The Beast Within (The Elite Series) - By Jonathan Yanez Page 0,58

and a conversation with a servant later, Connor finally found his room.

Connor felt his stomach growl, reminding him he’d missed dinner. He spied a cart parked next to his door. A large covered silver platter sat on top. He said a silent prayer of thanks to Morrigan, Laren, or whoever left him the food. It didn’t matter who left it, it was food.

Wheeling it into his room, he stuffed himself with cold chicken sandwiches, fries, cookies, and soda. Finally content, Connor stretched and looked at the clock next to his bed. It read 11:15 p.m. He didn’t bother with changing and was content to take off his tie, dress shirt, shoes and socks. He threw himself on the bed and was asleep within minutes.

Morning came with a sharp knock on the door. Connor squinted and looked at the alarm clock. The unearthly numbers of 5:30 a.m. stared back at him. This had to be another nightmare. More knocking, this time sharper and in greater number.

“Okay, okay, come in.”

Morrigan opened the door carrying a brown bag in her left hand and a garment bag in her right. She wore light brown slacks that hugged her tall legs and a short sleeve white blouse. She must have been up for hours because her hair and makeup were already done and she was way too cheerful.

“Rise and shine, Connor. The trial begins in just over two hours.”

Connor was laying sideways on his bed, not too far removed from the position he’d taken when he first threw himself there. One eye open, he responded, “You realize I’m a guy and can get ready in fifteen minutes, right?”

“I’m sure you could, although that wouldn’t give us much time to train you, would it?”

Connor’s interest piqued. Sitting up, he stretched and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Still dressed in wrinkled black slacks and a white undershirt, he rose to his feet. Unsure if it was his heightened senses or just the normal smell of breakfast, whatever the case, his hunger directed him to the bag Morrigan held in her hand.

“Not a chance. Not until you shower,” she said as she handed him the black garment bag. “Here, put this on when you’re done.”

Connor reluctantly complied, taking the clothing from her. He hopped in the shower snd scrubbed away the sweat and dirt from the previous day. While Connor soaped his hair, he considered telling Morrigan about the previous night’s events. Not so much seeing Katie, but rather the interaction he’d witnessed between Faust and whatever it was making the humming sound. Deciding against it for now, since he really couldn’t describe what he saw, he dried himself and opened the black bag.

Morrigan had chosen a dark blue suit, white shirt, and a black and blue striped tie. Like before, the suit fit him perfectly.

How does she do that? Connor wondered to himself. He looked in the mirror and decided the few days of stubble growth on his chin should come to end. Searching though the drawers, he came across a shaving kit and put it to use.

Looking in the mirror, Connor didn’t even recognize himself anymore. At home, he had worn a suit just a handful of times. Connor felt taller now and even his dark brown eyes held wisdom uncommon in an eighteen-year-old.

“If you’re done admiring yourself in the mirror, breakfast is ready,” Morrigan called from the other side of the door.

“What do you think? Do I look like a savior?” he said, exiting the bathroom.

“Every bit.”

Surveying the room, he looked for the much-anticipated breakfast he was promised. “I thought you said we had breakfast?”

“Oh, you do. You just have to find it. Think of it as the first lesson in using your sense of smell.”

“You really hid the food?”

“Well, we can always skip smell and head straight to sight if you’d like.”

“No, no, that’s fine. I’ll find it.”

Connor closed his eyes and tilted his head like he’d seen Faust do the previous night.

“Concentrate not on the familiar smells, but the unfamiliar.”

Focusing, he breathed steadily through his noise. Connor dismissed the familiar smells of soap and the new suit he was wearing, forcing himself to search further. He began to encounter different scents: Morrrigan’s perfume, the smoke from a cigarette somewhere down the hall, fresh air from an open window. Then, the sweet, sweet fragrance of sausage, bacon, eggs, hash browns, and pancakes.

He walked to the door, opened it, and continued down the hall. Turning the corner, he saw another cart parked against the