Hunter. Sydney Robinson

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      Chapter Four

      Read-eez, it turned out, was an old two-story bookshop. Crunched in between a Laundromat and a hardware store, the building was falling apart. A light was on. Angel could see it faintly in the front window, which meant it was in the back of the shop. She casually walked up to the door and tried the lever. Even though the sign read Closed, it swung open. Angel slid through the door and grabbed the little bell above the door that she had noticed glinting off the streetlight. Easing the door shut, she flipped the lock to make sure this meeting wasn’t interrupted by anyone.

      The room before her was filled with shelves of books. It was a tiny shop on the outside, and the cluttered merchandise made it feel even smaller, almost to the level of claustrophobia. Angel made her way through the maze of bookshelves to the front counter located at the back of the shop as a separator of the work space from what must have been Scott’s living space.

      Pressing her hands to the cold wood, Angel vaulted her body over the counter and landed with a soft thud on the other side. She dropped to a crouch and made her way toward the open doorway where the light was coming from. With her back placed to the wood of the frame, Angel stood up slowly and took in the room as she had been trained to do. As she did this, she also reached her right hand behind her back and freed the knife from where its sheath was tucked into her waistband and brought it forward.

      The room before her was stuffed with almost as many books as the shelves in the room behind her. Large and small piles formed their own labyrinth in the back room, which must have been a workshop. Stuffed into a small gap between two large oak shelves was a small workbench. There was a stack of books on each side of the bench—one that looked worn down and one that had a newer look to them.

      Looking just as cramped into the remaining space as everything else in the room was a man. From her position, all Angel could see of the man was a head of mossy brown hair and a gray sweater. She entered the room, as she would have to get closer to do anything or gain any information.

      As her right foot came down, the man sat back in his chair and stretched. She could faintly hear a yawn as he did so. It was now or never. Angel bolted into the room, following the path she had mapped out prior to moving. The man gave off a slight yelp as Angel brought the knife around to his throat with her right hand and braced him to the chair’s backrest with her left.

      “What, what…I…what do you want?” the man stuttered out.

      “Who are you?” Angel asked in a half-whisper.

      “I…I’m no one, just a book salesman and repairer. That’s all, nothing important.”

      “Give me a name.”

      “Scott! It’s Scott McClellan. Or at least it is now. It was Hunter. But you know all about that, don’t you?” Scott’s tone changed as he spoke, realization seeping into his voice.

      “What are you talking about?”

      “That knife. You’re a Hunter too.”

      “You can’t even see the knife.” Angel was beginning to suspect the man was crazy.

      “I can see the reflection of the blade on the wall. I know that constellation and its meaning.” Scott’s voice had changed completely from panic to calm, and Angel could feel she was losing control of this conversation fast.

      “What of it?” Angel asked, snarling as she did so and pulling the knife’s blade closer to his throat, breaking the skin slightly.

      “You don’t know.” Shock colored Scott’s comment. “You’re from the institution then. Fresh out of the gate, not even a full Guardian yet.”

      As he spoke, Scott’s hand came up and clasped onto Angel’s wrist. He pulled it and twisted her arm, sending her slamming into the desk in front of him. Angel growled in pain as her head connected with the wall shortly after the small of her back hit the table. Angel was finally able to get a good look at the man. He was taller than her, so it came as no surprise that he was able to overpower her even in a seated position. His eyes matched his hair color, hidden behind a large pair of round glasses. The combination gave him a mouselike appearance. But his face was elongated; his jaw came almost to a point at his chin. And his chin seemed to block out his throat entirely when he was upright. It was almost horselike in appearance, lined from years of frowning and a lack of smiling.

      Scott, who was on his feet, pacing now, ignored all this as he spoke to himself.

      “But if she’s not a Guardian, then why is she here? No team with her, so they haven’t found me. But then why is she here? She has the Hunter knife, but she could have gotten that from anyone. It doesn’t mean it was his. And he wouldn’t let her go there anyway. So what does it all mean?”

      “What are you babbling about, old man?” Angel asked. She was sitting on the desk, watching him, confused. She had no idea why he was walking back and forth. That couldn’t help ones thinking, could it?

      “You, who are you?” Scott asked, stopping at the far left of his track and rounding on her.

      “My name is Angel.”

      “Yes, but Angel what? Oh, never mind, you wouldn’t know anyways. But wait a minute, why are you here?”

      “A friend of mine snuck out of the academy. I followed.”

      “Academy, what academy are you referring to?”

      “The one up the hill. It’s been there forever.” Angel couldn’t figure out why she was answering this man. He had no right to this information, and yet she was answering as if he did.

      “The institution. That’s not an academy.”

      “Yes, it is,” Angel insisted.

      “Really? And how many academies have bars on the windows? Or don’t you look outside?” Scott began to pace again as he spoke. “No, why would you? A Guardian would have no need to be drawn in by outside distractions, not with the promise of freedom to go and do what they want only a few years out of reach. Soldiers, СКАЧАТЬ