The Protector (Complete)

Chapter 11

Greta rested her elbows on the desk and sighed. She glanced at the two beds in the sparsely furnished hostel room. Sofia and Isabella were sound asleep in the bed farthest from the door, and Patrick was sleeping on the cot that had been wheeled into the room.

After analyzing the events of the day, Greta had decided to stay at the hostel for the time being. The people at the convention center had been so insistent that Patrick, Isabella, and Sofia sit at the far side of the room at the three computers where the men went. Joseph had tried to ban her from the room in the first place. There were just too many coincidences that swirled around her three students and the convention center.

Something was wrong. It was still wrong. Despite being away from the center, Greta knew that it wasn't enough. The fingers of fate were clinging too closely. Something was wrong.

"Can I talk to you, Miss Klassen?" Patrick asked as he sat up on the cot and dropped his feet onto the floor.

"Sure," Greta said.

"Outside?" Patrick whispered, rivaling Sofia in softness.

"We can step out in the back," Greta replied. Until she figured out what had happened in the convention center, she wasn't going to broadcast their whereabouts.

The two walked out into garden in the back. Greta glanced through the window, making sure that Sofia and Isabella were still sleeping.

"I can hear them," Patrick said. "They are sound asleep."

"You can hear them?" Greta asked, stressing the word 'hear' to make sure her student hadn't gone insane.

Patrick slowly nodded his head. "I can hear them." He paused and then blurted, "There's something you should know."

Greta leaned a hip against the low stone wall that surrounded the garden. "Why do I have this feeling that I'm about to find out why Weston Prep is so different from other schools?"

Patrick shifted from one foot to the other. He was too nervous to find the proper way to starts. "We're not supposed to tell anyone this," Patrick said, glancing around as if someone, or something, was about to pounce on him.

"We? As in you and Isabella?" Greta guessed.

Patrick nodded his head slowly. "How did you know?"

Greta rolled her eyes. "I could hear you and Isabella talking."

Patrick stuck his hands into his pockets. He looked infinitely older than his thirteen years. Greta waited for Patrick to speak, but the boy didn't seem to want to start. "Tell me what it is that you are not supposed to tell anyone, Patrick."

"This knowledge, when given to a human, can be punishable by death. Your death if I continue."

Perhaps if it had been a different time, Greta would have laughed, but too much had happened that now lent importance to Patrick's words. "I will handle that later. Tell me."

"Those men who came into the room today were Lycans."

"Lycans?" Greta asked for clarification even though the hair on her neck told her that she didn't want to know anymore.

"Lycanthropes," Patrick clarified. "Do you want to hear more?"

Werewolves, Greta thought. She sighed. It was too late to back down now. Not to mention she still had three teenagers she was responsible in a foreign country with someone wanting to get his hands on them. "Tell me."

"The Lycans live in clans, and we are fiercely loyal to each other. Several of the clans have children at Weston Prep. All the children know each clan through scent. Those men weren't with any clan from Weston Prep."