Renegade, Another Bat?

Chapter 43 -The Decent into Hell Is Easy

Hi people. I cannot apologise for how long this has taken, but I can confidently say the book is nearing its end and the remaining chapters have already been planned out. Please Enjoy the update.

Note: The rewrite of this story, Fallen Renegade: Forever an Apprentice, is also being updated, and, in my opinion, is much better than this version. When I first started writing, I had no clue what I was doing. Yet, since I now have much more experience, my new books, (Fallen and Rogue Shadow) are (hopefully) much better than my original works. 

ENJOY!

Chapter 43 – The Decent into Hell Is Easy

"Alexa?" she turned her head. "My Masters wish to converse with you once you have settled. After lunch tomorrow, if you are willing."

"Yeah, that fine. It is alright if I train with you after breakfast? I haven't been able to spar in a few weeks." Skye asked. Alton nodded in response. 

"I would be honoured to train with the Heir to the Demon's Head." Alton turned around to leave but stopped short as a child's voice called out to him.

"Also, are there any clothes I can hijack?" She looked down at herself, "my mother would have a fit if she knew I met with your masters looking like this."

"Of course, there is a bathroom to your left. I will return to deliver clothing whilst you wash up." 

Skye nodded her thanks and was left alone. Sighing at her predicament, Skye entered the bathroom, shed her dirty clothes and stepped into the shower. Not too hot and not too cold, it was heaven after living on the streets for the past two months. A good ten minutes later, she walked out, wrapped in a towel, to find multiple sets of clothes neatly folded on the bed. Stepping into some general training clothes, Skye sat on the large bed as she towel-dried her hair. It was once again black; the blond die had washed out in the shower. Bye-bye disguise, hello Renegade. 

Skye didn't even attempt to get a brush through her thick locks; it was impossible. Sometimes, she thought about chopping it all off – it was ridiculous. How long it could take to wash, dry and brush out. Almost not worth it. Almost. Yet, she resisted the urge to lob it off; it was one of the only things that tied her back to the Roma culture. She was a Romanian Gypsy, born and raised. Women did not cut their hair, as it was a part of them. Skye had never had a hair-cut before, just as her mother had not either. Despite leaving Romania soon after being born, she had grown up with their culture and traditions, courtesy of Mary Loyd Grayson.

Skye sighed again, hanging the wet towel back up in the bathroom, so much for history.

~~~~~~~~

The Talon from earlier walked in half an hour late to find Skye stretching on the generous floor-space. "I have been instructed to take you to the mess-hall for breakfast. What you do after that is up to you. You have free reign over the base."

"Uh, thanks? But can my friends not know? This would be a bit awkward to explain." He bowed his head curtly at my request.

Great. Another lie I can burry myself under. 

"Sir, I never got your name..." Skye trailed off, walking alongside the Talon.

"Alton Carven. I have worked with your father twice before." He directed me into a large room almost void of people. "Years ago." He clarified, seeing HER confused sideways glance. "Your friends are over there," he mentioned with a hand towards the back of the room.