Fated by Sarah Alderson Page A

opening the window in her room, thinking that she'd pick up something on the breeze - a scent or a change in temperature. But no, she'd come rushing into her room oblivious as a Mixen was to anyone else's feelings.
    He'd been hiding in the shadow behind her door when she came in and tossed her bag on the bed. His first good look at her had surprised him. She was taller than he remembered, only a few inches shorter than him, and the blue of her eyes was more intense than the washed-out colours of the photo had suggested. In the back lot of the diner he hadn't got a decent look at her. And he hadn't managed to get much more of a look at her in her bedroom before she had stripped to her underwear, at which point he had slipped silently from behind the door and out of the room.
    He hadn't been expecting the baseball bat. She had surprised him with that and he was angry at himself for being distracted enough not to hear her coming. She could be stealthy when she wanted to be. He'd gotten a much better look at her when she'd come bursting into his room though. He had seen straight away that once she was fully trained she'd be strong. She had the Hunter genes, no doubt. There was speed and grace in her movements, even when she'd almost dropped the bat and had to make a lunge for it. She had hair a shade darker than his, skin much paler and a wide mouth, and her dark blue eyes, which flashed furiously at him, had been as haunted as the shadow realm.
    It had taken him a tenth of a second to take in the rest of her body, to notice the mark the colour of bruised fruit on her right hip bone and the graze on her left knee, but the injuries looked week-old rather than day-old, which meant she was healing quickly. She was athletic, too, he could see that from the shape of her legs and the flat of her stomach. She wouldn't need much in the way of strength-training.
    He heard Evie's voice on the other side of the door and edged closer. It sounded like she was arguing with herself.
    'You don't think that's weird? Or slightly suspicious?' he heard her shout in a loud whisper.
    A pause of a few seconds.
    'Well, have you checked with them? Maybe one got through. Maybe there's some kind of error system with your instincts . . . Mine? I don't know. I'm not trained. How should I know if he's Unhuman or not? That's your job, not mine.'
    Lucas smiled faintly to himself as he heard her groan. She must be on the phone to Victor. The others hadn't picked up on him then. He had been right. Being half human was playing in his favour for once. The Hunters couldn't sense him. That was a relief because his story was hanging by a thread as it was. All he needed was Mrs Lewington to come traipsing back from Michigan with talk of a hoax call. He had a few days' grace while her bus made it across the country before he had to deal with that loose end though.
    'No, OK, OK.' Her voice came through louder now. 'Tomorrow then, at Joe's. If I'm still alive I'll see you there.'
    He heard her flop onto the bed and, after a few seconds, the sound of stiff pages turning. Later, when she was sleeping perhaps, he'd take another look around and try to find whatever it was she was reading. If she didn't barricade the door again, that was. Though there was always the window.
    From up the road he heard the sound of another car engine. He turned his head to listen. It was Evie's mother - he could tell by the sound of the tyres and the country music she had playing. He glanced back at Evie's door, wishing he could see through to the other side, and then disappeared.
    He sat down on his bed and glanced at the dresser where he'd placed a photograph in a silver-coloured frame. His mum and his dad. One human, one Shadow Warrior. Both dead. His mum, fully human, incapable of defending herself, killed by Hunters as though she'd been nothing more than a dog that needed to be put down.
    His father, from the Shadowlands, a warrior and member of the Brotherhood, had died six months ago,