After a month of hard training, I was allowed to do my paladin qualification exams. The skin on my knuckles, scratched on the concrete column so many times, started to look like hippo hide, and my brain was so crammed with all kinds of knowledge that I started to forget all those things that used to be important to me before the Order of the Night Guardians.
First on the list were theory exams: search and surveillance, computer hacking, breaking and entering. But even this part wasn't so easy. Lee, for example, gave me a minute-long surveillance footage. The target was a man in a baseball hat whose face I couldn't even see clearly. To pass the test, I had to answer two dozen questions about him, from his name to his sports preferences. And since a paladin is not your regular soldier, he is supposed to come through in the most extreme conditions. So I was offered a computer in Rettle's basement with lights off and music blaring full blast.
The next examiner was Mike, my computer teacher. I was asked to hack several websites and databases, working from my uncle's car while it was driving around the city, only I was put in the trunk instead of the back seat. Then came a combo exam testing both my practical skills and theoretical knowledge. I was sent to survive in the woods for 48 hours, with no food, no water, no nothing, including clothes or shoes. But most importantly, I was given an iPad with five thousand (and this is not an exaggeration!) questions, that I had to answer. I aced that test as well.
Then, it came to the first combat test – the shooting exam. Geek gave me a Glock 22 – the standard gun used by the paladins on their operations. The bullets were rubber ones, but not the kind we used before – this modification was leaving marks on clothes that made it easy to keep track of all hits. For the exam Geek and I put on special suits – white-snow hooded overalls, the kind you see on forensic experts when they arrive at the crime scene in police TV shows.
The test had me and Geek trying to hit each other as many times as possible. That was the most fun test of all. I felt like a character of a shooter game, taking cover behind columns and shooting from around the corner, moving around and shooting back on the run. Nevertheless, the test could hardly have been called easy. Geek's bullets were hitting me much more often than vice versa. And that was really painful. When both of us ran out of bullets, the test was over, and we proceeded to count. All hits had different worth, according to their location. And I scored almost 50 points more than the required minimum, which, according to my teacher, was a remarkable achievement. So I left the fighting ground in good spirits, albeit covered in bruises head to foot.
On the thirty-eighth day of my training, I decided to tear down my column. I invited Rettle to witness my accomplishment. Right hook, left hook, front kick, middle kick, knee strike, roundhouse elbow. I was twisting and turning around my target like a crazy beaver trying to gnaw down a concrete tree trunk. Clouds of dust were curling all around me, but the column was nowhere close to budging. For a minute there, I started to doubt – was I rash in deciding to complete my task today?
That made me angry. I felt my fangs breaking out. For the first time since I fought Jack. Barely suppressing the impulse to open my mouth and bare my teeth in a beastly growl, I felt fury and rage spreading in my veins. I felt like a demonic cousin of Popeye the Sailor who'd just taken his dose of hellish spinach. In a second, that anger-powered strength filled my entire body, and my fists turned into a couple of jackhammers shattering the concrete.
Left punch, right punch, front kick, middle kick, elbow strike. When I couldn't hold back any longer, I let out a growl and plunged a front kick right into the middle of the column, made thin under the shower of my strikes. There was a loud crack, and my leg went all the way through the concrete. The column fell, and, losing my balance, so did I.
"Good job."
Rettle said only these two words and was about to leave when Geek's voice coming from the entrance door stopped him.
"Rettle, we need you upstairs."
The coach turned around and followed Geek. I stayed on the floor for some time, regaining my senses and trying to get my fangs back in their place deep inside my gums. But then I got curious. I got up and went to the living room. To my surprise, all members of the Order, apart from Bessie and Fleming, were sitting at the table in the control room. That was interesting! I came closer but didn't dare to join. Lee was standing at the head of the table. I've never seen her face so serious.
"Subject one – Bill Pack, 17, probably the original."
One of the huge screens behind Lee's back showed a photo of a guy with bright red hair.
"His father and mother were killed at home the day before yesterday. His 7-year-old sister witnessed Bill attacking their parents. Marks on the victims' bodies match our profile perfectly. But that's not all. The same night Steve Knight, Bill's friend from school, went missing from his own bedroom."
The second screen showed a photo of another boy, more scrawny than Bill, with his long hair pulled back in a ponytail.
"The window in his room was open, and a footprint was found on the windowsill, its size and sole pattern matching Bill's sneakers. We think Steve could have followed his friend voluntarily."
Lee finished her presentation and Mike started talking, "Okay, people, we've got ourselves a situation. From the looks of it, Bill is extremely dangerous. We have no information on Steve, however. If we hurry, we might manage to save him before he becomes food for his friend or commits his first crime. We are in a tricky position. The entire state police are on red alert. Two white teenagers, one of whom is a murderer and another – a possible kidnap victim. It would be no surprise if National Guard helicopters start cruising over the city. But we have to get to them first. I need everyone on this! Lee, Geek, you are in charge of cameras and personal connections of the subjects. Stoker, talk to your sources. Rettle, get in touch with our friends in the police and FBI. Find out what they have and what they don't. Get down to work, everyone!"
The members of the Order acknowledged uncle Mike's words with a silent nod and left on their business. Uncle went for the exit. I caught up with him and said in a firm voice.
"I want to be a part of this!"
"Are you sure?" uncle's face showed thoughtful concentration, his mind obviously busy with the matter at hand.
I responded with a nod.
"Has Rettle appointed you paladin already?"
"No, but I passed all the tests and I've just broken the column."
"Rettle!" my uncle's call reached the other end of the room.
The coach was already at the basement staircase, but hearing Mike's voice, he stopped and turned around. Their eyes met. Uncle silently nodded at me. Just as silently, Rettle raised up the index finger of his right hand.
"You still have the biggest test to pass," said Mike to me.
"I'm ready! Let's do the test!"
Uncle put his hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eye. He must've seen the resolution that he was looking for.
"Fine, I'll talk to Rettle. But you won't be a part of this or any other case until he believes you are 100% ready. No offense. This is all very serious. Neither your eagerness nor our blood connection has any say in the matter. This is a real and very dangerous business, and I will never risk your life unless I'm perfectly sure you can handle yourself."
"I understand. Whatever decision Rettle makes, I will not argue with it."
My uncle nodded, patted me on the shoulder with a habitual gesture and went on with his business.
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