Chapter 1- St. Marcus Academy

Chapter 1: Jace               

     

      Jace woke to the fluttery movement of light passing over him, warming his face and eyes.

      Jace groaned and rolled over. Somewhere a low hum could be heard, the noise vibrating through him, shaking his unconscious mind. Burrowing himself deeper into the sheets he silently willed the world to shut up, blindly grasping at the thick tendrils of sleepy fog that were slowly dissolving with every waking minute. The humming noise got louder, closer, thwarting any chance of sleep.

      Muttering obscenities, Jace rolled onto his back and glared darkly at the ceiling above him. After a dark moment he yawned, his eyes fluttering shut as sudden wave of exhaustion washed over him. Rolling onto his side, Jace half-consciously reached out, his hand blindly searching the space beside him.

      “Kayla?” Jace mumbled sleepily into the pillow. No answer.

      She must already be up, Jace’s mind drifting further into unconsciousness. A second later his next thought hit him like a ton of bricks: he didn’t know a Kayla.

      Jace bolted out of bed, heart hammering and wide awake, all traces of sleep disappearing in an instant. Across the room a young woman in a black and white service uniform stood just outside the doorway gaping at him, vacuum momentarily forgotten. Her eyes widened as she took in Jace’s appearance. Well that explains the noise, he thought irritably, then looked down to see what she was staring at and yelped: he was completely naked.

      Flushing a deep red he grabbed the nearest object- a silky black throw pillow- and covered himself, taking three steps and slamming the door in the woman’s face. Locking the door, he turned to face the scene behind him.

      The room was simple and elegant; the entire room adorned white- from the lush sheepskin rug, to the brilliant all-white walls. The furniture was a matching set to the pail interior save the dark-wood king-size bed that took up over half a wall. Crumpled sheets lay in a silky heap where he’d shoved them and thick pillows were thrown haphazardly across the bed.  On the other side of the room two silver sliding doors reflected Jace’s bewildered and very naked image back at him.

      Jace had no idea how he’d gotten here. He’d never seen this room in his life.

      He focused on controlling his breathing, trying to suppress the sudden wave of instinctual fear that rose up inside him. The pillow fell from his hands as he slid onto the edge of the bed. He had no memory. Nothing. Jace tried to think back to remember how he’d gotten here, from the previous night- last week- last year- anything, and each time he came up blank.

      The last thing he could remember was waking up about ten or fifteen minutes ago- naked- in a stranger’s bed. Not only that, but Jace had the uneasy feeling that he hadn’t spent the night alone… Which might explain the mysterious Kayla. He tried to picture her face- to recall anything other than her name- but each time he tried his mind went foggy. He couldn’t seem to remember exactly what she looked like or even who she was, only the blurry flash of dark hair and the sweet joyous sound of girlish laughter that made his chest ache in a strangely painful way, the hairs on the back of his neck raising. Who was she?

      Kayla- whoever she was he knew she was important. But that still didn’t explain the bed-

      A timid knock made Jace glance up just in time to see the door open- hadn’t he locked it?- and the same young Hispanic made walk in with a small stack of folded fabric in her arms, which she set on the dresser. Jace scrambled to his feet, face flushing self-consciously, the bed sheet wrapped tightly around his waist.

      The woman blushed and made a point of adverting her eyes as she scurried out of the room, the door shutting firmly behind her. He hesitated, the sheet still clutched around his body in case anymore unexpected visitors knew how to pick a lock and barged in unannounced, but his curiosity got the best of him and Jace warily approached the dresser.

      The first item on top was a deep brown leather jacket, the rough material slightly scuffed and worn. Jace fingered the sleeve for a moment before setting it aside and picked up the next two: a faded blue Paramour t-shirt and a pair of dark denim jeans. Underneath those were a pair of boxers, socks, and used black and white Converse. A small part of Jace new these were the clothes he’d worn, that they were his, but he still felt awkward putting them on, as though they were a stranger’s clothes instead. Actually, if you thought about it, they practically were.                  

      Feeling both strangely relieved and exposed, Jace quickly dressed into the outfit, not surprised when the clothes fit him exactly.

      ************************FINISH********************************************

      After leaving room 16A, Jace headed down the hallway where he found the elevator. He pushed the button and stepped inside, selecting the LOBBY button. A second later Jace felt it jolt to life and began to ascend. A moment later the elevator beeped and the large metal doors slid open, allowing Jace to step out.

      The lobby was a stunning display; huge chandeliers hung from towering ceilings, the whole floor a mixture of crystal, black, white and gold. Blood-red loveseats scattered the room and a large oak receptions desk sat squarely between the two elevators marked A and B. Jace stepped out of the first and was immediately greeted by the man at the desk.

      He smiled. “Mr. Wilder! Lovely day, isn’t it? How was your morning, sir?”

      Jace frowned. “Do I know you?”

      “I just got a call from Anna-leise,” the older man continued, beaming up at Jace, “She just got out of school and wanted to come over to your room later- why are you staring at me like that? Is everything all right?”

      “I don’t know you,” Jace said.

      The man gave a nervous chuckle. “Of course you do, Mr. Wilder.”

      “That’s not my name.” Jace said. But then he thought:  I don’t even know who I am.

      The clerk, whose name read Mortimer, looked at Jace peculiarly and Jace realized that discussing his lack of memory with someone he may or may not know probably wasn’t the best idea. Not if he was avoiding a straightjacket.

      “I mean,” Jace added hastily as Mortimer opened he mouth to reply, “I’m not feeling very well. I thought I’d take a walk- fresh air and all.”

      The clerk nodded sagely. “A walk will clear the mind. And it is a lovely day out. But I hope you won’t be long; Anna-leise will be here shortly.” Mortimer smiled. “She’s looking forward to spending the day-“

      “Er. Yeah,” Jace interrupted, now beginning to wonder if he was running some type of escort service. Kayla, now Anna-leise. This would be the second girl he felt he should know and didn’t. “I’m going to go take that walk now. Just send her, um, right on up.” It sounded like a question.

      Mortimer beamed, his chubby face reddening. “Absolutely! I’ll send her right up! Have a nice walk, Mr. Wilder!”

      Jace took that as his cue to leave and got out of there as fast as possible without the authorities being called. Outside the city was buzzing; the streets were lined with people, cars honking, shops aflutter, and the sun sparkling in a clear blue sky. In other words, just another late summer day in Coldwater, Maine.

      Suddenly Jace’s head began to throb painfully, his mind searching for memories that should’ve been there but weren’t. At least he knew where he was- Maine, which he assumed as somewhere in America. It was a small flash of memory, just a breeze of a thought, really, but it was enough for Jace to know that at least his memories weren’t gone- just temporarily lost. Real amnesia was extremely rare and he would most likely get his memories back with the right prodding.

       Maybe Mortimer was right, Jace thought, maybe a walk will clear my head. So Jace started walking.

      The streets were a little crowded with early morning traffic. Young mothers’ power-walked wide-eyed babies in strollers, old men puffed even older cigars outside the coffee shop, and tourists meandered about, taking in the sights. Maine was beautiful, with its thick, lush greens and clear blue skies. Jace had half mind to take in some sights as well. Just to stop and breathe and put everything on PAUSE for a moment.

      “Jace!” Jace’s head jerked up at the sound of his name. Across the street a pretty somewhat skinny young girl he guessed to be about twelve or thirteen with a tangle of brown hair and wide eyes waved exuberantly at him. Jace felt his face break into a wide smile of his own as he gave a small wave back, a sense of recognition washing over him: this was Mortimer’s only daughter, Anna-leise. No escort service apparently.

      “Hey,” he started to say as the younger girl crossed the street, relieved to finally recognize someone in this place, when a low high-pitched whistling noise cut him off. He turned almost instinctively and time seemed to slow down painfully as his brain processed what he was seeing.

      One of the city buses had lost control, the driver madly hitting the breaks that for some reason no longer worked, creating that loud keening noise every time. Face purple with effort he swerved frantically around cars and people, but he was going way to fast to stop- and headed straight for Anna-leise, who was still crossing the street and hadn’t yet seen the commotion. But she must’ve seen the growing look of horror on his face or like the people around just heard the screeching because she turned to find the source only to be thrown back as Jace hit her from the side. He shoved her out of the direct path- only to put him in it.                    

      He had exactly enough time to look up and see the horrified expression of the bus driver before the bus hit him at sixty miles-per-hour.

      What happened next was hard for Jace to put into words.

      Everything happened both blindingly fast and excruciatingly slow; Jace watched as the bus flew towards him, knowing he was going to die and powerless to stop it. But that’s when it happened. He saw a thin silvery veil, almost a trick of the light not a foot away from him, a fraction of a second before the bus slammed into it. He didn’t even have time to close his eyes. Jace watched as the bus flew towards him, ducking as it slammed into the veil and flipped over his head, landing on its back, then skidding forward until it slammed into the light pole twenty feet away with an earsplitting screech.

      Jace stood in the middle of the street, stunned- he was alive for crying out loud- unable to clearly process what he’d just seen. He turned and noticed Anna-leise still sprawled on the concrete where he’d pushed her before the accident. She looked up at him with wide, fearful eyes until her mind quickly worked through what she’d just witnessed. Without so much as a glance in Jace’s direction she grabbed her school bag and made a dash for it, her papers still scattered along the street. And that’s when the screaming started.

      “Somebody get the bus driver!” One man yelled.

      “Stop!” A woman screamed. “It’s a Wilder!”

      All around him was chaos. People were yelling for the police, yelling for each other, yelling for the bus driver, and most of all yelling at him. A mob of bystanders surrounded Jace but didn’t get too close, looking both angry and fearful. Those who didn’t try to stop Jace backed away in terror or spoke heatedly into phones.

      Wilder. Wilder. Wilder. The word was an angry whisper in the crowd, sparking the people’s terror. Jace had no idea what it meant, only that the clerk from the Hotel de Plaza had called him something similar, but without the revulsion and fear the crowd showed. It was making his head hurt.

      What is going on? Jace wondered as a tiny army of flashing blue and red cars swerved onto the sidewalk and not a minute later the terrified mob became an angry circle of police officers in riot gear, each weapon pointed right at him. Medics swarmed the ruin of the bus.

      “Don’t move!”

      “Get on the ground!”

      “Put your hands above your head! Now!”

      Stunned and bewildered, Jace did as they asked, lowering himself to the ground and putting his hands behind his head. “What is going on?” He demanded the closest officer. “Why are you doing this?” They ignored him. The yelling and the noise continued, the pounding in his head worsening with every second.

Jace squeezed his eyes shut. “Stop! Stop! Everyone just stop!” he yelled.

      Silence.

      Jace cracked an eye open, sure he’d just woken up from a very, very bad dream and wasn’t kneeling in the middle of a street with a small army of hand guns trained on him, the wreckage of a bus twenty feet behind him in a pile of twisted metal and glass. Jace felt he’d seen enough for one day- hell, the rest of his life- but when he opened his eyes his heart froze.

      Time had stopped.

      Everyone around him had stopped in the middle of what they were doing, frozen in mid-action. People on cell phones no paused in the middle of their conversations, words caught in their throat.  Medics had stopped trying to revive the injured bus driver, mouths open but no sound coming out. Even the police were frozen mid-yell, guns stiffly trained on Jace.

      Jace slowly let his arms fall to his sides and pushed himself to his feet. Stop! Stop! Everyone just stop!

      “Did I do this?” he wondered in amazement, reaching out to touch one of the officers, to make sure they were real.

      “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

      Jace’s hand jerked to a stop and he looked over to see where the voice had come from. Just outside the circle surrounding Jace stood a man he hadn’t noticed earlier. He estimated the older man was in his late forties-early fifties with dark gray hair and stormy blue eyes that watched Jace curiously. He wore a light brown suit and in his hand he fiddled with a hidden object, it’s golden surface winking in the early morning light. The man leaned casually against the wall, not too far from where Jace first saw Anna-leise. Anna-leise. Jace felt a flicker of pain. Once the world stopped trying to drive him insane he’d have to do something about her.

      “Why,” Jace asked, “Are they going to ‘wake up’ if I touch them, or something?”

      The man regarded Jace with a look of amusement. “Or something.” He agreed then looked down as he flipped open the tool in his hand before flipping it back closed and pocketing it. It was an old fashioned pocket watch, gold and worn over time. “Actually, the Daylighters will stay suspended for approximately… twelve minutes and forty-seven seconds. Feel free to poke them all you like but that would be a waste of effort and time on my part.”

      Jace blinked. “Wait a second- start over. What the heck is a ‘daylighter’ and what’s going on in twelve minutes? And for that matter, who the heck are you? And why aren’t we frozen?” Jace demanded, pausing to catch his breath.  And why am I still alive?

      The old man pushed himself off the wall with a sigh. “I could explain all of this to you, but from past experience I think it would be wise to wait, seeing we’ve only less than ten minutes and this would take much too long.” He paused and shot Jace a wry smile.

       “Or, we could wait the nine minutes and twenty-seven seconds and see what the authorities decide to do with you once they come back to themselves. Of course, I’ll be long gone by then and you will never know what I had to say. And anyways, their kind don’t like ours so whichever it is they decide, it won’t be pleasant.”

      There it was again: Wilders. “How do I know I can trust you?” Jace said finally. He had too many questions and not enough answers. Maybe this stranger could help him, but what if it turned out to be a ruse?

      The older man’s blue eyes crinkled with amusement. One second he was on the other side of the human barricade, and in the blink of an eyes he was three feet in front of Jace.

      “You can’t,” he said simply as Jace jerked back in surprise, almost running into the person behind him, “But I’m the only one with the answers so you’re going to have to take that chance.”

      He held out a weathered hand. A silver snake circled his middle finger, the red eye winking at Jace almost in warning. “Five minutes,” the stranger warned.

      Jace hesitated. “Where will you take me?”

      “Somewhere they,” the man jerked his head in the direction of their frozen audience, “can’t find you. Somewhere safe.”

      Jace wasn’t so sure about that last part but figured, what the hell. At least maybe he’d get some answers and his memory back. He reached for the outstretched hand. As soon as his fingers made contact, Jace felt himself fall.

 

 

     

      Jace hit the ground and stumbled, gravel digging into his knees. His brain felt like it was slowly being pushed out through his nostrils, his body as unstable as Jell-O. He gasped for air, his lungs swelling in painful relief.

      “What”, he gasped, looking up at the man through watery eyes, “was that.”

      The man, unlike Jace, landed perfectly on both feet, looking as though nothing peculiar had happened. He watched Jace with mild interest, his mouth curved slightly upwards in amusement.

      “That,” he said calmly, “was Traveling.”

      Jace tried to think but all he could hear was his blood pounding erratically in his ears and the frantic beating of his heart as it tried to pound its way out of his chest. Jace suppressed the urge to dry heave.

      “That was the most horrible thing I have ever experienced,” Jace chocked out, “I felt like I was being squeezed through a straw and I couldn’t breathe, or move, or see.” He pushed himself to his feet, bracing his hands on his knees. “I am never doing that again,” he vowed, panting slightly.

      Jace frowned. What?”

      The stranger sighed. “Well, I’m going to have to assume you’re not a Traveler then. Travelers tend to land on both feet- not both knees.”

      It took a moment for Jace to realize the old man was trying to be funny. “Ha, ha. Maybe next time- whoa. Where are we?”

They stood before a wrought iron gate. The black metal twisted into intricate designs and Jace could easily make out the letters S.T.M. The old man chuckled. “Welcome to St. Marcus’s Scholl for the Gifted.”

      “This is your ‘safe place’?” Jace’s tone was incredulous.

      He nodded. “More or less.”

      Jace stared at the gate. “It’s an empty lot.”

      And it was. Behind the looming gate was a deserted lot. Rocks of all sizes scattered the tiny desert, a small breeze pushing the dirt around in spots. Patches of weeds poked up out of the dirt and off to the side a few pieces of torn up wooden boards and bricks lay there in defeat. This place was, well, nothing.

      “You’ve got to be joking.” Jace finished.

      The stranger chuckled, glancing once more at his time piece before replying, “Actually, what you think you’re seeing is a deserted lot; what you’re really seeing is St. Marcus. Call it security. The gate is a barrier that wraps around the school and protects its inhabitants from other Daylighters and Dark Wilders.

      “Once you get past the gate you will see the school for what it really is. Other than the gate, the other border security is the gate itself. If anyone attempts to enter St. Marcus without permission from either me or another Academy professor, they will find themselves transported to the opposite end of the gate the second they touch the metal. Touch the gate again and you will find yourself on the other side.

      “For those without the Traveling abilities,” he added, smiling slightly at Jace, “the experience can be quite unpleasant. You’ll just keep Traveling back and forth each time until you either come to your senses, or pass out from exhaustion. The gates are indestructible.”

      Jace glanced at the gate, which suddenly looked much less intimidating a minute ago. “So…How do I get in then?” he asked.

      “I, Professor Maxwell, allow you, Jace Wilder, to seek refuge at St. Marcus’s School for the Gifted.” Jace was about to mention that his name wasn’t actually Jace Wilder when a loud groan cut off his words and the gate slowly creaked open.

      For the first time the Professor regarded Jace with almost solemn eyes. “Welcome to the Academy, Jace. The gate recognizes you.”

      St. Marcus’s School for the Gifted was like nothing Jace had ever imagined. It was an enormous, monstrous, castle-like building that towered over him. Around the building Jace could see fields, gardens, a basketball court-

      “How is this even possible?” Jace wondered.

      The Professor watched him. “It’s a bit of a story,” he said, “but pretty much St. Marcus School for the Gifted- or just St. Marcus Academy or the Academy as the students have dubbed it over the years- used to be in Greece until one of the previous Headmasters had it moved to the Americas about fifty years or so before the Persian War as a convenience”-

      “You moved an entire school?”

      Professor Maxwell frowned. “Well, yes. Wilders have special abilities that allow then to do such things, if you’re born with them. I’m sure you’ll discover this in your classes.” There was that word again. Wilders. Jace’s head felt like it was going to explode. So much had happened so fast, and he still had no answers as to who he was or even why-

      “You’re right,” Professor Maxwell spoke up, startling Jace. “We do need to talk and I’m sure you have your questions, just as I have mine, but perhaps we should do it in a more… appropriate area and the front gates aren’t exactly my idea.

      “Now,” he said, a slow mischievous gleam coming into his eyes that Jace didn’t like one bit, “I’m all for a nice stroll through the commons as the next person, but I rather think my office would suffice. Since I don’t have much time and you need to be somewhere in a little while we’re going to have to do things my way. Prepare yourself.”

           Jace didn’t even have enough time to catch his breath, much less prepare himself, before the old man’s hand closed over his wrist and Jace felt the familiar swell behind his eyes, and he was falling.

 

 

      Jace stumbled and slammed into the nearest object, sliding to his knees. His vision swam as he frantically sucked oxygen into his lungs. His stomach lurched in protest and as a result Jace found himself dry heaving onto the floor. Something smacked his back and Jace focused on the pain, trying to hold back the next wave of heaving that hit him. Slowly the swelling pain dimmed to a bearable buzz and the low ringing in his ears became voices.

      “-looks like he’s upchucking his spleen”-

      “-twice in one day? You know what that does to a kid, professor”-

      “-This is the kid? The police are going nuts”-

Jace struggled to his feet, the pounding on his back stopping once it realized Jace’s stomach was no longer trying to make an exit through his nose. A pair of hands pulled him to his feet and Jace blinked to clear his vision.

      He was standing in a large room. The walls on his left and right were from ceiling to floor enormous bookshelves filled with books. Towards the front of the room was a large fireplace and two red couches that looked similar to the ones from Hotel de Plaza. Over by the large bay window was a desk, and in front of those were to office chairs that matches the couches. Looking around, that’s when Jace realized he wasn’t alone.

      There were five other people in the room, including Professor Maxwell, whom Jace was beginning to dislike. There were two girls on the couches, a young man leaning against the far wall, and another who looked older than the first and who’s probably had been leaning against the wall/bookshelf before Jace appeared out of nowhere and slammed into him.

      The first girl was probably only a little older than Jace, with thick brown hair and fiery brown eyes, her long slender fingers tracing absent circles on the couches fabric. The other girl sat only a few feet away from the first, and was the dark-haired girl’s complete opposite. She had pale blonde shoulder length hair and frosty blue eyes. She spoke quietly to the golden haired boy beside her, ignoring Jace completely. The guy must’ve been in his mid-twenties, with reddish-gold hair and dull grey eyes. Those eyes flickered over at Jace worriedly, then back to the blonde girl, murmuring a reply Jace couldn’t hear.

      The last guy was the one standing next to Jace. He was well-built, with wide shoulders and thick bands of well-toned muscles wrapping around both arms threateningly. His hair was short and dark, a pair of black eyes watched Jace with a look of wry amusement.

      Jace felt his temper flare. What did everyone think was so funny? ­Try having your lungs attempt a jailbreak through your esophagus, he thought, yanking his arm out of the man’s vise-like grip, taking a step back. The dark-haired guy’s eyes narrowed, a low growl emitting deep in his chest.

      “Fenris,” a voice warned, “Enough. Leave the boy alone.” The noise stopped but the look didn’t.

      Professor Maxwell sat on the edge of the desk, seemingly lost in thought. He flipped open the time piece, closed it, then flipped it back open again. Clearing his throat he turned to Jace, I apologize for the Traveling- it was the quickest way to get here.” He didn’t sound sorry at all.

      “But now that we’re here,” he continued, “Perhaps we can get started. I know we both have questions and I will answer yours to the best of my abilities just as I would expect you to do of mine. But before we begin I believe it would save us a bit of trouble if you shared your side of the story as it would save time later.

      “Now, Jace,” the professor said, taking a seat in the large leather chair behind his desk, “Would you mind telling me a bit about yourself? Perhaps starting with as to how you ended up in Maine? You don’t exactly seem like a native.”

      “I wish I knew,” Jace glanced at their audience for a moment, hesitant. Then he told them the whole story- from waking up at the hotel, to Traveling into the professor’s office. He didn’t see any point in hiding any of the details, and the old man was an attentive listener. He sat behind his desk, his fingers drumming on the oak wood thoughtfully. Occasionally one of the others would interrupt to ask a question or clarify something but otherwise the room was silent.

      When Jace was done the old man thought for a moment.

      “I see,” Maxwell said finally, “And you have no memory? Of anything? Not who you are, or where you came from?”

      Jace shook his head. The professor pondered this.

      “Perhaps we can figure out a way to reclaim your memories,” Maxwell said, “A school with this many Wilders, there is bound to be someone who can help you.” Now he leaned forward in his chair. “Now that you’re finished I assume you have questions and I’ll start with the basics.

      “Firstly, you are at St. Marcus’s School for the Gifted- that’s Wilders- which is a sort of boarding school and shelter for youngsters who have unique abilities and wish to control them.”

      “In other words,” Jace turned to the brunette girl who spoke up from the couch, “We teach everyone here to control powers, give them free housing and food, and protect their sorry”-

      “Phoenix.” Maxwell snapped and the girl looked up innocently. The professor turned to Jace. “Please excuse her. She tends to be rather…blunt. This is Phoenix, one of the St. Marcus Academy instructors. She teaches self-defense and oversees Power Training,”  the girl waved at Jace.”  Her co-instructor is Fenris,” the dark-haired boy behind Jace crossed his arms, the bands of muscle flexing menacingly.

      Fenris shot him a look. “Call me Wolf.”

      Professor Maxwell moved on. “Khione teaches History and Wilder Sociology along with supervising off-campus trips. Ian is the St. Marcus technical and mechanical supervisor. He teaches Modern Technology and Mechanics, and basic instruction.” Both blondes nodded in acknowledgment.

      “So,” Jace said, looking at each of the schools professors. None of them could’ve been a day over twenty-five and the girl, Phoenix, was only a little older than Jace- maybe nineteen or twenty. “You’re telling me that I’m a Wilder. That’s your reason for bringing me here. You think I’m the next Superman, or whatever,” he said flatly, crossing his arms.

      But the weirdest thing was that Jace wasn’t all that surprised or shocked by what they were telling him. After the morning he’d had, Jace doubted anything could surprise him anymore. Amnesia? Not bad. Hit by a bus? Eh. High school for superheroes? Why not?

      The comment had been directed at Professor Maxwell but it was Phoenix who replied, “That’s exactly what we think- figuratively speaking. Judging from what you’ve told us and what happened with the bus, I’d say you were an Elemental- force field, maybe. That would certainly explain the weird ‘silvery-thing’ that saved you from becoming road kill.” She glanced over at the professor for confirmation.

      Maxwell thought about it. “What do you think Ian?” he asked. Everyone turned.

      The blonde boy rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, leaning back against the fireplace. He frowned. “I’m not really sure, but from what Jace described I don’t think it’s force field. A type of force field, maybe, but not anything I’ve ever done.”

       Ian turned to Jace. “A force field is a type of Elemental- a class of Wilder powers you’ll learn about in Sociology,” he explained. “It’s a mixture of all five elements that create a type of barrier between two things- in your case you and the bus. You said that when the bus hit the silver force field it was like it had slammed into a steel wall, crushing the front and flipping over. Force fields are more like an electrical wall that a steel one; if the bus had actually hit a force field, it would’ve been blown backwards not forwards.” Ian shook his head, puzzled. “I’ve never heard of what you did.”

      The room was silent, puzzling. The professor studied Jace like he was a particularly interesting science experiment, one that might catch fire any moment.

      “Hmm,” he said after a long moment. “Any ideas?”

      No one said anything.

      “Well then,” Maxwell sighed. “It seems we’ll have to leave it up to the Seekers. I’ll contact Levithanial shortly and we’ll proceed from there.” He pulled his time piece out from his coat pocket, flipped it open, then shut it and put it back. He rose from the desk and addressed Jace. “Now, if you’ll excuse us Jace, I have somewhere I need to be in a few minutes. Fenris,” Wolf looked up, “If you will please escort Jace to the Lower Arena and explain the rules”-

      Across the room Phoenix made a choking sound. “You’re not serious, Professor! The kid just got here- they’ll eat him alive!”

      Jace didn’t like the sounds of that.

      -“Ian, Phoenix, Khione,” Maxwell continued, ignoring that statement, “If you will please follow me to the Upper Arena.” Everyone got up but Jace cut in.

      “Wait, wait, and wait- what? Where are you taking me? What is the ‘lower arena’? I still need answers!” he exclaimed in alarm.

      The old man waved him along impatiently. “Fenris will explain. Go.”

      Wolf grabbed Jace by the arm, half dragging him out of the room. “Come on, kid. Maxwell’s a stickler for lateness and I like Traveling about as much as you do. Keep up and I’ll explain the rules.”

 

“Alrighty kiddo. Now I’ll answer your first question.” Wolf said once they’d left Maxwell’s office. The halls were oddly deserted as they began heading down to the main floor. Jace guested they were at least four stories up. St. Marcus was even more impressive on the inside, if that was even possible.

      “I’m taking you to the Arena. The Arena is an stadium built underneath St. Marcus. Everything from battle training to a majority of the physical electives go on in there.”

      “But what”-Jace began.

      “I’m not finished.” The older boy cut him off with a growl, turning down another endless corridor, leading them deeper into the school. “There are two parts to the Arenas: the Upper Arena, where everyone watches what goes on below, in the Lower Arena, where all the dangerous stuff happens. Large screens on the Upper Arena show all the action and a glass dome separates the two. You got it?”

      Jace nodded. Not really.

      “Now, you’re going to the Lower Arena for Power Training. Don’t worry- almost all the newbies go through there. It’s just to help figure out what your powers are if the professor can’t or a Seeker isn’t available at the moment. Usually it’s pretty obvious, like shape shifting or weather.” They came up to a set of large oak doors, different from all the ones Jace had seen so far. Intricate details decorated the frames, carving showed scenes from battles, men fighting lions and giant snakes.

      Wolf pushed his way through, saying, “Hopefully the Professor will go easy on you being new and all. Most likely they’ll put you up against a Level One or a Two- easy stuff.” His eyes scanned the room, narrow. They fell on something just behind him and he let out a low whistle, his eyes widening in surprise.

      “They put you up against her?” he chocked out. “A Level Four?”

      Jace wasn’t really paying attention. His startled blue eyes wandered the room in amazement; the Arena was probably the size of a smaller football stadium. The Lower Level was a field of sand, the only thing in the room besides the towering steel walls that vanished into a clear dome above him, where Jace assumed was the Upper Arena. This place was huge.

      There was absolutely no way it could’ve existed under the school…And yet it did.

      Wolf thumped him on the back, drawing Jace’s attention back towards him. “Sorry, kid. I like you, I really do, but… Well, you might want to start praying if you’re religious. You’re gonna need all the help you can get.”

      Jace was bewildered. “What are you talking about?”

      “That,” Wolf jabbed a finger over Jace’s shoulder and he turned. What he saw took his breath away.

      “Calli Marx,” Wolf said grimly, “Consider yourself dead, kid.”

Author's Note

In the middle of typing it so I'll upload everytime I can! Hope you enjoy it and let me know if I can do something better or what you think! I'm considering getting it published when I'm done :)

Reviews

[JR Darewood]

you do a great job of teasing the reader with information, keeps you wondering both where the plot is going but also what morsel you're gonna reveal about the world, how the powers work, etc. the amnesia thing is a good device too, it puts the main character on the same playing field as the reader, as we discover things together.

[skyelight]

thanks I really appreciate it. You nailed it right on :D

[Christopher Angel]

I'm surprised you hadn't sent me a read request for this! It's so different from your other stories and I think I actually like this one far better. It's an original story and starts off with a mystery! Very interesting. The descriptions are also much better as is the pacing. I've mentioned some of the problems in your previous writing so I won't repeat them here but overall, good job!

[skyelight]

haha sorry been super busy lately so my fault. I'll work on typing the other five chapters I've written just for you. Forgiven? :)

[Christopher Angel]

Absolutely! Can't wait

[skyelight]

lol thanks! Glad ya like it.

[Diasha]

I really loved this!!
Now I'm hooked XD
The whole story line is really interesting and I really enjoyed reading it. :]
I can really see the characters and the events.
I LOVE IT
GOLD STAR!! ☆

[skyelight]

YAY you just made my day XD

[Lucy Morningstar &heart..]

this has a really good hook to it, and wonderful imagery :) keep it up!

[skyelight]

Thanks! :)

[CLUTZ]

This definitely needs quick run through just to make it flow a little better, but as it stands it's really good. I'd love to read more once you get more chapters uploaded. When I started reading it I wasn't immediately pulled in but I am now.
Great job and I hope you continue this.

[skyelight]

Yeah I had a rough time with the beginning. But I'm glad you liked it so far :)

[Talismanic]

This is a really interesting read. Your descriptions are intensely visible, its as if you've made a movie play in our heads. There may even be some slight overwriting in places - 'People on cell phones (now) paused in the middle of their conversations' - which isn't a problem, but the images can actually lose impact with too much emphasis. I love the picture of 'blindly grasping at thick tendrils of sleepy fog.' The humour and confusion in the first paragraph is a great hook, it's quite erratic and unpredictable and does away with cliche. Writer's block gets us all treading water at times, but I hope you don't stay under too long:)

[skyelight]

Thanks! And yes I tend to add a heck of a lot of emphasis on things that don't need it and waaay too much description but I'll work on it :) I'll see what I can do about my annoying writer's block

[skyelight]

Sorry I got a lil writer's block and skipped a part. I'll finish it someday!