The late afternoon sun blazed brutally overhead causing droplets of sweat to cascade down his forehead, hair spilling into his eyes. James crouched and stuck the sword of Achilles into the steamy ground. He reached up and swept back his medium-length dark hair out of his face and did his best to wipe the exertion from his brow. And here I thought the last few weeks were hot, he chided himself. The air was muggy and oppressive to the extreme, the humidity dense enough to slice through it like a warm stick of butter. He gripped the handle of the blade, slid it free from the ground, and took a deep breath. Ugh . . . tastes like swamp water. Suddenly, a gleaming bronze-like spear came whizzing toward him and as the sharp tip came within feet of his body, he took the force of it on the shield which he held aloft with his left arm. The metal on metal contact rang out, echoing around the granite stadium. James took off at a sprint, heading straight for his two oppo-nents. He
“James, I’d like you to meet Captain Mars Roberts, USMCR,” said Blakeney as he introduced the newest member of the team. Mars Roberts was of average height, dark-skinned with an ath-letic build, and was maybe in his young thirties. The man held out a hand in greeting, the morning sun glinting off his polished bald head. “Good to meet you James,” he said as James shook his hand. He had a slight New Englander accent. “You too, Captain Roberts,” said James. The man smiled warmly, his dark eyes crinkling. “Please, call me Mars.” “Eliza, I believe you’ve met Captain Roberts?” ventured Blak-eney. She nodded. “Yes, sir. Nice to see you again, Mars.” “Likewise,” Mars stated. “Alright, James,” Blakeney continued with all eyes on him, “as I’m sure you’ve noticed, we are going to change things up a bit. What with Eliza here as a new trainee and myself taking you as far as I can, it was time.” James nodded mutely in agreement. “C
James laughed out loud as he and Mars sparred under the high noon sun. Both wore only exercise shorts; the humidity and heat of the day being overbearing and brutal. Their shirtless torsos were glistening with sweat from the exertion of intense training, but James was clearly enjoying himself. He laughed once again as he easily deflected a strike from Mars. “You’ll have to do better than that!” he exulted tauntingly. Mars bristled at the remark and his eyes flashed. He drove for-ward with all his strength, aiming to deliver a forward thrust. James took it on the shield, but this was what Mars had hoped for. With his flank exposed, Mars brought his blade around and swept a strike at James’s legs. However, quick as a bounding gazelle, James leapt high into the air and crashed into his opponent. As shield met shield with a loud resounding clang, James used the energy to vault over Mars and landed lithely on his feet. Having been taken completely by surprise, Mars was at a lo
The flashes of lightning, pure arcs of energy, filled the air all around him. Dark and angry clouds rumbled as if the sky itself was furious with him. For what, he didn’t know. Only the bubble of air that surrounded him kept his skin from the harsh rains hammering down against the thin protection. He took a deep breath of the electrically charged air: it tasted like newly minted copper pennies. At that moment the bubble that had been his protection burst, the icy pellets of rain crashing into his body. The downpour increased intensely as if the clouds wanted to drown him. Every nerve ending screamed in pain and protest at the freezing deluge. Slowly, a smile crept across his face despite everything else as he realized an important change to this nightmare. No longer was he afraid of dying and maybe because of this, he floated perfectly suspended in midair. He studied his surroundings, his blue-gray eyes searching for clues. Placing his exact elevation turned out to be impossible, he
The days continued to melt away like an ice cream cone in the park during a blistering summer afternoon and before he knew it, Eliza’s birthday had arrived. Time had seemed to slip away even faster these days as every morning was filled with training while the afternoons were dedicated to research time in The Archives. It was tedious work and being among the dusty tomes wasn’t always exactly fun, but he was with Eliza and hey . . . that was enough. While Blakeney had Oliver polishing up his swordsmanship every day, for the most part the older man had him continuing to practice with his gift over fire. In the grand scheme of things that little number would probably be a lot more important than the ability to fight with a sword. Besides, Oliver was already decent and had only taken a few days to get used to the medieval-type sword that James had found for him when he had shown Eliza The Archives for the first time. So, as Eliza’s day of birth continued its approach—and conseq
By the time they made it back to the house, walking together and perusing along at leisure, the sky had completely darkened, stars coming out to play. He held the door open for her, but she paused before going in. “Thank you for the necklace and earrings, James.” “Your welcome,” he said with a smile of accomplishment. Without warning—he did have the hormones of a teenaged boy—he grasped her around the waist and pulled her close; Eliza gasped then giggled at the move. Though they had been out on the water for more than an hour, the scent of her soap still lingered on her skin. He breathed deeply, the soap and the sweet, fruity scent of her perfume created an intoxicating mixture. James reveled in the feel of her warmth pressing against him and with one swift look into her welcoming eyes, he brought his lips to hers. His body responded instantly as his senses sharpened and every portion of his body felt tingly and warm. Eliza sighed softly, wrapping her slender arms around his
The sun was blazing high at its noon-time position as he trekked his way down Massachusetts Avenue NW. The man—dressed in a lightweight navy-blue suit, crisply pressed white dress shirt sans tie, and oxford wingtips—took a right onto 2nd street and at the corner of D Street NW entered into the storied eatery. Being so close to the Capitol and the Supreme Court build-ing, the Monocle was a favorite lunch hotspot of Justices, Senators, and staffers alike. The restaurant wasn’t exactly the best place to have a private conversation, what with its close grouped tables, but he had wanted to impress his guest with his powerful connections. He wanted to be more than just some gossiping lackey and if all went well today, the first steps towards something closer to a partnership would have been taken. The man took off his designer sunglasses, slipped them into an inner jacket pocket, and approached the maître ‘d. After giving the man his name, he was led to a back table near the corner
Myrtle Beach is roughly halfway between the borders of Georgia and North Carolina along South Carolina’s coastline. Though mainly a tourist town for beachgoers, a sizable local population thrived as businesses had to be on hand in order to serve the vacationers and as with any city of its size, Myrtle Beach had its own local college. He, Eliza, and Blakeney found themselves pulling onto a street not more than two blocks from the campus; students were the main residents. The drive had taken the remainder of the day and now it was only a couple of hours until midnight. Normally, trying to speak with anyone at this time of night would be difficult, but seeing as it was a Friday night—and Amanda Hanson was a college student—they were sure she would be awake. Blakeney took the last turn and the three of them found them-selves facing and army of police and ambulances. The red and blue lights flashing off into the dark, reflecting every shiny surface in the vicinity, were like heral
James sighed; frustration, reluctance, and pain closed themselves across his features. He searched for Eliza and found her. She was speaking with Tres and his family. Almost as if she could feel his eyes on her, she turned and smiled widely at him. “I understand that you do not want to leave her, James. You love her more than anything and yearn to be near her.” Zeus squeezed his shoulder to recapture his attention. “The choice, of course, is yours. I will never take away your free will. But know this, if you choose to stay, yes, you will be with your loved ones. However, it is almost certain then that you would lose this war. As I told you before, sometimes we have to leave the ones we love in order to protect them, even if our absence is only for a season. I can show you how to unlock the abilities which lie dormant within you and give you a chance to save those you love. More than anything, I wish for you to never feel pain again, but I’m afraid my children cannot always travel th
At that, James and Eliza stood to lead the procession of surviving students. With a single white rose in each of their hands, the just over three-hundred walked down the aisles and passed before the table which held the framed pictures of the victims. Some wept, some simply said goodbye and moved on, but each of them laid their rose to rest in front of their fallen friends. It was significant of a promise to be kept: A promise to always remember their friends and classmates, a promise to never forget, and a promise that those who died would be carried in the hearts of the survivors for as long as they live. The last mourning student placed her rose on the cold earth, a tear falling from her cheeks and splashing onto the laid flowers, and the gathered assembly stood to move amongst each other. As everyone else began to comfort and converse with those they knew, James remained seated, his eyes searching the faces framed before him. He found the picture of Adonis and lifted on corner of
James studied his appearance in the mirror and absentmindedly fixed his tie. He wore a black, custom tailored suit which Eliza’s father had purchased for him for the occasion. A white dress shirt, black tie, and black wingtips completed the ensemble-mourning clothes. He had been breathing a little easier ever since he and Eliza and the others had finished their goodbyes to their friends, but when he was alone, as he was now, the pressure in his chest returned. It felt as if a weight was pressing down on his heart; threatening to squeeze the life out of him. He closed his eyes, breathed deep and slow, and willed the pain to subside to an acceptable level. In just a short while, Bill Masters would speak on the events which had occurred earlier in the week- the cover story having been a last time. Though he knew with the passage of time the weight of grief would sail away like a ship on the ocean, the loss of so many lives would never truly leave him. With everything that is within him
“I know that we’re all in a lot of pain right now, but we don’t know how long this period of inaction on the part of our enemies will last,” said James, eyeing each of the faces gathered in the room. “The task ahead of us won’t be easy, but I’ve had people die in my arms and I don’t want that to happen again.” “What are you saying, James?” Bill interrupted, wanting clarification. He glanced around the room again. “I’m saying it’s time to fight. I’m saying the time for secrecy among us is over. We need to gather everyone together that can fight and train them to go to war. Mr. Blakeney once told me that during the World Wars there were thousands of swords, shields, armor, spears, and arrows made from metal mined from Olympus and forged by Hephaestus and his workers.” His eyes seemed to harden with resolve as if they were marbles. “We need to find this cache and build an army. Never again will we be caught unprepared, not ready.” James elevated his voice as he spoke. “It’s time to ta
The past few days had been filled with alternating times of mourning and grief followed by periods of clarity and resolve. He and Eliza had spent much of the time on horseback or on foot meandering through her family’s vast estate. Being together and out in the cold, open environment, had allowed each of them to process their emotions and grieve properly for the fallen director. Robert Blakeney had been particularly special to them. Having spent the entire summer together and going out on numerous missions since, they had continued to grow closer. An unbreakable bond had been forged. Or so they thought. Everyone had been completely blindsided by Clurife’s attack and the betrayal of Oliver, but James was giving himself no room for excuses. It was outright stupidity to believe they were safe at the Academy. He, Eliza, and Blakeney had known someone was giving Clurife information and it was only a matter of time before the school itself was targeted, especially after Kali was killed. N
James had never been inside Romero’s home before. There had never been a reason to because over the summer their base of operations had always been Washington Manor—the Director’s residence. Under normal circumstances, he would have found the house to be warm and comfortable. It was built in a classic American style from a bygone era: wood floors, wood paneling intricate crown molding and lots of fireplaces. He couldn’t help but think it a miniature version of the Director’s place. It was for that reason alone that in lieu of any comfort, he felt stifled and suffocated. Ignoring all else, he made his way through the house and onto the screened back porch. He sat into a wooden Adirondack chair hoping to process more than a few of his rumbling emotions. He studiously avoided thinking about Blakeney and instead focused on the others which had died. There were many he didn’t know, but of the few he did, he had known them well. There was Jennifer West, the beautiful and spontaneous girl
They pushed their way through the trampled snow and to the fountain where the escaping students had gathered. James set Jennifer down on the cold earth and surveyed the panic-stricken mass. Far too many were missing from their numbers and Blakeney was nowhere to be seen. He turned to Eliza as he shrugged off his jacket and ripped his shirt in two. “Help them, okay?” he told her desperately, handing her one of the two pieces. Eliza nodded and went to work trying to stem the flow of blood coming from Jennifer’s battered body. One look was all that was required, however, for her to know it was hopeless; the girl’s lungs had been severely pierced. Even though they had been at odds in the past, this last semester, they had become acquaintances, maybe, ironically, the pair had even been heading towards friendship. But now... this. She tried to provide whatever comfort she could during Jennifer’s last moments of life. “It’s going to be okay,” Eliza said with a small smile. “You’ll be fine
Arriving at the end of the hall, James lifted a single foot and kicked the door in. The struggle going on in the room shocked him enough to crack a shallow wedge in his confidence. Svetlana lay on her bed clutching her bleeding chest, while in the far comer by the window, Eliza barely held the attacking soldier at bay with her dagger which was held in a vise-like grip. She was trembling with fear and tears spilled profusely from her eyes. The shattering doorframe had knocked the soldier’s attention from her and as its eerier eyes were coming to rest on the intruder, James flew into action. In barely more than the blink of an eye, he batted away an attempted strike and skid his blade clean through the enemy’s chest. With a flick and twist, the heart was pierced, death instantaneous. James slammed the body into the ground with disgust and moved his eyes to Eliza. “You okay?” he asked gently. She sniffed once and nodded. He secured his sword and shield onto his back, then went to S
Blakeney had been up and working in his office when the screaming alerted him. Not taking any chances, he grabbed the sword he kept by his desk and marched towards the school’s foyer. As soon as he stepped onto the marble floors from the staff offices, the sight of flames consuming the dormitories filled his eyes. His breath quickened and his pulse pounded in his ears as the building flames engulfed his school. The students I his mind shouted above the growing fear. He sprinted down the thoroughfare, protection of innocent lives the only thing on his mind. But, no sooner had he made his way into the inner courtyard, then a sinister, pleased laugh echoed amidst the granite. “Hello, Director Blakeney,” a deep, steady voice spoke. Blakeney whirled on the spot, searching for the source. Like an image being born from darkness, Nicholas Clurife stepped into the light. He wore all black, his evil Stygian blade held at the ready, and the smile that spread across his face oozed with crue