir David took a minute to study me. It seemed as if he was choosing his words carefully. Now that got me officially worried. What did he need to say that required such delicate phrasing? I soon found out, as his next words had my blood run cold “Mr. Winters, perhaps Mr. Mitchell, Mr. Evans and yourself are not meant to leave this room. Alive.”

And that released the floodgates which was Blake’s rambling, through our mind link. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.. We’re gonna die!! He’s gonna kill us! I’m only nineteen! I did not sit through eight excruciating hours on the plane yesterday to die here today! Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, I can’t die! I haven’t met my mate yet! No!!” “Shut up, Blake!” Nate growls before he lowers his tone “Caleb, I think that means we’ve got to fight him, man.” Damn! I hated fighting not because I suck at it but because I happened to believe in pro-life. I was very close to my maternal grandmother and she took it upon herself to always pound the cliché saying ‘With great power comes great responsibility’ into my head. I swear it’s tattooed into my brain somewhere.

Mentally shaking my head, I sigh inwardly finally responding to our mind link, “No, fighting is never a solution. We have not yet exhausted all options. And it was not a direct threat, merely a loose statement which we interpreted as a threat. Let us first try the diplomatic approach - talking.” The entire time, my eyes never left Sir David’s figure. I kept watch for any telltale signs of twitches or muscle flexes which would clue us in on whether he would suddenly pounce. My eyes also constantly flickered to his every so often to see if he found a specific target. But the whole time, he never moved and his grey eyes never left my blue ones. It just seems as if he was concentrating very hard on us.

Mentally muttering a silent prayer that I don’t sound like I’m almost shitting in my pants, although I really feel like I will soon, I speak up. “Sir David, we were under the impression that the council approved our application to study here. Has there been a miscommunication somewhere? If our application has been denied and we are trespassing on council grounds, we would gladly take our leave and return to our pack lands. We mean no harm nor are we trying to be insolent fools. Please, we promise to leave immediately and take the first flight back to New York.”

Two excruciating minutes later, a slow smile breaks across Sir David’s face, the warmth in his eyes returning. “Congratulations gentlemen, you passed.” 

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