Valley of the Dragons (Rule 9 Academy, #3)

by Rain, Elizabeth

  Behind me, I missed the sudden move that lofted Nick into the air and landed him flat on his back, Niel’s staff pointed with purpose at his stubborn chin. Niel reached down and reluctantly, Nick took his proffered hand up. Niel nodded and mumbled something and followed me.

  I never saw the bleak hurt as Nick stared after my retreating back in pained confusion.

  “HEY, SLOW DOWN. WHAT are you, in a race?” Niel huffed.

  “Leave me alone. Can’t you tell when a girl doesn’t want company. I know you think all the girls are gaga over you, but this one wants her privacy. Go, scram you!” I shooed, tears threatening.

  He chuckled and matched my stride, ignoring the obvious threat. The idiot.

  “I’m serious Niel, go the hell away.” I threatened, feeling the energy of anger coursing down along my arms and ending in flames dancing off the ends of my fingertips. I waggled them in his direction, my eyes hot with mean intention.

  The fool laughed at me.

  “Man, you know I don’t listen worth a damn, so why you gotta try and make me? Put those matches away, Cross. This is me you’re talking to and I’m not budging.”

  I stared at his grinning face and wanted to punch him. And hug him for not giving up on me.

  I threw my hands up in the air and the anger vanished. “You heard what he said. How humiliating is that, anyhow? What was he thinking? Everyone was watching...”

  He laughed long and hard. “And please Sadie, exactly when did you ever give a damn what anyone said about you, killer.” He reached out and ruffled my hair, sending the neat ponytail sideways and pissing me off all over again. I didn’t hold back much when I sent my fist into his gut. He gasped and bent double, air leaving his lungs in a whoosh!

  “Damn Cross, lighten up. Look, nobody cares but you about what went on back there. He’s jealous over a pretty girl. It happens.”

  I looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “No, he’s not. He hates me. And I’m not pretty.”

  The smile left his face. “Don’t argue with an expert on pretty girls. You are gorgeous. Have you looked in the mirror lately?” he said.

  “No, got better things to do than primp and mess with makeup and such. One word... boring!”

  He nodded. “Maybe so. Maybe you don’t need that stuff to look like sunshine and a bowl of blue forget-me-nots all wrapped up in a bow. I think you are perfect just the way you are, Sadie.”

  I stopped so suddenly he bumped into me from behind. He reached out and grabbed my shoulders to prevent me from stumbling and just like that I was staring up into those killer green eyes, the sun partially blocked by his broad shoulders and teasing smile that had slipped sideways. My mouth opened to tear into him about his dumb flowery speech. Before I could, his swept down and covered mine.

  Niel Reece was easily one of the cutest boys in camp. He could have any girl he wanted. I had no idea why he thought that might be me. The kiss was brief. Too brief if passion had been involved. It wasn’t an unpleasant kiss. But if I’d been expecting fireworks and shooting stars, I was disappointed.

  He stepped back and stared at me in some confusion. “Okay.” He started and stopped. “Um... that was...” I watched him struggle for words. Nice ones.

  I couldn’t help it, I slapped my hand over my mouth but the sounds escaped anyway, giggles that turned into a full throated belly laugh I couldn’t contain. In a matter of seconds, lips quirking madly, he joined in and laughed too.

  Together we choked. “That was...”

  “Gross.”

  “Weird,” He added. “I’m sorry, don’t take this the wrong way, Sadie, but that was a little like kissing my sister...”

  “Or a toad... and no prince in sight,” I teased.

  He gave me a mock scowl. “Hey, now, let’s not get vicious here. I have my reputation, you know. This had better be our little secret. If news gets out that I’m no prince I’ll never get a date,” he finished, winging his arm around my shoulder and propelling us both forward to walk again.

  “Your secret is safe with me, oh noble warrior.” I mimicked his deep voice.

  “You’re an idiot, Cross. But damn, I’m glad you’re mine.”

  We walked on for several more moments in companionable silence, taking in the pleasant breeze, lifting the branches and brushing cool air against our warm cheeks. A light dappling of sunlight filtered in through the leaves from the midday above us and created moving patterns dancing at our feet.

  Something occurred to me. “You said you were born and raised here, right?”

  He nodded. “Sure. My parents raised me and my two sisters in this valley. They have a cabin close to here. A lot of the parents do. We get a lot of out of towners in for camp, but a fair amount of us come from right here on Greylock Mountain.”

  I nodded. “So, are you related to Franz Hobert? You never said.”

  He bent down and gave me an affectionate buss on the top of my head. Rather than a feeling of excitement, the movement made me feel warm and safe.

  “I am. Finn Walsh, the youngest of the original three brothers, was my great grandfather. I suppose that makes Franz like a Great Uncle or something.”

  I nodded. The pieces of the puzzle falling into place. “Well then, maybe that explains it. I believe we’re related. I was talking to Franz the other day. A friendly talk to make up for the beating if you know what I mean. We think I may be the great granddaughter to Aidan Walsh.”

  He frowned down at me. “Didn’t he leave the valley as a young man and never come back?”

  “Yeah, he did. We think he moved to Breathless. We took over my grandfather Sam’s house there after he died. Sam was Aidan’s son.”

  “Well damn, no wonder kissing you was so strange. Does that make us ‘kissin’ cousins?” He teased.

  “Not funny. But it appears so. Makes me immune to all of your charms, Niel Reece, so don’t pull any of them on me.”

  He chuckled. “No worries there. I’m glad we got that out of the way, though. It was really weirding me out,” he confessed.

  Niel cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable all of a sudden. “... so...” and now it was my turn to stare up at him as he stumbled over his next words.

  “Tell me a little more about your prickly little friend, Fern.”

  I gave a jolt and stared at him in astonishment. “What do you want to know about her for? Fern is as antisocial as they come. Keeps to herself...”

  “She has all that glorious black hair. And I don’t know, she’s not like the other girls. I hate to say it, but they bore me to tears. Probably why I took to you so quick. You are nothing like them.”

  I considered, scowling at him. “What? You mean I don’t wear makeup or care about my appearance...”

  “Oh, shut up. You know what I mean.”

  I concealed a slight smile. I did know.

  “I think you are barking up the wrong tree but let me see. Fern is a Witch. She comes from a long line of them and every one of them is Uber powerful. You probably got that. But did you know she’s also an Empath?”

  He nodded, absorbing everything I said with an odd seriousness I found sweet. He really liked my strange little friend. I wondered that I hadn’t seen that coming. But then I’d been so wrapped up in my own problems with Nick and the attacks and everything else, I hadn’t really been paying attention.

  “That explains why she isn’t social then, doesn’t it?”

  I looked up at him. I knew Fern was different, but I didn’t know a lot about Empath’s. Only that they had a way of sensing the emotions in others.

  He looked at my confused face and explained. “See, I know a bit about them. My mom is one. Not real strong, mind, but it’s enough to give her a killer headache if she’s in a crowded room. Worse if the emotions there run high. I imagine, with her background, Fern is a lot stronger.”

  I still must have looked confused because he gave a sigh and went on.

  “Empath’s can sense the emotions of others; and some can com
municate that way too. Problem is—what an Empath turns on—they have a hard time turning off. Empath’s have to learn to filter the emotions they allow in. It’s painful as hell, all those feelings whirling around inside of them, bombarding and mingling with their own. It takes a long time to learn how to sort them out, compartmentalize them, and to allow only what’s important through. It can take years to develop that kind of control. Some never do learn to handle it. Instead, they slowly descend into madness where they have to live alone and can’t be around anyone.”

  I frowned, feeling a glimmer of shame. What kind of friend did that make me that an acquaintance could tell me more about her than I could? A selfish one, I imagined.

  “Sounds like you have more than a little passing knowledge there. Are you an Empath too?”

  He looked sharply at me and then sighed. “Got me. Not exactly, and not like mom. I’m not sure there is a word for it, but basically I act as a buffer when I’m around another Empath. I don’t even know I’m doing it, really. I absorb the overload and give an Empath a place to rest. Sometimes I have to spend time with mom just to give her a break from the world. Least, that’s what she tells me.”

  I considered what I knew. One thing still made little sense. “If that’s the case, do you think Fern has a clue what you can do? She treats you like you have leprosy.”

  He shrugged, looking sad. “I know it. Not sure why... I’m a likable guy, as we all know...”

  I rolled my eyes at his conceit, chuckling. “Maybe she senses it but doesn’t know what it is. Fern doesn’t do well with things she doesn’t understand.”

  He nodded. “No, she wouldn’t, would she? I imagine she’s had too many painful encounters with the unguarded emotions of the sick and twisted souls she’s come across to trust anyone easily.”

  I stared at my handsome cousin. He was kind and dependable and fun. I hoped for her sake, Fern could find her way to let him in. She’d be a huge fool not to.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  LUCY STOOD IN THE DOORWAY and stared at her father and brothers. They sat at the table, oblivious to her presence, calmly working on the scattered pieces of several weapons spread out before them. Oiled cloths and small tools were busy as they made sure everything was in working order. She supposed she should be grateful they weren’t in the basement with Jonah Whiting, observing his handiwork as he worked over their latest victim.

  This one was a girl. She’d caught a bare glimpse when they brought her in. Wyatt had spoken up when he saw Lucy, standing horrified in the doorway. “Caught her sneaking out the back door of the pharmacy in the middle of the night,” he said, eyes edgy.

  “Yup. She broke in and loaded up. We caught her on her way out.” Jazz, her oldest brother had confirmed with a hard stare, daring her to argue.

  One look at the drugged brown eyes of the confused teenager struggling between them had her doubting. The shivering girl didn’t seem the type to need a fix, but she was plenty out of it on whatever they’d shot her up with.

  She’d listened for hours to the screams of terror and pain, covering her ears and staring at her brother’s headphones with envy. Please stop, make it stop...

  The remnants of her mind twisted inside where her sanity hid, denying the truth. In the wee hours of the morning, the screaming stopped. She wasn’t sure if it was because the girl was now dead, or they’d gotten bored and called it a night. She’d lain awake, wanting to go and see if the girl still lived, afraid to get caught if she did. She was terrified to discover she hadn’t made it; and even now lay dead in the basement on the slab beneath her feet.

  All was now quiet below. Down the hall in the kitchen, she heard the indistinct murmur of voices. Her family, taking a break from the hard work of torturing another innocent victim. She tried to close her eyes, catch up on the sleep she’d missed.

  By mid-morning she’d had enough. She sat up, her eyes gritty and raw. She stumbled to her feet and into the hall bathroom, splashing water on her face and toweling it dry before taking a good long look.

  Lucy was barely pushing seventeen, but she felt like past thirty. Looked it too, if the heavy bags beneath her lids and the red streaks in her eyes were any indication. Her hair hung in snarled straggles where the loose tendrils had escaped a hasty bun, done without care nor concern. She was losing it, and fast.

  “I can’t do this anymore.” She said aloud to her desperate self—staring out at her from the mirror.

  That was when she forced her feet to move down the hall, a mutinous tilt to her stubborn chin, and stopped in the doorway to stare at her crazy family.

  “I’m done. No more. I can’t be a part of this. I don’t care what you say or why you’re doing it. What you’re doing is wrong.”

  Her brothers looked up at her in alarmed surprise, as if they’d just realized she was standing there. Her father took his time, putting together the last spring and pin on the pistol he was reassembling from memory. It wasn’t his first rodeo. Finally, he put the gun down and folded his hands, looking up and landing a hard flat look in her direction.

  Terrence Sawyer was not a handsome man, boasting a mug that could make small children hide behind their mothers. His was not a kind face either, not since she could remember. Still, she preferred him to her brother Jazz, who was as heartless as they came.

  He nodded coldly in her direction. “So that’s it then. Do you know where you will...”

  “Dad, what are you doing? We need...” interrupted Jazz in a panicky voice. The blow from her father’s back-hand sent his head whipping to the side, the sound a loud crack in the otherwise quiet room.

  Lucy flinched. Her father still packed a wallop for an older man. “Shut up! You hear me talking, boy? Then don’t interrupt.” He turned back, a slight smile tipping his lips. But it never reached the mean in his eyes.

  “Where will you be going, girl? Do you know yet?” he asked casually. He went back to working on the other weapon in front of him, picking up the tranquilizer gun and pulling the bolt back to make sure it was clear.

  Lucy swallowed with difficulty. Terrence was a terrifying man when he yelled. When he spoke quietly people needed to use the facilities or risk having an accident in public.

  “No. But don’t concern yourself about me. I’ll figure it out, find a place for Blaine and me. Don’t worry about us none.” Inwardly, she cursed the wobble in her voice.

  “Oh, I’m not worried. Us Sawyers are survivors. We stick together, you know. Your brothers and I will be fine. As for Blaine? They have a good home upstate that will see to his needs. Government funded; it won’t cost us a dime.” He smiled, his teeth crooked and sharp.

  Lucy gasped, panic rising. “No, we don’t need to do that. I’m his sister, I can take care of him. Just let us go and you won’t have to worry about either of us. I’ll handle everything.

  He chuckled, the sound thin razors sliding over her nape and making her shudder. “I don’t think you’re listening. We’ll be keeping Blaine. He’s a Sawyer and we take care of our own.”

  Lucy frowned. She was missing something; she just wasn’t sure what. “I don’t think I understand...” she started.

  Wyatt grinned, joined by Jazz. Apparently there was a secret and she hadn’t been kept in the loop.

  “What’s going on here, Daddy?” she asked.

  “See Lucy... we Sawyers make sure and protect our family. That’s what we’re doing here, taking care of family business. The boy’s mama, she was an innocent. Sara was the sweetest woman around; she didn’t deserve what those freaks did to her. Nosirree and we aim to make sure no other human ever has to suffer like that. Magicals, an abomination is what they are, and they need to be put out of commission. I hate to think of what would happen if they took over... got the upper hand over humans?”

  “Not all of them are like that, Daddy. Some of them are kind and...”

  She never finished.

  “Shut up! Kill that tramp mouth of yours before I shut it for you. You don’t know wh
at you are talking about!” He screamed suddenly, spittle flying and his eyes like hot venom as they struck out at her from across the room.

  Lucy cringed. The attack had come out of nowhere. She found herself almost through the doorway before she forced her back pedaling feet to stop.

  “Sides, it’s not like you’re a real Sawyer anyhow! Ever look in a mirror, girl? All that blond hair? You aren’t my daughter. You’re nothing but some damned brat your mother found and drug home. Told her she was being dumb, but when we found you half-starved in that alley, she couldn’t bear to leave you. She’d just miscarried her second infant and was bat-shit crazy with grief. I let her keep you just to make her shut up that caterwauling. But you ain’t no real git of mine. So as a favor to your mama, you can leave, but you ain’t taking Blaine with you. We’ll keep Blaine handy as collateral. You’ll do anything to protect him, won’t you Lucy, girl?”

  Both her brothers had frozen in their seats, eyes wide with shock. The old man had apparently been keeping that whopper of a secret all these years. Jazz, never one to hold his tongue, chimed in in the ensuing silence. “Well, now. Doesn’t that just explain things right quick? Always wondered why you were such a prude,” he drawled with a smirk.

  Lucy whirled on him. “You’re a real bastard, Jazz Sawyer. Thank God we’re not related. I know what you did. Jake Winters wasn’t alive when you left him, was he? He was already dead because you killed him and dumped him on that mountain like he was trash. He was just some poor high school student that got mediocre grades and loved football. He had his whole life ahead of him and you stole it!” Lucy shouted, her sense of injustice overcoming her fear and good sense.

  Jazz sprung to his feet, closing the distance between them. “He was a werewolf! How long before he turned into some monster and started feeding on the innocents of Purdy?” He leaned closer as he screamed in her face.