‘Nervous? ’

‘Excited. ’

‘Scared?’

‘A little.’

‘Smug?’

‘Always.’

‘Planning our escape to Sweden, bara tänka på det?’

I groan, supressing a smile as I look at my best friend. Sarah has a grin on her face as if she doesn’t have a care in the world. Her expression completely contrasts with her formal suit and tie. She looks a lot better in formal clothes than I do. I’m wearing plain black trousers and a white blouse. My long blonde hair is pulled back painfully against my scalp. Already I can feel loose strands straying from my hair band which has the difficult task of taming my mane. Looking at my formal clothes sends shivers down my spine. The clothes aren’t the problem; it’s why I am wearing them.

Sarah is trying to make me feel better by making jokes and pretending as if today were any other day. Her normally free laugh seems slightly forced, but her smile is doing a good job of reassuring me.

“Hey, chances are we will be assigned together. Maybe we’ll end up in Sweden.”

“I don’t speak Swedish,” I say trying to sound reproachful but it comes out as a whisper. I must still look worried because Sarah continues.

“Charlie said they put friends together…or at least near each other. We’ll probably just be in different States. We can meet up when we have holidays.”

I smile, more for her sake to reassure her, but deep down I get the feeling that everything will not be alright. Today is the biggest day in our lives so far, a day that decides our future. At the moment, I’m not even sure if I have a future. It all depends on today.

I leave Sarah to get ready for the ceremony. I head back to my room although I’ve done all of my packing. When I reach, what can only be described as a little door in the wall, I slip my key in for umpteenth time. In my earlier years I had to share this room, but now a single bed sits in the corner. Looking around startles me. It has never been this tidy. Sadly, this is not because of a personality change, but due to the fact that I have packed all my things into boxes. They’ll be put into storage, or taken with us if we graduate. My last box sits on my bead. The emptiness suddenly hits me and I think of the many memories I have had in this room; the many mornings I spent waking up to the light shafting through the small window that I ended up resenting at weekends. Even my bathroom is getting me sentimental; the amount of times I brushed my teeth, the amount of times I sat on the toilet.... I shake my head. I am getting sentimental for no reason. I have known this day would come since I started the Institute. In fact, my first memory is knowing that I would one day leave.

I remember being read to. I think that is my first memory. I remember not understanding the words and what they mean but loving the noises they made. Even from that early age we knew we were special. Not like the ordinary children in the books we were read. Strangely, thinking about this early memory makes me realise how much I do want to leave this place. I should be celebrating right now. I have made it to the end of all my training and all my teachings. It is ironic that they prepare us for combat, both mentally and physical, yet they haven’t prepared us for this; the process of leaving things behind. But maybe that’s just because it can’t be taught.

I quickly check the clock. I am in good time, but they need our luggage down in the foyer and I still have this last box to take. I am carrying it down the dorm’s many flights of stairs when I hear footsteps coming frantically from the opposite direction. I am hit by a wall of perfume before I realise, with sinking despair, that it is Maisy. I am instantly cautious and try to slip past without the briefest of acknowledgements.

“Annabelle!”

Too late. She embraces me in an awkward hug, crushing the box I am carrying. I am lucky not to fall down the stairs.

“Anna, it has been too long! Just to think we were sharing rooms together and now…we will never see each other again!”

I smile and pat her back gently. She is being her overly dramatic self. Although, if luck has it, I hopefully won’t see her again. Once we graduate- if we do graduate- we don’t see much of our classmates. We are all posted to different assignments around the world. We never have to see each other again. Well, that’s a lie, we get to see each other at the Annual May Ball. ‘Annual May Ball’ – It sounds stupid because it is. The May ball is an annual reunion to celebrate, the first landing of the soldiers in Canada. It’s an archaic tradition and really the real reason is for Custos- that’s what we are called once we graduate- to meet up and gossip about the positions they have been posted to. Of course, I speak about all this as if I am going to graduate and become a Custos. By the end of the today I will know for certain. But if I don’t graduate today my life will be over, but on the bright side I won’t have to see Maisy ever again.

We aren’t really friends. We are, in the sense that I have known her since I can remember, but does that really mean friendship? Long term acquaintances is a better term. I’ve grown up with all my classmates so it’s hard not to see them as friends. But I’d say my only real friend here is Sarah. I did share a room with Maisy and her tissues back in third year, so perhaps that strengthens our bond slightly. She always had a box of tissues for when she had her heart broken by toys and then later boys which were always terribly tragic affairs. The Academy never really encouraged relationships between the scholars but they never stopped anyone who did. I suppose being in a relationship just decreased your chances of graduating so most people were content to go partnerless.

“We must keep in contact!” Maisy almost screams, bringing my mind back to the painful present. “I’m really going to miss you.” She pauses, blinking in attempt to hold back tears that won’t actually come. “I know you may not graduate but that won’t come between our friendship.”

The smile never leaves my face but I can’t stand talking to her anymore. No one thinks Maisy will graduate so I find it a bit petty that she’s telling me not to get my hopes up. Then again, she is right, no one thinks I am going to graduate either.

“Hey, listen, Maisy. It was great to see you but I’ve really got to get this downstairs,” I say, trying to shove my box past her.

She looks at me and sighs unnecessarily loudly. She gives me another quick hug.

“Don’t be a stranger, Anna!”

I can’t help rolling my eyes. We haven’t spoken since we stopped being roommates, asides from the courteous ‘hellos’. She had a split personality, sometimes overtly happy and then depressingly sad. Either way, she was far too dramatic for me to keep up with so in the end I gave up. I preferred Sarah’s quiet, but self-assured and direct ways. But I secretly feel reassured by Maisy’s over the top sadness; it seems I am not the only one getting sentimental about leaving this old place.

My final goodbye to my room is when I hand in my key. God knows who else will live here once I’m gone. I begin to drift into a stranger’s life, lying in my bed, sleeping in my room. I break out of my dream. I don’t have time to think about other people’s futures when mine is so prominently looming over me. I am focused on the graduating ceremony. Our training has been for today. This is it.

Last year only ten students graduated as Custos. The chances of one of the graduates being me is very unlikely. It’s not that I’m a bad student. I just find it hard obeying rules which is one of the Institute’s big rules. There are so many rules that you don’t know what and when you’re breaking them. Like the ‘incident’ that occurred during my fourth year test. I try not to think of that now. I’m scared it will affect me graduating.

If anyone is guaranteed to graduate it will be Sarah. She is one of those people who can do anything they put their minds to. She doesn’t ask questions, just answers them. She does what she is told and does a good job too. She has always been top of our combat classes and she’s incredibly smart. I like her because she has this bluntness to her, although her gift in academia always came in handy when it came to exam time. Everyone else tried to be a ‘fake’ nice to each other, pretending that they were best friends for the two minutes that they would talk to each other. But Sarah was different. Some people would say she doesn’t have a personality, but I just think that she only speaks when she has something to say. It’s not that she isn’t kind, it’s just that she doesn’t see the point in being nice when it is quicker to just be factual. That’s how we first met. I liked to ask questions and she was happy to answer them all.

I go in search of Sarah now. I have handed in my keys and finished packing, leaving me at a loss. Our graduation is less than an hour away and as I sift through corridors I see younger students fidgeting. Small whispers go about hidden groups of people. They are aware of how important this day is, and how one day they’ll be in the same position as us. One or two of my classmates are just sitting in the court yard, staring into space. I think they hope that by making time pass slowly they will somehow save it. Across the courtyard I see people from my year gathering. It’s beginning. The shadow of the big hall falls over the group, giving us a small insight into what will happen once we enter. I know I should go in, I’m sure most of my class is there. But instead I stroll around the grounds thinking about the past years here. I am struck anew by the buildings and their structure. I never took the care to notice before, but now I treasure each crevice of the buildings. They are a strange mix of old and new. The original campus dates back to the 16th century. From then on they have slowly been extending it outward. But early in the 20th century they realised they were in desperate need of new space so up came the modern skyscrapers. They now mangle themselves around the old campus creating an oxymoron of old and new. It also means that one minute you can be walking in a dark corridor that existed generations before you, and the next you are in a completely glass auditorium with all the latest technology surrounding either side. It’s a special building, not many like it in the world.

Right from the beginning we knew we were special. There’s no way of explaining it except that it’s like having a sixth sense. A hidden sense that heightens all your other ones. The teachers told us we were born with it, that the reason we are faster and better built than normal humans is because of this ‘sixth sense’. Why do we have it? Well, we’re biologically built assassins and our main aim in life is to kill Angels.

A glance at my watch tells me that I’m pushing it for time. My stroll has come to an end and I head towards The Great Hall.

Our whole class is inside the Great Hall. The hall isn’t that big, but it makes up for size in décor. All our ‘special events’ throughout our school years happened in this hall. The cornicing around the edge of the room is bright gold which contrasts dramatically with the deep, burgundy coloured walls. Most of the furniture has bene removed in order to accommodate us students. Only a few tables surround the edges of the room, clinging protectively to the walls.

It is strange seeing us all together again. There must be at least fifty of us in this small hall. We stopped meeting up in big groups like this when we advanced to our individual studies. Looking around at the people I’ve known since I can remember, I feel sad. I scold myself. Graduating is what we were born to do; our whole life of training, our whole life, has been building up to this point. Like I said, I’m not best friends with the people in this room, but I have spoken to them on and off since I was little. Their constant companionship has been my closest thing to family. I hear a shout across the hall. Sarah is beckoning me over whilst reprimanding Charlie. I weave my way through the crowd towards them.

“There you are! I was beginning to think you weren’t coming,” Charlie yells from two feet away. “But even you can’t say know to this.” He is not speaking about our graduation, but his chiselled chest which he opts to show at most points.

I smile wryly at him. “Of course I came. There is a minuscule chance I may get chosen.”

Sarah rolls her eyes. “You do yourself an injustice, you will get chosen. I’ve seen you in training and your results can’t be argued with. They won’t care about what happened in the past. The key word is - it is in the past. Just wait, you’ll see. I am always right.”

Charlie sighs sadly. “Unfortunately, it’s true. The poor girl is too clever for her own boots. Don’t worry Anna, besides you’re a girl. They need more girls.”

If ever misogyny were personified it would be through Charlie. He believes that all women are beneath him and if ever one succeeds his expectation he blames it on positive discrimination. I could never stand him, but Sarah always seemed fascinated with his blunt ideas and unrestricted tongue, not to mention he is a fantastic fighter even though he depends on brute force alone. There is also that tiny fact that Charlie is head over heels in love with Sarah. Sarah being her normal self doesn’t realise it and denies modestly whenever I bring it up. Charlie’s fascination seems to come from the idea that he believes Sarah to be his equal. As for me, he doesn’t have to think twice about that one.

They continue to talk and I stand by them waiting. The hall is almost entirely full now. The great big cavernous room lets our hushed muffles bounce off its walls. The smallest of whispers could reach the beautiful ceiling, right into the cracks forming on the beautiful 17th century painted roof. When we were sitting exams and I was bored I’d often look up. How anyone painted on that ceiling still baffles me but its intricate designs of heaven and hell offered a great distraction from my work.

I am brought back by a sudden hushed silence that falls over the room. I look around expectantly. At the other end of the hall, through one of the side doors, a man has appeared. He is dressed in a black suit fit for a funeral. Oddly I’ve never seen him before. I thought only our teachers helped out with our graduation. I don’t like the way he is holding his clipboard, as if the piece of plastic exerts all the power in the world. He looks pissed off for no reason.

The man stands there waiting for something. We are all silent so it can’t be for our attention. I think he is just enjoying his power, seeing us all on tenterhooks.

Suddenly he cries out is a shrilly voice, “Take a look around you, for this is the last time you will be all together. Those of you who graduate will be given further instructions. Those of you who do not…report to me in the vanquishing room. Everything clear?”

‘Yes Sir!’ We do ourselves proud answering in unison, not a voice wavering. Years of training have drilled obedience and a quick response. The first rule we learnt was to answer the commanders. The second was to never question their judgement. Ever. A rule I tended to break more often than I should.

I expect a long introduction from this little man with the clip board, but to my surprise he begins calling names. Every five minutes another name is called and another class mate disappears behind the big doors at the end of the hall. It is all becoming a bit too real for me. I try to talk to Sarah but she looks at me scornfully. Once she is given an order she will follow it.

“What do you think it will be like? I’m so nervous!” She silences me with one dark look, then weakens and gives me a gentle pat on the back for reassurance.

Charlie leans over to me. “No need to worry, Anna.” He smiles viciously and I give him the dirtiest look I can muster. I look away but see from the corner of my eyes that Sarah is rolling her eyes. How can she stay calm! More and more people get called and time begins to pass not slowly, but not fast. The room that was once crowded grows sparse and no one dares talk now for they know they will be heard. Charlie gets called. Sarah gives him a reassuring nod. Even cocky Charlie looks nervous as he walks through the doors. The students that are called don’t come back through the doors meaning there is another door inside. No one is really sure what happens inside the room but apparently an interview is conducted about your suitability to become a Custos. The interview that determines whether you graduate or not.

Sarah is called next. She gives me a nervous smile and squeezes my shoulder. I can feel my eyes tearing as she walks away. I am not ready for her to go. She glances back at me, gives me a little wave and then enters through the big doors. She is confident up until the last minute, entering through those doors she looks like an assassin already. I am left standing in the almost empty room. There are only a few of us left. My nerves are making me twitch and I think about Sarah and what her assignment will be. I keep convincing myself I will never see her again but my sane half is reminding me that I will; at the annual ball. All I need to do now is graduate.

Seeing as this is my last day at the Academy, I try to remember my first memory but I can’t really pinpoint it. We read a lot in the early days; children’s’ stories that now I can ultimately see as subliminal messaging for keeping orders and not questioning our elders. One book stands out to me amongst all the others. I think I was probably about three at this point. It was about a seal - of all creatures! I don’t remember the moral of the story but I do remember what his reward was for doing the right thing. He returned back to the sea to his family. Family was such a foreign concept to us. One kid was brave enough to ask what a family was and on discovering its meaning we all questioned why we didn’t have one. Our teacher talked briefly about how the Academy was our family and that we were to look after each other as if we were brothers and sisters. It was a strange concept. Teachers had given us the definition yet for years we all pondered over this unachievable emotion.

Two years later we were given another explanation in our biology class. We were created in test tubes and our parents were science. I think this comforted most of us, knowing that we didn’t have some estranged parents out there. A family that might or might not exist. As students we didn’t like blurred lines, we wanted orders that were clean cut and left no room for debate. This scientific explanation was something we could understand. Almost, but they had failed in offering us an explanation for our feelings. Why did we want company? Why did the need to be a part of a group grow inside us? That’s why when I met Sarah I knew we had to stick together. Other people had close friends, but believe it or not, I was a quiet child. She came a long and offered a simple hand of friendship and I clung to it tightly. Being my little five-year-old self, terrified of everything and so afraid to do wrong, it was so nice meeting someone who had none of those uncertainties. Sarah’s life was very simple. There are rules, if you follow them, you will do well. She is not to be mistake for those people that do things mindlessly. She questioned everything she ever did, more than I ever did. But she had a way of judging if causes were worth the fight. I was impulsive, my emotions acting innately on more than one occasion. Between the two of us we balanced each other out.

But now I am alone, or will be, and there is nothing right about it. My name is called and I walk through the doors without looking back.

I enter a small room. All four walls are white and it takes my eyes half a minute to adjust. After a few minutes I realise that most of the brightness is coming from the side wall which is in fact a glass window. A plastic sheet covers the window meaning I can’t see out, but the sheet is translucent enough to admit daylight. Big bright oval lights hang low from the ceiling adding to the luminescence of the room, but apart from their presence this room is completely empty. I think flawless is the concept the designer was going for but the white walls remind me of something clinical and the place feels almost too ‘pure’. Now that I think about it, I’ve never been in this part of the school before. I never even knew that this part existed which is strange seeing as I grew up hiding in the cracks and crevices of these buildings.

I stand baffled for a moment, wondering what my next step should be. Should I wait for a sign from the Divine? After allowing my eyes to adjust more, and inspecting the room thoroughly, I realise that the wall opposite me has a vertical black strip down its middle. On closer inspection I realise that this black strip is really a shadow. It suddenly dawns on me that this is not a room; but a corridor. The little black line is the only sign of the existence that the fourth wall is really a set of doors. I scorn myself. How am I supposed to pass the interview if I can’t even make it past the first door? I walk towards the tiny crack in the wall, and when I am only a few steps away, the doors open inward. I go inside.

I enter an office. A large wooden desk takes up half of the small room space. Similar to the hall, this office’s design is of the ‘minimalist’ perspective. Apart from the desk and two chairs, there seems to be little else in this tiny room. That’s a lie. The only reason I’m acknowledging the room’s features is because I am actively trying to avoid eye contact with the person in the room. The man sits behind the desk, his face not telling anything. His dark jacket is a stark contrast to the white walls. Lines fill his otherwise youthful face, although, he does have a full head of grey hair. Does he really have grey hair, or is it part of his fashion statement? I don’t know and I can’t decide if he looks young or old but what I do know is that I’ve seen him before. I scan his desk for any signs that will hint at his identity and I am rewarded with a name placard that sits on his desk. It reads ‘Mr Whickham’. I recognise the name but I can’t quite place it.

The man’s clothing, although a regular dark suit, seems very odd juxtaposed with his luminous surroundings. He manages to look like a figure of death and I can feel the sweat forming beneath my clothes. The man gives me a nod of the head which I take as an encouragement to sit down. I clasp my now sweaty hands together and shove them between my knees in an attempt to stop them from shaking.

The Man smiles at me, but his face is so rigid that it looks like a sneer. He sits slack on his seat and the informality throws me. I am at once cautious of this man. His smile grows, as if he knows something and he is waiting for me to catch on. I keep my face neutral.

“Hello, Miss Smith,” he says. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, under better circumstances this time I presume?”

My heart sinks. I can’t place this man but he definitely knows me. There’s only one ‘circumstance’ I can think of that he is referring to, a mistake I made a long time ago, but this greeting almost solidifies the fact that I won’t be graduating. Sarah was wrong, my past actions will affect whether I get a placement today. All I can do now is sit helplessly and hope that the interview is swift and painless.

I nod in response; I don’t want my voice to portray how I feel. The man grunts and the smile fades. He shuffles through his papers and then chucks them on the table as if disregarding them.

“I suppose you want to get on with it then. You want to know whether you get a placement.” He pauses, looking directly a me. “Do you realise how much trouble you’ve caused me?”

Of course, I do, but I decide that it’s better to play dumb.

“No Sir. I’m sorry if I’m an inconvenience.”

He snorts. “An inconvenience is quite the understatement. I have left, right, and centre of the Board telling me not to assign you. Do you know what your past behaviour indicates? They see a rebel, someone more dangerous to our cause than beneficial.”

He squints at me as if looking for something beyond the girl sitting opposite him. I meet his gaze, unflinching and squaring my shoulders. The mention of my past has angered me. Deep down I knew my past was going to hinder my opportunity to graduate, but it annoys me that he is bringing up something that happened three years ago. Surely, it’s time they let it go?

“Are you trouble, Miss Smith?” he asks. My hands sweat and blood races to my head but when I speak, to my relief, my voice is level, calm, and direct.

“I’ve learnt from my mistakes, I have learnt discipline, I have learnt my sense of duty,” I say. “I’m a good student and I can be an even better Cineál.” I should stop there but I hear my voice rising, “…and if you judge me on something silly I did when I was fourteen, well I think that is really unfair and a misjudgement on your part.”

The man laughs at my response and straightens in his chair. His voice takes on a patronising manner which only fuels my frustration.

“That’s what I thought, Miss Smith. You see, the others see your past mishaps as a disadvantage, but I think you have a fight in you that will prove very beneficial towards our cause. You have a fight that I haven’t seen in any other Cineál and god forbid you use it against us.”

Use it against them? I don’t know what he is talking about, but I am silent because I realise that this is the moment he will decide. He just called me a Cineál and that gives me some hope. The chances of me becoming a Cineál seemed small from the moment I stepped into this room, but suddenly I feel so close to it. We prepare for this moment our entire lives, so much so that I haven’t thought beyond what will happen if I don’t graduate. Maybe now I will have to think about the consequences, but something in the way the man is looking at me makes me think that I might just have a chance.

“I have one final question for you,” he says, and my heart leaps. This is it. He looks at me intensely and I fight an inner battle to keep eye contact without flinching. “Do you believe that you are special? Do you think that you can kill the Jacobs?”

I pause, thinking carefully before I answer. “I have all the traits of a Cineál. I am different physically from a human and I honestly believe that this is what I was born to do; this is what I was meant for so in that sense I am special.” I start to twitch then remind myself to sit straight and hold my chin up. “As for the Jacobs, I was born to kill them.” This statement runs fluently off my tongue and I feel a sense of rightness saying it.

“Very well,” he finally says in a monotone voice. “My instinct, as always, has won. You will be coursed as a fully-fledged Cineál. You will get a pack and within it you will find your assignment and placement. Congratulations, you are officially part of our Order.”

The ‘congratulations’ seems less than genuine but I don’t care. I have graduated. Have I really done it? The interview seemed a little too simple, but I push this concern to the back of my mind. Now I don’t have to worry about my future, now I can fulfil my purpose in life. The man stares at me blankly and I realise he is waiting for me to leave. I say, “thank you” and then stand up, almost knocking the chair backwards as I do so. There is a door behind him which I hadn’t noticed before and I presume that is where I am headed.

“Annabelle.” He says my name before I reach the door and I turn slowly to face him. The door seems further away now. “I am doing you a favour, don’t make me regret it. I will be keeping a close eye on you specifically. Any sign of ‘bad behaviour’ and I am pulling you out of this Order completely. Heaven knows what will happen to you then. Any sign and I’ll be watching.”

I nod curtly then walk out of the room leaving the man behind. How dare he question me? Could he not see that I was completely dedicated? The fact that he implied I would screw up angers me more now that my nerves have disappeared. The conversation that just took place is playing over in my mind, but at this moment I can’t come to terms with anything the man said. I am in! Despite my past, I have graduated! No-one expected it, least of all me, but I am going to have my own assignment and my own placement. I am a member of the Order. The man said he would be watching me so let him watch. I am going to be the best Cineál the Order has ever seen. I’ll prove them wrong, show them that there is no means to doubt me.

In the next room I am greeted by a woman. I don’t recognise her at all so she must be an external member of the Order. She smiles at me coldly.

“Well done, you’re one of the few this year,” she says. “Here’s your package. It will tell you everything you need to know about your placement.” She passes me a large orange envelope. “There’s a car waiting outside to take you to your destination when you’re ready.”

I take the package from her and leave without a word. The next hallway takes me to a little alleyway. I see the car parked at the end of the street with its hazard lights on, but I can’t resist; I tear the envelope open, desperate to see where I have been assigned. I skim over the first two pages that contain details about my name and contact information. I also skim past a black and white picture of an old house. Finally, on the fourth page I find what I am looking for and my heart slowly sinks. The letters stand in bold accompanied by a tiny map. The little bear shaped island is unrecognisable and I feel sick to the stomach when I see its name in capital letters printed carelessly beside it.

IRELAND

My placement is in Ireland?