Chapter 3

Aeron slammed the door open and walked into an apartment full of people—with pizza half way to their mouths and their eyes on her. She stopped in the doorway—her clothes bloody and disheveled. It was Luke who reacted first. “What the hell happened to you?” He jumped up from the couch and was next to her in moments.

“Nothing,” Aeron responded. “I would have straightened myself out if I knew you were in here.”

“Would have?” he said, in a dangerous voice. “You shouldn’t have to.”

Aeron looked around the apartment. They were all still staring at her. She met Decius’ eyes and he relaxed, but Shannon met her gaze with irritation. “Listen,” she said to Luke. “I’m fine. Everyone, I’m fine. I’m more pissed about my

outfit.”

“Yeah,” Lesley put in. “There’s no way you’re going to get that blood out.”

Aeron smiled at Lesley, and Luke laughed. “I should’ve known you couldn’t stay out of trouble, Ron,” he said, bumping her shoulder.

She bumped him back, and headed for her room. “I’m going to change,” Aeron said. “There better be some left for me when I get back.” Once in her room, Aeron tore off what was left of her beloved, one of a kind, Armani suit. She tossed it in the garbage and pulled on a pair of loose sweat pants and a tank top—she’d shower later. Aeron was just pulling her hair into a messy bun when Shannon walked in.

“What was that about?” she demanded. Aeron stared at her. “Just because you don’t use one all summer doesn’t mean you don’t know how to use one at all. A text would have been appreciated.”

Aeron looked at her best friend, her green eyes ablaze with fury and her soft red hair dancing like wildfire around her head. “I’m sorry,” Aeron said, mimicking her too-late text. “Shan, I wasn’t even thinking—”

“That much is obvious.”

The two girls glared at each other. It was Shannon who dropped her gaze. “Aeron, it’s hard enough all summer not knowing if the call I finally get is for your funeral. Please just keep that in mind.”

Aeron’s heart skipped. No one, beside Decius, knew as much about her home-life as Shannon—not even Luke. “I really didn’t mean to,” Aeron said, dropping her gaze too. “I just…”

“I know.”

“Pizza!” a voice yelled down the hall. “Are you decent? I have cheese pizza!” Luke appeared with his eyes covered and a box of pizza in his hand. Shannon rolled her eyes and shot Aeron a grin. “I’ll let you get some food. You’re so cranky when you don’t eat.” She stopped next to Luke on her way out the door. “We’re decent; you can open your eyes.”

Luke slowly removed his hands from his eyes, and offered the box of pizza to Aeron, as if it were a silver platter. “Your dinner, my lady.” Aeron snatched the box from him and sat on the love seat by the window. She opened it up and grabbed a slice, hungrily taking a bite—there was nothing lady like about it. Luke sat beside her, holding the box of pizza open. She ate two slices before she remembered Luke sitting next to her.

“Aren’t you going to eat any?” she asked, grabbing a third slice.

“I already ate. I hid this box just for you.”

Aeron smiled at him and finished her third slice. “Well, thank you,” she said, and leaned against the window. He put the box on the coffee table and leaned against the window next to her. They sat in silence for a while, Aeron with her eyes closed. It was the peaceful silence you could only enjoy with a few people. But Luke must have thought she had fallen asleep—and she let him think it. She felt him get up, and gently slide his hands under her and lift her up. He laid her on the bed and pulled the covers over her shoulders. She heard him calling for Jazz, and smelled the wet

food he put in the food dish. “G’night Jazz,” he said softly, and she could imagine him scratching the cat behind the ears. He flipped the light off at the doorway. “G’night Ron,” he said, before she really drifted off to sleep.

Aeron woke before both Jazz and Shannon. She rolled over to look at the clock: 4:14; there was no way she would get back to sleep. Her body ached as she got out of bed, and her escapade the night before returned to her. “Ugh,” she moaned. Why had she done that?—gone off on her own. Jazz stirred from his tower and glared at her. “What Jazz? You wake me up every day. How do you like it?” She headed to the bathroom—she needed a shower. The water was steaming; Aeron enjoyed the heat and stood for a good twenty minutes before she even showered. It was only five o’clock when she finished.

She plopped down on her bed. If she listened close enough she could hear Shannon up and about getting ready. She pulled herself up and picked out a gray pants suit. She ran a comb through her hair and shook it out—it fell perfectly in place. She threw her make-up on and headed to the kitchen. She wasn’t a particularly good cook, but Aeron could handle breakfast. She took out pots and pans, and rummaged through the fridge for eggs and bacon. She was placing the plates of food on the counter as the girls meandered into the kitchen. “Good morning all!” Aeron said cheerfully.

Lesley looked up annoyed and Alicia was trying to rub sleep out of her eyes. Shannon bustled in from the front door with schedules for everyone. She passed them out and pulled a plate of food toward her. “Smells delicious. Thanks, Aeron,” she said.

Aeron nodded and took the schedule, looking it over. It was surprisingly spread out, just three classes on Monday through Thursday—although Parkour shouldn’t be classified as a class—it was their way of life. Her heart sank as she looked over Friday—Parkour and then equestrian. It was a whole day committed to horses. She scanned the weekends—free. The institute ran classes seven days a week. In the first few years, schedules were assigned. Between the ages of ten and fourteen, the students had a say in scheduling. The group would receive the classes they had yet to complete and the time slots that were open for each. It tested the ability to plan ahead and teamwork—which is an integral part of their jobs. Shannon had taken charge right away, piling on the work loads. Aeron grimaced remembering the year they had five classes a day, seven days a week. The worst had been calculus, followed by biochemistry, followed by organic chemistry. It was good planning though—they now had time to enjoy the city, and their freedom. Shannon also had the helpful insight from her sister, Keara. Aeron slammed the schedule down on the counter. Her weekends were free because everyone else would be participating in their electives then.

“What’s wrong?” Lesley asked, coming out of her fog as she ate.

“Nothing,” Aeron said, brushing it off. Lesley and Shannon gave her questioning looks, but she was saved from answering by the door opening and the boys filing in.

“Oh good!” Justin said, grabbing a plate full of food. “Pancakes.”

“Thanks Shan,” Luke said, grabbing bacon from Aeron’s plate.

Decius scoffed. “Don’t thank Shannon, Aeron made this.”

“How can you tell?” Justin asked. He had already inhaled three pancakes and was on his fourth.

Decius picked up a pancake. “Look at it. Only Aeron can make deformed pancakes.”

Aeron snatched the pancake out of his hands. “Shut it,” she snapped, and everyone laughed. Aeron knew he had a point. Her pancakes were never round or oval, but strangely shaped blobs—which still tasted perfectly fine.

“I think they’re perfect,” Luke said. He took one and stuffed it in his mouth. “Delicious,” he muffled around the food. Aeron fought the blush attacking her face. She began picking up the plates and placing them in the sink.

“What’s this?” Luke asked.

Aeron’s stomach plummeted—he was holding her schedule. She hadn’t wanted him to see she only had one elective—he’d ask why, and that was not a discussion she wanted to have with him. She gracefully lunged forward and tried to grab it from his hands, but he held it out of reach. No one had noticed them yet, and Aeron wanted to keep it that way, so she quietly took Luke’s legs out from underneath him and he tumbled to the floor—taking her with him.

“Get off of me!” she shrieked, nearly smacking her head against the counter.

“What?” Luke said, trying to untangle himself from her limbs, but she wasn’t going to let him get up with the paper.

“Give it to me,” she said angrily.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I’ve got it.” Decius was holding her schedule in his hand and shooting daggers at the two of them. “Are you two done horsing around? We have to get to school.”

Aeron pulled herself up and reached for the paper, but Decius pocketed it. With a sigh of annoyance she grabbed her bag, tossed her hair over her shoulder and headed out pausing in the doorway. “Aren’t you guys coming?”

They were all staring at her. Her eyes flashed and they grabbed their bags and followed. No one spoke to her on the elevator. No one spoke to her on the walk. And on the subway she sat alone. Decius slid in beside her and handed back her schedule. Aeron took it without a word. “I’m sorry,” he said. It was for stealing her schedule, it was for not being on the train with her yesterday, it was for not being able to stop their father.

“Don’t be,” she said. “It’s not your fault.”

Decius shot a glance toward Luke. “Why don’t you just tell him?”

“Would he forgive you?”

Decius didn’t have a response for that. They sat in silence the rest of the short ride, and parted ways as they entered the building—heading to the locker rooms where they would dress for the first class of the day—Parkour. The gymnasium was in the back of the building. It was six stories high, with an enormous glass window which opened to the observation deck. The interior was covered with ladders and steep inclines, scaffolding and staggered balancing poles. Aeron smiled, taking a seat on the floor. Parkour was the essential backbone of the Institute. It embodied the discipline of the flight instinct, and honed it to be a useable device. The Learn to Live Institute was the only school on the east coast which focused its training on the flight, not fight. Aeron looked toward the center of the room where Mason, their Parkour leader, was gathering their attention.

“Good morning students,” Mason said, looking around the room. Parkour was the only class comprised of two to three age groups, the rest were age based. This year they were set with the fifteen and sixteen year olds. “Welcome back to a wonderful school year. I hope you kept up with your studies and practices.” There was a mumble of agreement. “Let’s begin. Aeron, would you please come and join me?” Aeron made her way to the platform. She stood in front of Mason very still, but with every muscle ready to move—instinctively. “This is a repeat for our older students and a reminder for our middle ones. But for our newest additions: you have learned the basics, you have passed the exercises, now is the time for you to gain some physical experience with those much more experienced than you.” There was a scoff from the fifteen-year-old section. Aeron looked to see a boy who towered over everyone. He had mustard-blond hair, and—if she remembered correctly—was a major bully. “Terrance Woodwrench,” Mason called out.

“Yeah?” the boy said. He stood his full height—6’2”.

“Would you like to be part of the demonstration?” Mason asked—his tone pleasant, but Aeron could hear the impatience in his voice.

“Against her?” Terrance asked, making his way to the mats. “Yeah. Not a problem.”

“You don’t even know what the exercise is,” Mason said, as the towering boy approached.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll beat her.”

Aeron raised her eyebrows to him. She wasn’t one to brag, but no one beat her in Parkour. She saw Luke and Decius stand to get a better view. She smirked that no money was exchanging hands. When a challenge was issued, a bet would be placed on the outcome—but no one would bet against her. “What are you smirking at?” Terrance demanded, standing across from her. Aeron didn’t answer—she wasn’t wasting her breath.

“The exercise,” Mason began, looking between the two opponents, “is slightly different than what you have learned so far, Terrance. You are going to fight to a point near death— hypothetical of course—but—you may not touch the ground.”

Aeron stood up from her stance and dropped her arms. “Are you serious? Are you really going to make me do this?”

“What are you chicken?” Terrance taunted.

Aeron threw a glare his way and he faltered slightly. He had a violence problem, Aeron recalled, and had gotten a big head for beating up on girls. Aeron’s eyes flashed in anger as she remembered this, and she was pleased to see him take a slight step back. “Forget I said anything,” she tossed at Mason. This time when she looked toward her friends there was money being passed around—on how long it would take her to finish him off. Decius caught her eye and ran a hand through his hair—he had bet she’d finish him off within five minutes. She mimicked his gesture—she understood. This was going to be a quick exercise.

“Opponents,” Mason said, stepping back from the platform. “You will fight to the brink of death. If you hit the floor you are disqualified. Ready?” Aeron was crouching again, her eyes on a bar right above Terrance’s head. “Go!” Mason called, and jumped to the ground. Aeron lunged, soaring right over Terrance, using a muscle-up to pull herself over the bar and began scaling the scaffolding behind him. He tried to follow, but his tall frame made it difficult for him to mimic Aeron’s path and he redirected his efforts to a ladder on the right—they were off.

Aeron maneuvered herself between small gaps, allowing him to chase her around. He thought she was running scared, and Aeron encouraged this, allowing him a few hits here and there. She used the cat-leap to jump to the wall vertical to her and finished with a wall-climb to the landing. Aeron let him to draw first blood and his eyes glinted in triumph as he backed her to the edge of the landing two stories up, opening to nothing but the mats below.

“You think you’re so great,” Terrance said, advancing on her. “Everyone bows to the great Aeron Seward. Well you’re nothing more than a girl who’s gotten out of line.” He lunged forward and grabbed her throat. “You’re dead.”

She laughed and he tightened his grip cutting off her air. She pulled out a short knife from her waist and tore it across the arm holding her in place. He yelped and dropped her. She caught her balance at the edge of the platform, reached forward and grabbed Terrance’s shirt, pulling him along as she fell backward. They somersaulted mid-air, and hit the ground hard— Aeron on top of him. She placed the knife above his heart as he gasped for air. “No, you are.”

The two students glared at each other. Aeron was slowly pushing the knife into his chest, a small pool of blood staining his shirt. There was a hand tugging at her shoulder, and she shook it off, still staring at Terrance. “This is my playground,” she said, between clenched teeth. “You play by my rules, the house rules, or I will kill you. There is honor in what we do, and how we do it. Don’t forget that.” She stood up and wiped the blade clean on his shirt before looking at Mason, who had been halfheartedly trying to pull her off. He smiled in appreciation—he could beat the snot out of Terrance, that was perfectly legal at the Institute, but it was better coming from a girl—from her.

“Well, done,” he said out loud. “Now we will pair off. Shannon will you please tend to Mr. Woodwrench and determine if he needs to go to the fifth floor?”

Shannon nodded and knelt next to the bleeding boy. Aeron knew he’d be fine and leaned against the scaffolding. She hadn’t cut him too deeply, just enough to leave a scar. Shannon checked him over, gave him a few butterfly stitches to hold it together, and then okayed him to continue class. Shannon was one of the few students who excelled in both the medical field and assassination. Aeron was hopeless when it came to anything medical—which was a shame because her mother was a nurse, trained to tend to the assassins; it was how her parents had met. Perhaps if she wasn’t always on the receiving end of the treatment she would have learned more. Decius leaned next to her, glanced around to see if anyone was watching and handed her a wad of cash—her cut of the bet. Aeron was pleased to find it was a hundred even; she pocketed it.

“Thanks for not allowing me the time I wanted to rip him to pieces,” Aeron said grudgingly. She would have loved to show Terrance what she could really do, but Decius kept her line.

Decius rolled his eyes and stood up. “You didn’t have to; you could have gone with Luke’s bet instead.”

“How long had he given me?”

“He was betting on us being here ‘til lunch—‘til you got hungry.” Aeron laughed. “Well sis, unlike some people, I have to train.”

“Later,” Aeron said. She scanned the room, and noted people had been broken into groups. They were doing mucle-ups, precicion jumps, and various vaults—they were definitely breaking a sweat. Mason took Decius’ spot next to her.

“How was your summer, Aeron?”

Aeron looked at him and gave a half-hearted smile. “It was good. How about yours? How is Molly? I haven’t seen her yet.” Mason’s face lit up at the mention of his daughter. He was twenty-seven, his daughter just now eight. She was born shortly after his graduation, and he took a permanent position onstaff right out of the Institute.

“She’s wonderful,” he said. “You know she just adores you. Couldn’t wait to get back here so she could see you.”

“She’s something special,” Aeron agreed. She adored Molly too, but for different reasons than Mason suspected. “I was training a girl this summer—she’d be in Molly’s class. Her name is Sophie…” Aeron paused. Was she a Wayward? Or had she taken her father’s last name?

“Sophie Wayward,” Mason said. “I haven’t met her yet, but Molly seems to be hitting it off with her. But I wanted to let you know, the senior class meets in here for a free-for-all on the weekends. You should think about coming.”

“More students that need a reality check?”

Mason laughed. “Not exactly. You’re too advanced to be here. I’ve requested over and over that you be moved to the senior class, but—”

“It’s just not able to be done,” Aeron finished. Mason had been trying to have her in his advanced classes since she was Molly’s age. “I might be able to fit it in.”

“Great! Well, let’s get some work done.” He turned to look at the obstacles around them. Aeron joined him.

“There are sixteen silver flags hidden in this room, Aeron. You have ten minutes—go.”