The slam of a car door jolts me out of my surprisingly deep sleep. Groggily, I look around to see that a woman just got out of her Mercedes. Where am I? This isn't my house. Grumbling at how inconsiderate rich people are, I slowly get out of the car, my movements made sluggish by how tired I am. I must not have gotten to sleep for very long. "Ugh," I groan, as sharp pains shoot through my abdomen, effectively cutting off my train of thought. Maybe I'm not just sluggish because of sleep. I lift my shirt to notice a gauze bandage, so expertly done I wouldn't have even known it was there.

The bandage triggers a memory, and the scene plays through my head. Damien and I were in a high speed chase, running from....the black van. We got away and then the...the red car! The red car with the government plates! It pulled out in front of us and. My face crumples into a grimace. We got in a car crash. I look at the bandage again. It doesn't look like it's covering anything too bad. There's no blood soaking through at least. I pull my shirt back down and appraise my surroundings.

Looking around, I see that the car is in a parking lot on the grounds of some enormous establishment. And by the models of the cars in the lot, the people who reside here are extremely wealthy. Porches, a Mercedes Benz, a sprinkling of Maseratis, and a whole lot of European cars with names that I have no chance of pronouncing correctly. Cars that probably cost more than my house. Where are we that people have so much money? Now that I've seen the cars, every detail about this place suggests wealth. The well-manicured grounds, obviously taken care of by a groundskeeper. The building. Well, if there weren't any cars, or any grounds, the building itself definitely gives the appearance of wealth. A lot of it. Larger than the superstore we used to have in my town, the house, or institution, or whatever it is, is completely modern. The sleek white exterior, with large, floor to ceiling windows, covered in some coating that makes it so that I can't see inside. What looks like thousands of dollars of solar panels on the roof. Even - I crane my head to the side a bit - even a pool.

I turn to look at Damien, and freeze. Where is Damien? He wasn't in the car when I woke up. But someone had to bandage you, the little voice in the back of my head says. And he wouldn't have just left you. He needs you to prove that he completed his job. My mind goes into overdrive. If he isn't here..I can get away! I can get back to my house, to the library, to Marley. I have to be careful though. He might be around here somewhere.

Turning, I go to walk out of the parking lot. Then, I stop again. I don't know where I'm going. What am I doing? I could get grabbed by someone else at any minute if I just keep wandering around aimlessly. I shake my head again at my thoughts. Damien wouldn't have left me in a place where I was in danger. He needs me to show his superiors. He would have only left me if he was positive I would be safe. Nevertheless, it's probably a good idea to make my way towards the building. I'm sure someone inside can direct me where to go.

○○○○○

About two minutes into my trek along the dirt path, and about seventeen stumbles later, I'm cursing my lack of forethought and Damien's choice of footwear. Strappy brown sandals may look cute, but they are horrible for walking the mile and a half-ish distance to the building. And I'm only about an eighth of the way there. Who decided that with all the money they had to build this place, they didn't need to put in a shuttle or something. Like at least a decent path. This dirt one is riddled with holes and I keep kicking the dust into my shoes. Ugh. There isn't anything I can do about it now, so I might as well keep walking. I plant my eyes firmly on the ground and start walking. I make it about another three minutes before I get tired of looking at the ground. I lift my eyes for thirty seconds and immediately trip, arms flailing as I try to catch my balance. I didn't need to though. Someone else catches it for me.

I look up into the deepest blue eyes I have ever seen. They belong to the guy who thankfully kept me from dive bombing into the dirt. "Are you okay?" he asks, his voice filled with concern. "You took quite a dive there. Your shoes probably aren't the best for this path."

No duh sherlock. I've already come to that rather obvious conclusion. But he did just save me from a pretty nasty fall, so might as well be polite. "Yeah." I smile. "I'm okay. A lot better than I would have been if you weren't here." Tone it down, Kyla. You don't want him to think you are flirting with him, now do you? Less hero worship, more let me get to know the random guy who just appeared out of literally nowhere. Although I guess he might have been behind me. But that's not the point. "Where did you come from? I didn't see anyone ahead of me."

He points at a fork in the path that I hadn't noticed before. "Right there."

Oh. Well I guess that makes sense. Great observational skills Kyla. You should become a detective.

"What's your name? I like to have the names of people I rescue, so that I can record them and show people how heroic I am." He gives me a playful grin.

Despite myself, I can't help but smile back. "Do you make a point of rescuing people? Is it a hobby of yours?"

"Yep. It's even on all my resumes. Right under cooking. It makes for a great conversation starter, if not a way to look serious." He cocks his head slightly to the side. "So, how about it? Wanna give me your name? I'll even give you mine in return."

I nod, struggling to hold in my giggles at his antics.

"Great. Mine's William, but everyone calls me Will." He tips an imaginary hat.

"I'm Kyla, but you can call me Kyla." I give him a grin. "It's very nice to meet you Will."

"It's a pleasure to meet you as well, miss Kyla," he replies, in a mock British accent.

I guess I'd better be on my way then. I wave goodbye and again make my way along the treacherous path. I barely make it two steps before Will runs up beside me.

"Woah, woah, woah, where are you going?" He says, widening his eyes in exaggerated surprise. His voice reverts back to the mock British accent "I can't let a lady walk herself to the castle in such torturous footwear. I would not be able to keep the title of gentleman if I did."

I laugh at his description of the building, not completely disagreeing. It could be a modern castle for all of its grandeur. I watch as he squats in front of me.

"Your steed, my lady." Now it's my turn to widen my eyes in surprise. Is he going to give me a piggyback ride? All the way to the building? Huh. He must be stronger than he looks. I'm not complaining though. I clamber up onto his back, and he stands up.

I raise my hand into the air and take on a fake British accent of my own. "Onwards good sir, and do not tarry." Will laughs and begins his trek towards the building.

○○○○○

"What brings you here, Kyla? I don't see many people around here." Will asks.

"A guy named Damien came into my house and kidnapped me. We got in a car crash, then I woke up here. Wherever here is." I shrug. "Damien's not the type to tell me either. He's more do what I say or else. Answering questions isn't really his thing."

Will darkens. "That wouldn't be Damien Blackwood by any chance, would it?"

"Yep. That's the one. So you know him?" I should be kind of worried if he knows my kidnapper, right? That would probably lose him some points on the nice guy chart.

"You could say so. He's one of the teachers here. He gave me a D on my last fight because I stayed on defense instead of offense. I just really don't like hitting people." He looks at me curiously. "So where is he now? I didn't see him walking when I ran into you, and he obviously isn't here now."

"Um...well you see. When I woke up in the parking lot, he wasn't there. For all intents and purposes he doesn't exist to me anymore."

He raises one eyebrow at me. "He didn't tell you where he was going? Really?"

"Well kidnappers don't make a habit of giving extra information to their victims, but it really doesn't matter. I don't know where he is. And I don't care. All I want is to get back home honestly."

"I'm sure someone inside can help you." Will says. "It's a good thing we're headed this way."

An awkward silence falls, and I try my best to diffuse it.

"So where do you live, Will? Somewhere in this building?" We're almost to the building and I don't want to alienate him before we get there. He is really easy to talk to for some reason. Besides, he's the only person I can see myself being friends with that I've met in a while.

"Yeah actually. I've lived here for a long time. I'm not even sure if I was born here or not, this is the first place any of my memories take place."

"Can't you ask your parents?" I inquire.

"I could. If they were still alive. They died two months ago." He responds softly. The pain in is voice is evident.

I suck in a breath. His parents are gone too. Mine aren't exactly "dead" but I did go through the same situation. "I can relate. I was orphaned too. It sucks, but you get through it." I know better than to say 'I'm so sorry' or anything stupid like that. It doesn't mean anything. Those are just the filler words people find appropriate for the situation. What you really want in a situation like this is to have someone listen. To have someone understand.

"Yeah." He gives a pained smile. "I know I will." Then his mood lightens considerably. "Hey! We're here."

I look up at the huge building looming in front of me. It isn't a house. An institution maybe, but Will is completely right. It's more like a modern fairytale version of a castle. He squats down again so I can slide off his back. I jump off, my feet hitting the stamped concrete with a thud. Wiggling my sore toes around in my sandals, I make a silent promise to never wear the cursed shoes again to anywhere except the pool.

"You coming?" I ask turning to look at Will.

He's back to being British again. "Of course my lady. I could never leave a woman unchaperoned." He jogs in front of me. "After you milady."

I smile. I know a lot of girls hate the fake British act, but it's kind of growing on me. Besides, it doesn't really seem like he's hitting on me, just that he's trying to be nice.

"Why thank you good sir." I curtsy, then walk inside, Will right behind me.

***

The room I stepped into could have been in a magazine. Almost everything was sparkling white. The floor, the walls, the carpet on the staircases. A chandelier hung above my head, painted to match the wood of the staircases and the furniture, but still with white crystals hanging from it. Whoever owned this place sure wanted people to know that they had money. I glanced around one more time. And an interior decorator no doubt.

As I sat in silence, staring at how pretty the room was, Will walked in behind me. He continued on straight to the desk in the room behind the staircases, not even glancing at the opulence of the rooms around him. You must get used to to all of it after you've lived here for a while like he has, I guess.

I walked through the staircases and over the circular design inset into the floor to get to the reception desk, noticing as I do so the logo. The Metis Institute. I get there in time to hear the last few remarks of their conversation, before he turns to me with one of his goofy grins. "Ah there you are Kyla. I was just telling Shylene here that I thought you had gotten lost in one of the rooms." He gestures towards the pretty dark-skinned girl behind the counter. She smiles kindly at me. I don't return the smile, instead wondering why I feel so murderous.

"It can be confusing here can't it?" Her voice sounds like rushing water making its way through a brook. High, clear and melodious. A perfect voice. I immediately hate it.

"Yeah, for sure." I mumble, immediately cursing how ordinary and plain my voice sounds next to her magical one. Are all the girls here this gorgeous? If so Damien definitely chose the wrong one to kidnap. I'll stick out like a sore thumb. A butt ugly sore thumb, that is. I don't even get a cute bandage.

Will doesn't seem to notice my sudden change in demeanor, and instead continues on with his commentary. "Shylene and I have known each other for years. She's the one who took me in when I first got here. My parents are non magical, and they didn't know the first thing about raising a son with powers." He shakes his head a little, his hair making its way into his eyes.

I freeze, my mind reeling. "You have powers too?"

He takes in my shocked face and his eyes widen. "Wait, Damien didn't tell you? He's a teacher, that's kind of his job."

"You say he's a teacher, but remember, with me he was a kidnapper. All he told me was to shut up and do as I was told. Not much learning went on there"

I didn't think it was possible, but Will's face gets even more surprised. "That's not in his job description," he mutters under his breath. His eyes flick back up to my face. "Well, Kyla." He tugs on his shirt sleeve. "I don't know how we're normally supposed to tell people. I mean, that's not really our job, the teachers do that. But your teacher turned out to be a jerk, and oh god I'm rambling."

Will looks completely flustered, and I see Shylene laugh into her hand behind him. I can't say that I feel the same. My heart's beating 100 miles a minute, and I'm anxious to hear what he has to say.

"I-I'll just spit it out, I guess. Damien is one of the many teachers who is sent out to retrieve kids with powers, so that they can train here. You aren't the only one with powers. Everyone you'll meet at this institute has powers. The adults, the kids, the-- Woah! Kyla! You okay?"

Will breaks off in the middle of his sentence at the sight of me. I probably look really cliche right now. The helpless damsel is sent into hysterics by a simple fact that changes her life. For once I can't even argue with the cliche, silly as it might normally be. The room is spinning at the news, crystals and marble circling my eyes like an expensive mobile as I process this new information. I'm not alone. I try to put my hand on the reception desk to steady myself, but my vision chooses that moment to fade out. I topple over, my hands windmilling in a desperate attempt to stay upright. The last thing that goes through my mind before I hit the ground is how horrible a job I'm doing at fainting prettily.