In an instant, the quiet whir of the stairs being extracted, and the door being sealed shut came to life. The whine of the jet engines sounded, and a dull vibration raced around the cabin. In less than another minute, they were off. Eliza was bent over Blakeney and worked feverishly on his severe injury. With his shirt off, the cut was on full display. It ran from the back of his left shoulder to the middle of his back in a diagonal slash. It was deep and the skin had folded back a bit. Blakeney’s jaw was clenched in order not to scream as Eliza finished cleaning the wound and dumped coagulant powder on it to stop the bleeding; his color had already faded slightly from the blood loss. He turned away to allow her room to work and pulled out his phone once again. Dialing a number from memory, he listened to the endless ringing. Finally… “State your name and business,” a nononsense male voice sounded through the speaker. “This is James Olympia… I need to speak with Director Masters.
As a warm, fatherly smile had spread across his face, he had said, “I never knew this side of you existed. I’m really proud of you, Eliza. You did a great thing… you saved a lot of lives today.” At this, Eliza had turned as red as a tomato and bit her lip shyly. From that point onward, the small feelings of guilt that had crept up on her due to killing an actual person—if that’s what you could consciously call someone like Kali—began to recede. They were slowly replaced with a sense of pride and accomplishment. And he didn’t even remind her of how she had run off after Kali on her own, doing the exact same thing she had chided him for so many times. He had just smiled supportively and held her close as the two of them withdrew to her room and crashed for almost the rest of the day.Even though James had wanted to declare Sunday a lounge day, Eliza wouldn’t have it. She had dragged him away from the TV that morning and into the library and proceeded to drill him in preparation for the
James dropped Eliza off at her room, then made his way across the school to his own dormitory. He walked his way down the hall, his room the destination, but as soon as he had passed the bathrooms, Ricky came bounding toward him.“Dude!” He shouted. “Where you been? I need you. Some freshmen challenged us to Call of Duty… four on four, custom match.” For the first time, Ricky seemed to spot his bags. “Throw your bags in the room and get Tres asap!” You know what? I could use the distraction, James figured. He knew before any big test, the best thing to do was to allow his mind to relax. Cramming never worked. If you didn’t know it by then, you never would, was his motto. “Alright. I’ll grab him.” “Hurry up, hurry up,” called Ricky as he jogged back down to the lounge. Still shaking his head, he stopped before his door and allowed Alexandra to scan his biometrics. The doorknob flashed green and the door popped open with a click of the lock being thrown back. “Whatever you’re doing
The rest of the exams passed without much fanfare. After having done so well on his math midterm, at least he thought so anyway--- results would be handed back on Friday afternoon---, his others seemed incredibly easy. Even English Lit. required much less effort than he had thought at first. Their last examination ended on Thursday morning and even though they were basically out for the holidays, all of the students had to stay until they received their test scores back. So as the teachers wiled away at their papers, they took the time to spend the remaining hours with their friends before heading home for a couple weeks. Mostly, they all just hung around the different lounges playing video games, watching movies, and flirting in the way typical high schoolers do. Outside not much of an option because a cold front had moved in and the temperature plunged into freezing territory. James smiled like a child in a candy store as the weather channel projected a massive snowstorm coming int
By the time everyone was packed and had managed to load everything in the trunk of Eliza’s Fiat, the sun had already sunk beneath the horizon and the darkness of night was fast approaching. He climbed into the passenger seat as Eliza started the engine and they pulled out of the parking lot. “Will you stop whining,” she snapped at Tres. Tres didn’t respond directly to her, just mumbled various complaints under his breath. He sighed, exasperated now. It had taken Eliza coming to their room and issuing copious amounts of threats to finally pull Tres away from his video game. “I’m right in the middle of a quest,” Tres had exclaimed. Eliza released a scream of frustration, then, “Just take your laptop and play it at my house. We need to leave…” She glared at him with eyes narrowed to slits. “Before midnight, preferably.” Still, Tres ignored her. “Just a second,” had been his mumbled response. The clicks of the game controller continued on fervently. “Fine… you leave me no choic
White Christmas trees that were chest-height and lit up brightly could be found on either side of the road every ten yards or so. They were like a beacon that followed them the entire drive. Even the security gate and stone fence were decorated: each gate had a wreath hanging on it and the walls seemed to have luminescent icicles hanging on them. “A little over-the-top?” James asked to no one in particular. “Yeah,” Eliza whispered. “Are you kidding me,” Matt burst out excitedly as the house came into view and they could see the Santa Clause display on the lawn, the elves, and all the colorful lights around the house itself. “It’s freakin’ awesome!” She tucked the car under the archway which led into the gravel courtyard and parked. Matt and Tres exploded from the back in order to take in the decorations a little better. James chuckled as he saw Eliza eyeing all of the lights warily. “I take it they never do this?” Eliza shook her head adamantly. “No. Never. Usually the in-side
First, he took the lighter of the two boxes, slit the tape open, and extracted a metal tin from the large amount of packing paper. The tin box was maybe two feet wide, two feet long, and two feet deep; it was covered in paintings of Raggedy Ann memorabilia. The tin box had been very hard to find, but he’d eventually found this one on eBay and made a move to buy it flat out so that there would be no chance of his not being able to get it.But that wasn’t what had taken so long, nor was anything else he had wrapped so far been what Karen had referenced to as being beautiful.Because Eliza’s real present was what he now extracted from the final box. He lifted the wooden box out as carefully as if he was handling nuclear materials and slowly set it on the bed to study. It was maybe a foot in length on all sides and eight or nine inches deep, the New Mexico desert landscape had been carved into the stained red oak on all four walls, and a large iron key had been crafted to fit into the lo
The announcement of the imminent arrival of Tres’s family was greeted with a flurry of activity. It seemed no sooner had Brian—the Secret Service agent—told Eliza’s mother that they had just driven onto the property that Liz began to bustle around checking and rechecking the placement and positioning of several decorations. James was helping Cathy finish up with the groceries as Eliza went upstairs to corral Tres and Matt from their rooms. A few minutes later, the beam of a pair of headlights invaded the foyer and Liz called for James to come greet them. He handed Cathy the last of the bags, then swept through the revolving door into the sitting room and over to where Liz was waiting at the foot of the staircases. Eliza’s mother always seemed to want to inspire a good impression, no doubt due to her upbringing, and because Esmeralda and Charlie had never been to the manor before, she looked especially nervous. James sat on the bottom step to wait. A moment later, Allan opened the fron
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