Hunted

Forty-One: A Flicker of Doubt

Iseult slumped down at the fountain in the courtyard and sighed. She was aware of people moving across the small enclosed space at the centre of the Old School, but none of them seemed to notice her where she sat, concealed by the ornate fountain.

She pulled her knees underneath her chin and bit her lip, tears threatening to fall. She listened to the water gurgling behind her, the cool, continuous splash. It was sweltering, the air suffocating, but she barely seemed to notice the heat.

Her thoughts instead were fixed on James and his...

His what? His death, she presumed. She hadn't had the chance to go to him, to try and help him, before they had dragged him from the hall, his blood smeared across the floor.

Instead, she had had to use every ounce of energy she had possessed, in an effort to hold Ethan back, to prevent him from becoming another regretful loss of revenue to the academy, to fall just as James had.

She hadn't managed to stop Carrie from charging after Elmhirst though. Nobody would have been able to hold back the bulging beast of a student, but nobody had had the chance.

Old Dalton had taken Carrie out swiftly with his dart gun, the old man's trembling hands somehow securing the shot. He had grumbled about needing a drink to calm his nerves at the top of his voice, as Carrie's gigantic frame had come crashing down on the flagstones. The old doctor's words had carried over both those stunned into silence and those reduced to frightened tears or angry yells; his great jowls wobbling ferociously, as James had bled out and Ethan had collapsed into Iseult's embrace, his anger turning to desperate, heart-wrenching sobs.

At the memories, a single tear rolled down her cheek, which she brushed away quickly.

It wasn't a tear of sadness though, not sadness at her friend's death, or Ethan's pain, at her own pain even, or at the fact that almost everyone who had moved to fight for James had all been taken out before they had ever had the chance to make a stand.

No, her tears were angry tears. Elmhirst was winning, and she didn't even understand how. Despite their considerate advantage, without James they had no way of destroying Elmhirst's backup plan, which lay in wait, deep in the bunkers beneath the academy. No matter what they did now, she was going to lose. Elmhirst had somehow taken everything from her and destroyed it all, before she had even started to fight. He had destroyed her hope.

"Iseult, there you are".

Iseult glanced up, blinking away the resentful tears and clambering to her feet. Ethan watched at her, his electric-blue gaze noting her red-rimmed eyes and her flushed cheeks, before he looked away and sighed.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, clearing her throat.

Ethan pressed his lips together, but didn't answer. A flicker of doubt passed over his weary features, a deep-seethed worry.

Others seemed to notice them before he could say anything, their eyes lingering on them for too long. The silence that descended in the little courtyard was too quiet. It had been the same since James had been shot. Everywhere Iseult went, a deathly silence clung, all-consuming and tense. There was an electricity in the silence, but even Iseult couldn't decide if it was bad or good.

Ethan was aware of it too, glancing at their reluctantly moving audience with an irritated frown, before he took Iseult's hand firmly in his and led her back into the Old School.

His grip was tight, his step brisk as he wound his way through the corridors. There was something comforting in his determination, but Iseult could also feel a sense of urgency with every footfall.

Finally he paused outside the library, before pushing open the heavy doors. The library was quiet, and somewhat cooler than it had been outside, buried deep within the thick walls of the Old School, hidden far from the sun's reach.

Ethan released her hand once they were away from attentive eyes and hidden at the very back of the library. He glanced around suspiciously before grabbing a chair and offering it to her. He pulled another around for himself and sat down opposite her, his knees brushing against hers.

"Can you feel it?" he breathed, his voice trembling slightly. He glanced up at her, his electric blue eyes pained, black bruises beneath them, his skin pale and grey. "Can you feel the... the...?"

"The tension - yes," she muttered, knowing he was talking about the atmosphere that had settled over the school.

"What do you think?" he whispered. "Are they - I mean did James'..." he paused taking an unsteady breath. "Did James' sacrifice work? Will they fight?"

Iseult watched him careful, noting the pain etched into his face, the weariness.

Did James' death inspire them? That's what he had wanted to say, but his own grief had stolen the words. Iseult was surprised he had even managed to bring up the idea of fighting again, though she could see the anger growing inside him too. They were the only two left, fighting a battle they already knew they couldn't win.

"Tensions are high," she whispered. "Some will fight, but you know what will happen now and there is no way we can stop it," she said, pausing. "The question is, is it worth it?"

She watched him carefully, already very much aware of her own views on the matter, wondering if his views were becoming as clear.

The choice was simple now. They could fight, but they would definitely die, the gas released from Elmhirst's great vats beneath the school killing them all before they would manage to protect themselves. Only James had had the power to safely disarm the weaponised gas and he was gone. The other choice was to continue on as they were, wait until Bennett had found Charlotte and let him kill her, hoping that the life they would serve with the patrons would be some consolation.

She knew what her choice would be, but if she chose to fight, to rally a rebellion, she would take the choice away from everybody else, from all those who didn't know just has deep Elmhirst's evil ran.

"Iseult, we can't leave it like this. We can't leave it so he can do the same thing to the students year after year - I mean he killed James... murdered him for moving some bloody tables... I..." Ethan had to stop, his words catching in his throat.

Iseult reached out, taking his hands in hers. "If you want to fight, I'll be right beside you. We will show the others and they will follow us before the end, you'll see". She moved towards him, kissing him gently. Ethan pulled her onto his lap, his kiss becoming more inflamed, spurred on by their imminent doom.

When she did pull away from him, she could see the flicker of doubt cross his features once more. There was something else, something more than still wanting to fight against Elmhirst and his supporters. She could see there was more, there was something else he wasn't telling her. She ran her fingers along the plains of his face and sighed. Kissing him softly.

"What is it?" she breathed. "I can see it in your eyes. You want to tell me something".

Ethan reached up and pulled her hands away from his face, pushing her from him gently and standing up after her, holding her hands securely in his. Iseult frowned, her expression suddenly becoming serious.

"Ethan, what is it?" she pressed, panic rising in her chest.

Ethan clicked his tongue and sighed.

"Bennett's plane has returned".

Thanks so much for reading Hunted. This is the second part of our installments for today! I hope you are enjoying it. Before you read on, just click the little star and leave a comment if you wish! I appreciate all your feedback! Just before you move on - the next (and final, for today) installment is very short, so be prepared XD. Don't forget to vote! Sorcha x