The Warlock (The Cave Chronicles #1)

6: Spink

"...Explain again."

"Me and Forrest were outside, just scoping out the area, cos you know, we might be in Gardien soon."

"What? Really? That's really happening then, is it?"

"Yeah! They're getting people together, they are. Me and Forrest's just been inducted, we have – innit, Forrest?"

"Er, yes. Riider and I got our letters two days ago. We are the patrollers of the team. The others are still being selected, but I think the leader wants about ten members in total."

"Wow ... well, anyway! What happened? How did you find her?"

"Now this is a wraith thing, Doc: we can feel danger sometimes."

"I beg your pardon?"

"It's okay, Riider, I'll explain. We have empath abilities, we can sense danger. Sometimes, when someone is in grave danger, the feeling can be strong, like a scream or a hit to the stomach. It works best with other wraiths, though. We call it a wraith-link."

"So that's what me and Forrest felt, going Outside. Then we came across this lass."

The one who had just spoken punched Penny on the foot for emphasis. The action dragged her unceremoniously out of her grogginess and she whimpered. The conversation stopped abruptly. All eyes fell upon the one in the bed, and she could feel them watching her intently. Hoping to milk the moment for all it was worth, Penny took the minutes to assess where she was. There was a medicinal smell in the air, mixed with a sweet perfume that must have come from the woman who had punched her. She was on a bed, and in a small room, judging by how the shadow of the walls pressed against her skin.

"Come on now dear," said the first speaker of the trio, an older man.

"We knew you were awake from ages ago, gel! Get up! Up!"

Penny's eyes fluttered open, and she looked at the trio of speakers wearily. One was a balding, middle-aged man in a white coat with long, pointed ears. A pretty couple sat next to her bed, both were black, with long, fine dreadlocks. Something about their eyes made Penny's heart race: large, almond shaped, and a startling scarlet colour. It reminded her of Reverend Joseph's, yet these eyes were warmer and prettier than his.

"Gel!" said the woman.

"Hello, how are you feeling?" said the man beside her, his face a mask of concern.

Penny opened her mouth to speak, but found that her throat was incredibly dry. A weird squeak emitted from her mouth, and she clamped it shut, feeling embarrassed. Whereas the dreadlocked man looked away politely, his female companion laughed at the noise and punched Penny on the foot again. Penny shot the woman a look. The woman raised her brows testily.

"Riider," said the older man in the white coat.

"Eh? It ain't my fault, Doc!"

The doctor gave a little wave of his arms and a jug of water and glass tumbler appeared in a puff of white smoke in his hands. Penny leaned forward in the bed, eyes wide, contemplating her sanity. The doctor looked at her pensively, and poured the water into the tumbler.

"I ... I thought so," he said. "Please, drink up."