POV William

It was minutes before the curfew bells rang. It was the hottest July day William could remember since moving to Clearwater almost six years ago.

Sunset fell fast over his shortcut from the Memorial Site to his home, both on the outskirts of town. His friends had abandoned him hours ago, refusing to explore the haunted forest monument. They were just a bunch of babies; typical nobodies who were afraid of shadows and crazy ghost stories.

Scaredy cats. He’d spent many afternoons at the site and absolutely nothing happened. Ever.

His heart pounded against his chest. He was going to be late. Like super late; not just angry dad late, but like spending the night in a cell late. Luckily for William, his dad was the local Master Hunter. With that small stroke of good fortune, the local authorities were more likely to drop him off at home and look the other way. The curfew law was bullshit anyway. There hadn’t been a demon attack in Clearwater since… ever! Especially not since his dad assumed his post.

Life in Clearwater was peaceful.

Life in Clearwater was boring.

William leapt over fallen branches instead of slowing his mad dash home. He smiled to himself as he cleared another young fallen tree. If he managed to keep this pace, he would be a shoe-in for the game’s recruitment drive in the next school year.

He saw the dark blue roof of his home, just beyond the trees that separated the forest from the town. He slowed his pace; one part to catch his breath, the other…

Today was the day that ‘she’ would show up and ruin his summer holiday. He squinted through the gaps of the tall white picket fence that framed his backyard, peering into the living room window as best he could. The sheer curtains were closed, but the light was on. She was there now, sucking up to his dad.

William’s relationship with his father wasn’t perfect, sure, but she had no right to wedge herself between them. She wasn’t even related! How dare she even try to replace him! He couldn’t wait for the day when she’d stop ‘Summering’ in Clearwater. That was the term his ‘affluent’ friends used for when they spent a season away from home. Affluent, of course, was a less crude way of saying rich; that was something else he had learned from his schoolmates.

He walked around the fence toward the front of the two-story home. He held his breath as he turned the handle and pushed the front door open, praying that it wouldn’t call his dad’s attention. Not that it mattered anyway. As soon as his dad saw his grades, he was going to be grounded all Summer anyway.

William cringed when the front door slammed behind him, telling everyone in the house that he had made it home five hours later than he was meant to be. What difference did a few hours make?

He had seconds to make it to his bedroom and pretend that he had been home this whole time.

He ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time, each step thundering beneath him. He’d only be in trouble if he got caught. Truth was, he was sure he was going to get an earful no matter what. What’s a few more minutes of peace before putting up with the noise pollution coming from his dad’s mouth for the next hour? It wouldn’t change the fact that he’d made it home before his dad’s stupid curfew rule all week. Today was just a freak occurrence. He hadn’t noticed the time until it was way past the unreasonable time his dad had set, especially for today.

“William.” His dad’s voice was even and matter-of-fact. He never shouted; he didn’t need to. His voice carried a constant undertone of disappointment when it came to William. Somehow, that tone made getting caught so much worse than it needed to be. He froze on the landing, with one foot already on the next step. He resisted the urge to sag under the weight of his dad’s disappointed gaze.

William forced a smile and poked his head into the main hall, looking down at his dad who stood on the threshold to the living room. “I just need to take a shower. Wouldn’t want to offend the princess’ delicate senses,” William said while lifting his arms. He caught a whiff of himself and grimaced. He had worked up a healthy sweat from working out over the past hour.

He was going to join the games this year. Not only join the games, but join the three-years-in-a-row Game Champions, Squad VII. This year was his last chance to work with Seth Wright, THE driving force behind Squad VII’s victories. It wasn’t like he could just write an exam and BAM! He was in! Joining Squad VII was nothing like the Academy’s entry exam. If only he could just write a stupid test…

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Mathias Mathers, William’s dad, was a tall man standing at six foot two. William hoped that one day his own genetics would get the memo, but as things were, his dad was a towering presence in his life. Literally and metaphorically.

His dad wasn’t one for casual dress; it could have been how he was raised, or he might not have dressed down because the locals liked to show up unannounced during the day, inconsiderate of the fact that their local Hunter had spent the entire night patrolling their backwater little town. The Red Order being a stickler for tradition and with the locals not understanding what personal boundaries were, meant that his dad basically had to be dressed respectfully for his station at all times. His wardrobe was mostly blacks and the Red Order’s traditional crimson red.

The drawback to his dad being a member of the Red Order, especially a high-ranking Hunter, was that their rules applied to William as well. He wasn’t allowed anything with a pattern, and until he was appointed a rank within the Order, reds of any shade were forbidden. When William turned thirteen, two years ago, he had to donate all of his colorful clothing. These days, his clothing consisted of black, white, brown, and grey shades.

In his dad’s hands was an elegant, sleek, black box with a slim gold ribbon tied around it. The branded black on black lettering caught the light, but remained unreadable. Lured by the forbidden technology, William came downstairs.

The Red Order was pretty uptight with tech, so it was almost like a miracle to see anything with a chip in their house. “Is that a tablet?” What he really wanted to ask was if that tablet was for him.

“This?” his dad gave the box a look over. William made to grab the precious piece of tech from Mathias’ obvious lack of reverence. His dad pulled the box from William’s desperate reach and a smile spread across his face. William rolled his eyes; his dad was playing with him in the cruellest way possible.

Gift in hand, Mathias entered the living room, leaving William to follow the bait like a hungry fish.

William saw Astral’s long, thick black hair out of the corner of his eye. She hadn’t bothered to look back from her seat in the middle of the antique sofa, like a normal person would have. She was a year younger than him. Her pale moonlight complexion hadn’t improved since he last saw her.

‘She’s still angry with me. Obviously.’ She’d probably want to get back at him for playing hot potato with her custom-made glasses last year.

Truth is, no one liked her. Everyone was uncomfortable around her. He wished she’d just take the hint and leave him and everyone else alone. No one wanted her here.

He’d admit now that the accident involving her glasses wasn’t the brightest move. By some miracle, she didn’t tell on him, but his dad had blamed him anyway. Mathias had gone on and on about how Astral had some sort of condition. Some sort of light sensitivity issue. Either way, she was going blind, or was blind, or something like that. She didn’t act like a blind person, not that William knew any personally.

What did it matter, anyway? She had servants to do everything for her. She’d marry into an ambitious ‘affluent’ family; affluent with a capital A. It’d be all parties and soirees until the day she keeled over. She never needed to amount to anything, while he would have to work his ass off for scraps.

It was going to be a long summer. It always was. He was always walking on eggshells around her. He wasn’t afraid of upsetting her. She never really got upset. He barely ever got a rise out of her. He couldn’t make her cry even when he pinched her or pulled her hair. Last year he had punched her as hard as he could in the arm, not in front of his dad, of course. He got nothing from her but a sore hand on his part. He must have struck a bone or something.

She didn’t even glare at him. Her cold pale blue eyes just looked deep into his soul. Fear washed over him, but it wasn’t his own. The feelings were forced onto him, washing over him like a tidal wave. He drowned in their pain. In seconds, it was over and she walked away. He didn’t even get the satisfaction of getting to see the nasty bruise he had caused.

She was a monster. He was sure of it.

William plunked himself onto the sofa, nearly sitting on her. “Sorry, didn’t see you there,” he smiled sweetly.

She barely moved, but he had missed her all the same. Now he was stuck awkwardly, slanted toward her, his legs rubbing uncomfortably against hers. She didn’t move at this point. She shifted her head just slightly so she could look down on him through her peripheral vision. Her pale gaze quietly swore she wouldn’t give him so much of an inch.

He lingered in their mutual discomfort that promised each other that the other was going to give in first.

She was skinny, maybe even too skinny by normal people's standards. Her well fitted black pantsuit hid her poor weight well. Today and the Day of Worship were the only days over the summer where she’d dress to her station. The rest of the time, she wore the colors and patterns that William was forbidden to wear. Mocking him and the limitations of his station.

She was not a child of the Red Order. She was the granddaughter of a politician, specifically a councilman, one of the thirteen ruling men and women of the Nation.

He spread out his arms across the back of the sofa, indulging in the stink that she pretended wasn’t there. He jutted his chin at the black gift in his dad’s hands and smirked, knowing that she was forced into making a peace offering. “Is that for me?”