In Vendetta House (The Vendetta Series #1)

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The room is smaller than I had expected, the size of half a classroom. I wouldn't say it is cramped, but after seeing the offices and lounges, it isn't exactly spacious either. Two beds sit neatly on each side of the room, the left neat and unlived in. The right looks like the aftermath of an earthquake. I hold back a snort. I'm liking the way Sasha lived already.

"On the bright side of being kidnapped to live in a prison, we get an awesome closet." She heads to the armoire on my left side and opens it. Cramped inside the space is a whole variety of shirts, pants, shorts, skirts and.... evening gowns?

"Am I seeing things, or are there about ten Cinderella-type dresses in here?" I ask.

Sasha shakes her head. "You'll be surprised at how many pathetic dances these people hold to make this seem like a normal boarding school." She checks her reflection on a little small panel mirror on the door, "I'm going to use the bathroom quickly while you get changed, then I'll be back to take you to the dining room." I smile and wave her off. "Sure."

Sasha leaves as I decide which top to wear. Fluffy pink, or simple black? What would make me seem less harmless after that display? After some pondering, I decide on a pale blue t-shirt and denim shorts. It is probably better to wear some neutral colors: my hair was going to attract some attention as it is. I spy some sneakers on the floor of the armoire. Feeling a little tipsy in these boots, I decide I better change those too.

Sitting down, I give a hard yank on one of my boots, then the other, and shove my feet in the sneakers. There is something on the floor that fell out of my boot. I bend to pick it up and realize it is the photograph of mom I shoved in my boot earlier. Tears spring to my eyes and I struggle to hold them back. Mom. Dad. Sebastian. What would they think happened to me? Are my family even looking for me? Did they know I was missing? Could they even find me here?

Then a wave of anger and bitterness rolls in. Mom obviously knew something like this was going to happen. I curse my own stupidity: 'Don't talk to anyone and especially those who want your help?' Why didn't she say anything this morning? Why did she send me out of the house when she knew it was probabaly safer inside? If I had some long lost power to grow into on a birthday, the least I should have gotten could have been a warning or some mysterious heirloom like an amulet or a birthmark. Didn't that always happen in stories? But no, seventeen years of normalcy and everything just comes rushing in on the eighteenth. I blow out a deep breath of frustration and grab a scrunchie for my hair. All this inner venting was doing me no good. I needed a plan: learn the workings of this house, get some history lessons on this supposed power, win Aunt Nelly's trust, find a way to escape and then report this hell hole to the police. Easy.

I tighten my ponytail. My hair felt so unnaturally long.

As for the supernatural side of things, maybe I could track down some council or whoever keeps these people organized. Aunt Nelly did mention a supernatural council, right? God, that sounds so cliché.

There is an old analogue clock ticking on the wall, reading half way between 5:58 and 5:59. Where was Sasha? I didn't want to interrupt whatever normal schedule the House had by arriving late. The house couldn't be that big, could it? I could probably make it to the ground floor myself.

I pull open my door at the exact same time somebody on the opposite side of the hallway pulls open theirs. I glance up at the face and nearly stumble back.
"You!" I accuse, pointing my finger at him. It's him. The boy from my first vision yesterday. The boy with the strange turquoise eyes. The one fighting beside me in a battlefield. His dark, blue-black (probably dyed) hair holds red streaks. Oh no, this was the other telepathic spirit-seer, wasn't it? He turns his lips up and looks at me with amusement.