Chapter Fourteen: In Which I Run into Three Interesting Characters, or, Grey as a Misty Morning
I felt my bike being pulled off of me, and heard someone ask, “Are you alright?”
My vision cleared, and I looked up to see three men – one older, two younger – hovering over me, with varying degrees of concern on their faces. They looked almost identical – smooth faces, straight noses, monolid eyes – and were all dressed in matching black leather boots, black wool pants, black gloves, and black trench coats. Black newsboy caps, along with long black scarves, covered almost all traces of hair. Their skin lacked any color, and was grey as a misty morning.
The two younger ones, the one on the left with my bike in hand, stood on either side of the older man, who had squatted down to be more on a level with me. His hand stretched out towards me, probably to assist me in sitting up.
Panic, pure and unwarranted, flooded through my veins, and I almost kicked the older man in the face. Before his hand reached me, I was up and on my feet, backing half a step away from them.
“Who’d I hit?” I demanded, which might’ve been rude, but I wanted to know. I realized my fists were clenched, and if any of them had come any closer, I probably would’ve nailed them in the gut. Which was ridiculous. My brain was clearly rattled from the crash. I needed to calm down.
The senior nodded towards the young man on my left, but he didn’t look like he’d just been nearly plowed over with a bike. Not only did he not seem to be in any sort of pain, but his woolen double-breasted trench coat was hardly creased, and I couldn’t see a speck of dust on him above his black leather boots. Which could only mean that I hadn’t knocked him over. Part of me found that reassuring, since my carelessness seemed to have only hurt myself, but it also bothered me. A niggling thought at the back of my mind told me a normal person would at least be clutching whatever area I’d hit in pain. My panic wound up a notch.
“I’m really sorry,” I said, forcing myself to partially calm down. “Were you hurt?” I tried to unclench my fists, but it didn’t work.
The one with my bike didn’t answer. Instead, his eyes – were they purple? – drilled into my face. He didn’t look angry. In fact, he didn’t seem to have any emotion whatsoever. I found this, as well as his gaze upon me, somewhat unnerving.
“Were you hurt?” the older man asked, his eyes flicking over me. But before I could answer, his gaze froze on the embroidered logo on my shirt, just above my heart. The concern in his expression instantly vanished, replaced by a flurry of different emotions that I couldn’t read. “Are you a student at Norlocke Academy?” he asked, much too eagerly, almost hungrily.
Dratted logo. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t have mattered much, but these weren’t residents of Frore North, and I was beginning to feel that my initial panic was warranted, not just an aftereffect of the crash.
“If none of you are hurt, I’ll take my bike,” I said. The panic was mostly gone now, but, for the first time since arriving in this frozen land, I began voluntarily forming a plan of attack. I hoped I wouldn’t need to use it. They were all full-grown men, and there were three of them. I’m a good fighter, but in a fight against such odds, I’d lose.
None of them moved. My bike remained captive.
“You must know the students then,” the older man said, unphased by my refusal to answer his earlier question.
I glanced around, hoping to spot any other early-morning wanderers from which I could enlist some help. Unfortunately, nobody else seemed to be about. I was on my own.
“There should’ve been a new student recently,” the older man went on, bending down towards me. His voice, still shaking with eagerness, took on a slightly condescending tone, as if I were a five-year-old he was talking to. “Her name is Glass Farthingdale. Have you met her? Has she arrived?”
I’d figured they’d been wondering about her. Still, I felt a rush of adrenaline course through me at the confirmation of my suspicions.
“What’s it matter to you?” I asked, only somewhat hesitantly. Much as I wanted my bike back, my snooping instincts sprang to the forefront at the mention of Glass’ name. Maybe I could learn something from them. Besides, for my plan to work, I needed them distracted. And, if it all possible, I wanted to come out of this situation without having to hit anybody.
“We’re friends of Ms. Farthingdale.”
I seriously doubted that. Yes, friends can come in all sorts and varieties, but I couldn’t believe that Glass was friends with them. Not only did she seem determined to be completely friendless and likely behaved this way much before coming to Norlocke, but it seemed ludicrous that three highly suspicious-looking personages – all three men, all three considerably older than her – would be counted among her friends.
It seemed much more likely to me that they were reporters, meddlesome go-abouts, or even kidnappers.
“What’re your names?” I asked. “Who do you work for? Do you have any business cards?”
The older man straightened, glanced at the two young men, and forced a laugh. “She’s very perceptive, isn’t she?”
A chill ran through me at those words, and I instinctively shifted into a subtle pre-fighting stance. The man holding my bike seemed to notice this, but said nothing.
“I’d like my bike back,” I reiterated.
The older man’s face darkened in annoyance, but before he could do anything, the young man on my right leant over and whispered something. I couldn’t quite make out what he said, but it went something like this: “Uncle, it’s alright. Just use our original plan.”
The older man nodded, and, though he still appeared plenty irritated, gestured for my bike to be released. The young man walked it towards me, and I snatched it back, hopped on, and pedaled away as quickly as I could, deeper into town. Part of me wanted to head back to Norlocke and warn Glass and the Headmaster right away, but another part of me worried that the three grey men were going to follow me. In which case, I had no intention of leading them straight to Glass. Besides, Glass would be safe at Norlocke. Probably.
As I pedaled away, I glanced behind me once. The street where the mysterious men had stood just moments ago was now empty, and the three of them had vanished like mist when it meets the sunlight.
Who were those men? What did they want with Glass?
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