Book One: The Girl (The Sanctum) (18 page)

Carter Breslin paced
back and forth in the dark room, so angry the vein running down the middle of his forehead could be seen, throbbing in time with each step he took. His son, Max, stood off to the side in a far corner, knowing his father’s temper well enough to stay out of the way. The dark robes of The Sanctum billowed out behind him and finally Breslin shrugged them off in irritation and threw them in a pile on the floor. Clothed in fitted, black jeans and a black T-shirt, Breslin’s body appeared younger than his years but his face had not similarly been spared the ravages of middle-age.

Once upon a time he would have been called “a catch” with his mass of dark curls, chiseled jaw and large, dark eyes with eyelashes so long they filled girls with envy. Now his face reflected his demeanor: angry, bitter and cruel. His eyes were filled with hatred, his mouth a thin line of disgust and his mass of dark curls gone with his good humor.

He was more fearsome than anything else and Breslin liked it that way. Gone were the days when he sought counsel on his decisions; had he bothered to today, he would get nothing but acquiescence, as no one in his inner circle really wanted to disagree with anything he said or did. Challenging Breslin was known to have harsh consequences and since most folks wanted to live to see the next day, he essentially did as he pleased.

Such unchecked power and authority were not the original intention of the gods when they created The Sanctum, but they had little control over its evolution and they had absolutely no control over the Breslins.

When bringing The Sanctum to life and speaking their truths into The Code of Ten, the gods created an everlasting force for good, a group of heavenly ordained peacekeepers to oversee and guide all Magicals. The ten founding families were chosen for their strong moral fiber, sense of justice, belief in equality and supreme intelligence, for the gods believed these qualities could guide The Sanctum for all eternity.

But even the gods sometimes fail.

Granting the Breslins any sort of power was a failure of epic proportion. From the minute they were given entree into The Sanctum’s ruling body, The Circle of Ten, Augustus and Victoria Breslin sought to wrest power from the others, willing to use any means necessary to succeed. A few succumbed to the intimidation and bullying but others, like Micah and Rose Clayworth, fought them tooth and nail, determined to uphold the guiding principles and ideals of The Sanctum and The Code of Ten.

Carter Breslin knew none of the principles of The Code of Ten, so warped and twisted was his idea of being Sanctum. To him, being Sanctum meant nothing more than wielding absolute power and doing as one wished.

Currently, what Breslin wished was to get some answers. And he wanted them from an ethereally beautiful faerie named David with whom he tasked gathering those answers for him. Breslin had asked David to meet him on several occasions and each time, the faerie had failed to show. He would only tolerate so much misbehaving.

The faerie raged against the scrimshaw chains holding him against the stone wall.

“You can continue to lie to me,” Breslin quietly relayed, “or you can start giving me the information I requested of you months ago. One way or another, I will get it out of you.”

“I am at a complete loss. There is no information of this girl. Anywhere. She is a figment of your overactive, paranoid imagination.”

Breslin picked up a thin, razor-sharp knife and stepped close to the faerie, never losing his cool, always maintaining control. He ran the weapon down one side of the faerie’s face and watched as the skin split open and blood poured onto the cold, stone floor. The screams were soul-piercing, but traveled nowhere, sheltered as they were, well below street level.

“David, David,” Breslin shook his head as if speaking to a small child or a pet, “this is becoming so very tedious. Listening to your lies and screams. You must know something of worth. Some tidbit.”

Max silently watched from the shadows as his father ran the same tired routine on the faerie, knowing even if David did have information that could save his life, and he probably did, he would rather die than help a Breslin. The threats, the torture and eventually the death, it was all becoming so commonplace, but there was no stopping his father and no one dared challenge him. So on and on it went, a weekly cycle of torture and death, all in the name of The Sanctum.

“Breslin,” David hissed and spit blood, “just kill me and finish this charade.”

Breslin’s eyebrow twitched in fury, but that was his only betrayal of emotion. He selected a smallish Raven Blade from his cache of tools and slowly approached the faerie.

“Your people are known for their extraordinary beauty and intelligence, wits and magic. And yet, you are a bloody fool. Such a poor representative for such a revered group,” Breslin sneered as he stabbed David in random spots across his bare torso, drawing blood and poisoning the faerie.

This time David made no noise. Knowing his death was near, he refused to beg for his life.

“Perhaps the reverence is unwarranted? It would seem so,” Breslin stabbed again and again, “for I cannot think of a reason I should allow you to live when you cannot accomplish the simple task of gathering one detail about this blasted girl.”

On and on he raged, until Breslin grew bored and left the room, leaving the faerie hanging on the wall, a bloody mess on the brink of death. Max stepped close, attempting to catch a sign of life, a breath, but hearing none turned on his heel and followed his father out of the room, leaving the body for the minions to clean up and dispose of properly.

“AVA!” Breslin shouted as he entered the London Academy, a ball of rage and fury.

“AAAAAAVVVVVVVVAAAAA!”

“Yes, love,” Ava stuck her head out from behind a high-back chair, not five feet from her husband.

For all of Carter Breslin’s bluster and bray, his wife, Ava, was a pool of controlled and contained bitterness and wrath. Many considered her more frightening than her husband and all agreed, the two together were positively horrific.

Like her husband, Ava had once upon a time been a girl of renowned beauty, her thick, blond locks and full red lips, ample hips and tiny waist being the thing of many a boy’s fantasy. And similar to her husband, age and greed had tarnished those looks, eating her away from the inside until she was simply a shell of her old beauty. If one looked past the ultra-gaunt body and tight mouth, the cold eyes and severe bun, there were glimpses of her old self, but they were rare and brief.

Breslin sat down across from her, tightly wound and tense. Ava put down her book and took her husband’s hands in her own, massaging them until he calmed.

“You really must make some sort of effort to contain yourself. This carrying on, day and night, night and day. It is beneath you, Carter.”

“I am trying to do just that, Ava,” Breslin hissed, “but my patience has reached its apex. I know that abomination is running around New York, getting help from Magicals. I will kill every Magical residing in that godforsaken dump of a city, so help me god.”

Ava continued massaging his hands as she peeked up at him, noting his haggard appearance and pallid countenance.

“Perhaps your lack of success in this all-consuming endeavor is because it is not the Magicals who are giving this girl assistance,” she calmly suggested.

“She is not a girl,” Breslin growled.

Ava dropped his hands and sat up straight.

“Do not dare raise your voice to me, Carter. I am not one of your hangers-on and will not be spoken to with such disdain,” Ava admonished.

“She is a girl,” Ava continued, “your own son said as much. Now if you want to continue down this childish path of calling her some kind of monster, boogeyman, or perhaps even a djin, by all means, go right ahead. But you and I both know that is ludicrous and honestly, you sound like a fool every time you do it. I utterly abhor those edicts you send out, calling her everything but what she is: a girl.

“Did it ever cross your mind how easy it is to defeat a ‘girl’? No one will be afraid of killing a girl, but you’ve gone and turned her into something out of a Sanctum nightmare. She is now more fearsome than any hellion we could conjure, all thanks to you and those stupid edicts.”

Breslin glared at his wife, but remained silent in the face of her biting criticism.

“Now that I have your undivided attention,” Ava continued, “I would suggest you stop focusing on Magicals and turn your attention to the Clayworths, those abhorrent, bloody fools Sam and Josiah. Constantly defying us at every turn, with their equality-for-all nonsense. They are the problem. New York is their domain and perhaps they haven’t seen the girl but you and I both know the Magicals in their domain have seen her. Often.

“That is where your focus should lie, on that bloody awful family, god only knows how they produced that child Wyatt, but instead you want to play doctor evil every night with a different Magical. For years I have tolerated your blood-thirst, allowed you to engage in these torture games, but now we must focus. You must stop playing with Magicals and behave like a proper Breslin. Otherwise, Max and I shall handle this on our own, for I'm starting to see our boy has much more of me in him than I originally thought.

"So you decide, Carter," Ava quietly requested, "now."

Breslin leaned back in his chair, needing a little space from his wife, lest he reach out and smack her across her incredibly smug face.

"My love, of course. As you wish," Carter smiled a smile that was anything but happiness.

"Bravo," Ava lightly clapped her hands, patronizing her husband one more time, purely for her own amusement, “to start, what kind of mess have you left downstairs, Carter?"

Breslin stood suddenly and glared down at his wife, unable to hide his irritation with her, despite his best efforts.

"There is no mess, Ava. It's already been attended to."

Ava stood as well, disliking the feeling of Breslin looking down on her. She touched his arm, lightly, wanting to diminish some of the venom flowing between them, and felt him relax immediately. Ava smiled to herself, pleased to know she still held this power over him, fully aware he had the same effect on her.

"Let's not be like this, Carter," she leaned in close and whispered, "we have much to accomplish and are on the same side."

Breslin turned to her and ran his hands over her sleek hair, admiring her evil beauty. Her blood red lips never ceased to attract and distract him. He bent close and bit one, not gently at all, and thrilled at her cry of pain then kissed her fully and deeply, only stopping when she pushed him away.

"Enough," Ava insisted.

"Never," he replied as he nipped at her teasingly before walking away, the taste of her blood lingering in his mouth.

"Where are you going?" she called after him.

"Well, if you’re not going to allow me to kill any more Magicals, I’m off to catch a bloody Clayworth. I’m sure you won’t mind me killing the lot of them."

Ava smiled wickedly before running after him, not wanting to miss out on all the fun.

Wyatt opened the
door, crossed the threshold and turned back to glance at Dev. If she had any doubts, they could not be seen on her face. She entered his parents’ suite, took in her immediate surroundings and smiled. Everywhere she looked, there were stacks and stacks of books, from old dictionaries and leather-bound collections of the classics to oversized almanacs and journals. It was a bibliophile’s dream; Dev wanted to curl up in a corner and never leave.

“This room is brilliant,” Dev continued taking in her surroundings, “all the books.”

Wyatt held his hand out for her.

“Wait until you see the rest of this place. You’ll never want to leave.”

Dev laced her fingers through his and allowed him to lead her down the hall as she marveled at the collection of paintings, rugs, tapestries and art from around the world and through the ages. The Clayworths didn’t limit their collection to the human arts as Dev noticed quite a number of pieces scattered throughout from Magicals. She silently wondered just who Wyatt’s people were, they seemed so unlike anything she would expect from The Sanctum.

“I know,” Wyatt stated as if reading her mind, “my family’s strangeness is not limited to my dad. My great-great-great-great grandmother, or something like that, considered herself a patron of Magical artists, hence all the bizarre work by faeries and wolves and my uncle is married to a troll.”

Dev raised a shocked eyebrow.

“And no longer Sanctum, of course,” Wyatt confirmed.

“Of course,” Dev agreed with an exaggerated nod.

Wyatt came to a stop near the end of the hallway. Dev could hear voices and knew they were nearing the kitchen. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, took a deep breath and kept walking. They entered the cavernous room and stood in the doorway, causing all sound and movement to come to a complete halt. Jools took in the sight of the two of them and wondered how they made it back to The Academy alive, they were covered in so much blood. Ryker wished he had gone with Wyatt to find Dev, knowing they could have used his help. But it was Sam and Josiah who appeared the most shaken, and not for reasons one would expect.

“Mom, dad, we’re totally fine,” Wyatt wanted to explain their appearances, “we just ran into a little trouble on the way back.”

Sam stood and slowly approached the couple. She knew the blood was not theirs and it definitely was not what captivated her attention.

It was Dev.

It was everything she evoked.

Sam was instantly thirty years younger, whispering, plotting, worrying. She could feel Maya’s hand in hers, she could see Philip’s sly smile. Without thinking about what she was doing, she reached out and caressed Dev's cheek, a look of pure awe written all over her face.

"My goodness," she gasped, looking back at Josiah, "they really did it."

Dev looked at her feet, slightly embarrassed by her effect on Sam, but used to it all the same.

"I know," she smiled, "the spitting-image of my mother with a touch of my father around the eyes."

Sam studied Dev for a moment longer and then shook her head in agreement.

"I couldn't say it better myself."

“You know her parents?” Wyatt asked, suddenly very confused.

“I do,” Sam said with a smile, “your dad and I both do. The Clayworths go back very far with Philip and Maya.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam turned to Dev and held out her hand, “I’m Sam Clayworth and this is my husband, and Wyatt’s dad, Josiah.”

“Um, he’s my dad, too,” Jools called from her seat at the kitchen table.

“Always,” Josiah kissed his daughter’s head affectionately as he rose from the table.

“Mr. Clayworth,” Dev smiled and held out her hand, “it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Ahhhh, yes,” Josiah smiled, “I seem to recall you skipping out on our first meeting. And please, call me Josiah.”

Josiah smiled broadly at Dev, but hesitated to shake her hand.

“She won’t bite you, dad,” Wyatt stated, fully aware of his dad’s reticence.

“Maybe not, but she will read me like a book once she touches me,” Josiah explained.

“Actually, I can do that without touching you, sir,” Dev replied quietly.

“No,” Josiah insisted.

Dev shook her head.

“Yes.”

“You read minds?” Jools asked.

“You’re a mind-reader?” Ryker chimed in.

“Can you read my mind?” Sam asked.

“That is amazing,” Josiah commented.

Wyatt watched and listened as everyone crowded around Dev, wanting to know what she could do, how, when and why. After a few minutes of their incessant questions, the chaotic cacophony, he tuned them all out and sunk into himself. As bound to her as he felt, Dev remained a complete mystery, layers upon layers revealing themselves here and there, but never all at once. Perhaps there was a reason for that, her way of protecting him from the overwhelming reality of what was happening to them.

“Do you really read minds?” Wyatt’s voice cut through the noisy kitchen, bringing everything to a halt.

Dev knew exactly what Wyatt was asking her, she heard it in his voice. Her revelation didn’t amaze him, he didn’t want details about when or how she did it. He simply wanted to know if she was reading his mind.

“Not yours,” she replied.

“Because you choose not to?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Because I can’t.”

“Fascinating,” Josiah interjected himself into their conversation, “you can read all of us except Wyatt.”

Dev caught Wyatt’s eye across the room for a second before returning her attention to Josiah.

“I can read all of you. I can read anyone I come in contact with, folks I have no contact with, anyone I want, pretty much. Except Wyatt. He is the only person in my entire life that I haven’t been able to read. Everyone else, I can read and even influence their thoughts, but Wyatt, he’s just a blank page. No information, no nothing.”

“Interesting,” Josiah observed.

“Oh Jo, stop treating the girl like one of your experiments,” Sam admonished, “although I must admit, I’m rather intrigued by the fact you and Wyatt have a block.”

“I think it’s probably for the better,” Ryker chimed in from his seat at the kitchen table, winking at his friend.

“Shut up, Ryker,” Jools pushed him, knowing exactly what he was suggesting.

“He’s probably right,” Sam commented to Josiah, somewhat absentmindedly, ignoring everyone else in the room, “it will be easier for them to fight, side-by-side, with a block. It makes perfect sense.”

“It does, but I wonder if there are any drawbacks. It’s too bad she can’t turn it on and off.”

“Dad,” Wyatt interrupted Josiah and Sam’s stream-of-consciousness conversation, having witnessed these many times in the past, knowing it could go on and on for a while, “let’s focus.”

“Right, right,” Josiah looked for a moment as if he just realized Wyatt was in the room, “sorry about that. This is just quite a lot and I’m trying to keep up and digest it all.”

“I couldn’t agree more so how about we go back to you and mom knowing Dev’s parents,” Wyatt suggested, taking control of the conversation and guiding it towards information he wanted to glean.

“That’s an excellent place to start,” Josiah replied, “but first, how about you show Dev to her room and the two of you get cleaned up, then we can talk?”

Wyatt started to disagree with his dad, not wanting to leave just yet, feeling there was so much more to learn from his parents but then he looked down at his hands, his bloody, filthy hands and suddenly felt exhausted. Too much had happened in one night, from Dev to killing his fellow Sanctum. He knew he needed to hit the pause button, clean up and recharge.

“I would love to wash my hands,” Dev snuck up behind him quietly.

“Personally, I would love for both of you to wash your hands,” Jools offered, “and your faces and bodies and clothes. You both look disgusting and you smell like all hell.”

“Jesus Jools,” Sam lightly popped her daughter on the top of her head with a laugh, “control yourself.”

Wyatt looked down at Dev and could see the exhaustion in her face. He relented immediately. Lacing his fingers through hers, he readied to leave.

Sam and Josiah walked them to the front door with Ryker and Jools trailing behind.

“Dev, we set up the suite for you next door to Wyatt, but if you need anything, please let us know.”

“Mom, you cannot be serious,” Jools began, “you put them next door to each other? More importantly, you gave her the suite I’ve only asked for a million times.”

“Ignore her,” Josiah smiled, slightly embarrassed by Jools’ outburst, “I don’t know where we bought her.”

Dev smiled, knowing she would ignore pretty much anything that came out of Jools’ mouth.

“Okay, so you all get some sleep and then you can come back for a nice breakfast. I’ll make pancakes and Dev can catch us up on everything with Maya and Philip.”

Dev’s stomach sank upon hearing her parents’ names, especially when spoken with such warmth and affection. Her eyes felt a little glassy, but she told herself not to cry. She would not cry. Wyatt tightened his hold on her hand, knowing the mention of her parents unsettled her.

“Dev?” Josiah sensed something was the matter, but left his question lingering in the air, not sure he wanted the answer.

“We’re going to head out, dad,” Wyatt spoke for the two of them, “we’re exhausted.”

“Of course,” Sam patted him on the back as he turned to leave, smiling sadly.

Wyatt opened the door, but stopped when he felt Dev’s resistance. He turned back to her and waited.

“I should tell you now because I sense that you both were close with my parents, and I owe you an explanation sooner rather than later, since you’ve brought me under your protection, and Wyatt saved my life a couple of times tonight and all,” Dev rambled nervously, “my parents are no longer alive. They, along with my brother and best friend, were killed when Max Breslin found my family’s compound and attacked.”

“Dammit,” Josiah exclaimed under his breath.

Sam’s eyes filled with tears, she was speechless. She had always known this day would come, but that knowledge did nothing to lessen the blow of Dev’s words. Josiah wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

Shocked by Sam’s reaction to her news, Dev felt horrible for causing the woman so much pain. Here she was, hiding out in her home, subjecting her to great danger and harm, and now she was just making things worse. Dev was so confused by the emotions coursing through her: how could she feel bad for causing pain to a member of the same group that killed her family, but how could she not when that member was Wyatt’s mother. It wasn’t supposed to be this grey and mixed-up. Dev wanted black-and-white lines dividing everything into easy buckets of who is to be detested and who is not.

Unfortunately, life never liked fitting into such simplistic categories.

“I’m so sorry,” Dev wanted Sam to stop crying. She hated watching someone’s mother cry.

“I didn’t mean to make you so upset. I just felt it was better for you to know now. I didn’t want you waiting to hear about my parents when really, the only news I have is very sad.”

Dev then shocked even herself and wrapped Sam in her embrace. Sam cried out in surprise and then returned the gesture, hugging Dev tightly, falling in love with her instantly. Sam pulled away and wiped her eyes, caressing Dev’s cheek in a very maternal manner.

“Please do not apologize, my goodness. I am the one who should be apologizing, making you recount this information to people you don’t even know. You’re just a child," Sam observed as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

"I'll be all right,” Dev tried to sound reassuring, “I've had a bit of time to sit and digest their loss, this is all so very new for you."

Searching for and finding Wyatt's hand, Dev grasped it behind her back, immediately comforted by his touch, by his steady presence, confident she wouldn’t cry so long as she held onto him.

Without thinking, Sam wrapped Dev into her arms again and kissed the side of her cheek, wetting Dev's face with her tears, fully aware the girl was holding onto her son for dear life.

"Of course I will worry about you," Sam informed Dev, "it's just my nature. And my job, no matter how many times they try to beat it into me that I’m a Founding Family Academy Head and shouldn’t get worked up about those under me. I do.

“Anyway,” Sam wiped her eyes again, “you all should go. I’m not going to keep you a second longer.”

“We’ll be back for those pancakes,” Wyatt winked and kissed his mom’s cheek then headed out the door with Dev and Ryker.

The threesome traveled the distance from one Academy wing to another in silence, each wrapped in their own thoughts, all of them beyond exhausted.

“Clayworth,” Ryker stated tiredly as he slipped his key into his door, “I swear I’m not letting you out of my sight ever again.”

“No worries,” Wyatt replied, “ because I’m never again leaving these gates without you.”

“Goodnight,” Ryker walked into his suite, then called out as he shut his door, “and do NOT wake me for pancakes!”

Wyatt laughed tiredly as he fiddled with the keys to Dev's door. The suite had been empty for years and the lock was testy as ever. Dev watched Wyatt struggle for a few minutes and then stepped in, wrapping her fingers around his, giving the key a brisk, upward shake in the lock and successfully disengaging the mechanism.

“It just needed a little love is all,” she said as she shot Wyatt a Cheshire Cat-like smile and walked into her palatial suite.

Similar to Wyatt's, a long, mahogany-paneled hallway led into a large, wide open space that included a living room, formal dining room and kitchen. Unlike Wyatt's, one side of the living room was floor-to-ceiling windows that led onto a private terrace. The walls were white and the floors a deep brown, otherwise the space was a blank canvas, waiting for someone to leave their mark.

"Wow!" Dev exclaimed as she spun around in the living room.

"This works for you?"

"Yes, Mr. Clayworth, I believe it does," she happily replied, her smile stretching from cheek to cheek.