Theodore walked out of the cafeteria, heading for the doors that led outside, zipping up his coat. He didn’t bother with gloves or a hat, even though he had them. It was a short walk to the bunkhouse he was now in. His hand closed around the small octopus figurine. He’d grabbed it without really thinking about it.

  There was no special meaning to him. He’d never cared for the creature before. Didn’t really think about them now. There was that nightmare about tentacles grabbing at his face, but the Voice assured him that it was just a nightmare, no basis in reality. But the octopus had called out to him. It was only about two inches long, roughly carved from a piece of stone and then polished. There was no detail, just the body and eight tentacles. But he did like the way it shined in the light.

  He thought the whole idea had been stupid, but it seemed to resonate with a lot of the Clanmembers. They were stupid, he thought, walking down the concrete steps. He heard the two guards say something but ignored them. Turning to the right, Theodore headed for the bunkhouses. The Voice chided him, telling him he should have acknowledged the two guards. Those were the people he wanted to stay on the good side with. When the time was right, they would be his allies.

  At the moment, Theodore didn’t care. He just wanted to be away from everyone. The large crowd in the cafeteria had been stifling. Especially as they all mingled. It had been hot and crowded. Too many people wanting to talk with him, to thank him for his part in the siege and everything else he was doing as an Adventurer. They thanked him for using his power to protect them.

  Which isn’t what he was doing. They were all too stupid to see what he was doing. He wasn’t doing it for them. He was doing it for himself. They would learn the hard way.

  But what bothered him the most was that it reminded Theodore of before. Before the Connection. Before the Voice. It reminded him of all those work functions where he felt out of place, like he didn’t belong.

  He had nothing in common with his coworkers and he had nothing in common with the people in the Clan. They didn’t know the glory of the Voice. They didn’t know the future that he was promised. They didn’t know the part they’d serve in that future.

  Theodore let the cold air flow over him. It helped calm him, though the Voice preferred heat over cold. He watched his breath fog in the cold air as he walked toward the barracks buildings. Some had lights on, many were dark as most of the Clan were still inside the cafeteria. Theodore knew he should have stayed, but he couldn’t handle it anymore.

  He’d had some good conversations with people. They’d expressed their frustrations with how the Clan was run, how the Adventurers seemed to get preferential treatment. They’d apologize to Theodore, not meaning to include him with ‘those’ Adventurers. They knew he was one of them. Theodore had told them that no offense was taken. He understood and shared their frustrations.

  There weren’t as many people as before. He’d even lost some that had been gravitating toward the Hive. They had moved away, back toward Lochlan and his ilk. Theodore had gained some, but the growth of the Hive had slowed.

  Most of the people he talked with were already his, which he felt a waste of his time to continue to talk with. They were part of the Hive. But the Voice convinced him of the need to reinforce with some and the more that became part of the Hive, the more they could possibly bring others to him. He wanted to spend his time talking with all new people, but knew it didn’t work that way.

  It was just so inefficient.

  The people that were already his flocked to him, which prevented him from gaining the trust of new people, which slowed the growth of the Hive. The Hive had to grow bigger. His goals demanded it. He needed people. He needed numbers.

  Muttering to himself, Theodore opened the door to the barracks he shared with about twenty others. He knew all their names. All of them were part of the Hive. It had taken a lot of work by him, and others, to get them all assigned to the same building.

  And of course, none of them had stoked the fire in the main room.

  All of them were idiots and useless. Theodore had to fight to stop from screaming out in rage. Taking deep breaths, the Voice urging him to calm down, he walked over to the stove. Pulling the door open, he used the poker to shift the coals around. Pieces of wood caught fire again, the flames spreading as he added more logs.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  The room wasn’t that cold, but it could have been warmer.

  Theodore could already feel the heat spreading out through the room. It would be awhile before it would filter to all the rooms. He made his way to his room, closing the door behind him. It was empty, the other four roommates weren’t there yet.

  He hated having roommates. His were loud and obnoxious. At least none were snorers. He’d had enough of that the weeks he traveled with Roger. And the nights they had to spend out in the woods. Roger’s snores carried out of his tent. Theodore wondered how the noise didn’t attract monsters in the middle of the night. Maybe it scared them away instead. It made Theodore want to leave the man behind.

  But Roger was useful. For now.

  Taking off his coat, Theodore threw it on the floor. He didn’t bother taking off his clothes. The room was chilly and even though he had a couple of blankets to help keep himself warm, the extra layer of clothes would help. His bed was on the lower bunk, which meant he had to deal with the constant movements of the person sleeping above. They weren’t there yet, Theodore hoping he’d be sound asleep by the time they came back.

  But they’d probably wake him up like they usually did.

  Pulling the blankets up tight, Theodore closed his eyes. Sleep came quickly.

  And was interrupted when his roommates returned.

  They were quiet. He could tell they were trying to be quiet, but failing. Their actions were loud. Their whispers like shouting. He wanted to yell at them, but the Voice told him to remain calm. It would not help his cause to yell.

  Gritting his teeth, Theodore kept his eyes closed, trying to block out the obnoxious sounds of the others getting ready for bed.

  ***

  “Mike?”

  He stopped, turning at the sound of his mother’s voice. Working hard, he removed the irritation from his expression, plastering on a fake smile. He really didn’t want to see his mother right now.

  Not after seeing Harper and Davis together throughout the entire stupid ceremony. Mike could feel the dumb trinket he’d grabbed in his pocket. He’d already forgotten what it was, but knew he couldn’t just throw it away. Someone would ask him about it, would want to see it. He had to be a good little soldier and play along.

  For now.

  “Mom,” he said.

  She quickened her pace, walking over to him, hands out for a hug. Mike braced himself. He didn’t want one, but there was no way to deny her this. Not if he didn’t want to get into a long, drawn out, discussion. He was having too many of those with his family.

  “It’s been awhile since we’ve had a chance to really talk,” Susan Turner said. “You’re always out with that party or others. We never really see you.”

  “I’m trying to Level mom, so I can help protect everyone,” he said.

  It wasn’t the truth, but it was what she’d want to hear.

  “And we’re very proud of you for that,” his mom said, stepping back. “It’s just so dangerous…”

  Mike smiled down at her. When had he gotten so much taller than his mom? He’d always been taller, ever since his last growth spurt in high school, but now it seemed like he was that much taller. Did Leveling increase his size?

  His mom had been Leveling too though. Kind of. Not as much as he was. She worked in the Clan’s infirmary, using her healer Abilities to help the wounded members. It was very slow Leveling. She could be doing more if she went outside the Clan, joined one of the adventuring parties. They were very short on healers.

  But she would never do that.

  Mike wondered when he’d realized his mother was a coward. His father too. Especially his father. Both were content with staying in the school, letting others risk their lives for the Clan’s safety. His mother, he could kind of understand it. She was doing her part as a healer, just not as big a part as she could.

  His father though? What was Ed Turner really contributing to the Clan? With Kristin Conway and the Councilors, his father was redundant. Everyone knew it. Lochlan was just too nice to kick Ed Turner to the curb. Banish him from the Clan if he couldn’t pull his weight, as Ed was always telling everyone else they had to.

  The other Councilors all contributed. Mike’s own father didn’t. The Voice in the back of his mind, very tiny but always there, agreed with him.

  He pushed the sneer down. Wouldn’t want his mother to see it. She’d ask what he was thinking and there was no way he could tell her what he thought about his own father. Or the Voice. No one could know about the Voice.

  “You should come upstairs. Your dad will be done soon and maybe we can all play a board game or something?” Susan asked, hopefully.

  Mike didn’t want to, but he knew he probably should. It would be a painful evening, constantly trying not to call his own father out for the coward he was. And board games were anything but fun.

  But he’d do it just to stop the questions and maybe get his mother off his back for a little longer.

  “Sure, sounds fun.”