Behind These Refuge Walls

Words were never invented to describe how awkward the situation was. And 'awkward' was such a ridiculous word when it came to the scene - because it was so often used that it had lost its essence.

No, it went deeper than awkwardness. Following Stone down the hallways was beyond any tension ever known - I felt it ten times worse than any other being would, I was certain. And he felt it, too, because otherwise the hatred and suffocation radiating off him would not have been so great. The air was expectant, ready for death, as if.

He was there, in front of me. His presence was everywhere, not just in one spot in the hallway; you couldn't escape the feeling of suffocation, the feeling that you were caught.

I desperately wanted it to stop, the heat that wasn't pleasant in the slightest, but the kind of heat you feel when you've been too close to a fire for too long. So desperate and paranoic I was that I wanted to cry. I wanted to have a mental break down. My heart had long lost its even beating - a scared canary trying to fly out of my chest, smashing itself against the confines of its cage; but freedom is nowhere near and the only results are blood stained feathers.

He was silent - but the kind of silence that you couldn't really notice, because to you, it felt like everything around you was so noisy; too noisy, even if the school was empty.

Students had been sent to their dorms or to enjoy free time in town, they told me. As if I was the plague. Maybe, to them, I really was - the mole.

What was I to do? Better yet, I realized in my state of fear, what was going to happen if everyone was already convinced that I was the enemy? Would they take care of the threat? What if Vallin had already taken care of everything?

We passed Vallin's office - in my furiously shaking state, it only registered with me, vaguely, just when we reached another set of stairs. From the second floor we went up a bit.

One could barely hear Stone's movement, but I did - it surrounded me. I felt the air turning into waves around his muscular back; he rolled his shoulders in a small move, not exaggerated, but the move of a calculated predator, yet not calculated at all.

The last floor was in fact, a smaller, more intimate hallway, its walls and floor of dark marble. A red carpet ran from one side of the hallway to the other. Paintings and simple, tall tables with vases caught one's eye from here and there.

It was a cozy hallway, the kind that you expected to see in an expensive suite in the Upper East Side. However beautiful the view was, I couldn't find it in me enjoy it. Instead, I found the hallway too narrow - the perfect place for me to die suffocated by the shadows and silence.

He stopped in front of a set of double doors, made of dark wood and with simple decorations on the top and edges. The door handles seemed to melt in the strong palm of Stone.

In the shortest of moments, he turned. A tense jaw was revealed. I met his eyes and felt sick of fear.

The doors flew open and I stumbled in what seemed to be the school's private lounge.

The enormous room was decorated in a French fashion, making me gawk at the beautiful drapes pulled away from the large french styled windows and terrace doors. The room was drowned in the sunlight and although there was a lot of furniture - elegant chairs, a big, long table fit for a twenty person conference, large sofas and armchairs along with a gorgeous and thankfully huge bookcase (I personally looked at it as an entire library) - the room (that was no doubt twice the size of my entire apartment) seemed extremely spacious. Far in front of us, facing a long cherry colored couch was a large set of glass doors that were wide open and revealed a large terrace facing the front of the estate.

I felt like I could die on the spot of delight, that is if it wasn't for the amount of people in the room.

Valin sat at one end of the table, with James on a chair next to him. The boy's mohawk failed to make him look careless today. He had his lips pursed, disagreeing with Vallin's words. The man regarded him with a calculated, waiting look. Sylvia was at the table, too, along with other people that I didn't know - a pixie haired, slender woman had her arms crossed over her chest and shaking her head at the situation; an old man with long white hair attempted to clean his large glasses with shaking hand. A slender woman with wavy hair that reached her shoulders and sloppy bangs that made her look like a 90s geek rather than a teacher tugged at her blouse nervously. If the unattended haircut didn't draw your attention to her, then her D-cups certainly did.

Nikoli held my gaze shortly from his place by the French terrace doors, but revealed nothing. A red haired, beautiful silhouetted woman was explaining things to him, her lips pulled in a slightly bitchy manner - the same woman I had been looking at during the game.

Liam, joined by another man and a woman of the same tan and wild looks, were around Gillian's sitting form on the couch. The other man was telling her something and her glare betrayed her apparent calm. She had scented me, I was certain, otherwise her nose would not have been scrunched up in a disgusted manner.

Only Liam turned to look at me from the group and grinned at me - much to my complete horror, he did so in that typical wolfish way of his. I felt myself go pale.

A shadow passed me - a frame that was too consistent to go ignored. I held my breath as Stone distanced himself from me and then felt sick. He passed Ivan and they shared a cold glance. A shiver danced its way up my spine.

A cold hand on my shoulder made me jump and swallow the nod in my throat. Michael didn't look me in the eyes, but him leading me to a chair next to Vallin brought feelings of reassurance in me. He may have been the most dangerous in the room, but to me, Michael was safety.

And when he sat down, as well, being stuck between Vallin and Michael allowed me to breathe, because there were too many mixed feelings on their end.

I don't know how he had acquired it, but the next instant I saw Stone, he held two brown files with a tensed right hand. Dark eyes focused on me and I wanted to die, because it felt like he saw too much, though I wasn't sure how that was possible. The red haired woman tried to catch his attention, but his aura was impossible to strike.

Once the tension settled in properly, darkening up any peace the pastel room may have held, the first question that went through my head was What now?. Was I supposed to defend myself? Because what, really, was going on? What was everyone thinking?

"What happened, Charlotte?" Vallin leaned his elbows on the table's wood.

He was asking me to explain the situation? Hadn't they established that I was the enemy?

Or did they not understand what this was about?

"I don't..." understand anything. Because I didn't. Maybe the hits I'd taken had been too hard or maybe Sylvia's freaky light bulbs and potions had gone straight to my brain, like Damien's drug had.

I mumbled a few other incoherent things before Gillian finally decided that my stupidity had reached a certain degree which she could tolerate no more.

"She blew up her cover, that's what happened!"

And that seemed to get the whole conversation going.

"My cover?! What am I, James Bond?"

My palms were sweating furiously. Gillian stood up - fuming. That had the conversation going. Everyone seemed to start talking at once. A constant murmur filled my surroundings.

"I don't understand what you expect me to do," I growled, but mostly to myself, of fear of being taken seriously. But of course, no matter how lowly I had spoken, at least three people had heard.

I felt accusing gazes on me, but met none.

"She's been trying to get under our skin!"

"That is enough!" Vallin thundered and defiance died under his tone. "Charlotte, what happened?"

I was just about to scream out my carefully planned defense (I'm not a spy!) when the calmness of his tone sunk in. He showed no signs of accusation, no patronizing tone. Warm eyes inspected me - the same warm eyes that had known from the very first second he had given me that book.

"Gillian thinks I'm working against you," I told him, "but I'm not. I'm not some spy or God knows what!" I screamed out my perfectly devised defense.

Liam walked around the room, ending up in front of Nikoli. "She ain't lying, Vallin." Gillian growled loudly, a decent expression of her annoyance. "Kid couldn't lie for her life." He flashed a grin at my sceptically face. "Never heard of dogs who can sniff a lie, doll?"

"If what she is saying is the truth," the white haired man intervened, "then she has my vote of trust...She seems like a strong young lady." Those words sounded good with a British accent.

"My God, William!" another British voice bounced off my ears. "She is barely an adult, you cannot expect us to toy around with her!" The pixie haired woman stood up and paced around with her hands behind her back - a deliberate, calculated action, making her look like a dictator.

"Agnes, I do think that the situation is a bit more complicated than that," countered Vallin.

"Nonetheless," the old man spoke and stood up methodically, showing signs of back ache, "whatever it is you choose to do, I'll back you up!" He straightened the jacket to his grey suit.

I looked between the exchange like a fish out of the water - unpurposely idiotic, eyes wide and lips parted. Michael's cold hand found mine on the chair's side. Vallin looked up and glanced at me.

"Okay," I ventured. "So maybe I like to be a part of illegal fights. But I barely know anything about your stuff." A tiny lie, but we live on lies.

"Then how come more than half of those files are based on information we got from you?" Nikoli bit off.

Three stacks of files landed on the desk with a loud noise. A strong forearm kept one stack in place, a massive silver bracelet adorning an intimidating wrist. I looked up. Stone held my gaze in place, darkness that I could not place spreading in those eyes like flames. I missed all the noise around me - I missed the departure of Agnes, Sylvia, D-cup who looked like a deer in the headlights and William. I missed Vallin chastising Nikoli. I missed the low hiss and loud noise of heels as the beautiful redhead left the room.

What are you really afraid of?

I jumped to my feet like burnt. Vallin's gaze flew to Stone, but I didn't catch the underlying message that the latter chose to ignore.

"Charlotte." I looked back into warm eyes. "We knew."

Many sets of eyes turned to him. "We did?"

A chair screeched, but fell deadly silent as Stone sat down. Across from me.

"We were there," Ivan spoke.

Stone had a small scar on his right clavicle - barely noticeable, but I saw it. The t-shirt may not have had a cleavage (I hated men who had that) and it was so amazingly plain it hurt, but still you could see everything. Or at least visualize it.

"There?"

Ivan came into view.

"You fought Donovan Reely."

His words hit me like a cold shower. I woke up spluttering.

"You!" I burst. "Y-You're the...the...th-the guy with the...idea!" Ivan offered a sober nod and all I could think was that I owed him my not choking on blood. "I...thank you. I owe you."

There was a short, pressing moment in which I truly believed that I had insulted him. He kept looking at me through narrowed eyes as if trying to break into my soul - but nothing, absolutely nothing Ivan would try could match Stone's intensity or my fear that came with it. But then his features calmed and inclined his head to me in a gesture that lacked hostility.

"Now hold on!" exploded Gillian. Personally, I could not have found greater happiness than when I saw that her anger was directed at anyone else but me. "Why the hell" - Stone shot her a cold glance - "did no one tell me?!"

Nikoli raised his hand tentatively. "Ugh, I think we missed the memo on that."

The only ones who had been there were Ivan, Stone and Vallin. Ivan I had already given a spot in the scene. Vallin had found out through him. But I couldn't place Stone - I hadn't seen him anywhere and a creature like him wouldn't pass as unnoticeable. Then I wondered why Ivan had only told them two and kept if from everyone else.

"I still think you're a manipulative bitch!"

"Knock it off, Gillian!" James exclaimed.

I turned to the fuming amazonian warrior and faced my death. "I couldn't care less what you think of me! But I am not trying to screw anyone here!"

"Then why are you helping us all of a sudden?"

"Maybe I'm not!" I lost all marks of calm to a hysterical tone."This is not about you! Maybe my only concern are the owners of those..." I choked on the words. "I saw their bloody teeth!"

There was a sudden silence - time had stopped. The only one who knew about what I had seen was James and James, in all of his secretiveness (I had yet to realize how he had given Vallin the information so far) had kept it away from everyone else.

Stone had an indecipherable expression. Vallin's eyes caught a very sober glint. He leaned forward in his seat and brought his hands together before him.

"You don't know why I wanted you here," was his observation. Any sarcastic reply died under the pressure of self preservation. "Charlotte, the position you and James put yourselves into is extremely dangerous!" I had begun to question the existence of any sign of reprisals. Now that they were there, I felt no better. "I am extremely disappointed of you, James!"

"It's not his fault!" I burst. Michael sighed beside me, reminding me of his presence - the complete opposite of the dark haired man across the table, who had to do absolutely nothing to flaunt the existence of his frame close to me. I focused on Vallin shakily. "I..." A nervous habit took form - I licked my lips. "It's my fault...I was the one who agreed to the whole thing."

"Yes, Charlotte, I will get to that soon." An unspoken promise flew right past my ears. "Right now my one greatest concern is the fact that James, although I have specifically told him before," - he turned to focus on the boy in question - "to stay out of dangerous business like this. Not only did you show disrespect towards me, but you also stole vital information from my office. James, how is that possible?"

The eternal, over-asked question coming out of all parents' and principals' mouths.

James shook his head - his mohawk shaking lightly - and scowled. "I just wanted to help."

"You don't help by acting behind our backs," Michael said calmly and earned a nod from the headmaster.

In a short pause, some movement took place. Nikoli took a seat on the couch. Liam had long left Gillian's side. I couldn't help but blink twice to assure myself that Gillian was, in fact, browsing a brown manila with no care in the world.

"As it goes for you, Charlotte...I can only criticize you on your lack of tact. This is very dangerous things you were playing with and I can't even begin to imagine to consequences of you getting caught."

At least, I told myself, he wasn't blind to the risks.

"You will both be getting your punishments accordingly. But until then, Charlotte, I think you and I need to clarify some things."

"With all due respect, sir, I'm not even sure of what is clear to begin with."

He nodded, as if to agree to the fairness of the situation. "Some of us were, if not suspecting, sure of your involvement in the illegal fighting system. I wasn't, however, convinced of your motives until now." He took a manila from one of the stacks and looked at me pensively. "Are you working against us, Charlotte?"

"No, I'm not," came the quick response with no need of further thinking.

The whole room lost its consistency. A veil had been lifted, its weaves of tension and doubt leaving no trace on the people surrounding me - or at least, I thought as I glanced at Stone's clenched fists, on some of them it didn't.

"How long have you been involved in this?"

I sighed - a long, audible sigh, meant to express my distress. I hated being under the spotlight.

"A few..." I thought about it well - should I lie or should I not? "I made my entrance in The Underground when I was fifteen." I felt the sudden awkwardness. I heard the inner doubts, the silent eyebrows lifted in shock. Habitually, my tongue traced the inside of my lips as I glared at the table with a tight lipped scowl. "A couple of years ago, it was a nice tradition to have youngsters take their shots at entering the ranks. It was pretty much a joke, or some of the guys' way of showing off their prodigious sons, but it was quite the event for some of us."

I got blank stares. Nikoli recovered, the first to give a high pitched huff.

"Well no wonder you did good on that little test of ours. You must have...what, three types of martial arts under your sleeves?"

"Nine."

Silence.

Michael looked down, but I caught the blink of amusement in his eyes and the tremble of his lips. Vallin shifted in his seat.

"Look, The Underground - the real deal, it's not what you think it is."

"Charlotte, the supernatural market is tied with The Underground system. The--"

"No, the people I know in there, the guys who were once in charge of everything, they didn't let stuff like this get out of hand. The spiders would not have gone into trafficking of living people."

"The spiders?"

Now, I figured, was the part where I was supposed to spill out everything I knew. There was just one problem with it all and that was my loyalty and the fear for my life. My hand went up and in a short, nervous move, I scratched the back of my head.

"Look, I...I told this to James as well. If you want help, if you expect me to talk...I get something in exchange."

A scoff resounded from Gillian's side of the room.

"No, no, she's right," Liam started. "I mean, you can't make no one sided deal, V. That's pretty nasty."

The headmaster gave me an inspecting look. Whatever he thought I was going to ask him wasn't decent, I read from his face.

"Fine, then. Understand, though, my reluctance in involving you with these affairs."

"I'm already in it up to my head," was all I told them and hoped that they could catch a hint. I already have a target on my head.

He wasn't convinced, but judging by how important the trafficking business was to him, he wouldn't try to go soft on me.

"First of all, I stay anonymous. Not a single person in the Underground will know that I'm in any way affiliated with you. Second, I..." How to put this in words? "I have a younger brother."

"Nathan, was it?"

"Yeah..." But Vallin had already seen where this conversation was going. His eyes lit up with a knowing look, as if saying that there was, indeed, a heart beating inside me. "I don't want him to get involved with this in any way. And I want to be sure that no one touches him."

"Aww, kid's a softy."

I glared menacingly at Liam. "Bite me."

"Well, when you put it like that..."

"Enough..." And yet Vallin was suppressing amusement. "Both requests very fair. Charlotte, do you have a job?" Was that a trick question? Was that his way of testing my responsibility status?

I shook my head. "Would you be interested in one?" A collective 'what?' reached my ears. "First will be a testing period. A probation, if you will. You will become part of this team and you will be officially involved in this case. You'll get your own pay check and you will practically work as an agent."

I had no particular interest in saving the world at the time. Though the goal had crossed my mind at some point in my early life, I let go of it when I was introduced to Math tests.

"You'd do a good superhero," Ryan had told me one night, in one of those moments that we seemed to have a lot. I had asked him why. "Because you genuinely care."

I did. I cared about those who were unlucky enough to get caught and have their fangs, their spiritual, representative things torn out of their mouths for petty things as dollar bills - things that us, humans, seemed to think was good of an excuse for any crime.

"You got yourself a deal then, boss."

I didn't know, at the time, how important this job was.

The magazine flew out of Gillian's hands. She stood up and walked over to me. Instincts aside, I still jumped to my feet, ready to lunge if necessary. A pride like mine never forgets when it gets a massive beat up.

"A'ight, then, kid, welcome to the family. How 'bout a coffee?"

...and then I was in a firm head lock that was meant to be playful.

***

The first thing that gets you somewhere in high school is a car. No matter what they tell you, it's the car that gets you places (in all ways).

So when a silver Maserati GranTurismo pulled in the parking lot of Stratford High the next morning, it was no surprise that everyone was just dying to meet the new kid....

I turned off the engine and patted my baby as I closed the door.

...and they were dying when they saw the devil getting out of it.

My life didn't get better afterwards. Once Paige or Danielle decided that you were public enemy number one and Damien managed to drug you out of your mind at a stupid party, your fate is pretty much sealed.

But my car definitely brought the stakes higher. Because in anyone's book, one a hundred and forty thousand dollars Maserati weighed out anything. Thus, my past was erased in the heads of many students.

"Well I'll be damned," was Ryan's greeting when I sat down next to him in class. "Do you even know how to handle that trident, Sanders?"

I smiled despite myself, unable to believe the lack of a patronizing tone in Ryan's voice. The blond fixed me with a set of blue eyes, sparkling with mischief.

"Worry no more, that baby has been in my care for years and rest assured, we've had a healthy relationship."

"Can't say I've ever been more jealous of a car."

The back of my neck almost snapped at the sudden turn of my head, but whereas I stared dumbly at Ryan and wondered if I had heard wrong, he was watching Ms. Kroft with a knowing smile. No, I had definitely not imagined that.

After classes that day, I hung out at the entrance, waiting for Janice to finish her activities. I comforted myself, telling a pathetic me that that was what lonely kids did - they waited for their only friend at all times.

In the parking lot, the more popular kids were gathering up, planning some hit-party for the week and I found myself watching them, the girls purposely giggling at a higher note for all of the boys to notice them, the guys high fiving each other as some of them ogled one of the girls' ass. It was like Jersey Shore, live version.

While their conversations weren't intelligent, they were still bonding immensely.

And I hated that.

Let's face it, I never ended up with the cool kids. I was far too lenient and offered compassion to all the loners, tried to make everyone rise from their pits of self esteem. And when that happened, it would be me in their places, just with no rescuer to come. Because Charlie was a good pal, Charlie did great things for people, but Charlie wasn't good enough for anything else.

Charlie wasn't good enough to be some hot guy's girlfriend - they'd noticed, of that I had always been certain. I did get looked at by boys and they weren't even looks of disgust or disapproval. Better yet, I'd get plenty of smiles with the purpose of knocking me off my feet - which, granted, they did. I'd flirt with a smile - because that was the only way I really knew how to flirt. In the best case scenarios, we'd have a short talk - meaningless, but everyone knows that when you're a teenager, 'meaningless' is the new 'meaningful'. And that was where it stopped.

In the best case scenarios (which, God knows, were rare as honest politicians), they'd decide that Charlie was good enough as a confidant and would pay attention to her once a year to ask her for an opinion on a certain girl they liked or what she thought about the game last night - they always lost me when they started talking about sports.

And to make matters worse, I only attracted idiots and ugly boys. Surely, I never let them think that, my good nature conquering over my self anger - either that or I was just dumb. When I was thirteen, I claimed to have a mad crush on a guy shorter (and a hell of a lot skinnier) than me - he'd been the only one to compliment me.

When I turned fifteen, I met a tall, brown haired individual that had a taste for good music. He wasn't the easiest on the eyes, but there was nothing ugly on him. I learned that he was a year younger and when I said no to dancing with him after he'd tried to unsuccessfully grope me, he gave me the cold shoulder and found it necessary to ask his sixteen year old idol (a skinny guy with glasses, hair in a simple army cut and an 'Eminem wannabe' attitude) swear in my direction or give me the finger anytime we crossed paths.

Then came the great flattering that I was liked by a guy who was one year older than me. I would have been swept off my feet, had the guy not been a bit too much on the tan side, with scrawny hair and loads of red pimples.

I wanted to blame it on dad and genetics - an almost permanent poker face that really stroke hard with someone, making me come across as unapproachable or arrogant (or both!). I just hated that; loathed that people expected me to giggle all the time - why if there's nothing to laugh at?!.

I never would be like Paige. I don't know where I went wrong with the clothing, because whenever I did wear a skirt, a cleavage or a ravishing dress, I felt sexy and appealing - others would say I looked it, too -, but still I didn't have that same effect as Paige did.

Guys, no matter how much publicity I saw being made on males who liked natural women, would always be drawn to girls like Paige like moths to fire.

She did a small pirouette in front of her group. The flowy material of her skirt obviously flew up, revealing what in another age must have been panties, but had now shrunken up considerably.

She looked at Damien.

I think her eye twitched.

No, no, I'm pretty sure that was a wink.

"What do girls like her have that you don't?" Janice wiggled her nose. Very 'Sabrina the Teenage Witch'-ish.

"The ability to act dumb and get boys out of it?" I was certain that it was more among the lines of their modern, chic way of flirting, whereas I was very old fashioned. I couldn't wait to get back in the comfort of my car.

Jan shook her head, disgusted with the sight of two girls taking pictures of their cleavages. "You know, I'm pretty sure that-- holy fuck, is that your car?!"

While I wasn't popular or hot, I thoroughly enjoyed my blissful solitude.