Blood Hunt (Blue Blood Babies sequel!)

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

 

Once Maggie had left, the man guiding our group began barking out names as he ran through a list pinned to a sheet on his clipboard. 

“Martin Daniels.”

“Here.”

“Alan Evans.”

“Here.”

“Simon Gordon.”

Silence. 

The man let it go on for several seconds before he whipped his head up and scanned our faces.  Everyone looked back at him, their expressions innocent.  Whoever Simon Gordon was, he wasn’t here.

“Huh,” the man commented.  Then he moved on.  “Alfred Mitchell.”

I gritted my teeth as a couple of boys tittered.

“Alfie,” I said, glowering at a blond boy who was laughing silently.

“What?”

“It’s Alfie,” I said, slightly louder.  Once again I cursed my mum and her hideous taste, which didn’t just extend to knitted twinsets.  Who had called their kid Alfred in the last century?

The man looked at me like he didn’t give a crap what my name was.

You’re here, right?” he asked, his voice cutting.

“Yes,” I said, holding his stare.

He sighed.  Went back to his clipboard.

“David Muir.”

“Here.”

He went through a list of maybe fifteen names.  Three boys weren’t here.  Each time he read a name aloud and no-one answered, he’d lift his eyebrows and smirk slightly.  I didn’t like the gesture.  It was like he knew what reprisal was coming for the ones foolish enough not to present themselves.  And he was glad about it. 

Finally he got to the end.  He raised his head, looked Connor up and down.

“So you’ll be Connor Thomson, then?”

It was a challenge.  One eyebrow raised, top lip curling, voice dripping with disdain.  I winced, waiting for Connor to respond.

“I am,” he said. 

My shoulders were tensed, waiting for the rest, but Connor had looked away.  His attention was across the room, watching Maggie.  I huffed out the breath I’d been holding, relieved.  The man with the clipboard looked disappointed.  Like he’d hoped for a fight.  I hoped we wouldn’t be seeing too much of him in that days that followed. Connor’s attention wouldn’t always be diverted.  I knew him well enough to know that if this man kept trying to wind him up, he’d end up swinging for him. 

What I didn’t know, was what would happen then.

Attendance taken, the man led us outside.  I assumed we were heading for the accommodation blocks, and as they hadn’t looked particularly far on the map I figured we’d be walking.  But the workers at the research centre seemed to have same aversion to the outside as everyone else – even though they were informed enough to know better – because a little line of minibuses idled against the curb, waiting for us.  We followed him over to the fourth in the line – we were group four after all – and he pulled the door open.

“Everybody in,” he ordered. 

We clambered inside, Connor and I snagging two seats at the very back.  I thought the man would close us in and take the seat beside the driver, but he followed the final boy in and took the bucket seat at the very front so that he was facing us.