Eclipse

16.

Train

"Alright then, up you get!" My first instinct was to bury my face into the stiff pillow until I remembered where exactly I was. "Don't make me dump you in an ice bath," Moore said warningly just as I bolted upright.

"I'm up, I'm up, I'm up," I muttered

"I expect you to walk yourself up. I shouldn't have to be handing out threats all the time."

"Sorry, my bad," I murmured, standing up slowly. At the foot of my lay a small bag.

"In there is a pair of shoes, three pairs of socks and a spare set of clothes. You'll look after it and you won't be getting any replacements, you hear?"

"I hear... so how's this going to start?"

"You'll be meeting the other trainees first thing after breakfast. I expect you to get along with them, and any fight will end your... stay here—permanently. You'll be training with them in the gym upstairs. Follow me."

Moore led me down to the kitchen, a large space defined with the polished silver of steel and white, reminding me of a futuristic machine of sorts. Two Nephilim bustled around the kitchen getting the meals ready while around half a dozen people waited on the other side of a long counter, talking to each other animatedly. That is to say until they noticed my presence. A whisper ran through them like a wave, and they all turned to face me with curiosity etched into their faces.

"Is this Blake—I mean Crawford's Jessica?" a dark skinned girl asked.

"Yes. She'll be training with you for however long it takes before Kale decides if she's... never mind," he quickly cut off. Apparently my predicament wasn't to be common knowledge.

I kept my face impassive as I surveyed the group of both men and women, Nephilim and Lupi, although of the seven, only two were Lupi.

"Well don't just stand there," a plain looking Lupi boy snapped from one end of the counter. "Sit down!"

"Aaron, remember what I said," Moore warned as I strode to a free seat at the opposite end of he counter. "You're walking on thin ice here."

"Sorry," Aaron muttered, slouching over the counter.

"Alright, breakfast's ready!" one of the men on the other side of the counter announced, and they began placing trays in front of each person.

I looked down at my tray of an impressive bowl of cereal—sweetened with a lump of honey unceremoniously dumped off-centre—with an apple, orange and a banana on the side.

"I wouldn't be eying my food with such disdain," a lean, black-haired man mumbled through a mouthful of his cereal, glancing through his hear at me with reproach. He looked to be just a teenager, no older than nineteen. "Perhaps your place isn't here after all."

"Who said I was complaining?" I asked, stirring in the honey with the milk.

"Everyone else who thinks that you're nothing more than a pretty face, maybe?"

I grinned viciously, showing off the hideous mush of half-chewed cereal. "I'll take that as I compliment."

The boy stared at me in a mixture of disgust and amusement shaking his head. "I hear you've killed."

"Oh, I wouldn't be here if I was successful, but I got close, if that counts."

"No, but—"

"But it's the thought that counts!" I finished with smile, this time with an empty mouth.