hours online last night. Man, IM'ing, once he got the hang of it, was the perfect way to communicate with her. With them both typing words, he felt like they were equals. And if he'd liked her over dinner, he was really into her now.
"What's your name?"
John looked over a couple of seats. A guy with long blond hair and a diamond earring had spoken up.
At least they're using English, John thought.
As he unzipped the pack and took out a notebook, the guy said, "Hello? You deaf or something?"
John wrote his name and turned the pad around.
"John? What the hell kind of name is that? And why are you writing?"
Oh, man... This school thing was going to suck.
"What's your problem? Can't talk?"
John met the guy right in the eye. The laws of probability mandated that within every group, there was one alpha-male pain in the ass, and this towhead with the sparkler in his earlobe was clearly it.
John shook his head to answer the question.
"You can't speak? At all?" The guy raised his voice as if to make sure everyone heard. "What the hell are you doing training to be a soldier if you can't talk?"
You don't fight with words, do you? John wrote.
"Yeah, and all those muscles you're popping are really scary."
So are yours, he wanted to scribble.
"Why do you have a human name?" This question came from the redhead in the seat behind him.
John wrote, Raised by them, and then turned the pad around.
"Huh. Well, I'm Blaylock. John... wow, weird."
On impulse, John pulled up his sleeve and flashed the bracelet he'd made, the one with the characters he'd dreamed about on it.
Blaylock leaned over. Then his pale blue eyes shot up. "His real name's Tehrror."
Whispers. Lots of whispers.
John retracted his arm and eased back against the window again. He wished he'd kept his sleeve down. What the hell were they thinking now?
After a moment Blaylock pulled a polite one and introduced the others. They all had odd names. The blond's was Lash. And how flicking appropriate was that?
"Tehrror..." Blaylock murmured. "That's a very old name. That's a real warrior's name."
John frowned. And even though it would be better to get himself off these boys' high-def wide-screen, he wrote, Isn't yours? And the rest of theirs?
Blaylock shook his head. "We have some warrior blood in us, which is why we were chosen to come train, but none of us has a name like that. What line are you descended from? God... are you bred from the Brotherhood?"
John frowned. It had never dawned on him that he could be related to the Brothers.
"Guess he's too good to answer you," Lash said.
John let that one pass. He knew he was tripping all kinds of social wires, setting off land mines right and left, what with his names and the raised-by-humans thing and his inability to talk. He had a feeling this school day was going to be one hell of an endurance test, so he might as well save his energy.
The trip lasted about fifteen minutes, with the last five or so involving a lot of stopping and going, which meant they were going through the gate system into the training compound.
When the bus halted and the partition retracted, John shouldered his duffel and his backpack and got out first. The underground parking facility was just as it had been last night: still no cars, just another shuttle bus like the one they'd come in. He stood off to the side and watched the others mill about, a flock of white jis. Their nattering voices reminded him of the sound of pigeon wings clapping.
The center's doors swung open, and the group got good and transfixed.
But Phury could do that to a crowd. With his spectacular hair and his big body in black, he was enough to make anyone freeze.
"Hey, John," he said, lifting his hand. "What's doing?"
The guys turned and stared at him.
He smiled up at Phury. Then got busy trying to fade into the background.
Bella watched Zsadist pace around the bedroom. He reminded her of how she'd felt the night before when she'd sought him out: Caged. Miserable. Pushed too hard.
Why the hell was she forcing this?
As she opened her mouth to call the whole thing off, Zsadist stopped in front of the bathroom door.
"I need a minute," he said. Then shut himself away.
At a loss, she went over and sat on the bed, expecting him to be right back out. When the shower came on and stayed on, she