“I would like to thank each of you,” Bill began, “for sharing this Christmas in our home. You are all most welcome.” A warm smile filled his face as a testament to the truth in his words. “Now more than ever, it is of the upmost importance to acknowledge our blood lines, to come together in our time of need, because our true strength lies in our numbers. I look around at each of you,” Bill continued, eyeing each one of them in turn, “and see a family of loved ones. One of my closest friends and advisors, who also happens to be old,” —he winked at Robert as all around chuckled at the joke— “Robert teaches and guides all of our children and uniquely prepares them for life beyond school. My father and mother,” Bill beamed at the older couple, “who I love and from whom have come to cherish every nugget of wisdom shared. My newest friends, Rebekah, Charlie, Esmeralda, and Arkady Igorevitch… I am confident that many great years of friendship are ahead of us. To the young ones here,” he now
James woke up early on Christmas morning. Knowing that Tres’s little sister would be bursting at the seams with excitement to open presents— come to think of it, Tres probably would be too—he had set the alarm clock on the nightstand to wake him shortly after dawn. He climbed out of bed, stretched away the stiffness from a restful and uneventful sleep, then crossed to the bathroom to shower and refresh himself. When he was finished, he threw on a pair of cotton athletic pants, a t-shirt, some socks, and a hoodie; the temperature had noticeably dropped through the night. “Come to think of it…” he said aloud, then strode towards the window. He threw back the thick curtains and a child-like glee came over him. Wide-eyed and excited, he stared out at the winter wonderland before him. The pearly pinks and creamsicle-oranges reflected off a beautiful sight: a hefty covering of snow had been dumped on the ground through the night. From where he stood gazing out of the window, he could see t
Everyone had by now stopped laughing and James heard a few gasps and comments in the background, but he wasn’t paying attention to them at all. All of his focus was on Eliza. With the tips of her fingers, she tenderly traced the edges of the silver and turquoise horse and slowly moved along the intricate desert scenery that had been carved into the sides of the box. She bit her lower lip as it started to tremble; she sniffed and blinked swiftly; tears slipped over her lashes and etched a path in her freckle covered cheeks. “Hhow? Wh-where… did you get this?” Eliza asked in barely more than a whisper. “I drew up a few sketches of what I wanted and sent them to Karen,” James shrugged deprecatingly. “She took them to Old Town Albuquerque and had it hand made.” She smiled through the still flowing tears. “It’s…so… beautiful.” James reached into the tin box and dug around until he found the key. He handed it to her and said, “This opens it up.” Eliza nodded absently and slid the iro
His eyes flung wide open like the flood gates after a hurricane as he was dragged from the depths of sleep. At the moment, James couldn’t quite place what had awakened him. All he knew was that his nerves were tingling, and his instincts were on high alert. He remained as still as possible, his eyes searching the darkness with great intent. Nothing. No sounds. No sights. Then it hit him. His nostrils flared and burned at the putrid, acidic smoke licking across the ceiling like a brewing mini storm. Quickly spumed to action, he threw the covers off of himself. “Tres, get up!” he screamed, swiftly slipping into a pair of shoes. Tres grumbled groggily. “Wh-what ... what are you yapping about?” “Do it now! Get up, there’s a fire,” James called out once again to his friend. “What the hell?” Tres asked, more in declaration than actual confusion. He slid on some shoes, donned his glasses, and began to hail Alexandria to gamer any available information.James, by this time, had raced
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
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
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
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