Book One: The Girl (The Sanctum) (25 page)

Max ran up
The Academy steps and headed for his mother’s office. At this time of night, there was no telling where to find his father, but he knew his mother would be up working. Everyone who knew his family knew Ava was the brains of the operation, Carter was the muscle. The psychotic muscle, but the muscle nonetheless.

Max strode into her office and just as he suspected, Ava was typing away furiously on her computer, five screens around her providing all sorts of information and her cell phone buzzing repeatedly, as if annoyed it was being ignored. She didn’t look up when he entered and he realized it was because she had no idea he was there; an ear piece was fitted to her head with someone on the other end undoubtedly talking a mile a minute.

Max removed his coat and scarf, hung them up, fixed himself a drink and then closed the office door loudly. Only then did Ava turn around. As soon as she did, her scowl broke into a warm smile, the kind of smile reserved for Max.

“Maxwell,” she said with affection.

Max hated his proper name, but didn’t mind his mother using it. He cringed every time he heard it roll off his father’s tongue.

“Ava,” he replied, using the only name his mother liked to be called, even by her only child.

“You are a welcome sight.”

“I wasn’t even gone for two days,” he noted.

Ava shook her head in resignation.

“I know, love. Sad state of affairs we’ve got around here these days,” she admitted then clapped her hands and quickly changed the subject, “but that is not for you to worry about. How was New York and that bloody family you love so much?”

Max sipped his drink and smirked. Some things just never changed.

“Much to your dismay, I can report that New York is still standing and the Clayworths are just fine.”

Ava rolled her eyes.

“Those people make my skin crawl. I really don’t know how you do it, Maxwell.”

“Do what, mum?” he asked.

“Breathe the same air as they do,” she laughed.

He shook his head and smirked.

“Spend some time with them and you realize they are not all that bad. I promise.”

“Oh Maxwell,” Ava smiled at him like he was a disobedient child she was forced to put up with, “you’ve always had a soft spot in your heart for roly-poly puppies, fuzzy farm animals and Clayworths.”

Max laughed out loud at that statement. His mother could be quite melodramatic at times, feigning all sorts of ailments or making ridiculous statements like she was currently doing.

“Ava, Ava, Ava. Your hatred for that clan never ceases to amuse me.”

“And yet, I have always loved you enough to indulge your obsession with them,” she smiled sweetly at her son.

“Ah, yes,” Max agreed with her, “that you have.”

“And this time was no different,” she noted.

Max raised a questioning eyebrow in his mother’s direction and set down his drink.

“Actually, it was very different, mum.”

Ava noted a hint of irritation in her son’s voice and felt a strange and almost maternal desire to placate him.

“Of course it was, love. I didn’t mean that like it sounded. I’m fully aware you were on a mission for your father and Luc. I simply meant I thought your plan was rather brilliant and am very pleased those two supported it as I would have done were it presented to me.”

Max relished his mother’s praise for a moment before adding, “Luc supported it. Carter had no choice.”

Ava ignored the comment about Carter, knowing her husband would disagree with any plan or strategy put forth by their son, for doing so was akin to acknowledging the boy’s growing leadership skills, something Carter childishly refused to do.

“And?”

Max replied without hesitation.

“The Clayworths know about the girl. My guess is they’re protecting her within the confines of The Academy.”

Ava leaned back in her chair and studied her son with newfound respect. There was a part of her that always wondered if her child would ever break his bond with Sam, Josiah and their children. It was the same part of her that always felt rejected by Max, not quite good enough for him. She suddenly felt guilty for ever doubting his loyalty and affection.

“Maxwell Augustus Breslin, that is quite an accusation to toss around. I would hope you have some proof to back up what you’re suggesting.”

“Solid proof, no,” Max began, “but I’ve known Wyatt and Ryker for a long time and trust me when I say, they’re hiding something. Wyatt never spoke a word about the girl and Ryker brought her up right away. For two chaps who legend has it, act as one, they were completely off.”

“How about Sam and Josiah?” Ava asked.

“Josiah babbled away as he always does and Sam was all but invisible. Supposedly she was caring for the vampire, but who knows?”

“Ugh,” Ava cringed, “their love for Magicals makes my skin crawl.”

“That is because Magicals in general make your skin crawl, Ava,” Max stated matter-of-factly.

“Magicals should make everyone’s skin crawl, Maxwell, but we’re getting off topic here. I want to discuss the fact that my suspicions about the Clayworths are most likely true and what we’re going to do about it. I need to find your father,” Ava commented as she turned back to her many computer screens.

One of the screens was a map of London which, upon closer inspection, Max noted included a blinking red dot.

“Mum,” Max leaned across the massive desk to get a better look at the screen, “that is not what I think it is.”

Ava didn’t blink an eye.

“If you’re thinking that is a GPS tracking device, allowing me to track your father’s every move, then it is precisely what you think it is. However, most likely not for the reasons you are assuming.”

Max settled comfortably back into his seat, amused as always by his mother’s bizarre behavior.

“And whatever would I be assuming, mother dear?”

“Oh Maxwell, spare me the patronizing attitude. Your father has a tendency to disappear with those Magical women at the most inopportune times. I like being able to find him quickly and with little effort. You’re old enough to know that he has wasted so much of my time with his dalliances. When I was offered this solution, I jumped on it.”

“Solution?” Max asked.

“A tiny something tossed in a scotch. Very simple and your father is none the wiser.”

“You are a strange woman, Ava,” Max observed with a grin.

“I am a smart woman, Maxwell,” Ava corrected.

“Carter is a clown,” Max added.

“Tsk, tsk,” Ava admonished him, “that is no way to speak of your father.”

Max laughed before continuing, “All right, all right, mum. Whatever you say. Just track down Carter in that brothel on Fleming Street,” Max pointed to the blinking red dot on the screen, “and let’s do this.”

“Rodrigo,” Ava pushed a button on her desk and spoke into her earpiece, “please track down Carter and bring him back to The Academy. Let him know Maxwell has returned. Thank you.”

Ava removed her ear piece and smiled at her son.

“Rodrigo will bring him back shortly,” she explained

“Who on earth is Rodrigo?” Max asked, always suspicious of new members of the Breslin circle.

“Oh,” Ava waved off Max’s suspicious frown, “one of Carter’s many minions. He helps me with this and that.”

“This and that?”

“Yes, Maxwell,” Ava used a tone of voice that suggested the line of conversation was quickly coming to a close, “this and that.”

Max rose to leave, wanting to hit the shower before meeting with his father and whoever else might join them.

“Sit down,” Ava instructed, “they shan’t be long. Rodrigo works fast.”

Max did as his mother ordered, studying her with a strange look on his face. Sometimes he wondered if he really knew her at all. Often he felt he did not.

“And kindly stop looking at me like that. I am your mother. I am allowed a few secrets.”

“Such as Rodrigo?” Max asked with a grin.

Ava ignored her son’s cheeky suggestion, amazed that he was suddenly a grown man and also amused by that fact. Talking to him these days was like it used to be with Carter: intellectual and stimulating, full of strategizing and theorizing, all in furtherance of the amassing of family power. She missed those days--and nights--with Carter. It seemed they were few and far between as he became more obsessed and paranoid about the girl.

But Ava was confident they could find her and kill her and that was exactly what she intended to do. Carter could torture every Magical in Europe if he wanted to, but all Ava wanted was to see that girl torn from limb-to-limb and burned to death, until there was nothing left of her but ash.

“Ava,” Carter strode into the room, startling Ava from her rumination. Following close behind was Luc.

“Carter,” she replied, all business. “Monsieur Arsenault.”

“Madame Breslin,” he slightly bowed his head and smiled. Her red lips never failed to attract his attention.

“Max,” Carter nodded at his son as he took a seat next to him.

“Carter, Luc,” Max acknowledged both men.

“Enough with the niceties, boys,” Ava began, “I believe it is time to make our move against New York, destroy the Clayworths and kill that blasted girl before she causes us another ounce of difficulty.”

Josiah grabbed his
laptops and headed for the conference room. He knew he wouldn’t need them but they provided a comforting presence and there were few places he would go without them. He shuffled into the room backwards, trying to hold the door and his equipment, all while maintaining some sense of dignity. Aware that he was failing miserably at the latter, Josiah gave up all airs and threw both himself and his computers into the nearest chair, hopeful nothing and no one landed on the floor.

Dev sat at the table, mesmerized. Josiah was a bumbling composite of good-natured clumsiness, a rumpled mad professor. The complete opposite of his children. Wyatt and Jools were elegant, beautiful, sleek killers. Josiah looked like he had slept in his clothes all week and forgotten to brush his hair for months.

“You have no markings,” Dev observed aloud.

Josiah spun around in his chair, shocked to find someone else in the room with him.

“Dev!” he noted with surprise as he pushed his glasses back into position and placed his laptops on the table, “you scared me.”

“Sorry sir,” she apologized.

Josiah laughed at the sound of that word.

“Do I honestly look like a ‘sir’?” he asked with a smile. “Wyatt, yes. Most definitely a sir. Ryker has his ‘sir’ moments. Me, not so much.”

Dev could not help but smile. Josiah was all warmth and affection.

“And no, I have no markings of the warrior, as I’ve never killed a Magical,” he explained.

Dev suspected the markings represented something rather sinister but she wasn't quite prepared for the blunt truth of the matter. Her face must have expressed as much.

"Oh yes," Josiah nodded sadly, "our Sanctum has a very bloody and violent side to it that is lauded and celebrated by some. It didn't begin that way. Yes, the markings reflect a Magical's death at the hands of a warrior however, once upon a time, those kills were heavily researched, analyzed and debated before any action was taken. Months and months, sometimes years of debate and discussion would occur around the decision to classify a Magical as rogue.

"I don't think the Gods ever predicted our current atmosphere of rampant and wanton slaughter, of warriors covered, neck-to-toe in marks. Look at poor Ryker, for example. That boy has reached a point where he hates every assignment he's tasked with and fights tooth-and-nail against killing anyone, even those that need to be put down. He's tormented by his marks and if he could find a way to deface them, I know he would. Truth be told, but for his parents and Wyatt, he would have left The Sanctum, that's how much he hates what we've become."

"Your son is also covered with those marks," Dev noted quietly, "but he doesn't seem quite so tortured."

Josiah shook his head thoughtfully, appearing suddenly rather sad and wistful.

"Do not be fooled by Wyatt's stoicism, Dev," Josiah finally spoke. "He is absolutely tortured by what he's had to do over the years, but he loves Ryker like nothing else and has done what needed to be done to protect his friend. Since they met, Ryker has always come first for Wyatt and he would rather burden himself than allow Ryker to suffer the consequences of disobeying or ignoring an order.

"Ryker would like to leave The Sanctum and but for Wyatt, he would have done so a while ago, via death squad," Josiah explained with a shudder.

"I had no idea," Dev whispered.

"Of course you didn't," Josiah smiled kindly at her, "how could you? We all have our crosses to bear and pain to carry. Some of us, like Ryker, do it loudly and others, like Wyatt, carry on in silence. Neither way is better although given my druthers, I rather like Ryker's method.

"My son goes through his life with a tremendous weight on his heart and I ache for him each and every day," Josiah stated sadly. "He is so very serious. There was a time he was full of laughter and light, but I fear that’s been killed out of him.

“You give me a little hope. He seems a little brighter around you, like he’s able to release some of the grief he carries."

Dev smiled sadly at Josiah, unable to tell him she and Wyatt were hardly enamored with one another, not wanting to raise more cause for concern. Instead, she briefly grasped his hand in her own, sent him some positive energy and rose to get some water.

“Josiah, can I get you something to drink?”

“No, he’s fine. He doesn’t need a drink,” Wyatt slammed into the room, “just sit down and let’s finish whatever seems to have started when you landed in our laps.”

Ryker and Jools sat down next to Josiah, followed by Sam, Darby and Coco. Dev ignored Wyatt’s rude behavior and brought Josiah a glass of water, then took a seat next to Wyatt, just to annoy him. Ryker watched Dev and raised an amused eyebrow. She winked at him and then turned her attention to Coco, who she found absolutely stunning.

“I’m Dev,” she extended a hand across the table to the troll.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Dev,” Sam interjected, “this is Coco, our weapons expert. Coco, this is Dev.”

Coco shook Dev’s hand and smiled.

“Nice to meet you, Dev.”

“Likewise,” Dev smiled.

“All right, all right,” Wyatt smacked the table.

“Relax,” Dev touched his thigh and shot him a look. Wyatt glared at her, but he didn’t move from her touch or say another word.

Sam watched their interaction with curiosity, wondering what was going on between the two of them, knowing it was none of her business. Choosing to ignore their foul energy, Sam opened the meeting.

"As Wyatt so delightfully suggested, let's get started. Josiah and I wanted a chance to speak to you all before we meet with the other members of The Academy, mostly because we are the group most directly affected by current events, that being Dev's arrival and Darby's attack.

"In case you don't know, Darby was set upon by Luc Arsenault and his progeny, Olivier. She managed to kill Olivier but did not fare as well with Monsieur Arsenault. For some quick background, Luc is Claude's progeny and had lived with him for hundreds of years until Claude crossed paths with Darby. I'm sure you know where I'm going with this, but I'll say it anyway: Luc Arsenault has despised Darby ever since and makes no effort to hide his feelings.

"What he does try to hide are his generations-long ties to the Breslin

family, well before Ava and Carter were even a thought. He has long done their bidding when it suits his fancy which is why Josiah and I are most certain the Breslins are behind what happened to Darby."

Sam glanced at Darby, who leaned closer to the table and took over the narrative.

"Well, y'all all saw me, probably more of me than you ever wished to see, so you know what Luc did and I believe his note made it plenty clear that he wants Dev. I said nothin' about nothin' which is why he went all Doctor Evil on me. And from what folks say about Carter Breslin, it’s plain as my nose those two are sharing torture tips."

Ryker shifted uncomfortably, not enjoying the current conversation, wanting to find Luc and rip him apart.

Darby grasped Ryker's hand and winked, reassuring him she was perfectly fine.

"As I was saying, he got nothin' out of me but as long as I've known Luc, he has been in cahoots with the Breslins, doing all sorts of things for them, usually to the detriment of other Magicals. This is the first time I've seen him bring his fight to other Sanctum, which is more reason for me to believe he's got Carter and Ava's backing."

"And all of this circuitous behavior eventually comes back to me and what I mean to the whole lot of them," Dev stated sullenly.

"You are not the point,” Wyatt noted pointedly, “at least not anymore. The question is why you? Why not Jools? Or Ryker?" Wyatt wondered aloud.

"We know the why," Josiah replied.

Every head turned towards him.

"You do?" Dev asked the question in everyone's head, “how?"

Josiah briefly glanced at Sam before continuing.

“It has to do with your parents, the Breslins and us. It’s complicated and old but I think the best way to tackle this is for you to tell me what you know, Dev. Because if I knew Philip and Maya as well as I thought I did, then I know they have prepared you for much of what lies ahead, they have equipped you with the truth in hopes it will make you stronger. Am I right?”

Dev took a deep breath and carefully considered her words. It was difficult discussing her parents without becoming emotional, but she didn’t have a choice. She had to share her story to gain the information she sought.

“My parents have always been very honest and forthcoming with me, but I am fully aware there is some disconnect between what I know and what is happening all around me. I’m trusting you and Sam can fill in the gaps.

“Simply stated, I am an experiment on the part of my parents. A test of the limits of their magic and power, but also a slap in the face to the Breslins. I am the offspring of the union of the angel Aria and demon Zyka, which is why The Sanctum calls me a hybrid.

"I understand that my power is virtually limitless, have been told my intelligence is unsurpassed and have ample proof it’s insanely difficult to kill me.

“When I was younger and would ask my parents to tell the story of my arrival in their lives, they would always end it by saying I fulfilled the prophecy and my purpose was to bring the light. I remember asking what exactly they meant when they said things like that, to which they explained that one day I would be a great leader, one to unite the worlds of Sanctum and Magical and usher in an untold peace. That all seemed a bit dramatic at the time and unfortunately they were killed before they could really explain themselves.

“As I sit here now, in a room of people I don’t even know but am dependent upon to keep me safe, their words sound even crazier than when I was a kid, like the delusional rantings of two people chased from The Sanctum and living a life on the run.”

Dev shook her head sadly, aware everyone at the table was intensely focused on her, unaware of how emotional she was becoming discussing herself in front of a room of virtual strangers.

"Don't get me wrong, I love my parents with every ounce of my being and there isn't a day that goes by where I don't miss them," Dev said with tears in her eyes, "but there is a part of me that is extremely hurt and upset with them. There's a part of me that feels so betrayed by their extraordinarily calculated actions.

"I was lying in bed last night, trying to get my head around the fact that they created me just to satisfy some revenge fantasy they had against The Sanctum, that they created me just to leave me here to die alone because that is exactly what is going to happen. I am absolutely alone and I am definitely going to die, it's now just a question of who is going to kill me."

Dev wiped her eyes and pushed away from the table, wishing she could leave the room altogether. For what felt like eons, no one said a word, everyone uncertain what to say.

Everyone but Wyatt.

Wyatt knew exactly what to say to her but after the hateful words she threw at him last night, he refused to be moved by her tears. She didn’t like him and he was going to do his damnedest to shut down any feelings he had for her.

Finally, Sam sat up tall and spoke.

“I am so terribly sorry that I cannot help you feel less alone, Dev. I can’t imagine what you must be going through and I’m not going to pretend that our small group right here is any substitute for your family and friends. But I do know this: there is no way anyone sitting here is going to let you die, not without one hell of a fight. Furthermore, your parents were not chased from The Sanctum, they left. And those stories they told you were not delusional rants, they are true. You are the hope we’ve been promised for years.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better,” Dev asked as she pushed away from the table and walked over to the window, looking out onto the city below, “because it doesn’t. It sounds like more of the same nonsense my parents filled my head with all these years.”

“I’m sure it does,” Sam agreed, “but I promise you it is not. When your parents fled The Sanctum, Josiah and I were the only people who knew why. We assisted in their safe passage and have always hoped our paths would cross again.”

Dev turned back to the group, leaning on the windowsill, not wanting to join them at the table.

“If you were such good friends, why did you never visit? Why did my parents never mention you?”

“All for your parents’ safety. We could not risk Breslin finding them. Josiah and I felt the best way to ensure their safety was that if none of us knew where they were and we cut off all contact.”

“You could have helped them,” Dev shot back at Sam.

Sam shook her head sadly.

“Once they did what they did, no one could help them, sweetheart. We all knew that, but they felt it was a necessary sacrifice to make for the greater good. Josiah and I promised if anything happened to them, we would find you and help you the best we could, which is why we’ve been feverishly searching for you all these months.”

"All these months?" Dev laughed coldly. "You cannot expect me to believe that."

"You're right," Josiah interjected, sensing Sam was upsetting Dev, feeling he might make a bit more headway with her, "we don't expect you to believe it, but it is a fact. Ever since Breslin made it known he was hunting you, I have been conducting my own search in hopes of finding you first. It's difficult when one is ignorant of the who, what, where and why of a problem. But knowing Maya and Philip as well as I do, I started searching portals leading into or away from Ghost palaces. I knew once they succeeded in creating you, they would train you in the ways of the Ramyan Warrior.

"From the markings on your body, I can see that I was right. You have apparently gone as far as the fourth stage of your training. Sadly, I could not find your Ghost Palace or your Ramyan Sei. Your parents improved upon even their best work when glamouring your safe havens.

“And as you can imagine, every time I asked someone about the Ghost Palaces, they mocked me, certain I had finally lost my marbles and was falling victim to tall tales told around the campfire.