The gas tank full, he replaced the nozzle into the pump, but as he went to grab the ejected receipt, his eyes sweeping the area, he could have sworn he had just spotted a moving shadow in the distance. A shadow with red eyes. James blinked, shook his head, then stared at the spot where he had seen the apparition. When a more thorough inspection had turned up nothing— Now, I’m seeing things . . . grrreat! —he grabbed the receipt and turned to get back into the driver’s seat. Blakeney walked up with Eliza in tow. They each had a grocery bag in hand. “What was that about?” He wanted to know. He already knew what Blakeney was referring to. “Oh, nothing. Just coming to an understanding.” Blakeney eyed him momentarily, then with a nod, he ambled into the car. “Good to go?” said Eliza, a small smile on her lips. James nodded. Holding the door open for her, he said, “Yes, ma’am.” She climbed in with a giggle and he crossed around and reentered the car as well. He turned on the car,
“James!” Blakeney shouted from the center of the intersection, the streetlight now casting the creeping fog into a dense green mist. “James, wait!” Eliza heard Blakeney swear from her place by the car. She had just watched James sprint off into the woods after Kali . . . alone . . . again. Why does he have to always do that? she questioned herself in frustration. Blakeney spun towards her. “Eliza, stay here.” He darted off into the night in the general direction that James had gone. “Great,” she spat to nobody. “Now I’m stuck with a whimpering baby.” She was referring to the curses and screams Christian had shouted out during the soldiers’ attack. Having never seen something like that, anyone would be scared, but she figured he ought to handle it just a little better than that. Just then, Christian attempted to open the back door, his eyes still stretched wide in fear.Eliza slammed it closed with a bump of her hip. “Stay in the car,” she ordered. “Whatever,” grumbled Christian.
In that split second, the overabundance of adrenaline caused time to slow infinitesimally for her. She finally got a good look at the boar. The skin was rubbery, dark and thin; short, sharp hairs decorated it’s huge body like the spikes of a porcupine; it’s snout was elongated and a thick tar-like substance dribbled from its black lips; the eyes were a blood red; but worst of all, along the ridge of its spine, razor sharp fins of bone jutted up from the skin like the peaks of a mountain. In that second of blood-curdling screams, her mind registered all of this then chose its target carefully. Eliza grasped the shaft of her spear with all her strength and thrust it mightily forward. The tip forged with Olympic metal drove straight and true. It pierced the boar’s left eye and continued on as a red gelatinous ooze spilled from the punctured sight. The creature whelped with a human-like agony, ripped itself free, and charged off into the thick of night; fog and woods concealed it
Blakeney drove the remainder of the way back to Eliza’s parents’ house. They had to stop there first so that he and Eliza could pick up her car and keep up with the charade of a weekend spent there. After a few hours of restless sleep, the three of them seemed to have awakened fully with the rise of the sun. As the freeway ran north by east, the early morning sun blazed brightly before them. Buttery golds and pearlescent pinks washed away the steely gray which had colored the pre-dawn sky and as the car came up on rises of the highway, they caught sight of the brilliant, painted display. Whenever James caught a sunset—even a sunrise—he couldn’t help but think of his father and that first, life-changing conversation. Zeus had toyed with the wispy clouds during a particularly beautiful dusk to prove his identity. And then, the god had told James he was his son. Though he fully accepted it these days, he still found it a little overwhelming at times. How awesome the honor and responsibi
“Oh, please forgive my manners,” Eliza’s father said, holding out a hand. “I’m Bill Masters.” “Christian Somers,” he replied, all traces of sarcasm and cockiness erased. “So you’re the one all the fuss was about, eh?” asked Bill. Christian nodded absently. “Well, we’re glad to have you and welcome to Virginia. Why don’t we all go inside and eat,” Bill suggested as he waved them in. They dined well on a mixture of breakfast and lunch. Cathy, the house cook, had prepared a meal of smoke salmon and breakfast ham, pancakes, eggs, hash browns, cut fresh fruit, and to wash it all down: juice, milk, and coffee. Everyone ate their fill—Christian still gawking at the lavish and expensive furnishings—and in between bites, discussed the early morning escapade. “I was stupid,” James spat in obvious disgust. “I allowed Kali to piss me off—excuse my language Mrs. Masters—and I ran after her.” He sighed heavily and shook his head. “All she wanted was for me to leave the others and I gave it to
James had just taken his seat in the back row of third period Pre-Calculus, when Christian walked in with a map in hand and a half-puzzled expression filling his face. He gave a rueful half smile at the sight of the new boy. Christian spotted him and hurried over. “Damn this place is huge and the teacher’s . . . they’re stupid hard. I already have homework.” He took pity on Christian and chortled. “Here, sit down.” He pointed to the empty chair. When Christian had slung his bag to the chair and plopped down, he continued, “Yeah, it’s tough here. But you’ll get used to it.” Christian shook his head, his bangs falling across half his face. He flicked them away. “Hope so.” “Hey James,” said Jennifer West. He had been so engrossed with Christian’s anxieties that he hadn’t seen her sit down on the other side of him. She was wearing a sky-blue shirt—the school’s crest embossed in navy blue over the left side of her chest—and white shorts that stopped short of mid-thi
Christian laughed deep in his gut and flopped on to his back. He started swimming around like a dolphin—shooting water out of his mouth like one too. “Enough playing around,” Blakeney called out, trying to bring back a semblance of order. “Let’s get to work.” Whipping his heavily soaked hair out of his face, Christian stood and became attentive. “We know you can create a whirlpool with a pitcher of water, now I want you to try it with a body of water this size,” directed Blakeney. “Think you can do it?” His dark gray eyes flashed with a challenge. Christian rose to it. “Piece of cake.” He watched as the young man backed up towards the lining of the pool. When Christian had stood stock still, the water as calm as serene pond on a hot summer day, he closed his eyes and laid his hands gently on the surface. It began from the spot Christian was rooted to. James watched and listened as the emanations of power started to show. A steady thrumming sound reverberated through the wate
It was after class the next day and James found himself in the Li-brary with a few books on the table before him. He wanted to get a jump start on his homework so that he wouldn’t have to spend the entire weekend trapped in a book. He cracked the first one—a number which discussed the use of bows and arrows by Genghis Khan for his Military History class—and began to read the first chapter. Or he tried to anyway. He breathed a heavy sigh as soon as he realized he had read the first sentence several times. He closed his eyes and clapped a hand to his forehead. Ever since working with Christian yesterday, his thoughts had been elsewhere. He couldn’t help but run the afternoon through his mind over and over. It was like that annoying song that gets stuck in your head and never goes away; it just replays over and over. But if James was honest with himself, there was a single word which described the undertones of each rerun: jealousy. The lingering doubts of himself as the element of air
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