“Can you stop with the sarcasm for one minute and help me hide?” [Goddamn paranoid teachers and locked classrooms and — ] “Fuck.” [There he is. She doesn’t know his name, or even what he looks like, but she knows the taste of his mind, and he’s stepping around the corner right now. She plasters herself to the lockers, but the hunter knows his quarry.] “Please.” [Hissing at the boy.] “Help me.”
[God, he didn’t have the time for this—but he inhaled, slow and deep, nostrils flaring, and caught the scent of fear, sharp over the scent of students that were trickling out of the school.
Rolling his eyes as dramatically as possible, he wrenched the door open with an audible crack—the lock was broken now, but since the newly reinstated principal had decided to remove the security cameras from the halls (a stupid move on his part, no matter how annoying they were), it couldn’t be traced back to him.
He shoved the girl into the classroom and slipped in after her, the door tapping shut behind them. It couldn’t be locked anymore, so he barricaded it with his body, hands against the jamb and an ear pressed to the wood.
Probably some jerkoff senior who needed a good scare.]
[The hunter ignored the sound of the door, ignored the students streaming past. To her, his mind was a blank in the surround. He came down the hall, passing like a ghost among the students, and paused outside the door. Tested it, once, twice.
Summer hardly breathed, crouched by the teacher’s desk and eyes fixed on the boy. Who, despite his sarcasm, was bracing the door closed with his own body. Her heartbeat rattled in her ears, adrenaline-induced nausea thick in her throat.
The hunter set his shoulder to the door and shoved.]
[the hunter]
