Persie Merlin and the Door to Nowhere by Bella Forrest Page 0,13
I’d have gone to the ends of the Earth for her, and then some. And it felt so freaking good to be there with her, stepping out into our brave new world together, knowing we’d earned the right to stand in these hallways.
“These are the training halls.” Charlotte Basani, the badass of her mom’s Institute, opened the doors to let us take a look. I wasn’t one for hero worship, but heroine worship—yeah, I could do that. And I had some major heart eyes for this woman. She had the kind of hunting rap sheet that turned me green with envy, but I wasn’t jealous—global, cross-continental missions to wrangle the rarest and most dangerous beasts of all: bahamuts, wendigos, and basilisks. But, at the end of the day, everyone was in a one-horse race against themselves, so jealousy was a waste of time. I preferred to champion folks instead of creating an enemy that didn’t exist.
I craned my neck to get a look at the training facilities. No surprise that the cadet corps was up front, hogging the doorway. “Can you see?” I asked, looking down at Persie.
“Just about,” she replied from her tiptoes.
A row of glass rooms lay beyond the main door, sort of like squash courts but way bigger. The panel sets were frosted, but I could make out hazy shadows moving behind, and I could hear Grand Slam grunts from within. Hey, even hunters needed their privacy while training. It wouldn’t have been too impressive to watch the blooper reel on our first day. We needed to see the slick end-product, the thing that would trick us into thinking everything would be smooth sailing—even though we all knew this was going to be the hardest thing any of us had ever done. And I included the GIs in that.
“You’ll train here with Hosseini. He’ll teach you to hunt. It goes up in stages, so you’ll start with the basics—types of attack, defensive strategies, the use of devices—then work toward intermediate level, which is more to do with your personal hunting style, and so on.” Charlotte kept things straight and to the point, and I liked that. No messing about, just “here’s this, and here’s how it’ll serve you.” I imagined she had the same approach to her hunting. “If you ever get lost, ask for directions. It takes a few weeks to get the hang of the layout, so don’t be too proud to get help. That goes for most things in this place.”
If only the rest of us had an advantage like yours. I didn’t mean that in a bitter way. Having an edge was useful, and she had the Basani well of monster knowledge at her fingertips. Honestly, it was kind of freaky how much she looked like her mom and, obviously, her aunt as well. Charlotte had the same hazel eyes and olive skin, though her golden blonde hair verged on the strawberry persuasion. A hint of her dad, probably.
“If you’ve seen enough, we’ll move on.” Charlotte walked off without waiting. She knew we’d follow.
She pointed out various studies and suites as we headed back along endless corridors, containing know-how that we didn’t need in our first year. Persie wasn’t in a very chatty mood, and I couldn’t blame her. She was clearly dog-tired from playing defense against her nightmares. My best pal had been through some gnarly crap lately, troubles that didn’t show any sign of letting up. We both hoped her Purges had waned, but we also knew wishful thinking when we saw it. Even though I knew it was stupid, I hated dream-me for not stepping up. I didn’t always get it right, like with the scorpion fiasco, but I wouldn’t ever stop trying to help my best friend. If anyone ever tried to lock her up, I’d throw everything I had at them.
“Here, we have the Theorem Complex.” Charlotte paused in front of two enormous double doors. They really had a thing for those, here. Turning the huge, clover-shaped handles, she pushed both doors open like a dramatic movie heroine.
A cathedral-like beauty of a room invited our necks to strain upward. “Room” didn’t even begin to cover it. You could’ve fit an aircraft hangar in there and still had wiggle room. Curving staircases snaked up to elaborate balconies, where trainees and graduates sat at mahogany desks, flipping through the million dusty books that lined never-ending shelves. On the ground floor, modern glass boxes masqueraded as study cells. In one, I