they could win. If she told them now it would deflate them at precisely the worst time.
As they headed downstairs, for the first time ever Katie was with them, albeit lagging just a little behind.
In the end, Zelazny hadn’t helped her out of Night School training after all.
The girls’ changing room was a simple white cube lined with brass hooks above a polished wood bench. Each hook held a single set of black, Night School training gear, draped like shroud. Above each hook was a name.
Katie surveyed the room with open distaste.
‘And you come here every night… on purpose?’
‘It’s great,’ Zoe chirped. Not waiting for the others, she started to change. As she pulled the white blouse of her uniform off, Allie saw a row of deep purple bruises on her narrow back.
She drew in a sharp breath. ‘Zoe! Is that from London?’
Zoe twisted to see her back in the wall mirror.
‘Yeah. Some tosser ran right over me. Lucas dropped him with a spin kick.’
She sounded pleased.
But Allie stood for a long moment, looking at those marks on Zoe’s narrow back. Her delicate shoulder-blades, the tiny knobs of her spine – they looked so fragile.
Pressing her lips together, she turned to her own hook and began to change.
We all have bruises, she reminded herself.
In the mirror, she met Nicole’s expressive dark eyes. She could tell the French girl understood how she felt.
This was all getting harder to take.
‘So, what am I to do?’ Katie still stood in the middle of the room. ‘Change or drift elegantly through the room offering useful and badly needed fashion advice?’
Zoe opened her mouth to reply but Allie didn’t give her the chance.
‘Change,’ she said tersely. ‘You’re one of us now.’ She took a set of black leggings and matching tunic hanging from a hook with the name ‘Jules Matheson’ above it and held them out to her. ‘Shoes are under the bench. Take any that fit.’
Chagrined, Katie accepted the clothes with a silent nod.
Allie returned to changing her own clothes, but out of the corner of her eye she watched as the redhead began to get ready. She could see the nervous set of her jaw, and the way she fumbled with the top as she pulled it on over her expensive lace bra.
She knew this wasn’t easy for her – she was faking the arrogant act. But, for her own good, she had to do this the hard way.
As they emerged from the training room a few minutes later, Allie dropped back to whisper to Rachel. ‘Keep an eye on Katie.’
Rachel, who’d only joined Night School recently herself, inclined her head.
‘I’ll stick with her.’
Training Room One was squat and ugly – grey stone walls, dim fluorescent lighting and floors covered in blue exercise mats. A perpetual smell of warm sweat hung in the air.
Lucas was already there. The small group clustered together stretching, talking in low voices.
Allie turned a slow circle, taking in the emptiness of the room. The first time she’d ever come in here, it was packed with Night School students. Cimmeria’s best and brightest. There must have been fifty students in here then. Maybe more. Now there were six.
And one of them was Katie Gilmore.
Others were coming – but most of them were new to Night School. They’d be starting with the very basics. No one would mistake them for the real thing.
Most of the Night School students had gone when Nathaniel laid down his first ultimatum, forcing parents to choose between his way and Lucinda’s. They’d almost all chosen his.
Out of fear, probably, but it didn’t matter what their reasoning was. The effect was the same. An empty school. A hollow training room.
‘Who are our partners going to be?’ Zoe asked. Her voice echoed in the quiet.
Allie’s heart sank. Of course, with Carter and Sylvain both gone they’d have to rearrange. Find a different system. Suddenly it seemed overwhelming. Everything was such a mess. Everything they’d thought so permanent was crumbling around
Learning to Kill: Stories