The Lost Heir (The Gryphon Chronicles, Book 1) (15 page)

Jake blinked in surprise.

“There were twenty-four members to start, twelve humans and twelve representatives from the world of magic—fey folk of various sorts. Queen Elizabeth herself became the nominal head and patroness of the Order, just like Queen Victoria is today.”

“Queen Victoria knows about all this?” he exclaimed. She seemed so stuffy!—the stout, unsmiling, old queen, always dressed in widow’s black, even though her royal mate, Prince Albert, had died ages ago.

“Of course,” Derek replied. “The royal garden fairies do an excellent job of keeping Her Majesty informed on all important news concerning her magical subjects throughout the Empire. She’ll want to meet you, by the way,” he added, and Jake nearly fell off his chair.

“Queen Victoria knows who I am?” he yelped.

“I should think so! You are her godson, after all.”

Jake stared at him, open-mouthed.

“Don’t worry, lad. It’s a formality more than anything. Whenever a child is born to two magical parents like yourself, he or she is always made the godchild of the Sovereign. It’s safest that way, for you and for England. Makes it easier for us to keep an eye on you. We can’t have children of your considerable talents going off on—how did that constable put it? A bad path?”

Jake remembered Flanagan’s warning in the courtroom. He smiled ruefully at Derek.

“One never knows how two people’s powers are going to mingle. Your parents had to get special permission from the Order to marry for just that reason. We were all very curious when you were born to see which one you’d take after. But getting both their talents? That’s as rare as a spotted marsh dragon, but perhaps it was because you were born on Beltane.”

“What?”

“You just had your twelfth birthday, Jake. One of the most sacred days in the magical calendar. May first.”

Jake just stared, hearing this. A breeze could have knocked him over. It was not just the fact of learning the date of his real birthday... but all those years of thinking not a soul in the world cared if he lived or died.

Meanwhile, Queen Victoria herself had been concerned about him?! Even knew his name?

Oh, this could not be true! This had to be a dream.

“Now your parents played a very special role in the Order,” Derek continued. “They were Lightriders, an elite class of agents who assist magical beings in distress. They have jurisdiction anywhere within the British Empire. These days their missions can take them as far away as Egypt, India, Australia. All the unique magical creatures of those regions of the Empire are entitled to our help if they request it.”

“Lightriders?” Jake murmured.

Derek nodded. “So named from their mode of transportation. They use the earth’s ley lines to take them by instantaneous travel to wherever they must go.” He pointed at the globe with all the points of light glowing on it. “Have you ever heard of ley lines, Jake?”

He shook his head.

“All the great ancient cultures had a name for them. The Chinese called them dragon lines. In the Dark Ages throughout Europe they were known as fairy paths. The native tribes in America referred to them as spirit trails.”

“Even in America?”

“Of course. Nobody really knows exactly what they are, but they seem to be a naturally occurring phenomenon of our planet. Lines of electromagnetic energy crisscross the earth in set, constant, geometric patterns. Where two of these lines intersect, an energy vortex is created in the earth’s magnetic field. Our scientists today refer to it as aether. It’s very subtle, but you can feel it. A strangeness in the air. Especially people like us can feel it.”

“Like us?”

“The gifted. These points of intersection, crossings we call them, are distributed all over the earth. Stonehenge has one. The pyramids in Egypt. The cathedral of Notre Dame, just to name a few. Ancient peoples sensed their power and built their sacred sites where these ley lines joined. In any case, at some point long ago, people began to realize that these vortexes in the aether could be used as portals.

“Much more recently, we have learned not only how to open a portal whenever we wish, but to enter the grid and ‘ride’ the energy stream to any other crossing, and come out moments later on the other side of the world. Our Lightriders—and only they—are authorized to do this when they are sent off on their missions. There are risks to entering the grid, and the ley lines are one of our most closely guarded secrets. I am only telling you because your parents, Jake, were two of the best.”

Jake was staring into space, rather entranced. He wasn’t too keen on being an earl, but this Lightrider business sounded all the kick. “What sorts of things do Lightriders do?”

“Anything from diplomatic missions, like settling disputes, to helping solve local crimes involving Magic-folk.”

“When do I start?” he asked eagerly.

Derek looked at him. “Jake, you’re twelve.”

“So? Are you a Lightrider, too?”

“No, I’m just a Guardian,” Derek said with a smile. “We’re warriors—obviously. Born this way. Enhanced senses, faster reflexes. That sort of thing. Glorified bodyguards, really,” he said modestly. “I sometimes went with your parents on their more dangerous missions to protect them.” A fleeting look of pain, or guilt, passed over Derek’s rugged face. “But I couldn’t protect them from everything.”

Jake took a moment to prepare himself before asking the obvious question. “So what happened to them?”

The Guardian looked away. When he spoke again, his gravelly voice was taut with buried anger. “You’re too young to have to hear about such things. But if you really want me to tell you—” he took a deep breath, “you are entitled to know.”

Jake nodded grimly. “I’m ready to hear it.”

“Your parents were murdered, Jake. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t there.”

Jake bowed his head for a minute. Of course, when you grew up in an orphanage, you sort of knew your parents were dead. But there was a small part of you that hoped, somehow, maybe, there had been a mistake… He swallowed hard. “How did it happen? Were they on a mission?”

“No. That’s the worst part.” Derek shook his head. “They were at home. You have no memory of it?”

“No.”

“Perhaps that is a blessing.” He shrugged. “You were just a baby, after all. Your parents had just returned from another successful mission. Some in the Order objected to your mother taking risky missions with a baby at home, but people with her gifts don’t grow on trees. She knew that she was needed. As far as we can piece together what happened, when they got home, they wanted to celebrate another job well done. And so, the three of you were having a little family picnic together out in the gardens behind Griffon Castle…when the killer arrived.”

I’m from a castle?

“This was a man who had argued with your father at a ball a few nights prior. The drunk fool shot his mouth off, insulting your father in front of Society. This was very stupid of him, since he was no match for Jacob. To defend his honor, your father had no choice but to challenge him to a duel to answer for the insult.”

“A duel!”

“Yes. But none of us were worried. Well, your mother wasn’t happy about it, but your dad and I were sure the idiot would sleep it off, then come to his senses, and realize he was going to die if he didn’t apologize. That’s all he had to do to cancel the duel. Apologize to your father, and it would be forgotten. No doubt that’s what your father thought the man had come to do when he walked into the garden the next day. But he was wrong. The coward hadn’t come to apologize.”

Derek lowered his head. “That was the one mistake your father made. Assuming his enemy would be as fair and honorable as himself. Instead, the man pulled out a gun and shot your father in cold blood. Jacob didn’t even have time to use his powers. Your mother witnessed the whole thing,” he said grimly. “She put you in the basket and ran into the woods.”

Derek paused while Jake’s mind whirled. “No one could’ve predicted that the madman would go after her, too. He was half in love with Elizabeth. Maybe that was the problem. Jealousy. He couldn’t have her, so he shot her in the back. With her last breath, she summoned the water nymphs and put the basket in the brook. When they came, she begged them to protect you. And then she died as the water nymphs floated you off to safety.”

The room was silent.

“The brook that wraps around the grounds of Griffon Castle flows into the River Lea, and the Lea flows into the Thames. They watched over you all that way—which is very rare, you must understand. Water nymphs can be dangerous. They are not to be trifled with. They will drown a human who chances to see them bathing in their streams or lakes. But they had cause to admire your mother. So they took you away as she requested and sang to keep you calm.”

“Yes, I remember those songs… That’s all I can remember now. I’ve heard them lately in my head,” Jake said, then frowned. “But how did I end up at the orphanage?”

“As the nymphs brought you closer to London, the Thames became too polluted near the city. They couldn’t breathe. They would have died—to say nothing of the danger from all the fishing nets and hooks and steamships and paddlewheels. The river has grown dangerous for them in these modern times. There was nothing they could do. Besides, you weren’t too far from Beacon House.”

“So they abandoned me?” he exclaimed.

“They had no choice. They let the current take you. They expected you to be quickly retrieved by someone from the Order. Half of Parliament saw you float by, you know. It must have been quite a sight—a little baby drifting down the river in a picnic basket.”

“I could’ve been run over by a ship!”

“But you weren’t. The water nymphs watched from a safe distance and everything would’ve been fine—if only it weren’t for a stranger’s act of kindness.”

Jake furrowed his brow in confusion.

“The water nymphs saw a fisherman rescue you. That wasn’t in the plan. He should’ve let you go and then we’d have easily found you. But he plucked you out of the water and as best we can tell, took you to a doctor to make sure you were not hurt and then home to his wife so she could feed you. At some point, he must have handed you over to his parish priest, who gave you to the orphanage, in turn, and that’s how we lost track of you.”

Jake stared at him. “You
lost
me?”

“Do you know how many fishermen’s boats ply the river every day, Jake? Hundreds!” Derek exclaimed, his rugged face coloring with embarrassment. “To say nothing of how many orphanages there are these days in London. You were a needle in a haystack, Jake! Believe me, we did our best to find you. We tried.”

“You
tried
? With all the magic powers and whatnot, how was it that none of you could find me?”

“Jake, believe me, this has been a major embarrassment to the Order,” Derek said in chagrin. “But our search was further complicated by the Kinderveil.”

“What’s that?”

He strove for patience. “All magical children are protected from birth by a naturally occurring spell called the Kinderveil. It cloaks their location from those who would do them harm. Unfortunately, as we found out, it also hides them from their friends.”

Jake threw up his hands with a huff.

Derek continued trying to explain. “The gifted have many enemies, and we are at our most vulnerable as children before we get our powers. It’s like that Darwin fellow said. Those who have some sort of useful adaptation can survive, and those who don’t, don’t tend to live long enough to have children. Well, the gifted humans who survived were those born with the Kinderveil. By now, all of us have it. There’s nothing we can do about it. No magic is more powerful than that which comes directly out of nature.” He let out a frustrated sigh. “From the moment that well-meaning fisherman plucked you out of the water, from our standpoint, it was as if you’d vanished.”

“I was right here! In London!”

“We tried to find you by human means, as well!” Derek was clearly getting flustered. “I personally combed this city for two years! Do you know how many babies are left at foundling hospitals and on church doorsteps every day? Scores of ‘em! I examined every one of them, and God forgive me, but if I came across you, I would not have known it. After a few dozen, they all looked the same to me, more or less. I didn’t want to save the wrong kid and give him your father’s title! Look, your parents’ death left me in a daze. I still don’t understand why I didn’t sense the danger in the first place—” He shut up abruptly and looked away.

“What?” Jake demanded.

“Never mind. We tried, Jake. We failed. I can’t do anything about the past anymore except to tell you how sorry I am, and we all are, for how we let you down. But at least we have you now. I will do all in my power to ensure you have the best future possible.”

Jake sat down again, disgruntled, but Derek was right. What was done was done. If nothing else, orphanage life had made him a survivor. He wasn’t going to sit here and blubber about it. “So how did you finally manage to find me?”

Derek looked relieved at his businesslike tone. “The Kinderveil wears off around the age of twelve or so, when magical youngsters begin to get their powers. Then I was able to sense you and home in on your location.”

“You can do that?”

“It’s called the Guardian instinct.” Derek turned his back to him and went to pour himself a second drink.

Jake watched him skeptically. If a Guardian could sense when someone was in danger, then why hadn’t Derek been there to protect his parents, if they were such great friends?

“I can promise you one thing, Jake.” The warrior turned around and faced him with a brooding look. “The man who killed your parents got what he deserved. Hanging was too good for him, if you ask me.”

Derek stalked over and pulled a file out of a drawer, tossing it onto the desk. “This contains the details from the investigation.”

Jake braced himself, then opened it. The first thing he saw was a newspaper clipping with a grainy, black-and-white photograph.

Derek tapped it angrily. “Here. If you want to see his face, this is your parents’ killer. Sir George Hobbes.”