(REWRITING) The Skylar Experiment : Coveting

Chapter Sixteen - Armory

EMMA

I WOKE UP EARLY on Saturday to meet at Miles' place. I didn't know where we would start or if I'd jumped to the decision too quickly. But I thought about it a lot. In a way, I wanted this—a way to redo myself. Kind of.

I was a blank slate. I could shape myself into anything I desired, and I wanted the strength to overcome my fears. I'd learn to hunt Wanderers and not have to be scared anymore in the future. I would be able to defend myself.

I trekked along the alley and knocked on the door, feeling bare. There was everything to learn and nothing to lose. In a corner of my mind, I knew Riley, Luc and the others would flip their switch if they discovered about this, which was why I'd keep it between me and Miles for now.

It was my decision and they'd have to deal with it. How was it that him and everyone around him never warned me about the existence of hunters? I was their friend for years and they just... kept something so big from me? 

This kind of betrayal wasn't surprising from the others. They were never fans of mine and the best I'd get from them was a polite hello, but Lauren hiding it stung like sanitizer gel on a paper cut. 

Miles answered the door and let me in. Smiling lazily, he looked sleepy and wore black sweatpants with a black tank. Underneath his usual shirts, he had strong shoulders and long, lean arms. I could see the muscles move under his skin.

"Right on time," he greeted and stepped aside. "Come in. Did you eat this morning?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You're going to need that energy today," he said as he slid my coat and placed it in the closet. "It's important if you want to keep up."

I hadn't had much of an appetite since the attack, but I made an effort to avoid worrying my mother. Waking up, I downed a bowl of oatmeal and fruit, which was pretty good in my book but arguably an affront to my old habit with apple butter and grits. Mom wanted to raise me southern style, but dad issued some limits. 

I had to go to protestant church almost every week, and my cousins lived on a family-owned farm on the rural side of town. We were plugged on an unlimited supply of eggs, bacon and wheat. 

Emma... stop deviating...

These days, I heard dad's soft warning more than ever. It came out whenever I was nervous. 

"So, what are we going to do?" I asked as I followed him into the hall. His father wasn't around. I hardly ever saw Mr. Spencer in the house. Miles said he locked himself in his room to correct some copies and would later come downstairs to cook dinner. Miles led me to the garage where they stored all their weapons. 

"Before we begin anything, I'd like to show you our instruments, so you can know them in more detail." He turned and picked out a set of knives. "A good hunter can work with any weapon, but it's normal to have an affinity with one in particular."

He whirled the blades between his fingers and they moved so fast I feared he'd chop off something, but he rotated them casually. The tension in my gaze turned into fascination. He traded the daggers for a crossbow, one that he aimed at a small target hung on another wall. He fired and the arrow lodged itself in the center circle.

Damn.

"How long did it take you to learn all this?"

Miles lowered the weapon and restored it on its hanger. "I was eager and a kid. I learned quickly from what people tell me." He gave a lop-sided shrug.