Saving Nightlock

3. Incompetent Minions

"I'm not in a bad mood. I am simply frustrated by the lack of progress that our newest member is making."

"Sounds like you're in a bad mood to me," says another voice. Scarlett, our resident mechanic and klutz, nearly crashes into Jemima's back when her heel catches on the stairs, but manages to somehow do a graceful looking somersault in the air right down into the pit. She's weird that way; being both extremely clumsy and extremely graceful. Not the best combo really, but she manages to make it work. She's also quite pretty in an exotic kind of way; waist length black-brown hair, olive complexion and a figure hardened by training. According to her file, she's Japanese and Austrian, so I suppose that explains her dark green eyes.

Ignoring their comments, I gesture towards the gym bag. "What's in there?"

Jemima's eyes light up, which generally means she's thinking about something fun.

"A whole lot of sharp and extremely dangerous things. I managed to find a couple of butterfly knives and those new blades I was telling you about that shock whatever they hit. There are plenty of gummy bears too. Want some?"

"You're going to give me diabetes."

"Touché. How's our youngster doing?"

"Horribly. That girl doesn't have anywhere near fast enough reflexes, no doubt a hereditary gift." I laugh as I remember Cedric's shocked face a few weeks ago, when I completely ruined his carpet by spilling coffee all over it. "She doesn't listen, she almost got flattened trice in a row, her hand to eye coordination is zero and her reflexes certainly don't help. How the hell did she even pass Henry's physical exams?"

"Isabella is young, and hasn't been trained before," Jemima reminds me quietly, and I nod, rubbing my temples. The t-shirt and the army cargo pants I'm wearing suddenly seem suffocating.

"She's turning 15 in a month though," I mutter, determined not to excuse her. It's not like any of the rest of us were given the privilege.

Jemima walks over to one of the desks we have in a corner and sets the bag down. Zipping open the top, she pulls out a set of gleaming knives which she proceeds to throw at a wooden target mounted on the wall. She takes a pair of scissors and throws those too. They hiss through the air and land dead center.

"Did my stick bombs work, you know, last night?" Scarlett wants to know.

"Perfectly." I nod to her, respectfully, but glance at the door. No one but the three of us knows about last night's excursion. "You did a wonderful job."

"You know what?" Scarlett says suddenly, stretching her back muscles with a few punches, "I think maybe you need a change of scenery. It's hard work, the stuff you do. I mean, you're just moping around here all day long, training that new girl as well as us. When do you have any fun?"

"That is fun."

Jemima looks up at this, her hand reaching for her beloved gummy bears and starts grinning at me. She's probably thinking up some evil plot to get me to have "fun". Like we have any time for fun.

"Let's go shopping! Come on Irene, shopping! I just know much you love shopping."

"What sins did I commit in a previous life to deserve you?" I protest, but there's a grin on my face as I look at them giggling. They look like normal teenage girls, a rare luxury for them. "You know what happened last time an American mall was involved!"

"Hey, you three," Xena, a willowy girl with chocolate brown hair and eyes pokes her head in, "It's 7:10. Isabella has already left and we're supposed to be at the School in 50 minutes."

Scarlett runs to the stairs. "Race you to the showers!" She yells at us over her shoulder, and we are quick to follow her. For a moment, just for a moment, I allow myself to forget. I forget the deaths, the secrets and conspiracies, the lies and betrayals. I forget who we are. I forget who I am. I pretend we are normal, and I don't mind at all. In fact, I love it.

September 25, 09:10 A.M.

Tallahassee, Florida, U.S.A.

Public Parking Lot.

Beep. Beep. Beep. My phone can't seem to stop beeping around this morning. And all because of some site called 'Wattpad' that has free books written by kids or something like that. Scarlett must have been messing around on it again.

I turn into the deserted far end of the parking lot when my phone beeps...yet again. I'm so tempted to crush this thing into powder to make cookies with. Then I'd happily serve the cookies to the Wattpad addict, Scarlett.

"Are you gonna get that?" asks the aforementioned annoying Wattpadian. We're the only two who don't have to go to school. Which is why I'm stuck with her, for the moment. I toss the phone into the backseat only to hear a startled yelp of pain and wild scrambling around. Sweet music to mine ears.

"It's a text," Scarlett plops the phone on my lap as I pull up at the curb, "Unknown number."

My first thought is Henry. Could it be? Finally? No, I shouldn't get my hopes up. Calm down, breathe.

I flick through the unlock pattern and press the appropriate icon. Impatience has me playing with my hair and chewing my upper lip with a nervousness I didn't know I had.

At the top of the message, there's a bit of code, but the rest is a list. A list of names.

I squelch my disappointment and text the names to Jemima.

>>ME: Any idea what this could be?

She takes less than a minute to reply. Biology must be boring her out of her mind.

>>GEM: Looks like a list of names to me.

>>ME: However would we survive without your genius intellect?

>>GEM: Har har. I don't recognize any of these names. You?

>>ME: Not one. Can you run them through our database?

>>GEM: Sure. I'll have your results after fourth period.

Reading over my shoulder, Scarlett lets out a "Hmm." Then, she shrugs. "Anyway, I'm off. See you later, Irene."

I lean back in my seat as Scarlett walks away, contemplating my day. It's time to arrange flight tickets to Beijing.

A/N: Special dedication to yaypudding, who designed my first book cover.

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