The Guardian Lineage (5 page)

“A war broke out between the gargoyles and the Vampiric Legion, which at that time was comprised of vampires, werewolves, and human magicians that are today called the Black Brethren.” Stockton walked back and forth at the front of the class, hands folded on his stomach, occasionally rolling a wrist as he spoke. “Naturally, the Guardians came to the gargoyles' aid. The Guardian clans fought together, protecting each other. And until a certain point in the war, they had all but vanquished the Vampiric host.

“A betrayer emerged.” Here Stockton's voice grew cold. Almost…
personal
.

“A warrior from
our
clan betrayed the Guardians, causing most of the gargoyles to be destroyed. The same creatures he swore to protect, those who guarded his life while he slept… he did not see fit to return such favors.” Stockton looked at the class, his eyes ablaze. Mike realized the whole room was perfectly silent. And not because of detention-boy. They were hanging on Stockton's every word.

“Thankfully, Rafael was caught before he could murder even more of our people. He had been sequestering himself in a village near Connacht, along the River Shannon, without the knowledge of the townspeople. His magical experiments caused people to take notice, and eventually word spread to us. He was taken to Wyvern Castle and kept under magical lock and key until the end of the war. Thankfully, due in part to the fact that it was so late in the campaign, the Gargoyle-Guardian alliance was able to turn back the Vampiric hordes.” Stockton exhaled, taking a break from his intense monologue. “But so much had already been lost.”

A redheaded student across the row from Mike raised a hand. Surprisingly, Stockton acknowledged him.

“What'd they do to him?”

Stockton's mouth curled into a tiny smile. “The clans were presented with a most serious dilemma. Rafael's fate was sealed, no doubt, but he came from the most powerful of all Guardian families. What if another member betrayed the clans again? To kill the entire family was madness; only one had committed the crime. Yet to keep them around, despite their great power, would cause a terrible rift between the gargoyles and the Guardians, because of what those descendants represented.

“After a long meeting, the Guardian leaders came to a decision. Our clan was excommunicated from the rest of its brethren, and the name of our clan was forbidden to be spoken.” Stockton scanned the room. “We are outcasts, thanks to Rafael. We have no place amongst the Guardian legions.”

No one said a word.
Excommunicated? Outcasts?
They sure hadn't put that on the glossy brochure.

Stockton continued. “Rafael himself was executed, a murderer given the ultimate punishment before the entire Gargoyle nation. His family was banished from the Guardian lineage, never to be spoken to or heard from again.” Stockton's voice cut off and his eyes narrowed.

“Until now.”

Mike shifted uncomfortably. Was
that
who was threatening the school? Rafael's people? And the sweatsuits who had attacked him on his way home – were they Rafael's family, too? Who knew how many offspring Rafael might have by now… and if they were the most powerful of the Guardian families, they might be able to cause serious trouble…

“A descendant of Rafael has been allowed entry into our school.” Stockton's nostrils flared, scanning the room for effect. Then they came to rest on Mike.

“Welcome to Windham, Mister Prior.”

 

 

Mike trudged out of History in a daze.

So that was it. He was descended from the most reviled person in Guardian history, and Stockton hated him for it. That was why his mom had never told him about his past, why Mrs. Jorisch had freaked when she saw his name on the list, and why Mrs. Caulderon had told her son Aaron to stay away from him.
And
that was why he had blown the other kids out of the water in his classes. He was big evil, public enemy number one, the reason a whole clan of Guardians and Gargoyles had been cut off from their natural brothers and sisters.

Well, that cleared things up.

Except, it wasn't him. It was an uber-great grandfather, some nut who played the traitor card for whatever the other side was offering him. Mike had nothing to do with it. And yet, Stockton clearly thought he did, as if he was responsible.

Which was plain old stupid.

“Listen, Mike, it's not that bad,” Aaron tried as they walked through the halls. “So grandpa killed a few people. What's the big deal?”

Julius Brutus, who was tagging along, squeaked, “He didn't just kill a few people, Aaron! He caused the whole clan to get cut off. We are
alone
because of him. Haven't you read the chapter yet?”

“Well, when you put it that way,” Mike muttered. He shifted his textbooks from one arm to the other. He knew they were trying to help, but it wasn't working. Besides, the way everyone else was looking at him, there wasn't anything they could say. Stockton had screwed him, and now Mike was getting evil-death stares from people he didn't even know—

WHAM
.

All of a sudden, Mike was on the floor, his books strewn everywhere.

“Hey, look where you're going!”

Mike looked up to see a bulldozer of a kid standing over him. He wore khaki shorts and a black t-shirt that said “I Crush Nerds.” The boy's fists were balled at his sides, and he was chomping on something – peanuts, maybe? – with spittle flying everywhere. On the guy's arm hung a long-legged girl wearing a pink hoodie, a skirt that looked like a belt, and tall heels. She was chewing gum like she was from Southern California.

“Wait – aren't you the Prior kid?”

Ohhhh,
here we go,
Mike thought as he gathered himself up to full height. The guy wasn't any taller than he was, but he was definitely a bit wider. And not because he had any love handles.

“Hey, you got a problem with my boy?” Aaron said as he stepped between Mike and the jerk.

“What if I do?” The jerk stepped right up to Aaron, despite his height disadvantage, but the girl on his arm pulled him back.

“Come on, Zachariah,” she said between gum bubbles.

“Forget it, man,” Mike said to Aaron. He checked his books, making sure he had all of them, and started to walk away.

“Hey, I was talking to you.”

The guy – Zachariah? – moved to block Mike's way. Then he poked Mike in the chest.

Hard.

“My dad told me stories about your family. How they tortured Guardians for secrets, then destroyed Gargoyles while they slept.”

By now a crowd of people had gathered, probably hoping for a fight. Mike eyed the guy's finger, which was still resting on his pectoral. It would be so easy to grab it, snap it back, and punch the kid in the face with the follow-through… Sensei Jon had just showed that to him like a week ago…

“Sorry,” Mike said. He brushed Zachariah's finger off. He wasn't going to start this. “Can't do anything about some old guy from back in the day.”

Zachariah put his finger back on Mike's chest, pushing even harder this time. “Neither can I. But I sure can do something about you.” He pushed his Leno-style chin outwards in a weird attempt to look intimidating. “Watch your back, pal. Something might happen if you're not careful.” The kid spit at Mike's feet, pieces of nut mixed with saliva. Then he grabbed his girl and walked away.

Mike inhaled. Very slowly. How often had Sensei Jon taught him about controlling his emotions, his anger… that technique had just saved this kid Zachariah from an enormous beatdown.

“I cannot
believe
that guy,” Aaron seethed after the crowd of people started moving again. “Who does he think he is, anyway?”

“That's Zachariah Zucker.” A girl came up from behind. She wore jeans and a white blouse. A knapsack was slung over her shoulder, and dirty blonde hair fell past her neck. “Steph,” she said as she extended a hand to Mike.

Mike took her hand, then winced. Steph's grip was surprisingly strong.

“Do you always do that?”

Steph smiled. “Only on first encounters.” She held his gaze for a second.

Mike had a strong urge to say, “Uh, sorry, I'm taken,” but he figured that'd be too rude, even if the girl was clearly flirting with him. Like, who tried to break a guy's hand the first time they shook? He wasn't
that
arrogant when it came to his looks, but he could tell when a girl was coming on to him.

Okay, fine, maybe I am that arrogant. Sue me.

“Zachariah's in my Pyro class,” Steph said. “I don't know who his girlfriend is, although they seem to be perfect for each other.”

“Annabella Frost,” Aaron said. “She's a Cryo major, she's with me in Math class. If Zachariah's as stupid as she is, they
are
perfect for each other.”

“Sucked to be in History today, huh,” Steph said as they bounded up the stairs. “Don't listen to Stockton. He doesn't determine who you are.”

“Thank you, Oprah,” Aaron muttered from behind, probably a little louder than he meant to. The three guys broke into laughter, and even Steph smiled a bit, although her cheeks were red.

“Don't mind him, he's socially challenged,” Mike said, throwing a thumb backwards. “What's your major,” he asked, thinking he hadn't noticed her in class.

“Medicine, although I somehow got stuck in Pyro and Sparring for the first week. Been trying to transfer out since I got here. Seems there's some politics involved.”

“How so?”

Steph looked away. “Whatever, it's fine.”

Okaaaay
, Mike thought.
On a scale of one to the most awkward first conversation ever…
Although, maybe she
was
pretty cute. Not that it was relevant to him, of course.

“Where are you from?” Mike asked.

Steph sidestepped two students who were pushing and shoving on the stairwell. “Uh, moved around a lot.”

“Really? Me too, where were you last?”

At first Steph didn't say anything, as if she was weighing whether to tell him or not. Then, “New York City.”

“Yeah? I was in Queens, for about a year or so. Love the city.”

“Mm hmm.” Steph stopped walking and looked at the ground, arms wrapped around her books, head tilted slightly. They were standing in the middle of the Greeting Hall, underneath the giant chandelier. “Listen, I'm over this way.” Steph motioned towards the girl's staircase and smiled in a mischievous kind of way. “See you ‘round, kay?”

“Um, yeah, sure,” Mike said, not really sure what to make of this three-second rendezvous.

Steph winked. “Later, gorgeous.”

And with that, she turned and left.

Mike stared straight ahead, a slight grin spreading on his face.
See? Reasons to be arrogant. What did I tell you?

“Way to go, Romeo!” Julius Brutus said from behind.

“Wow, gorgeous?” Aaron added. “That's incredibly generous. I would've classified you as “mediocre-to-decent looking.”

“Thanks,” Mike muttered. There was something about her that bothered him, something that caught his attention. Not the flirting, that was obvious, but the way she seemed to be guarding something. Although, they
had
just met, so maybe he was just overreacting…

Mike rubbed his temples as he headed up the stairs. It was time for Homeroom.

He had a phone call to make.

 

 

Aside from the fact that he didn't blow anything up, Homeroom was a complete disaster.

Mike spent the entire period combing the mansion for something,
anything
that resembled an administrative office. He asked every teacher he saw, but no one so much as gave him the light of day. He found some private offices – Stockton's, amongst others – but every single one of them had their lights off and door closed, and he wasn't about to start walking into random offices an hour after being called a traitor in front of half the school. He tried the library, to see if there were some public computers with internet, but when he asked the librarian she put a finger to her lips and shook her head. By the time he looked at his watch, he had to run to class, frustrated and ready to scream.

But to his surprise, Magical Detection turned out to be the best period of the day. Mr. Greyskull's articulate, smile-filled manner was a welcome break from Stockton's scathing discourse, and just the topic alone made the class full of promise. Add that to the fact that Sparring was up next, and Magical Detection sped by quicker than an episode of Family Guy.

Sparring was held in the basement, in a converted party room. Tables were pushed off against the walls, and a long carpet was rolled down the center. Several pillars lined the carpet on both sides, holding up the ceiling, and the smell of sweat was noticeable.

Mike slid his bag against one of the columns and took hold of who was in his class.

Zachariah Zucker and Annabella Frost were off on the right, keeping mostly to themselves. Aaron was talking with a group of four or five girls. Mike smiled to himself. The guy sure didn't waste any time. Steph stood alone against the wall, arms folded and a scowl on her face, seemingly resigned to at least one period of Sparring before she could get out of it. Mike wanted to go over and talk to her, but his thoughts were interrupted.

The doors were thrown open, and the Sparring teacher strode into the room.

Mike almost choked on his gum.

It was Seth Stockton.

The Magus carried a cloth rucksack over his shoulder and a clipboard in his other hand. “Line up, everybody, single file on the carpet, facing me. Quickly!” Stockton dropped his gear and clapped his hands rapidly. “Come on, people, we don't have all day.” The class hurried to comply. Stockton stood on the other side, hands on hips, ready to roll.

Mike's eyes locked with Aaron's. Aaron mouthed a swear word, and Mike chuckled grimly.

This was turning out to be a day for ages.

“Welcome to Sparring, a class most of you will enjoy and some of you will hate, depending on your ability to withstand pain and anguish.”

A few chuckles emerged from the students, but Stockton wasn't smiling. “I'm sure you have all learned an attack or two on the first day of classes.” Stockton reached into his sack and pulled out an unlit torch, a bottle of mineral water, and a small contraption that looked like an open light bulb – without the glass – attached to a small base.

“I am not here to teach you a grade-one attack. Your other teachers, hopefully, have covered that. If they haven't,” Stockton's mouth curled into a tiny smile, “Then you'll be begging them to teach it to you tomorrow morning.

“The first thing we're going to work on is our
blocking
. Very important, if you plan on surviving any sort of confrontation with, say, the Black Brethren. Now, everyone hold out a hand in front of you.”

Mike still didn't really understand who the Black Brethren were yet – okay, they were the bad guys, intent on evil and world domination, et cetera – but he instinctively crouched into a karate stance and held out a hand. Next to him, Aaron did the same, bobbing up and down in mock intensity. Mike stifled a laugh.

“This is one of the spoken charms, different than anything you've learned yet. Until now, you were harnessing the elements around you. Very important, but not our task here.”

Stockton continued, but Mike spaced out for a minute.
Wait a minute
… they were going to spar
magically
? A pit of disappointment formed in his stomach. Karate sparring was something he was confident in, something he'd done before… but magical fighting, that was something different. Mike was slightly afraid – okay, more like overwhelmingly terrified – of his powers, and the thought of actually
trying
to hit someone with a fireball… his mind drifted back to the scorch marks he'd burned into the wall in Pyro 101 a few hours earlier. He realized he was freaking out again, but he couldn't help it.

I can't… it's too dangerous…

Stockton himself crouched into a karate stance – different than Mike's, more jujitsu-ey – and held out an arm. “
Magena
,” Stockton said, enunciating slowly.

A shimmering surface extended from the end of Stockton's fist, silvery-blue, about as tall as a surfboard. Mike heard whispers emanate from his classmates.

“Now your turn. Enunciate slowly.”

Mike swallowed. He did as he was told, half expecting something to blow up. But just like Stockton had predicted, a glimmering light emerged from Mike's fist, and it didn't knock anybody off its feet. It just stayed there, illuminated, like he was holding a fat lightsaber that extended from his head to toe. Mike snuck a peek up and down the line, and was surprised to see that many of the students had succeeded, as well.

Maybe spoken spells were easier than the other magic. And less flammable.

“Excellent, but we're going to need everyone to be able to shield themselves if we're going to spar. Again!”

The class performed the shield another ten times, until every single member was holding an opaque oval shield. Mike thought they looked like a modernized Roman army, save for the spears and clumsy battle armor.

Stockton nodded as he looked up and down the ranks. “Well done, well done.” He looked at his watch. “And now, what you've all been waiting for.”

Mike tensed as Stockton grabbed a clipboard that could only hold the class list. He scanned it casually.

“Caulderon, Minor, you two are up first.”

Surprise registered on Aaron's face. He glanced down the line, trying to spot Aaron's opponent. A short kid with black hair and a thing for acne stepped out onto the carpet and awaited further instruction. Aaron did the same.

“Approach each other.” The two boys complied. “Knock fists, and step back fifteen paces.” Aaron and Minor did as they were told, then assumed ready positions.

“Now, listen carefully. To minimize injury on the first day of class, we are going to slow things up.”

Minimize, not eliminate,
Mike noticed.
An interesting choice of words…

“Each student will have an opportunity to attack and defend. However, for now, we are going to give the defense five seconds to put up a shield first, before any type of attack.” Stockton smirked. “After five seconds, all bets are off.

“Minor, you're attacking first.”

Stockton pulled out a match and went over to the torch, lighting it on fire and placing it in a small metal stand on the floor. He opened the bottle of water, then flicked a switch on the electric current, which turned on and buzzed like an angry hornet.

A red digital timer appeared on the pillar between the two combatants. It registered at 00:05.

“Begin.”

There was a small
ding,
and the clock started counting down. Aaron yelled “Magena,” and the shield appeared immediately.

Minor reared back, and electricity flew from the empty bulb to his fingertips. He pressed his arm forward and a bolt shot forth. The energy collided with Aaron's shield and dissipated, causing Aaron to jolt backwards just a bit.

Cheering erupted from the gallery. Mike had to admit, both students were impressive; their spells had worked perfectly.

The boys switched roles, and Aaron produced even more powerful results. Minor was thrown backwards several steps by the electric impact on his shield.

“Notice,” Stockton said as the two boys left the carpet, “That Minor was pushed back by Caulderon's attack. This will happen when one warrior is magically stronger than the next. This can be a result of several things – magical knowledge, clearer focus, or...” Stockton stared right at Mike. “Pure magical talent.”

There it was again, Stockton's deliberate attempt at singling Mike out. What was this guy's problem? Well, Mike knew his problem, but he just couldn't understand why—

“Prior, Frost, you're next.”

Mike started when he heard his name. He looked down the row of students. Then he realized who his opponent was.

Annabella Frost, Zachariah's girlfriend.

Mike saw Zachariah whisper something in his girlfriend's ear – probably something to the effect of “rearrange his face” – then gave her a peck on the cheek.

Annabella stepped onto the playing field, her mouth curled into a snarl. Mike did his best to look calm, but his heart was roaring like a caged lion.

This could not end well. He had one of two options. He could refuse to attack, which would make Stockton hate him even more, if such a thing were possible. Or, he could act as if nothing was wrong, which would put Annabella in serious danger.

Unless, of course, this whole shield thing worked.

“Approach each other,” Stockton said.

Mike wanted to say something… explain that it was too dangerous, he couldn't afford to put her in this kind of jeopardy on the first day… but the words stuck in his throat. Maybe she could hold her own. Maybe she was just as good as him. Maybe he was going to
incinerate
her …

“Mister Prior, you have five seconds to create your shield. Begin.”

The bell rang, but before Mike could get a word out, water flew from the bottle to Annabella's hands, crystallized, and streaked in Mike's direction.

Mike reacted on instinct alone. He jerked his head to the side and shielded his face with his forearm. He screamed, “Magena,” and extended his other arm, but he knew there was no way he could get it up in time—

He felt nothing.

The crowd “oooh”-ed, and murmuring filled the room.

“She tried—”

“Can you believe it?”

“That was a cheap-shot—”

Slowly, Mike realized what had happened. And in that instant, his inhibition for attacking her melted away.

“Really?” he roared in Zachariah's direction. “Using your girlfriend to take me out? That's how it's going to be?”

Zachariah stepped forward, but Magus Stockton interjected.

“Mister Prior,” he said in a loud and commanding tone. The room fell silent.

Mike turned to Stockton and stepped back. His heart was raging, but he held himself back from saying anything.
Best to let him handle it,
Mike told himself. Yeah, that would be better; Stockton would call her out, send a message, punish her for breaking the rules...

But the Magus simply pursed his lips.

“Mister Prior,” he said, “It's your turn.”

Mike bit his tongue.
So that was it, huh.

Stockton was sending a message, all right. Loud and clear.

If the traitor gets jumped, don't help him out.

Mike felt like putting an electric charge through his teacher's face.

Let's see what he has to say about
that.

Then Mike took a deep breath, Sensei Jon style. Obviously he couldn't attack Stockton – aside from being completely irrational, it was also suicidal. Stockton would
kill
him – maybe even literally.

Okay, that was a crazy thought…

Either way, Mike had to put it out of his mind and focus on Annabella. Payback would come another time. He'd definitely get Zachariah in a sparring class sometime soon, and then he'd see who he was dealing with…

Mike considered which weapon he should use. It dawned on him that he was probably the only kid in the room who had a choice. Deciding quickly, Mike realized he didn't actually want to
kill
her. That was insane – there was no way he wanted to
kill
anybody, even if she
had
cheap-shotted him.

Deciding against recklessness, Mike readied his mind for Telekinesis and crouched into a stance.

“Miss Frost, your shield… begin!”

The bell rang, and the 00:05 seconds appeared on the pillar. Annabella thrust an arm forward and mumbled something Mike didn't understand.

Nothing happened.

She said it again; something that sounded like “Magena,” but clearly not close enough. Flustered, she tried a third time, with the same result. Mike glanced at the clock, his heart pounding. 00:03, 00:02… Annabella now took a step back. Her eyes were wide. She stuttered through the spell… 00:01… the clock hit quadruple zeroes, and Mike heard a loud buzzing noise, like he was in an elevator that was forced to stay open too long.

To his own surprise, Mike didn't fire.

Stockton screamed, “Prior, attack!”

But Mike's muscles locked up. He couldn't actually fire on her, she was helpless… firing into a shield to teach her a lesson was one thing, but slamming her with telekinesis without protection… with his uncontrolled power, that might
actually
kill her...

“What are you waiting for!” Stockton was irate. Zachariah was frantic, urging Annabella to jump out of the way. And Mike stood there, unmoving, the blood pulsing through his veins.

The buzzer rang even louder now, as if urging Mike to fire. Annabella stuttered, only now trying to restart her shield. Finally, Mike saw a gleam of silvery-blue across the carpet.

“Aaaarrggghhh!” Mike thrust a hand forward. A wave of clear energy shot out of his hand. Annabella flew backward as if she didn't even have a shield up. She jerked off the carpet and slammed into the wall with a loud
thud
.