Atlantean. E.N. J.D. Watkins

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СКАЧАТЬ corners of Mr. Seraph’s mouth twitched as though he was trying not to smile.

      “Where shall I be staying when I attend this school of yours?” I asked warily still certain that this man wanted to torture me.

      Please don’t make me stay here.

      “You will be residing on campus.”

      Thank God.

      “There is a limousine outside that will take you to the school. Victoria will show you the way out.”

      Was that it?

      I guess he truly didn’t want my tears.

      I sighed with relief. I still had questions but they could wait. I stuck my hands back in my pockets and strode casually toward the door. I stopped myself however when my hand touched the handle. It seemed improper to leave without giving this man some sort of thanks.

      “You’re welcome,” Mr. Seraph said in an amused sort of voice.

      Mind readers.

      I left the room and found Victoria waiting for me. I wondered what she thought about us attending the same school.

      “I don’t like it,” she said coldly in her velvet voice.

      I pursed my lips.

      “I’m going to figure out how you and your father do that.”

      “Good luck with that one, kid,” she retorted smugly.

      Kid?

      “Do you remember the way out or do you need me to hold your hand?”

      That’s when I sensed it. There was sadness behind her words, as the though she was trying hard not to show how much pain this was causing her.

      I chuckled darkly.

      “I can find my own way out. Besides, your little tough-girl act is beginning to bore me.”

      I strode past her without another word or a backward glance.

      There was a limousine waiting outside for me just like Mr. Seraph had said. The driver was waiting next to the open door, clearly expecting me to get in. I climbed inside and let my mind run over today’s events.

      The detaining of my parents had been a definite high point. I did find it interesting, however, that my parents were being held here, at Seraph Manor, and not some ordinary prison. Then I remembered how Mr. Seraph had said my false parents had taken human life. I didn’t notice it before, but the way he said “human” made me think that he and my false parents might be more than human. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I mean if they were more than human I definitely was. My crystal tears and accelerated healing were evidence of that. Then there were these Fallen people. Mr. Seraph had said that he wasn’t one. And if that was the case, then what was he? I had thought him to be an enemy but now I saw that he was a friend. And what about this high school thing? Was this Mr. Seraph’s way of keeping me detained? It sounded like it. But what was the significance of twelfth grade? If it was to keep me here, shouldn’t any grade do? A fifteen-year-old senior was bound to raise more than a few eyebrows. And what about Victoria? What was with the total 180? I had a feeling it had something do with our matching marks—but what? Was the connection I felt between us no more than my male desires running wild? Or was it something more?

      Lost in thought, I stared out the limousine window and took in the landscape of Pebble Beach for the first time today. The road on which I was traveling was lined with trees on both sides. Behind those trees were the rolling fairways of a picturesque golf course. There were several golfers out and about today—no doubt taking advantage of the fine weather. I also spotted several buildings in the distance. Some of which appeared to be homes, while others appeared to be resorts. Pebble Beach seemed to be the polar opposite of New York City. I could definitely learn to love a place like this. I was so taken in with my surroundings that I didn’t realize the limousine had come to halt. So it took me by surprise when the door opened.

      Stepping outside I gazed on the building that would be my new home. The school was massive. I had expected the dormitory and the school to be separated, but this wasn’t the case. This place was a true castle. There was no other word for it. There were towers and turrets and many windows. I couldn’t be sure, but the architecture looked French. The thing that struck me the most, however, was the stone. It was ancient. This was no modern building. If I had to guess, someone most likely plucked this castle from Europe and brought it here to Pebble Beach.

      As I stared at the building a portly man came out to greet me. He was wearing a pinstripe suit that looked far too expensive to belong to a normal teacher. This was most likely to be the head of the school—the principal perhaps—or maybe headmaster.

      When he was a few yards away his face broke into a smile.

      “Ah this must be young master Angel,” he said in a buoyant voice.

      Master Angel?

      Apparently the Seraphs didn’t feel like sharing the fact that I wasn’t an Angel. I struggled to keep the chagrin off my face as I inclined my head.

      The man beamed.

      His purpose at an end, the limo driver bowed and then departed.

      “I am Professor Stone, headmaster of Eden Prep. I have spoken to Mr. Seraph and all your arrangements have been taken care of.”

      I bet they have.

      “So if you would just follow me, I will guide you to your room.”

      He turned and began walking toward the school and I followed suit. The whole time we were walking he kept on rambling. Telling me about the history of the school and the many things this school had to offer me. Blah blah blah. I wasn’t really listening and I really didn’t care. All that mattered was that I was no longer living with my false parents. Before long, we entered a hall lined with doors on both sides of the walls. We walked a ways then stopped in front a door with the number seven engraved upon it.

      I was glad to hear that headmaster had finally stopped talking. He was pulling a key from his pocket and unlocking the door. Once it was open he stepped inside the room and I followed suit.

      The room was small—well, small by my standards anyway. I suppose there would be some impressed by its size. But my closet back in New York City was bigger than this. I kept my distaste for the room off my face. I also noted that the headmaster had begun speaking again.

      “Your room has been completely stocked with clothing. So you don’t have to worry about the uniforms.”

      Uniforms. Ugh. I hate uniforms.

      “Thank you, sir,” I said politely.

      I wanted more than ever to get this guy out of my sight.

      “Um, professor, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve had a long day and am really quite tired.”

      I yawned dramatically, emphasizing the point.

      “Of course. Of Course. I understand completely,” he replied jovially.

      He СКАЧАТЬ