by J. A. Curtis
Lies of the Haven
Faerie Warriors, Volume 1
JA Curtis
Published by ElMae Publishing, 2020.
While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher assumes no responsibility for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.
LIES OF THE HAVEN
First edition. August 1, 2020.
Copyright © 2020 JA Curtis.
Written by JA Curtis.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
1 | Nana’s House | is Destroyed by a Dragon
2 | Confusing Revelations
3 | Meeting the Faeries
4 | Thaya Goes Mental
5 | Me and Dramian Hang Out
6 | A Test of Courage
7 | The Soldier
8 | Role Play
9 | Nuada and Kudava
10 | Rules of Flight
11 | Small Wins
12 | Inevitable
13 | Love and Loyalty
14 | Not Alone
15 | Dreams
16 | Disagreements
17 | Jealousy
18 | Deal with the Enemy
19 | Catch and Release
20 | The Vision
21 | Imprisoned
22 | Lost
23 | Kris
24 | Relentless
25 | The Cost of Leadership
26 | The Queen and the General
27 | Night Flight
28 | Feud
29 | Aftermath
1
Nana’s House
is Destroyed by a Dragon
“Always remember, Mina, there are two sides to an argument.”
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” I slammed the car door and stalked up the driveway. “This is her home!”
A part of me knew I should thank my ride for dropping me off before she drove away, but all thoughts of politeness had been driven to the back of my brain by my parents’ treachery.
I stopped in the grass of Nana’s front yard, dressed in my soccer uniform, hands clenched, soccer gear slung over my shoulder. Corbin sat a little ways off on the other side of the driveway, tinkering with some gadget. His hair flopped about as his head popped up at the sound of my voice.
Dad’s placating eyes turned on me. “Now, Mina, you had to know this was coming...”
“All the time and money fixing it up. What did you think we were doing?” Mom asked.
My stomach churned. I had thought they were fixing the house up so it would be safe for Nana to come home. But the sign being erected in the front yard meant the complete opposite.
Nana was never coming home.
A heat rose in my cheeks. “You-you’re just going to leave her there? She hates it! She didn’t even want to go in the first place. You forced her!”
Mom’s face closed off and she turned away. Dad laid a hand on her shoulder. “We’re doing what’s best for her.”
It was the same excuse they had used to force her out in the first place. But Nana knew. She said this would happen. The sign in the yard swayed back and forth in the wind. She’d be devastated.
I threw my gear down onto the grass. “What’s best is to let her come home!”
I bolted down the driveway, away from Nana’s home, the sign, everything. My parents’ calls echoed behind me.
THE PARTY WAS A BAD idea. At least the location was a bad idea. But man, it was going to be awesome. I invited the whole school, blew up social media, had tons of confirmations. All the jocks, the nerds, and everyone in between were going to be there. My party would be epic. Of course, I’d be grounded for the rest of the summer, probably into my sophomore year, but I didn’t care. My parents needed to be taught a lesson.
Everything progressed according to plan until Amber Struttland posted her lame party on Twitter at the Gorge. She chose the same date on purpose. Plenty of free summer weekends loomed on the horizon, but she chose the same night as mine. Her way of getting back at me. Heaven forbid little Mina show up the queen of the cheer squad. Stupid high school drama.
So, I watched my confirmations dwindle down to like ten of the not-so-cool kids, and I considered canceling. These were not my people. But I would not let Amber, or my parents, win this battle. The party, however lame, must go on, and I’d take the punishment, however harsh. Somewhere between those two moments, I’d convince myself it had all been worth it.
I opened the door to the first pair of party goers. One boy wore suspenders and reeked of cologne. His friend followed him inside with wide, flitting eyes.
The girl behind them wore coke-bottle glasses that covered about half her face. “Oh good, this is the right place. I was worried because there was a for sale sign out front and—”
I tried not to let my plastered-on smile crack. “Yep. This is the place.”
“Thanks! You’re awesome!”
My eyes avoided the sign, and I banged the door shut.
More kids showed up for a grand total of six people. The warm night air and table full of brownies and Mountain Dew drew them to the backyard where they mingled.
I frowned. None of these kids looked like hard party goers. Still, Kris said she was coming, and I could count on her. If I waited by the door long enough, she’d show.
Another knock came at the door.
“Welcome to my Par—ty.”
A boy sporting a sleeveless leather top waited, his arms crossed in some sort of bouncer pose. Dark hair grazed his shoulders, half raised in a man bun. A huge, blood-red dragon tattoo twisted along his whole upper left arm. He attempted a smile, but it didn’t fit with the ensemble and came across more like a leer.
Close the door.
But perhaps this kid would liven the party. At this point, I couldn’t be very picky about my guests.
“Come in. Party is out back.”
“Thank you, Mina.” I kept tabs on his movement toward the back of the house when another knock came at the door.
Again, I swung the door open. This time, a girl wore a thick leather top without sleeves. Was she with the boy? Her hair, shaved sides and spiked top with blond tips, told me she meant business. A large tattoo of a man with a sword covered her right arm.
She leaned from side to side as she peered around me into the house. Her hand fluttered at her waist. From her warrior look, I expected more of an angry glare.
“Mina?”
“That’s me.” Who were these people? Friends of a friend? I couldn’t imagine any of the kids here having these kinds of friends, but who was I to judge?
She crossed the threshold. “Did a boy come in here with a dragon on his arm?”
“He’s already out back.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she advanced toward the back of the house. I’d have to keep an eye on both of them.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. The text was from Kris.
Running late, Mom making me drop stupid sister off at slumber party on other side of town. Be there in like an hour.
Kris was fifteen and had just gotten her driver’s license, a perk of living in Idaho. Her mom was already making her run errands. I rubbed the strings of the woven bracelet my brother had made for me between my fingers. I couldn’t sit by the door for an hour, waiting. What if no one else showed up? I’d look pretty dumb. I would have to face my guests. I texted Kris back.
No probs. But for reals, Hurry!
I pocketed my phone and trudged into the backyard.
&n
bsp; “Do you like video games?” suspenders boy asked. “I play Fortnite, I‘ve made it to level ninety-seven already this season, and that’s without having to purchase the tier one hundred battle pass. Do you have any first shooter games here?”
Me and my eight guests gathered outside around an empty fire pit, some nibbled on brownies snatched from the refreshment table nearby. The boy and girl with the tattoos laid claim on opposite sides of the pit, shooting death glares at one another. They kept drawing my gaze.
I refocused on the boy in front of me and lifted the plastic bag cutting into my palm. “Sorry—I’ve got these balloons filled with dye if you want to go throw them at the dartboard in the family room. That’s kind of like a first shooter game.”
He eyed the balloons in disgust. “Why would I want to do that?”
“Because you can—you don’t have to throw it at the dartboard, throw them anywhere for all I care. Just make sure it's inside the house.”
“No, I’d better not, you’d never get the stain out of the carpet.” So the suspenders boy was out. No big deal, time to get things started. I dropped the bag of balloons next to my feet and cleared my throat.
“Alright, everyone, welcome to my party. We’ve got target practice in the family room, wood carving in the kitchen—any surface is up for grabs, including floors, cabinets, walls—there’s also spray paint for mural painting in the bathroom and indoor hockey in the living room. The bedrooms are mystery rooms, so be prepared to get wet. There’s one room with a keep out sign that’s off limits. If you need a break from the commotion, you can come out here and get some refreshments...”
My eight guests stared at me. Nobody moved.
“These ‘activities’,” one girl said, her hands up, using actual air quotes, “sound a lot like vandalism.”
“If you own the house, it’s not vandalism.” I wasn’t sure who owned the house at this point. But my parents were the ones selling it, so, close enough.
“Yeah, this isn’t like you,” a boy joined in.
I squinted at him. Stupid Amber, leaving me with the morality squad. My party was a bust.
“Whatever, do what you want.” I brushed past them into the house, through the family room, ignoring the stench of fresh carpet, past the kitchen with gaudy new cabinetry, and into the bathroom harboring glaringly white tile—all paid for by my parents a week after forcing Nana out. I grasped a bottle of midnight black spray paint.
I hesitated. Was this a smart idea? Probably not. I definitely wasn’t setting a good example for my little brother, Corbin. But if Nana was starting to lose her memory like my parents claimed, then forcing her away from everything she’d ever known and selling the house she loved out from under her was particularly cruel.
I rammed my finger onto the nozzle. This is for you, Nana.
The boy with the dragon tattoo stood outside the bathroom watching me. I stopped spraying, but he moved down the hallway to the bedrooms. I’d just check on him. I needed to be a good hostess. Destroy the house, fine, but he’d better not touch any of Nana’s things that had been boxed and stored in a bedroom off the hall.
I flipped the light switch to announce my presence. Light illuminated the empty hallway. The door to the room storing Nana’s things stood ajar—I had shut it with a Keep Out sign before I let anyone into the house.
Like Nana owned anything a teenage boy might want to steal. This was what I got for letting weirdos into the party. Now I’d have to confront him.
I charged in among the boxes. “Hey, kid, can’t you read? The sign says keep out.”
The small room shuddered as the door slammed. I spun around.
The boy leaned on the shut door, his green eyes calculating. “Who are you?”
I opened my mouth to answer “Mina, duh, you’re at my party?” but the depth in his eyes stopped me. Still, the question struck me as unfair.
“Who am I? Who are you?” I threw back with as much attitude as I could muster. Perhaps I didn’t know what to do, but I wouldn’t show him.
He stepped closer, his eyes held mine. I drew back. The corner of a box jabbed into my hip. Rattled, I thought I saw the tattoo stuck to the boy's shoulder almost come alive. A pulsing threat flowed from the blood-red scales.
“Are you her? The one we’ve all been searching for? Or are you merely her lap dog?” He came even closer. A tightness tugged on my chest. I couldn’t back up anymore.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” My eyes lingered on the tattoo. “Let’s just go back to the party.”
He grabbed my arm above the elbow with his tattooed arm. A scream rose in my throat. “You need to come with me,” he said.
The door to the room burst open, and I jumped, somehow holding in my scream. Good, let someone else be here.
Let anyone else be here.
The boy holding my arm smiled down at me without glancing toward the door. “Hello, Tily. A little late to the party.”
The girl with the spiked hair stood in the doorway. I saw the tattoo of the warrior man on her arm, and my hope shriveled. Were these two together?
“Release her, Dramian,” Tily said.
Dramian shook his head. “Leave here. Tell them you were too late. There’s no reason to risk yourself in a fight all alone.”
“I’m warning you, leave Mina alone.” Tily’s muscles coiled. The tattoo on her own arm began to shimmer and curl. I held my breath.
Dramian released my arm and faced Tily. His tattoo rippled across his bicep. Tily backed out of the room, and Dramian followed her, glaring into each other’s eyes like two ravenous dogs about to brawl over a large steak.
I rushed to the doorway, expecting to see Dramian and Tily on the ground, throwing fists. With luck, I’d slip past them to the safety of the party. Then I’d figure out what to do about these two crazies. But what I saw in the hallway stopped me cold.
Sharp, angry teeth and a long snout greeted me. The light reflected off blood red scales. A wall of hot, steaming breath blasted me and sent my hair flying. It bottlenecked the hallway, wings trapped against the ceiling.
On the other side of the hall loomed a giant warrior, no longer attached to Tily’s arm. His helm brushed the light fixture, and his dark armored arm pointed a large, nasty sword at the coiled dragon.
I stood there, frozen. This was impossible. Mythical creatures coming to life? For a moment, I felt like I had fallen back into one of my childhood nightmares. But that was so long ago—
“Mina, go back in the room,” Tily ordered. “Stay out of the way.”
The dragon attacked, or at least tried to. Its scales tore along the walls, shredding the flowered wallpaper. It hissed and twisted. The wood paneling bulged with a cracking grumble, and I lunged into the room. I threw trembling arms over my head as plaster and wood rained down.
Fire burst from the dragon’s jaws. The heat pricked my face and arms. I shook dust and plaster from my hair. My panicked eyes hunted for the one solitary window sitting at the back of the room, Nana’s boxes packed up against it. There! I tuned out whatever horror played out in the hall and climbed up on the nearest box, praying it would hold my weight. I scrambled onto a higher stack, and my right foot slammed down into a box that hadn’t been filled. The delicate china inside shattered. The box tipped, and my desperate fingers grasped another box, but it came with me. I lurched forward, using my whole weight. Shards of china gouged my leg as I pulled free.
The wound throbbed, but I focused on reaching the window. Wiser now, I tested the next boxes before putting my full weight on them. The feel of warm blood trickled down my leg, but I didn’t allow myself to check the damage. Not until I was safe. Ignore the pain. I shoved the boxes blocking the window out of the way and clawed out the old stick holding the window shut, pushing the window open.
Cool air struck me, and I breathed deeply. Fire from the dragon’s attack had filled the room with choking smoke. Sounds of the fight in the hallway continued. I turned back. My stomach dropped—t
he whole room was on fire. If I had fallen to the floor, I would have landed in the inferno below and burned. I pulled through the window and landed on the soft, tilled dirt of Nana’s garden, my injured leg collapsing under me and throwing me down onto the ground.
Made it. Smoke poured from the window, and I heard the sounds of Nana’s house being demolished by two mysterious strangers and their giant pet monsters.
“Hey, Mina, what’s going on?” a voice demanded. I turned to face about half a dozen curious faces. My party. Two different realities that just didn’t mesh swirled around me, and I stared at the kids, gaping in bewilderment.
“It sounds like there’s an earthquake going on inside your house,” a boy said, dancing from foot to foot.
Someone else chimed in. “There’s smoke pouring from the window.”
“Is that a cut on your leg? What’s happening?” another girl asked.
I had barely escaped, that meant these kids were in danger. My eyes took in my guests, and I did a quick head count. Six. Good, they were all here.
“The party’s over.” I ignored the sharp stab in my now bloody leg and staggered to my feet. “You need to leave, now. Go through the side gate.”
A couple of kids nodded and took the cue to leave. Others looked about to protest. They must not get invited to parties often.
A ball of flame exploded through the wall to my right, less than ten feet from us. Burning boards flipped end over end through the air. Kids screamed, others dove to the ground. Less than five seconds later, they were all up and running for the gate.
I limped over to the refreshment table by the fire pit and grabbed some napkins, pressing them to the wound. My free hand fumbled in my jacket pocket for my cell phone. Well, if I wanted Nana’s house demolished, then the night was a success—but these punks were going down for destroying her possessions.
Two boys about my age appeared out of the smoke. One was tall, lean, and muscular, his dark hair streaked with blond highlights and hung forward and to the side over his forehead. The other boy looked shorter with natural blond hair and light eyes. They wore the same strange clothes as the two kids tearing apart Nana’s house, complete with monster tattoos on their arms.