Year Two: Rebels - Cara Wylde Page 0,7
gag. I covered my nose and mouth with my sleeved arm. The elevator creaked and groaned horribly as it moved down. I stole a glance at the nurse. She was lost in thought, humming a random tune. The smell and promise of the elevator eventually turning into a death trap one day didn’t seem to bother her.
“Don’t you think it’s strange?” I asked, trying to make conversation.
“What is?”
“My room is so clean, and new, and… pleasant. Yet the rest of the building is about to collapse.”
“It’s not strange,” she said, letting out a sigh. “We’ve talked about this before. You got the best room we have because you are who you are, and Headmaster Colin insisted. No one makes donations anymore.” She shrugged. “You’re a princess, Miss Aleksiev. You lived a life of beauty and riches. I can see why a bit of mold here and there, a spider web, and a cockroach crossing the corridor like it’s the highway would repulse you, but it is what it is. And we’re doing our best. I’ve been working at the Karmic Asylum for longer than I care to remember.” The elevator creaked to a halt. She got out, and I followed her. “To be honest, I like it the way it is. It hasn’t changed, and that suits me just fine. No one died because of a little mold.”
Actually, people die from mold. But she wasn’t human, so maybe it didn’t apply to her. She had a long, crooked nose, thin lips, and deep-set eyes. Her fingers were curled, and her nails were sharp and black, resembling talons. Tucked along her back, a set of feathery wings confirmed that she was a harpy. It was known that harpies thrived in old, dark, barely ventilated places.
“I’m not a princess,” I whispered.
Nurse T laughed out loud. The sound was inhuman.
“And my room is not actually that great,” I added. “Just decent.”
“Don’t complain now. If you don’t like it, you can always make a generous donation to the Institute.”
“Aren’t I already paying?”
She shook her head. “Grim Reaper Academy is covering the costs of your treatment. When you were brought in, you weren’t very coherent, and since you don’t have any family, we couldn’t even admit you. But that professor of yours, I believe Adrian Wyvern is his name… the Unseelie warrior, made a phone call, and before we knew it, Headmaster Mason Colin himself was paying us a visit.”
“But I do have family…”
She shrugged. “No one showed up, so… do you?”
“Mila…”
“Who’s Mila?” She was distracted, though. We’d crossed the ground floor and stepped out into the mid-morning sun. She met with two other nurses and stopped to exchange a few words.
“My cousin,” I mumbled, but she didn’t hear me.
Nurse T accepted a cigarette from one of her friends, lit it, then motioned for me to start walking. Patients weren’t allowed to linger when they were in the courtyard. The whole point of taking them out for half an hour twice a day was to stretch their legs. Yes, half an hour. Yes, that amounted to one hour in the open air once a day, and it was very, very little. But the doctors at the Karmic Asylum had quite an interesting theory: sunlight didn’t benefit their patients. It agitated them, motivated them, encouraged them to ask questions. Because sunlight cleared their heads. And no one wanted the most dangerous supernaturals in the world to have clear heads, form coherent thoughts, and come up with plans to put an end to their suffering.
I didn’t fit in, yet here I was. I wrapped my arms around myself, lifting my shoulders slightly to protect myself from prying eyes. Maybe I was just paranoid, and no one was actually looking at me as I started walking along the tall stone fence. I kept my eyes on the ground and focused on putting one foot in front of the other. My muscles felt stiff, and my knees and ankles could barely hold my weight. I felt… brittle. Underneath my white flat shoes, yellowed leaves and thin, dry branches crunched.
Fall, I thought. Wasn’t it summer just yesterday? I inhaled deeply. The air smelled slightly damp, as if it had rained the night before. I looked up and noticed the trees were losing their leaves. My heartbeat picked up a notch. How much time have I lost? I can’t remember what I did yesterday. I can’t remember what I did a week ago… And Davien… When was Davien here? Has he