him anymore.
Ric downs his last bit of coffee and flashes me a smile. “Let’s go.”
From the outside, the Nucleus House looks like a normal building with six floors, elevators and offices where Nons work. All bricks, mortar, and fluorescent lights. It’s a lie, a glamour.
The Nucleus House is really sixteen floors, not six, and the elevators don’t just move up and down; they go sideways. It’s actually pretty awesome, because the sideways elevators can connect to other hubs throughout the country, but those are only used in extreme situations. The US is broken into seven regions, but we hid our leaders and decision-makers the same place the Nons did, Washington DC. We’re supposed to blend in, after all.
“I’m going to the capital” means the same thing to everyone. We don’t just glamour how we live; we’ve learned how to make the truth sound like the truth to Nons so they don’t ask questions. It’s another step to integration. Integration is key to survival and anonymity, bylaw 107.
The first-floor entrance is all blue tile. To the left of the entrance, there are four elevator banks. Nons only see two of them; the sideways ones are glamoured. We take an elevator up and it moves quickly and dings three times before the doors open.
Once we’re out of the elevator, we move past a series of doors. One door is marked only for the Triad. No one is allowed to go into their chambers unless escorted or directed with special clearance. A second door leads to a ballroom—which is usually where the ceremonies happen, anointing of babies, Bonding, Pairing, CEASE Squad initiations. All the things that make our community our own.
Ric and I take the third door down the hall, which leads to the training levels.
“Take them all out for me,” he says before he turns to the right to go to the boys’ side. I wish we didn’t have to test separately. I take a breath, turn to the left, and step into the room. We won’t be with the boys again until the Pairing ceremony.
There are like a hundred chairs all set up in lines. This was not what I expected. There are girls sitting in some of the chairs, and I don’t recognize anyone. This wasn’t my time to test, so none of these kids are from my ST classes. There are six other schools, so that’s a lot of girls in one room. A lot of girls I don’t know.
I sit on the other side in the second row by the window and open the Witches’ News Network app on my cell phone. The logo flashes on the screen as a girl with oval eyes and olive skin sits next to me.
Our instructor, Mrs. Bentham, stands at the front of the room. Mrs. Bentham is a bigger woman with hair that spirals up her head. She has on some bright-colored flower-print dress that’s more muumuu than dress, and while she doesn’t appear to be someone who could take on five demons alone in the dark while blindfolded, somehow she did. She was a force to be reckoned with in the 1980s, and has been leading the Enforcer exams for years.
She claps her hands to get our attention. “Welcome to the first session of your Enforcer examination. This is the beginning of the rest of your lives!” She says it with a wide smile.
“Some of you will do well over the next three days. Those of you who prove less than capable will be dismissed,” she says. There’s an emphasis on the last word as she tries to scare us. It works. I’m terrified. “In the end, ten of you will be Paired. Maybe ten. Last month there were only three.” She pauses. “Then we’ll prepare you together and you will take your Partner final. Only the best of those will become Enforcers, and the rest of you will find a place to serve in the Non world.”
Despite myself, I scan the quiet room. These girls are my equals, chosen by the Triad to be here; they’re also my competition. It’s good that I don’t know any of them. My whole life, my whole existence, depends on being an Enforcer.
“Eva Leigh Error,” Mrs. Bentham calls. A tall girl