Dawn Of Hope: Charity Anthology

by J. A. Culican

  Insulted, Simon stomped to leave.

  The school was portioned into halves. The public half was a school for the deaf, administered by the crown. The half kept hidden was for the unnatural—the ones of whom Simon was the benefactor. In Margate, the District of Thanet, lie those special creatures with dual purposes. Invisible. No one knew of my students or their residence here. We were ruled by the governing board of Dover’s Amalgam and answered to the Duke of Dover.

  “How will I know if this is remedied? I want to be notified the moment we are safe again. The children will be edgy, and some aren’t ready to be used as weapons.”

  Simon looked over his shoulder with that rakish grin women swooned over. He was a medley of charm as well as a kaleidoscope of emotion that left me with a headache. “I’ll send a guardian.”

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “No.” I ground my teeth together.

  “As you will, Bonnaire. Remember, you’re headmaster to this compound. I’ll be looking at you if things slip up.” The sound of his heavy footsteps filled the space as Simon made his exit . . . always with that special sprinkle of humiliation. The door shut forcefully, rattling the painting on the wall.

  Guardians, my arse.

  I breathed in multiple breaths while I cleared my mind of spite. Concentrating on my hands, I tapped into the ujjayi breathing I learned on a passage to India. The school bell chimed, a great gong announcing the return to classes.

  I opened the long, center drawer of the desk and picked up the oval mirror there. It had been my mother’s and was feminine and ornate with onyx and diamonds. My reflection scoffed, and the mirror momentarily fogged with my breath. Such an irony that my prized possession could, in fact, kill me. If I were to place the onyx edge or handle to any of my life points, it would be suicide.

  A ripple of scales appeared across my face as I watched. More breaths were needed to calm my inner fires. I felt my fangs grow and then retract as I regained control. I pulled the mirror away until it was at arm’s length. I loathed to see the face of my father staring back at me. Brown eyes and hair, dark lashes, prominent cheek bones, thin lips. The only thing I had of my mother was the mirror I was holding.

  “Come now, Auguste Bonnaire,” I spoke to the reflection in the mirror. “Put on your spy countenance. They aren’t ready for who you really are.”

  But the coming siege may demand it.

  ***

  “Huzzah!” Dominic shouted, his fist shooting up. “A chance to use our powers. To fight for something we believe in.”

  The Amalgam labeled us hosts, those with dynamic weather and earth abilities driven by whatever converted our DNA in the monsters within. Dominic, a fifteen-year-old host to a sandstorm, had acquired a British bent to his language since coming from India to Thanet. Compared to the others, Dominic’s powers were weak and unstable. Yet he remained the one most eager to fight.

  “What do we believe in?” Audrina asked. Her violet eyes flashed with the intensity of amethyst. Thought to be drowned in the English Channel off the coast of Kent, she had mysteriously resurrected. Her parents knew immediately their daughter was different and placed her in Bedlam, a psychiatric ward with questionable treatments. However, the walls of the mental institution could not hold her, and the Duke of Margate discovered her just in time. She was a reckless young adult, volatile and hot headed; she hosted the turbulence of the sea..

  “There are secrets among us that separate us from the Amalgam.” Her gaze hopped over the room. She sat in the last row, last desk. Her hands curled into fists and smacked the desk. “Why is it we should protect the Amalgam when they hide us as if we are animals, or worse?”

  My head throbbed with the stream of confusion I felt circulating the room. The students were anxious, a bit afraid, and seeking the truth. Many secrets surrounded the Amalgam, and even I didn’t know them all. “You are the youngest of the league with much to learn. The Margate Compound is specifically designed for younger recruits.” They grumbled and hissed. I propped my hip on the edge of my desk and crossed my arms. Perhaps a different approach, then.

  “Do not despise the small things. Even a great tree begins from a kernel, a seed. You have untapped powers that will one day be uncovered and used for the good of mankind. They need us. Everyone does a part, even the smallest. The heir of Dover is in danger and we must see that he is protected. Whether or not you agree, we are all part of the Amalgam, and the Tremaines are whom we answer and serve. The league is what we believe in. Each of us has pledged an oath to the flag of Dover. It’s an old, trusted rule even though it’s English. It is what protects us. Keeps us hidden and safe.”

  “More like invisible,” Dominic grunted.

  I’d often thought of them as the invisibles, but I didn’t speak it. Dominic meant to wound with his words, though I thought it clever that we were hidden amid polite society, in a school owned by the royals.

  “What are we to watch for?” Thomas, a ten-year-old English boy, spoke in his soft voice. Thomas was the strangest pupil at the school. His body was inhabited by darkness and fire. He’d been merely five when his parents hid him in a cave to protect him from roving thieves. His era, 1320, Medieval England. When they returned, the cave had collapsed. It took three days to dig him from the pit of rubble. No one knew what he’d encountered within to turn him into a host. It remained a mystery, for how did a cave produce fire? “Will the enemy be easily recognized?”

  “I find it hard to believe they expect us to fight this time,” Audrina chimed. She thrust her chin out and her gaze jumped to Dominic. “We are invisible, after all.”

  I narrowed my eyes. It was always Audrina who provided the wet blanket of doubt. “Have I not taught the use of your skills?” I looked away from her and let my gaze touch each student. “As headmaster, I was provided the capacity to train and facilitate your abilities. As of today, I’ve focused on your education. Now, we will focus on the powers within. What do you imagine we are training for other than battle and war? We fight for the Amalgam. It is what keeps us hidden. Invisible. It protects us and ensures we aren’t exploited and enslaved.”

  “Will we have to kill people?” Evelyn asked. She looked around. “No one told me I’d have to kill people.”

  Evelyn, at fifteen, was a futuristic American with the capability of being an irritating F1 tornado. Her ability was like her thoughts—scrambled and all over the place. It must be a thing of the future.

  “Perhaps,” I said as I uncrossed my arms. I’d never seen Dominic look as happy, nor Thomas as disturbed. “But we get ahead of ourselves. First, we must learn defense. Good defense can thwart offensive moves. In essence, you don’t want to checkmate the king.” I slid off the desk. “We’ll start with history.” Moaning arose. A smile tipped my mouth as I rounded my desk and reached for a leather bound book I’d taken from the library. “Is anyone interested in the origins of our enemy? We have to understand the minds of who we fight in order to overcome them.”

  No one spoke, and I opened the book to the first page. The book was intimidating, as was the contents. The tome was large and bulky, the pages yellowed and askew from use of years. Our enemy was fierce, ancient, and skilled. I’d fought in multiple lands, but had never encountered a raw foe such as this.

  Dominic caught a glimpse of the map as I flipped the cover. “Huns?” He sat up taller. There was an excited bent to his tone. “The ancient ones? Mongolian?”

  “They hail from lands surrounding the old world,” Audrina said. “The world of ancient China.”

  “Right, right,” I said. “Fierce archers. Able to withstand the starkest cold and extreme elements. They mark their own bodies to prove their courage and tolerance of pain.”

  One by one, the students left their desks and surrounded the book, peering at the ghastly depictions of war. I’d studied the book, so instead, I watched the horror upon my pupils faces. They were strong, but dammit—they were children.

  Children who would end up with blood on
their hands.

  ***

  I wore my hair tied back in a queue. Partially because my hair was too long and when I wore it down, it got in the way. Also was the fact it irritated the proper Miss Marple. Lovely yet peckish Eleanor Marple was the head teacher at the rightful Royal School for Deaf Children. Our sides weren’t supposed to mix, but she and I did. She needed my male expertise in running a school, and I needed access to the library. The library was forbidden because it was central to the school—and on their side.

  I was loathe to admit that a fundamental motive was that I liked her. The irritating Englishwoman was beautiful and kind. Drat it! She was perfect and she knew it. She harped on my French lineage, including my longish and tethered back—saying it was out of fashion. Sometimes I added a touch of powder to it, just to see if she’d explode like a cannon. She never lost her composure, though, because she was Miss Marple; a tower of English strength and valor.

  “Enemies,” Eleanor repeated. Her face pulled in like a satchel string. Those green eyes narrowed and zoned in on me. “Should I estimate their origins?” She hummed, imploring me to answer.

  But I did not give in—yet. Instead, I allowed my eyes to turn yellow and my fangs to peek out from between my lips.

  “Do you think to scare me?” Her voice was calm, her smile serene.

  Eleanor knew what was hidden within the walls of her precious school. It had happened accidentally, but here we were, an oddish pair of educators pretending we hated each other. Fighting once again in the stacks of a dusty, musky library. Our fated love nest.

  I rolled my eyes. “More like a reminder.” My fangs sliced into my bottom lip as I retracted them. “Lest you forget what we are dealing with.”

  “How can I disregard that a legion of strange sits in the north wing of this school.”

  My tongue touched my bottom lip. I tasted blood before the wound closed. Eleanor’s gaze jumped from my mouth and that made me smile. She blushed as her eyes batted away the memory of my mouth. It made me want to kiss her.

  “My prim Miss Marple,” I whispered. “Do you forget that I am here to protect you? I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. How would I get on without you?”

  “What do you need?” Her chin jerked forward, but she did not look at me. “A book? Something from the market?” She narrowed her eyes. “A cauldron? A human skull? Feather of the legendary phoenix?”

  Her imagination was wildly attractive, but I didn’t let her off the subject. “I need you to keep Headmaster Whipple out of the way. Be sure he stays intoxicated and out of his wits. I brought brandy.” I pulled the strap of my satchel from around my neck and thrust the bag toward her. “This should help. It’s his favorite; the one he has not coin for.”

  Eleanor harrumphed, but after she eyed the satchel, she took it. “I suppose it’s the good stuff.”

  “I use only the best when I’m bribing.”

  Her eyes traveled the length of me from head to toe. It took great effort not to puff out my chest and stand erect.

  “You have two days.” She shifted the satchel between her hands. “It may be the best brandy, but it’s only a wee dram.”

  “Three,” I pointed at the satchel. “It doesn’t take much of the good stuff. And that is more than a wee dram.”

  “Fine. Three.” She eyed me. “This is a simple hot toddy for our dear headmaster.”

  Eleanor, my little feminist, was trapped in an era in which women were considered inferior. I longed to tell her of the future and all the guardians had taught me. But she didn’t know of the time traveling aspect of the Amalgam. She would never know the liberation of her gender, and that made me sad. She would be an excellent headmaster. Due to Whipple’s shortcomings, Eleanor practically ran the school anyway.

  The main door of the library creaked open. Her eyes popped open and she placed her finger at her lips. It was unnecessary as we were hidden on the top floor near the secret entrance. But it was charming that she expressed such concern on my behalf.

  “Take what you need and go,” she whispered.

  I nodded. It was my turn to examine the length of her. Superfluous because her image had etched itself on my mind. From the ridiculous lace cap to the over worn, donated slippers—it was there on my mind, burning.

  Perchance I neglected to mention that I was in love with Eleanor Marple.

  ***

  I slept with blankets over my entire body, including my face. I read the same way. When I was trapped under water, my dying body naturally drew to a cave like a barrier. It was where I met the monster I became. It was why I felt the need to hide in the night. I could see perfectly in pitch black, perhaps better than during sunlight. The sun tended to give me headaches and a feeling of being unreal; achingly familiar to my time underwater.

  The monster that held my dying body was also the creature that saved me. A great basilisk had been hunting in the waters when I fell overboard. When I descended to the cave where he chased his prey, he took pity on me as he smelled my fear. Cradled in his mouth, he brought me to shore and then to his den.

  The French Fleet said I was missing for a week, a week of unbidden pain while I became the sea and monster. I became the only basilisk able to live underwater. When I dragged myself from the den, I crawled to the shore, where I was discovered by the French. Upon my person were the letters I’d written to the English Army detailing Napoleon’s strategic war plans. They included maps and dates of battles, among other secrets only the French should know. I clearly remembered emptying my pockets as I sank in the water, and in my mind I could envision the evidence that I was a spy to my home country floating up and away. I was sure I’d eliminated all the evidence as I drowned.

  And yet, it was smugly in my pockets. I realized then that was the last play of the basilisk. I’d never know if he did it so I would be sentenced to death or so I’d be found in the prison camp by the guardian, Simon Dare, the Duke of Margate.

  Hosts of the Amalgam were natural earth and weather disturbances. While I had the suspicion some of the students were holding back, I remained confident that I was the only one of my kind. I must remain hidden or I could lose my trusted place in the league. I couldn’t allow my true nature to show, as hosts didn’t morph into sea creatures or animals. No one could know that a basilisk nursed me back from the dead.

  A knock on the door silenced my rambling thoughts. I tossed the covers back with a huff, kicking the blankets from my legs and sending my books flying.

  “Who is it?” I barked.

  The door creaked open and I saw the lovely face of Eleanor. Quickly, I made right of my rumpled clothes. I was barefoot, so I cast about for slippers since I hadn’t the time for boots. My hair was down and a mess about my face. I knew I must look wild. Eleanor never visited this side of the school. Something had gone wrong.

  “The school? The children?”

  She opened the door wider, bringing with her the icy air from the hall. “No, no.” She glanced over her shoulder. She gulped in a breath and whispered. “A boy came through the main entrance. I answered. The servants are asleep, you see, and I was awake and reading in the library.”

  I shoved my feet into slippers. “A boy, you say?” She nodded, her cap bobbing. “Is he a strange one? Is that why you are frightened? Should I be alarmed?” Should I rip him apart for you, love?

  “He most certainly is strange and he did ask for you. By your full name.” Her eyes were wide as she thumbed over her shoulder. She mouthed, “He is behind me.”

  “Oh,” popped out of my mouth. I ran my hand through my hair and with the other hand, I waved to the door. I had to save Eleanor from fear. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” My voice raised. “Come forth, visitor. I will see you now.”

  Stepping aside, Eleanor wrung her hands, her eyes growing wider. She stood behind me, which made me preen and puff out my chest.

  The hallway was empty and dark. I blinked once and then again, then the faint clanging of metal sounded as the visitor approache
d. The hairs of my neck stood and my body tingled. I felt as if I was on a battlefield again. A sharp, grating noise filled the air as he turned into the open doorway.

  “Tally-ho, Auguste.”

  I knew this boy. He lifted the guard on his helmet. Dressed in a suit of armor custom made for a child of ten years or so, was Solomon Tremaine. The first Heir of Dover Castle.

  I slumped my shoulders as Solomon bowed.

  “Greetings, sir.” Solomon lifted the helmet from his head. He turned to Eleanor. “I apologize for harming the floor with my armor. If it is acceptable, I will see the cleaning staff in the morning and help remedy my fault. My mum always said if we muck it up, we clean it up.”

  Eleanor blinked owlishly as she held my arm to steady her swaying. Solomon held out his hand and hers fluttered into it. He bowed over her hand.

  “Lady Eleanor Marple. It is an honor to meet you.”

  A giddy bubble of laughter popped out of Eleanor’s mouth. And just like that—snap—the fear was gone and left behind a charming young prince with twinkling green eyes and a rakish grin. Her hand wavered to her bosom. She was trembling. “Forgive me, but I don’t know how to address you.”

  “Lord Edinbane,” Solomon said.

  “Lord Hastings,” I said at the same time. “The Marquis . . .”

  Solomon narrowed his eyes in my direction. For a child, his gaze had a sharp edge and a tangible punch to the gut. He’d been raised to behave like royalty, because he was royalty. In reality, this was the Marquis of Hastings, heir to the seat of Dover Castle—Medieval era early 1300s. Time travel had a way of screwing with things, so he had an alias in this era that allowed him to roam about without question. At his tender age, he was already a guardian in the Amalgam.