I waited until the door closed behind Chuck to make my way back to the recliner in the corner of the sitting room. The human was still huddled behind it but at least he’d stopped crying.
“Hey,” I tried to speak as gently as possible, not wanting to seem threatening. “I think Chuck called you Connery, is that right?”
He nodded, his black eyes sharp with distrust.
“I’m Julian but most people call me Jules,” I offered when he didn’t speak. “Were you hurt when you fell?”
He shook his head, his shaggy hair flopping from side to side.
“Okay,” I said with a sigh. “Do you think you could come out from behind there and we can talk? I promise that you’re safe.”
Connery hesitated long enough that I thought he was going to refuse but he finally gripped the back of the recliner and pulled himself to his feet.
“Awesome,” I breathed out, relieved that he hadn’t completely shut down. He took two steps into the room and stopped, seeming to wait for more instructions. “Why don’t we sit on the couch?” I suggested, turning toward the small corner kitchenette. “I’m going to grab some water and I’ll be right back.”
Handing him one of the two bottles of water when I returned, I studied his face, trying to figure out why he looked so familiar since I really hadn’t interacted with all that many of the students. When he gripped the cap to the water bottle to open it, his claw like nails caught my attention and suddenly I knew exactly where I’d seen him before.
“You’re from the Hunter camp, aren’t you?” I questioned, fighting the urge to grab my phone and text Chuck.
Connery took a swallow of his water and nodded nervously.
“Is that why you were attacked?”
He shrugged.
“Come on, man, talk to me,” I chided him. “I tried to help you earlier, yeah?”
Connery nodded again, hesitated, and blew out a breath. “Yes, I am,” he barely more than whispered. “I’m a prisoner here.”
What? That didn’t sound right.
“You are?” I asked skeptically. “Then why were you in the hall?”
Connery blushed and fiddled with the cap to his water. “Hungry,” he finally muttered. “The door was unlocked so I was trying to find food.”
Between his gaunt cheeks and the way he was huddled in his scrub-like clothing like he was freezing, my heart squeezed.
“Okay,” I said briskly. “Let’s find you some warmer clothes and then we’ll track down some grub, deal?”
Connery’s eyes widened. “But..I’m a prisoner,” he repeated a little louder.
I shrugged. “Yeah, so? I’m not,” I pointed out, “and I was told to keep an eye on you, right?”
“I guess?”
“Well, I’m going to go look for a snack, so you’ll have to come with me.” I walked over to rifle through the pile of clothes Jeremy had lent me when I arrived, picking out the items that seemed to be the smallest. “Here we go!” I declared, carrying over a small stack. “Jeans, socks, and a hoodie. No underwear, but the rest should all fit and will be a lot warmer.”
Connery accepted them, confusion coloring his face. “You want me to change?”
“Yes,” I agreed, nodding toward the bathroom. “You can change in there while I make sure that the coast is clear.”
“Um, okay.” Connery sent me another confused look and then walked toward the bathroom, shaking his head.
Poking my head out into the hall, I saw that Sonny and Colby had been replaced by the security person Chuck had introduced to me as Fang.
“Everything okay in there?” Fang asked gruffly, his misshapen jaw seeming at odds with his words.
“Yeah, fine,” I muttered, glancing down at the uniform that stretched over his muscular form. “Why aren’t your clothes torn?” I asked before I thought better of it.
