Scion of the Sun Read online

  I got the picture. Dead body meant my spirit would spend eternity … what? Floating around haunting the jerks at Wolfebane High who’d made my life a misery? Not such a bad option, but for now, I wanted to live. I wanted to discover what made me special enough to be the Scion. I wanted to explore my friendship with Quinn and Raven. I wanted to experience the highs and lows of a first boyfriend, first kiss, first love. Then there was Nan’s homecoming and my graduation and college.

  I had a lot to live for.

  Brigit’s fingers dug into my skin like claws, her touch anything but soothing. The more obsessed she acted, the more I dwelled on Drake’s warning. My gut instinct wouldn’t let up, insisting there was more behind her eagerness to find Arwen. I’d rather take my chances returning to Eiros without her overzealous help by slipping into the shed and waiting for the sun about to break through the cloud cover.

  “My head’s spinning with information overload. Think I’ll study those texts some more, and we can concentrate on the lessons later?”

  She pinned me with a suspicious glare that elicited a ripple of unease. I tried to appear suitably exhausted. “Fine. Continue reading and meet me at the end of the day for follow up.”

  “Thanks, will do.” I forced a brittle smile, sagging in relief when she strode away.

  Rubbing my arms to get rid of the goosebumps, I wandered toward the stone shed down by the river. As I neared it, I tilted my head to one side to check out the roof’s design. No doubt about it: those stones were aligned in the same odd pattern as the arches covering every walkway in the school. This place would be perfect for practicing a little astral travel, newbie-style.

  My hand rested on the door handle, my sense of apprehension growing.

  I wrenched the handle. The door creaked open, and taking a deep breath, I peeked inside the dingy shed. Inside, slouched in a tatty armchair, was Maisey, holding up a crystal and squinting through it. I wondered if it was too late to make a run for it.

  “Are you planning on standing there like an idiot all day? Come in and shut the door before you get us both expelled.”

  “Like you’d care.” I forced one foot in front of the other and stepped inside. The door slammed shut, effectively trapping me in the shabby shed with the scariest freak at school.

  She dropped the crystal into a small purple velvet sack on her lap and motioned me forward. “The thing is, I do care, because no way in hell I’m leaving this place ’til I figure out what that crazy psycho did to Drake.”

  Clueless, I waited, hoping she’d elaborate if I stayed silent.

  Sniggering, she tossed the velvet bag from hand to hand. “You better watch out. Our illustrious leader loves nurturing newbies for her own agenda.”

  Trepidation shimmied through me. “You’re just trying to scare me.”

  “Scare you?” Maisey leaped from the chair. I stumbled backward, and my knees collided with a crate. “If I really wanted to scare you, I’d tell you how Drake and I were dragged into Brigit’s otherworld experiments. I’d tell you how I chickened out the first night when my dreams were invaded by the meanest friggin’ demons you’ve ever seen. I’d tell you that Drake helped that psycho and ended up brain dead for a week, mumbling rift over and over. Before he left here without looking back.”

  Rift? No way. My knees knocked together, my mind swirling with the implications of Brigit somehow using Drake to open the rift between the worlds and potentially letting loose a monster. “Why didn’t you go with him?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Already told you, lamebrain, I’m going to discover what her parapsychological mumbo-jumbo did to Drake if it kills me. He wasn’t the same when he left.”

  I could’ve sworn her bottom lip wobbled for an instant. Then the iron bar threaded through it straightened as she sneered. “I want my dude back, same as he was before that crazy psycho messed with his head.”

  I had no idea what to do or say until I focused on the velvet pouch in Maisey’s hand.

  I pointed to the pouch. “What are those for?”

  “Drake gave me the bag before he left, so I figured it was part of the last experiment, the one that sent him … ” She made loopy circles at her temple with a finger. “I’ve played around with the crystals, but I can’t conjure up anything.”

  Asking a rebellious cow like Maisey for the bag would ensure she’d shove it into her pocket and slouch out of there. I needed a different approach.

  “You’re a pyrokinetic like Drake, right?”

  “So?”

  “Maybe Brigit did something to those crystals so neither of you could reproduce her experiment? Maybe she’s scared you’d acquire some new power? Maybe someone else should try? That way, they’d face all the danger and you’d get your answers.”

  She regarded me with something akin to admiration before she tossed me the velvet pouch. “Knock yourself out.”

  “You think I should do this?”

  She shrugged. “Whatever. I’m outta here. Let me know if you meet a demon or two while playing with those.”

  Maisey pushed past me, deliberately bumping me with her shoulder, and slammed the door. A cold gust of wind hit me in the face.

  Rift.

  On shaky legs, I stumbled to the armchair and sank into it, my hands tearing at my messenger bag to slip the Arwen text out. Careful to not damage the precious book, I flipped pages until I found what I was searching for.

  Once the rift is opened between the Inner and Outer worlds, the Scion will come.

  I closed my eyes, the significance of what I’d read earlier taking on new meaning following Maisey’s revelation. I’d assumed Cadifor had opened the rift between the worlds, desperate to get his evil hands on Arwen. But if what Maisey said was correct, and she had no reason to lie, Brigit had opened the rift.

  A wave of dread prickled my skin. There could be a perfectly logical explanation for this. Brigit wanted to stop Cadifor and his evil buddies from annihilating the world. Her intentions were altruistic.

  But if Brigit couldn’t be trusted, what was really going on at this boarding school?

  I focused on the teleportation paragraph.

  The necessary high temperatures to travel will be invoked by the accurate pinpointing of heat onto the psychic eye via the sun’s rays through ancient megaliths, the pyrokinesis of a warrior, or the use of a trans-channeling crystal in the sun.

  The crystals … I flipped through the book to see if there was a chapter on crystals and came up blank. I eased the book back into my bag and pulled at the drawstring of the pouch, sliding the contents into my palm.

  The crystals were of various shapes, sizes, and colors, and as I held one up to my forehead, I remembered conducting my very own “sun through a magnifying glass” experiments as a kid, and the results: fried ants.

  Hell.

  If I was going to do this, it’d be trial and error, a matter of holding each one up to my forehead and waiting for the sun to poke through the stone roof.

  I juggled them in my hand for a moment, contemplating the wisdom of trying to teleport on my own. But if I didn’t try this, who would I turn to for help? Brigit? Not likely. Besides, the sooner I learned how to do this, the sooner I would get answers to the endless questions pinging through my head.

  With a resigned sigh, I sat there, holding different crystals up to my forehead and waiting for the sun to peek through the clouds and through the hole-pebbled roof. When it finally did, I repeated the process, slower this time, hoping my brains wouldn’t get fried if I stumbled across the right one.

  On the fifth attempt, my forehead flared and I squeezed my eyes tight. The blistering heat spread through my body at lightning speed, pooling in my stomach, my lower back, my throat, and my head, pounding in time with my heart that was leaping and jerking like it was being defibrillated with paddles.

  Nauseated, I waited until the urge to puke passed and the heat faded before I opened my eyes.

  And found myself surrounded by three strangers—and Jos
s.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “This isn’t the best time for you to be here,” Joss said, his frown reflected in the three other faces lined up like a firing squad alongside him.

  I didn’t like the way they were staring at me, like I was a juicy bug and they were ravenous spiders. I glared right back, hoping they couldn’t read the fear in my eyes.

  “The way I see it, there’s never going to be a good time for me to be here. But I’m here now and I’m not leaving ’til I have answers.”

  My attempt to appear undaunted must’ve worked, for the only girl among them smiled. “Don’t mind Joss. He takes his duties very seriously.”

  “Must be that warrior geis thing I’ve heard about.”

  Joss stiffened, obviously affronted I’d dare make light of it. Before he could speak, the smallest of the trio stepped forward, a young guy with curly dark hair and twinkling brown eyes. “Joss is right, this isn’t the safest time for your introduction to Eiros, but we’re glad to finally meet you.” He held up his hand, fingers and thumb spread wide. “I’m Mack.”

  The girl leaned forward, her whisper loud enough for everyone to hear. “He’s the boss, being a direct descendant of Bel and all, but don’t let his whole ‘son of a king’ routine fool you. He’s really a pushover.”

  Mack smiled, a genuine “I’m happy to meet you” smile that eased some of my tension.

  “I’m Maeve, by the way.” She pointed at Mack’s upright hand. “That’s our greeting. You’re supposed to place your palm flat against his, fingers and thumb spread to symbolize the sun’s rays.”

  “Oh, right,” I said, embarrassed I’d already made my first mistake. Not that I could’ve had a clue about their greeting. I had a feeling it would be the first of many things I’d learn here. I raised my hand and tried not to slap it against Mack’s in a mistaken high-five. There was something strangely intimate about our splayed hands pressed together, in much more than a brief handshake, and I was grateful when he dropped his hand.

  “And Mr. Happy over here is Oscar.”

  I bit back a smile at Maeve’s apt irony. The guy with the short wavy chestnut hair and hazel eyes could’ve been cute, if he lost the scowl.

  “Hey,” he said, raising his hand in a laconic wave that confused the hell out of me, as I thought it was another sun greeting and lifted my hand only to find it hovering embarrassingly in mid-air when he quickly lowered his.

  “The Sorority is pleased to welcome you. Come.” Mack looked like a laid-back sprite, but a hint of steel underlined his voice, making it a definite command and not a request.

  They surrounded me like four compass points: Joss on my right, Mack leading, Maeve on my left, and Oscar behind me. I didn’t like the grouchy one having my back.

  As we moved toward the dilapidated houses, I felt like a million pairs of unseen eyes were trained on me, assessing, finding me lacking as their Scion.

  Would they inspect the tall blonde in the skinny jeans and black hoodie and scream fraud? Would their judgmental expectations fall flat the moment I botched my first ceremony or initiation or whatever other freaky event I’d have to attend to prove my worth? Would they see through me and sneer at my deep-seated fears that I’d never be good enough, that I’d fail spectacularly at the tasks I’d need to master and be responsible for an apocalypse?

  That was my greatest fear: that if I was this so-called Scion, I was nowhere near ready for the responsibility. In trying to prove myself, I could lose more than my limited self-esteem.

  I’d end up losing the world.

  “She’ll be safer inside,” Joss said, halting outside a whitewashed cottage with black-trimmed wooden windows and a terracotta roof.

  It was like something out of the Hansel and Gretel fairytale I’d loved as a kid. Nan used to read it to me and make killer gingerbread afterward …

  A pang of longing, so sharp, so painful, sliced through me, and I winced.

  “Holly’s had a rough trip. She needs to rest.”

  I could’ve hugged Joss for his intuition. His mouth quirked at the corners. Why did he have to read my mind for that stuff?

  Nobody spoke, all deferring to Mack. I could barely see two feet in front of myself; shadows from the surrounding trees blanketed everything. As Mack turned toward me, his solemn expression sent a quiver of foreboding through me.

  “There are others you need to meet. I’d prefer we toured the community before we confer privately. Is this agreeable to you?”

  Once again, I had the impression this was a command, so I glanced at Joss for guidance. Far from happy, his lips compressed into a thin line as he exchanged frowns with Oscar. I barely knew these people, but even I could sense the strong undercurrent of tension running among them.

  “Give us five minutes. She needs a drink, at least.”

  Joss squared his broad shoulders as if daring Mack to argue. After a tense moment, the leader nodded. “We’ll wait here. Don’t be long.”

  I managed a sarcastic smile of thanks, and followed Joss into the cottage, not having much time to notice my surroundings as he whisked me through a small lounge and into a kitchen.

  “What—”

  “Are you okay?”

  He stopped so abruptly I slammed into him, and he steadied me, his hands spanning my waist. A delicious thrill shot through me at his protectiveness. I was used to taking care of myself, and while it was nice having Nan dote on me occasionally, having Joss fuss made me feel cherished in a way I never had before.

  “I’m fine.”

  A tiny crease appeared between his brows, not detracting from his gorgeousness one bit. “You didn’t look it back there.”

  “Overwhelmed, I guess.”

  To my mortification, my voice wobbled. His grip on my hips tightened, as if he could hold on tight enough to anchor me and stop the events swirling beyond my control.

  “It’s a lot to take in—”

  “I can handle it.”

  “Good, because it only gets tougher from here.”

  “I figured.”

  As his grasp eased, I became acutely aware of how close we were and how his hands felt pressed against my hips. Solid and warm, his fingers splayed and dipped below my waist, an inch away from sliding between the gap of my T-shirt and jeans and encountering bare skin.

  My pulse skittered as I wondered what it would feel like to have his hands on me. Would his touch be soft and gentle, or hard and commanding? Or an intriguing combination of both, a combination that encapsulated my warrior?

  Ridiculous, as the only reason he had his hands on me was to steady me after I’d almost bowled him over, but as I chanced a glance at his face and our eyes locked, it was like I’d been electrocuted. I’d never had a guy regard me like that before: a heady mix of brazen, confused need mingled with overprotectiveness. The longer I stared into those intense blue eyes, the easier it was to believe a guy like Joss could want more than to protect a girl like me.

  When it seemed like we’d been staring at each other forever, Joss blinked and his expression hardened. “Our time’s up.”

  He scowled and released me so quickly I stumbled, but this time he didn’t touch me. He’d already headed for the sink where he was busy filling a glass of water, leaving me convinced I’d imagined that whole tension-filled episode a moment ago. “Here, drink this, then we have to go.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  My mock salute elicited a glower as I downed the water and handed him the glass. My admiration raised another notch when he rinsed it and propped it on the sink sideboard to dry. “Is this your place?”

  His shuttered expression and quick shake of the head didn’t invite further questions, which only served to raise my curiosity. “Safe house.”

  “And you need a safe house because … ?”

  “You’ll find out,” he murmured, a moment before the door flung open and Oscar loomed, grouchier than ever.

  “Ready?”

  Joss nodded. I huffed, hating all the secrec
y.

  When we appeared, they took compass positions around me again, and Mack said, “Come, we will begin.”

  His formal speech patterns seemed incongruous for a guy his age. Then again, what did I know? The guy was royalty—and if I had my jumbled thoughts straight, probably some kind of distant family, with Bel being our common link.

  Feeling increasingly uncomfortable with their treating me like the president needing Special Services protection, I fell into step, my head craning every which way as I got my first real look at Eiros.

  For some crazy Innerworld inhabited by bad guys, the place appeared surprisingly cool. Like someone had scooped up Central Park and dumped it at the edge of suburbia. We were surrounded by lovely greenery and eclectic houses. But in contrast to the real park, if I squinted, I could make out grimy apartment buildings that thinned out as high-rises gave way to squat, ugly housing.

  Most of the houses looked like they’d been slapped together by kiddie carpenters, though some had been carefully constructed from large, rectangular stone blocks the same charcoal color as the spooky archways back at school. A few had garish white roofs, dotting the landscape like tufts of cotton. The distant lights of New York City cast an eerie glow along the horizon, highlighting a hulking stone monstrosity that covered a hill as far as I could see, like a bizarre mix of urban grunge and jolly old England.

  This old-world stuff didn’t do it for me, and along with their formal way of speaking I was beginning to wonder if I’d done more than just teleported. “Have I time traveled?”

  Oscar shot me an incredulous glare. “What do you think this is, a novel?”

  A nervous frown creased Maeve’s brow as she glanced at Oscar, then at me. “No time travel involved. It’d be so much easier if you could … ” She trailed off and this time they all frowned at her. “What?” Defiant, she ignored them and focused on me. “If you could travel back you could meet Bel, discover the exact whereabouts of Arwen, and Cadifor wouldn’t be a problem anymore.”

  “Good point.”

  “Do you know anything about Eiros?” Oscar asked.

  Ignoring his audible derision, I nodded. “A little. Though I’d know more if you spent less time giving me attitude and more time treating me like I had half a brain.”