House of Guardians

by Beatrice Sand

  “I can’t think clearly at the moment, Don.”

  “Lousy timing, man. Your focus should be on the upcoming fights. This is serious business. We have to prove ourselves to the gods and our people, and you can use some credit.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.” I sit up straight and let out a sigh. “Anyway, I’ll have nothing to do with Philene until the wedding. We’re not engaged, though everyone seems to think that.”

  “And what about Laurel? You’ll make her fall in love with you and then you’ll leave her heart-broken on the day of your wedding? If the gods haven’t already sucked the life out of her before that, because you can’t think clearly.”

  “We kind of ended things last night.”

  “Ah, respect.”

  “Yeah. The shitty thing is that neither one of us wants it.”

  “Be careful, Sam. I mean it. You don’t want to play games with your grandfather. The pantheon always wins.”

  I cast Don a sideways glance. “Do you honestly think it’s a coincidence that we like two mortal girls who are stepsisters and we both get busted?”

  “To tell you the truth, I never thought about that. I try to think as little as possible about Renee.”

  “And why the fuck is Adrian after Laurel? Taking her to the movies, showing up in her father’s restaurant…”

  “He’s trying to get to you. Every chance he gets. He’s always been jealous of you.”

  “I’m telling you, Don, something’s not right, and I’m going to find out what it is. And I’m going to find out who betrayed me.”

  “Yeah, I was afraid you would say that. Just not this week, okay man?” Don hits me on my back. “Let’s walk.”

  Silently we climb the hill. All we hear is the sound of a deep, heavy moo.

  “Did I miss anything during the meeting?”

  “Just that they expect us to perform during the Games. Oh right, and after the Games, there will be a special announcement.”

  I stroke my hair and curse.

  “What? Can you see it?” Don looks at me full of hope.

  “No, I just had a scary thought. Eternity.”

  “Yeah, I thought of immortality too. But that soon?”

  “You’re right, it must be something else. Let’s hope so.”

  We climb a little further and enter the grove. A crowd has already gathered around the altar.

  “I think I know who Laurel needs to be protected from.”

  “Who?”

  “Me. That’s why I can’t get a clear vision. I’m a threat to her and I should have known from the first moment we met. I scared the hell out of her right from the start.”

  “Because of Storm?”

  “She’s scared of dogs, the gods couldn’t have made it any clearer.”

  Don chuckles and heads turn our way. We put on straight faces as we continue walking toward the sacrificial altar where the others are waiting for us. Worshippers solemnly bow their heads as we walk past them.

  “Man,” Don whispers, “that animal even creeps the hell out of me. You can keep calling that thing a purebred dog and put a collar around its neck, but there are some of us who won’t be fooled.”

  At the smoldering altar, hundred of young bulls are being restrained, ready to be dismembered and sacrificed. I receive an unpleasant, empty gaze from the high priest and then something very unusual happens to me—I shiver.

  22

  laurel

  For as long as I can remember, I have been haunted by the same dream. It’s more a state of slumber, somewhere between sleep and waking, where I can’t distinguish reality from fantasy. Anyway, it always ends the same way—with the claws of a wolf, foaming at the mouth, on my chest.

  I kick off my sheets and get out of bed. My upper arm is pounding heavily. It always does after that dream—just like I always get that melancholic, gloomy feeling that sticks with me the rest of the day.

  I shuffle into the bathroom and stare at my reflection in the mirror. My brightly colored eye socket contrasts with the rest of my pale face and my hair is one big mess of knots and tangles.

  I sit down on the rim of the bathtub, take a strand of hair between my fingers, and start working on the first tangle. It’s probably going to take me all day, but it’s not like I have anything better do to anyway; I am grounded. Kind of. Along with Renee. Not that we are locked inside the house, but graduation parties are out of the question due to our irresponsible behavior. Ideally, I would have preferred to keep my mouth shut, but there’s just no way around a bruised eye, a dent in the pool table and broken furniture. I tried to protect Renee by saying that I had found Julien in the bar by chance, but after seeing the demolition in the hotel bar, Renee freaked out completely and confessed the whole conspiracy to Mia and Martin.

  To my great horror, Martin wants me to press charges against Julien, but I prefer to forget about everything as soon as possible. Besides, I don’t feel like facing Julien again. I would press charges immediately if I thought that he would do the same thing to other girls, but I am convinced that Sam has frightened Julien enough to last him the rest of his life. At moments like these, when my life seems shattered and everything is going wrong, that wolf, foaming at the muzzle, appears in my dream.

  I stop untangling my hair and wonder if the dream is trying to tell me something, but I can’t see any symbol or clue whatsoever in the haunting wolf and the aimless life I lead. I’m probably too down-to-earth for hidden messages or solutions in dreams, but I can’t let it go either.

  I saunter back into my bedroom and pull my photo album from the top shelf.

  I smile at my mother’s comments under the photographs. I turn the pages until I find the picture I’m looking for. The sun was burning so fiercely that day that Yfke had put a floppy sun hat on my head to protect my sensitive skin.

  Musing and a bit sad, I stare at the other pictures. There is a decorated cake with marzipan carrots and four candles on the table. I can see from my impatient face that I wasn’t interested in a piece of my favorite cake. I was more interested in the cardboard box Martin was holding. I quickly browse on to the photographs of the cute little shepherd dog with the blue ribbon—my birthday present.

  And then there are no more. There are more pictures, but none with the puppy. I close the photo album and place it on my nightstand.

  I fly down the stairs and run into the kitchen, where Mia is going through a hospitality magazine. “Where’s my dad?”

  Mia looks up. “I believe he’s in the vegetable garden.”

  I open the screen door.

  “Laurel?”

  I turn around. “Yes, Mia?”

  “I made an appointment with the psychologist for Renee tomorrow afternoon.” Mia pauses for a moment. “There’s a spot for you too if you want to come along.”

  “Thanks, Mia, but I’m not interested.”

  Mia is still struggling with her emotions. She has no idea whether and how she should punish us. And now she has arranged therapy for us. At least, she’s got Renee willing to talk about what happened. Personally, I have no need to expose my inner feelings and thoughts. I’d rather spend my time investigating Sam’s lineage.

  Mia closes the magazine. “Laurel, you’ve been through something very traumatic. I really think it’s better if you talk to someone about it, so you can process it better.”

  “I’ve already processed it. Nothing bad happened, Mia. Sam prevented that. There is nothing to talk about.”

  Mia heaves a sigh. “Just think about, Laurel, okay?”

  I nod. “Okay, I’ll think about it.”

  I stroll down through the garden and find Martin at the back. “Hey Dad, what are you doing?”

  “Pulling weeds.”

  “Ah.”

  “Your eye already looks better than yesterday.”

 
“No it doesn’t. Are you still mad at me?”

  “I’m not mad, I’m disappointed.”

  “That sounds even worse,” I say with a wry face.

  “I’m disappointed because you’re not pressing charges against Julien.”

  “Believe me, Dad. Julien won’t hurt a single girl anymore. It would even surprise me if he ever takes a sip of alcohol again.”

  Martin sighs and looks as though he has aged a decade over the previous few days. I feel sorry for him, for all of them. Everyone is suffering from what happened except for me. I am only concerned with Sam and the mystery surrounding him.

  “You let him get away with it.”

  “Nothing happened, and Sam made sure that…”

  Martin tosses aside his hoe and raises his hand. “I can’t bear to hear that name right now. I owe that guy for the rest of my life. Really, if he hadn’t managed to rescue you from the hands of that… that…” Martin clenches his fists. “The bar being smashed is the least of my concerns, but the violence, Laurel. He practices violent sports, like Renee’s boyfriend last year. He was unreliable too.”

  “They practice those sports in the gym, Dad, not out on the streets.”

  “Violent sports result in aggressiveness. It makes him potentially more violent. And he was extremely rude to Mia. I don’t accept that from anyone.”

  My head shoots up. “What?”

  “He cornered Mia and embarrassed her when she addressed you in the lobby where… I don’t even want to think about what the two of you were doing over there.”

  I feel the rage growing inside me. “We danced, Dad, that’s all. Mia is being dramatic, like she is dramatic about everything else. Sam stood up for me. If anything, he was honest and respectful. Mia is just not used to having someone contradict her, that doesn’t mean that Sam’s rude. And in the bar it ended in a fight, yes. Julien was angry and drunk and he wasn’t going to give up easily. What was Sam supposed to do?”

  “Renee told me that he and his friends are all high-level wrestlers. He could have restrained Julien and called the police, called me… But he took the law into his own hands and now you don’t even want to press charges against Julien, which is only because you want to protect Sam if you ask me.”

  I push my chin up and look straight into Martin’s eyes. “I don’t need to protect Sam from anything, because he has done nothing wrong. He’s not the blame for what happened.”

  Martin slowly lets out his breath. “I know he isn’t, honey. I’m just disappointed and angry when I think of how it could have ended. I’m disappointed in myself too, for trusting Julien, welcoming him into our house. I need some time to let it all sink in, Laurel. That doesn’t mean I’m not grateful for Sam. I’d like to speak to him again, but for now I want you to stay away from him. I want to hear nothing more about boys.”

  “Renee is eighteen and I turn eighteen this Sunday. We’re grown-up women, Dad.”

  Martin growls and picks up his hoe again. “Has Mia talked to you about that therapist? It might be a good idea to…”

  “No, Dad. I don’t want to talk to anyone. It happened and now I want to forget about it. I don’t feel like experiencing it again.”

  “All right, honey. I don’t want to force you into anything, but think about it please.”

  “I want to ask you something.”

  “Sure.”

  “Remember when I got that puppy for my birthday?”

  “Of course, that poor little thing. Your last year here on the island. Another thing I’d rather not talk about.”

  “He wore a blue ribbon.”

  Finally he smiles. “Your mom made that.”

  “I just saw the pictures and I suddenly wondered what happened. We didn’t have him very long.”

  “You hadn’t even picked out a name for him. For days you strolled around the house, thinking of the perfect name. We tried to help you, but whatever name we came up with, you rejected them all.” Martin leans on his hoe. “Then one Sunday morning, you were jumping on our bed. You finally came up with a name for the puppy. We had to go downstairs with you where you would reveal his name.”

  I notice that Martin is struggling to continue. “What happened, Dad? Please, I need to know. I know he bit me, but after that… Mom never told me.”

  “You went down before us and when we came after you a little later you were sitting in the living room, sobbing. He bit your upper arm—a nasty bite. We immediately went to the hospital. You were vaccinated and stayed the night for observation. The next day, we were able to bring you back home.”

  “And the dog?”

  “While we were in the hospital, the neighbor immediately shot him.”

  I look at Martin in shock. “Shot? It was a puppy, he was just playful.”

  “No, honey, he was sick. The neighbor didn’t want to take any risk, and the puppy came from his brood.”

  “What was wrong with him?”

  Martin keeps stirring the soil. “He ran off late at night once when we hadn’t closed the door properly. He might have been infected by a bat, or he might have been fighting with a fox.”

  “Infected with what?”

  “Rabies. The whole house needed to be disinfected. They advised us to get a new pet immediately. You were so little at the time and it would reduce the risk of a lasting trauma. The neighbor had a few healthy puppies left that were looking for a home. It was pure bad luck that this shepherd got ill. You shouted that you never wanted another dog, you just wanted that one and no other. All summer you sat at his grave. You never visited the neighbor’s dogs again. Your mother and I were devastated to see how such a sweet little girl with two braids in her hair could be so angry with the world.”

  I feel an ache behind my eyelids. “How incredibly sad.”

  “Yeah, it was.” Deep wrinkles appear on his forehead. “So you’re looking at old photo albums, huh? I hope you’re not getting too sad.”

  “Have fun weeding!”

  I run upstairs and lie down on my unmade bed. Warm tears run down my face as I think of the events fourteen years ago. And after that, everything in my life went wrong: my parents’ divorce, the move to Europe…

  I shoot up. The dream! The dream that imposes itself on me at difficult times in my life. The wolf, foaming at the mouth, trying to bite me… He had rabies! I fall back into the cushions. Why does that traumatic event from so long ago still haunt me in my dreams?

  I turn to my side and place my hands under my face. I think of Sam and how he stroked his thumb over the scar. How would the evening have ended if Mia hadn’t disturbed us? Would I have never been attacked by Julien, or was it inevitable? It’s hard to think about that sort of thing—that a tiny twist can change the course of events. Or is everything fixed by fate? Predetermined.

  I can’t be in your world, Laurel.

  The words have been rumbling around in my head from the moment they were uttered, but any which way I parse the cryptic words, the meaning behind them doesn’t want to reveal itself. What is my world anyway, or rather, what kind of world does Sam live in?

  I slip out of bed and sit at my desk. I start up the computer. Again, I type in the keyword that had sent Sam over the edge. I hadn’t had any useful hits last time, only this time I will not give up so easily. I have all summer to do this.

  23

  sampson

  The following day we are gathered in the court of the bouleuterion, and I stare at the colossal statue of my grandfather. He is sitting on a throne looking ominous, his hands clutching lightning bolts. The sculpture is intended to deter, and it does—at least for those who intend to violate the rules during the Games. The curses and punishments that await any perpetrators can be read at the foot of the statue. I suppress my yearning to throw off the miserable cloak and wrap some straps around my hands. There is no other option than to sit through thi
s boring morning full of official ceremonies and oath taking.

  After all the officials and trainers have taken their oath of allegiance, it’s finally our turn. Don is up first. Under the watchful eye of the high priests, he walks up to the table, which is covered with bloody pieces of a cut-up boar. He takes a piece of raw meat in his hand and raises his head to the statue of our chief god and guardian of the oaths. Solemnly, he takes the oath that all athletes are bound to take.

  “I hereby swear that I have trained properly. I will obey the rules. I won’t commit an offense, I won’t give up.”

  Don places the meat back on the table. Adrian is up next.

  “I hereby swear that I have trained properly. I will obey the rules. I won’t commit an offense, I won’t give up.” He holds the bloody meat up in the air. “A wreath or death!” he shouts across the council house.

  I roll my eyes. Since ancient times the Games are about winning, pride and honor. The prize is an olive wreath. Just like the rest of us, Adrian wants the honor of a wreath and he will go to great lengths to get his hands on one—or three for that matter. And he wants every single one of us to know.

  “He probably doesn’t mean his own death,” Bastian notices dryly.

  When the official part is over, I ditch my chlamys and put on sweatpants. My body is about to explode. I can still feel the adrenalin coursing through my body from taking down Julien, and Phaedra’s preaching didn’t do anything to restore the balance in my body. It’s about time I’m able to blow off some steam at the gym.

  To stay inconspicuous, I have put on a hat and am walking along the arcades and food stalls with my head down. I make my way toward the training grounds between athletes and aristocracy. Around the sacred grove, business is done, alliances are made, and marriages are arranged.

  “Sampson?”