Who I’m I

CHAPTER 1:

The heavy bass from the main stage vibrated right through the concrete floor of Underground Atlanta. Neon strobes cut through the dark, throwing sharp shadows across the hundreds of college kids packed into the venue. Eleanor Vale stood near the back wall with her camera hanging around her neck. She was supposed to be taking photos for the student paper, but her hands were too steady, her eyes darting through the crowd with an edge she couldn't explain.

Beside her, Amaya Vance threw her hands up as the DJ dropped the beat. She leaned over, bumping her shoulder against Eleanor’s with a bright laugh.

"You’ve been standing there like a bouncer for the last twenty minutes, El," Amaya yelled over the noise. "We came out to celebrate passing midterms, not to brood in the corner."

Eleanor forced a smile and took a drink from her water bottle. "I am celebrating. It’s just loud in here tonight."

That was an understatement. For the past three weeks, everything had felt entirely too loud. It wasn't just the music. Eleanor could hear the two bartenders arguing about missing inventory forty feet away behind the private bar. She could smell the rain on the damp pavement outside long before the first drop even hit the Atlanta streets. It made her head throb, a low, persistent pressure right behind her eyes that refused to quit.

"You look like you haven't slept in a week," Amaya said, her tone softening as she stepped closer. "Seriously, are you okay? You’ve been off all night."

"I'm fine," Eleanor said, brushing a dark strand of hair behind her ear. "Just tired."

A guy stumbling backward out of the crowd bumped hard into their table, knocking a glass tumbler off the high ledge.

Before it could hit the concrete, Eleanor’s hand shot out. She caught the glass flat in midair, barely an inch off the table, without spilling a single drop. She froze, staring down at her own fingers wrapped around the glass. She hadn't even looked. Her arm had just moved on its own.

Amaya stopped dancing. Her eyes widened as she looked from the glass up to Eleanor’s face.

"Okay," Amaya said, her voice dropping out of the music. "That was weird. Since when do you have reflexes like that?"

"I don't know," Eleanor muttered, quickly setting the glass back on the wood. Her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. "I just saw it fall."

"El, you didn't even turn your head."

Before Eleanor could invent a better excuse, a strange chill ran up her spine. The air in her lungs turned ice-cold, smelling faintly of pine and metallic ozone, completely cutting through the heavy scent of sweat and cheap alcohol inside the club.

Eleanor turned her head toward the side exit leading out to Pryor Street.

Standing in the shadow of the brick archway was a tall figure in a black jacket. He was completely motionless while everyone around him moved in a blur. But it wasn't his height or his clothes that made Eleanor’s breath catch in her throat.

It was his eyes. Even in the deep dark of the alley, they caught the neon light, flashing a bright, clear gold that locked straight onto hers.

Eleanor took a step back, her skin breaking out in cold sweat.

"El? What are you looking at?" Amaya asked, turning to follow her gaze.

Eleanor blinked hard and shook her head, looking back at the archway. The shadow was gone. The alley was completely empty, with nothing but the cold night wind blowing through the street.

"Nothing," Eleanor whispered, her hand trembling as she touched the back of her neck. "Let's get out of here."