I ignore The Colony members hurrying through the hall. Lost in my thoughts as I head to my room, the vampire’s cry keeps replaying in my mind. I’ve never seen one release a human. On a few occasions someone gets bit, but manages to escape. But an escape never lasts long. Within a day after a bite, their flesh starts to rot, teeth sharpen, and eyes and mind sink into a fit of rage.
I turn over my arms, staring at the blue veins winding underneath my skin. Why didn’t it bite me? Better yet, why was I not afraid? I had always thought, when I faced my death, I would finally feel fear. But even then, I’m numb. In a colony filled with fear, it’s hard not to think I’m faulty. There’s always so much looming in the air, mostly instilled by the Highers. They make people skittish. I try to play the part, play the fearful Colony member, but I get the feeling the Highers are catching on to me, which is bad. Fear is important to the Highers, otherwise how would they maintain their order and control?
Then, as if I’m cursed, I cross paths with one of them: A Higher. He’s dragging a boy named Bernard, who’s a Bellator and was supposed to be on Guard at the doors tonight. He’s fifteen, two years younger than me, but much larger in size. His moppy brown hair curls over his brown eyes and he always wears this chain around his neck. He told me once that on the metal plate, attached to the chain, his name is engraved. But I called his bluff because reading, and knowing how to read, is prohibited in The Colony.
The Colony members flee to the side, bowing their heads, fear lashing off them, poisonous and potent. Following the rules, I step to the wall and bow my head, showing my respect to the Higher. But deep down, all I want to do is kick him in the shin.
My gaze stays on his white shoes as he walks by me. When I think he’s gone, I tip my head back up. Then I wish I could run.
All the Highers look the same, dressed in white, with identical white hair that flows to their shoulders like feathers. Their snow-white skin carves their flawless features and their pale eyes are haunting in a way that can make hearts skip beats. This Higher’s gaze is on me and he’s looking at me as if he’s trying to burn inside my head and read my thoughts. I know I should bow my head back down and stare at the floor. Perhaps it would salvage this horrible situation of looking at him without permission. But I can’t seem to look away.
His eyes warn me that I should be afraid, but I’m not. A little worried, perhaps. But afraid? No.
Bernard’s face, glossed with tears, begs me to help him. And I want to. Desperately. Because whatever is waiting for Bernard isn’t good. People that get dragged away by a Higher are rarely seen again.
“Tell me,” the Higher says, in a thick voice. “What’s your name?”
My first instinct is to lie. But lying would reveal my flaws. And Highers hate flaws.
“Kayla.” My voice smoothes out like honey. Thank God.
His expression is impeccably unreadable. “And you’re a Bellator.”
I nod, even though it’s not a question. “I am.”
He presses his lips together and his gaze glides down the hall, at the line of people hovered against the brick wall, bowing their heads.
“Curînd.” He whisks his white robe across the floor, turning and descending down the hall, towing a helpless Bernard with him. I stand as still as a statue, knowing that somehow this is going to come back and bite me in the ass.
After the Higher has disappeared into the hospital, everyone scatters like rats, giving panicked glances in my direction. Discounting them, I start for my room. Nina catches up with me, a spring in her walk, as she loops her arm through mine.
“What was that all about?” She whispers, her brown eyes wide.
I shrug. “I have no idea.”
She swings around in front of me, her brown curls bouncing around her face. “Kayla, a Higher just spoke to you and you act like it’s no big deal.”
Nina’s nice enough, but she worries more than I’m comfortable with and being around her for long periods of time nearly kills me.
“It’s okay,” I lie. “He just wanted to know if Monarch was in the hospital.”
“Still, Kayla. He spoke to you, like actual words. That can’t be good.”
She’s right and I know it. But I can’t seem to work up any sort of fear about it.
“I’ll be okay.” I walk around her, calling over my shoulder. “I’ll meet you in the cafeteria later, okay.” Then I leave her and her worries far, far behind.
I can only remember one thing about the day I was chosen to be a Bellator. I was relieved. Most aren’t. No one wants to go out into the Old World, full of bloodthirsty vampires. They’d rather stay an Adepti, which is everyone else besides the Watchers, Highers, and Bellators. They are the average ones, the ones that don’t stand out, don’t have to risk their lives. And they prefer it that way. They prefer the Higher’s rules no matter how harsh they are, if it means living in the security of The Colony. And since the Highers built The Colony, they are the ones who have the power to make rules and enforce punishment against behavior they don’t see fit.
Like for instance, looking one straight in the eye.
A cloud menaces over me as I get changed and return to the hospital. I’m all clean and sparkly and no longer smell of dirt, blood, and river water. My black hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail and I’m dressed in the standard colony uniform: black jeans and a black t-shirt.
When I arrive, Monarch is injecting a shot into Maci’s IV. Her eyes are open now, her red hair a tangled halo above her head, beads of sweat dripping down her pallor skin. Maci’s a Bellator too, but a newer one, and one of the youngest, rounding in at the very young age of seven. I blame myself for her being in here, although Monarch insists it had nothing to do with me.
Still, I was the one asked to watch out for her and ten minutes into her first session, she blacked out and smacked her head on the floor. I should have been watching her more carefully. The first session as a Bellator is the hardest because it exerts the body more than we’re used to.
“Hi, Kayla,” Maci says in a frail voice.