Part 5 (1/2)
”Do they look different?” the girl pressed. ”Clementine said that they look like corpses. That their eyes are cloudy.”
My stomach tightened. ”You've never met one before?” I asked, gazing at the St. Clement girls on the other side of the table. They shook their heads as if it were obvious. ”Well, Clementine doesn't know what she's talking about.”
”But she's met the Undead before. With her dad.”
”So have I,” I said. ”And she's wrong.”
A couple of girls across from me went rigid, as if I had insulted their religion.
”But aren't they angry and uncontrollable?” said a delicate brunette, her eyes wide behind her gla.s.ses. ”That's what Clementine said. That they're animals.”
”I don't see how they can stand it,” her friend said, playing with the straw of her soda. ”Knowing that a murderer is lurking inside them.” The other girls nodded in agreement.
I stopped eating. ”Not all Undead take souls at random. And besides, any of us could kill someone. It's not like we're perfect. Humans kill each other all the time. As Monitors, we're going to learn how to kill the Undead. That doesn't bother you?”
There was an awkward stillness as everyone gazed at me. I looked to the girls from Gottfried for support, but only April gave me a sympathetic glance before looking away. The rest of them were too cowardly to even look me in the eyes, even though they had been close with the same friends I'd had at Gottfried. ”Allison, are you still in touch with Eleanor?” I asked.
”She's different now.”
”She's had a hard time. It's not her fault.”
”I never said it was,” Allison said, offended. ”But she's Undead now, and I'm a Monitor. That's not my fault, either.” Putting down her fork, she stood up. ”You know, I'm not really hungry anymore.” Without looking at me, she turned to her sister. ”I'll see you back at the dorm.”
The table went silent as she gathered her things, and I realized that none of them were comfortable with me there. ”Right,” I said, crumpling my napkin in my fist. ”I guess I'll go.” And picking up my tray, I walked down the aisle, refusing to look back. I paused when I spotted Anya Pinsky sitting by herself in the corner. Smiling, I walked over to her table and sat across from her.
She looked up from her brisket. ”Did I say you could sit?” she asked, p.r.o.nouncing every consonant immaculately. Her dark red hair was pulled into a low bun.
”Sorry. I thought you were alone.”
”I am,” she said.
”I was just trying to be friendly.”
”I don't need any friends,” she said.
”Now I know.” Just as I moved to the end of the table, the main door of the dining hall opened, and a tall, ebony-skinned man sauntered down the aisle, carrying a folder of papers. He was wearing a dark green suit, the kind only a tall person could pull off. His hair was graying.
A hush fell over the crowd as he stood at the head of the room and put on his gla.s.ses.
”h.e.l.lo,” he said in a French-Caribbean accent, his voice deep yet wavering, as if he were singing the words. ”As many of you know, I am Headmaster LaGuerre, and I'd like to welcome you all to Lycee St. Clement.”
Everyone clapped. From where I was sitting, I could see the back of Clementine's head near the front. Her last name was LaGuerre, too.
”You are all Monitors,” he said, and smiled. ”It makes me proud to say those words. Some of you come from old Monitoring families, others are new to our community, but we are all united by our shared talents: the unique ability to sense death, and the primal urge to seek it out and bury it.”
The room went still as he gazed around us, his words pulsing beneath the silence like electricity.
”In your time at St. Clement, you'll make new friends, discover new skills, and eventually you'll specialize in one branch of Monitoring. However, most important, you will learn how to control and use your powers. The purpose of our calling is to police the Undead, and to put them to rest only when completely necessary. All life is precious, even second lives.”
I wanted to turn to April's table, but resisted the urge.
”Monitoring is not a safe calling. Every day you will be risking your lives for the betterment of humanity.” He paused dramatically. ”In your cla.s.ses you will hone the three basic Monitoring skills: intuition, sensing the Undead; evaluation, judging the Undead; and execution, putting the Undead to rest. But cla.s.ses aren't a replacement for real experience. You need to learn how to watch after yourselves, and now is the perfect time to start.” He motioned toward the doors. ”The gates are always open. You can come and go as you please, and at your own risk.
”That said, we do have two rules. First, I ask you to keep what you learn at St. Clement to yourselves. You are not to discuss the existence of Monitors or the Undead to anyone outside of these walls; nor shall you blatantly display your talents to anyone outside this community unless the situation is life threatening. Should the public find out about the existence of the Undead, they will try to bury them all. History has proven this to be true over and over again.
”And second, I ask you to carry around some sort of protection at all times. A small shovel is preferable, as it can be used as both a blunt weapon and a burial tool; but a box of matches, a roll of gauze-any of these things will suffice. It is our job to start training you to act and think like Monitors.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out something wrapped in a cloth. He unfolded it and held up a small trowel and a pair of gloves. ”As you can see, we professors take the same precautions as you.”
The room was completely silent as he wrapped up his tools and slid them back into his pocket.
”Finally, I'd like to name this year's top rank. For those of you who are new to St. Clement, the top rank is the student who scored the highest in the placement exam, which the entire school takes. That student is thus the best Monitor at our academy.”
He looked down at a piece of paper. ”Renee Winters.”
It took me a few moments to realize he had said my name. When I did, I was so surprised that I dropped my fork into my lap. I picked it up and brushed myself off, feeling my cheeks flush as all heads turned in my direction. How could I have gotten first rank when I hadn't even finished the exam?
”Renee, would you come to the front?” the headmaster said, gazing around the crowd, unsure of who I was.
I stood up and walked to the podium, my shoes loud against the wooden floor. People whispered as I approached the front of the room. The headmaster beamed and took out a small brooch in the shape of a cat.
”The cat is the mascot of St. Clement, and the symbol of Monitors all across the world,” he said as he pinned it to the collar of my s.h.i.+rt. ”Now you and the cat are one.”
”Thanks,” I said, trying not to blush.
”Congratulations,” he said. ”And welcome to St. Clement.” Under the noise of everyone clapping, the headmaster added, ”Could you meet me in my office Monday afternoon after your cla.s.ses?”
”Sure,” I said, giving him a curious look. But he only smiled. I was about to return to my seat when he stopped me.
”And now Renee will lead us in the recital of the Cartesian Oath.”
I felt a wave of nausea pa.s.s over me as the entire dining hall rose, their benches sc.r.a.ping against the floor.
”Drafted by our ancestors in the spirit of Rene Descartes, the Cartesian Oath is the sole pledge all Monitors must take in their training. It is our const.i.tution, our ethical standard, our declaration des droits.”
Ethical standard? I was the last person who should be reading this aloud. I shook my head at him, but he merely smiled and handed me a roll of paper. ”If you would please repeat after Renee.”
I could feel the girls from my floor glaring at me. Trying to will my hands to stop shaking, I unrolled the paper.
”Go on,” the headmaster said softly.
I cleared my throat. ”As a Monitor, I swear by O-Osiris'” -my voice cracked-”G.o.d of judgment and the afterlife, that, to the best of my ability, I shall bury all deceased humans within ten days of death, to prevent reanimation, even if the deceased is my son, daughter, sibling, friend, or-or...or lover,'” I said finally, apologizing to Dante in my head as I listened to the drone of my cla.s.smates repeating my words.
”If I should sense the presence of an Undead, I shall seek him out and evaluate his rate of decay,'” I continued. My eyes rested on Brett's as I watched him mouth my words and give me an encouraging smile.
”Should he be desperate, dangerous, or close to complete putrefaction, I shall endeavor to capture him and bring him to the High Monitor Court for examination and trial.'”
Clementine stared at me from the center of the room, her face wrought with jealousy.
”I shall never bury an Undead until he has proven himself guilty of murder or has-has-'” The headmaster nodded at me to continue. ”Has threatened my life.'”
When the voices stopped, I unrolled the paper even more and continued. ”When I do bury an Undead, I shall do so promptly, painlessly, and in accordance with Monitor ritual, with no vengeance or brutality.