Isle of Night (The Watchers 1)

Saving her had been instinctual. But, really, if I’d been thinking strategically, I could’ve let her fall. A tiny, shameful part of me wondered if maybe I should have.

“Sleepy?” Lilac’s perky voice chimed in my ear, jerking me back to myself.

It took me a moment to register her point. My skin felt parboiled, and my brain muzzy and slow. I hadn’t snagged the few hours’ sleep that the other girls had managed. Nor had I slept on the flight out here. Which meant I’d gone for God knew how many hours without rest.

But Lilac was in the same boat.

“No, not Sleepy. ” I mustered a broad grin, pretending the air I breathed didn’t feel like wet fire. I pulled my shoulders back, imagining brisk mountain breezes and a big chug of ice water. I’d have one the moment I got out. It would spread cool tendrils through my belly. The glass would be cold in my hand. I’d drink so much and so fast, it’d dribble down my chin. “I’m Happy, which must make you Dopey. ”

“You have no idea what you’ve started. ” Lilac spun away from me, hard. Her pack smacked me across the jaw.

I stumbled—a sideways hop-hop on my right foot. The tile was slick under the rubber tread of my boots. I slipped.

My arms clawed the air like slow-motion pinwheels. I heard the dead-weight oof of my body slamming to the floor, the sick slap of my head against the tile. The weight of the kit bag walloped the air from my lungs.

A whistle blew.

I’d lost.

I lay there trying to catch my breath. I heard eager stomps rushing out. Suddenly the air seemed more open. I was vaguely aware that the stinging spray of the shower had stopped.

Rough hands gripped under my arms, pulling me to standing. What was my punishment? I braced myself. Whatever it was couldn’t be worse than the steam.

But then I heard Masha speak. “Need some fresh air, Acari?”

I forced myself to look at her. I knew I should nod, but wasn’t sure if I managed more than a twitch of my head.

“Oh, poor little Acari,” someone crooned. Initiates surrounded me. “Let’s get these hot clothes off you. ” Hands pulled off my kit bag, unzipped my parka, removed my hat, my gloves.

The hands grew rougher, tugging the wool sweater over my head. It caught on my chin, tore over my ears. “It’s time for your cooldown. ”

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Outside?” I asked, suppressing a shiver. The Initiates had led me to the ground-floor foyer, where I stood, stripped led me to the ground-floor foyer, where I stood, stripped to my underwear. I’d hurt my ribs in the fall, and my trembling intensified the pain.

Along the hallway, a few doors were cracked open, and I spied wary eyes witnessing my torture from the safety of the dorm rooms. Even though we’d all been issued the same ugly, regulation beige bra and granny panties, the shame of it burned my cheeks.

It was the only thing that burned, though. My teeth had begun to chatter and I was already nostalgic for all that heat. The front door was open, and I contemplated the black and gray swirl of starlit snow outside. Why had I found the Hot Party uncomfortable? The concept was unthinkable now.

“What’s the punishment?” I huddled into myself, chafing my arms in vain. “Parading around half naked, or is it the pneumonia I’m contracting?”

“Neither. ” Someone shoved me, and I lurched forward, catching myself before I fell. “It’s the running. ”

“And you just earned yourself an extra lap, smart-ass. ” I thought I recognized the redhead’s voice.

The ache in my ribs turned to nausea. Running. That explained the white Nikes they’d let me put on, dug out from the bottom of my pack.

“Four laps around the quad,” Masha said. “Take every corner. ”

I nodded, wriggling my toes in the running shoes. The soles were soaked and squeaky from the showers, but despite it, I was pathetically grateful. I wouldn’t put it past these girls to make me run barefoot in the snow.

“Every corner—no matter how dark,” another Initiate ordered. I felt another push.

Masha leaned close, purring in

my ear. “We’re watching. ”

A survival instinct clicked to life in the recesses of my brain. I bounded forward, springing out the door, determined not to feel the final shove I knew would come.