House of Guardians

by Beatrice Sand

“It’s because of Zeus and Hades that their mother and father died? So Laurel and Renee could become stepsisters?”

  Adrian laughs. “A small sacrifice to make her return to the island.”

  I tighten my grip on his collar. “Continue!” I hiss. “What else did they do?”

  “That night at the restaurant, I was supposed to meet her for the first time. I was pissed when I saw you and your amateurish band sitting there. But you were sitting at the wrong table. I still don’t know what went wrong, but Laurel went to serve your table instead of Renee. She even attended your school, in spite of being enrolled in my school. And you,” Adrian says with a nasty look on his face, “you had to play the hero for her in all kinds of ways. I never even got a chance. Yeah, I’m the one who ratted you out to the Keepers. And to keep you away from Laurel they even arranged a marriage with Philene. Yes, Sam, you get the most beautiful girl in the world, but it wasn’t enough for you. And now, here we are, and you’d better back the hell off or you’ll regret it with your life. I will be immortal soon, you won’t. You might want to remember that before you find yourself in a semi-daze.”

  I look at him with wild eyes. “How do you know all this? Did the Keepers tell you?”

  “Well, I guess that’s for you to find out, isn’t it? I may not have your visions, but I do have my ways of finding out about things.” Adrian yanks his cloak loose and pushes me aside. “This is where it ends for you, Sampson. Laurel Harper’s soul will soon be mine, and she will give it to me out of her own free will, get used to it.”

  “You don’t care about her.” My voice skips in fury. “You only care about prestige.”

  “And still, I’m the only one with permission to fuck her.”

  I hit him hard. And then I grab him and we tumble down the hill among the smoldering altars and cult statues. At the bottom of the hill, Adrian pins me to the ground and slams his fist into my face. I head-butt him and roll on top of him. “I swear that if you touch her…”

  Before I get to finish my vow, two pairs of hands yank me off of Adrian.

  “Ease off now, Sam,” Andreas says softly. “It’s over, man.”

  Upset at the injustice, I look at my friends.

  “The gods have spoken, Sam. I’m sorry,” Don says.

  “It’s about time the two of you sit down and talk like adults instead of beating each other to a pulp, so you can get past this thing once and for all,” Alexandra says sternly.

  Adrian scrambles to his feet and bends his wreaths back into their original shape. He strides past me like a triumphant king without affording me even the slightest glance.

  With my hands on my hips, I stare after Adrian, spitting the blood from his punch out of my mouth. Olivia approaches me, but I step away from her. I don’t just feel misled by Adrian and the high priests, I also feel abandoned by my friends.

  “Stay away from me, all of you.” I turn around and run back to the hotel.

  “Bring me my car!” I command the clerk behind the desk.

  The man bows his head. “I will send a valet for your luggage, Ypsilótate.”

  “I’ll handle it myself,” I say while rushing up the winding staircase to grab my stuff.

  Minutes later, I toss my room key into the hands of the clerk and walk outside, where the engine of my car is already running. I fling the luggage into the backseat and whistle on my fingers. Then I step behind the wheel and hit the accelerator.

  Halfway up the driveway, I slow down briefly and lean over to open the door. Storm jumps in, a fish dangling from his mouth. At the gate I am forced to brake because it doesn’t automatically open like it usually does. I open the window and look up at the camera.

  “Open the gate,” I say angrily.

  The gate remains closed.

  I utter a weary yell, and with the adrenalin still racing through my body, I get out of the car and kick the gate open. “You might get away with deceiving me, but you won’t stop me.”

  28

  laurel

  For the occasion I borrowed a halter dress from Renee. In the mess at the bottom of my own closet I miraculously found a pair of matching strappy sandals and quickly slide them on my feet.

  My reflection and I look at each other. My face is puffy from all the crying, and my eyes look tired. I tried my very best with makeup, but not even the best concealer in the world could spirit away the sleepless nights and bruises.

  I follow the path to the restaurant, and as usual Sam dominates my thoughts. His absence and the fear of who he is haven’t worn my feelings for him; on the contrary, they have encouraged them. Yet, I dread the moment I will see him again—if I will ever see him again. I think about his heavenly body that I was allowed to touch just last week. I now understand why everything about him is so perfect—why I couldn’t find the slightest flaw. Holy smokes, a demigod held me—danced with me—and if Mia hadn’t interrupted us… I can’t decide if I should feel special or seriously concerned.

  I walk onto the terrace and notice that I am the first to arrive. Martin clearly said eight o’clock at the restaurant, and I can hardly imagine that we will be dining inside on a sultry evening like tonight. Outside there are only unset tables. I peek through the sandblasted windows, but see no movement there either. I let my eyes wander over the terrace. A set of brightly colored balloons that bob up and down in the soft sea breeze catches my attention. I smile.

  Suddenly, there’s an earsplitting noise and Renee, Maude, and Ava run onto the terrace from the restaurant. Behind them there are Martin and Mia, who push a cart with a tier cake.

  “Happy birthday, sweetheart. You look amazing in that dress. Enjoy your party.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” Somebody starts a birthday song.

  “Aren’t you going to blow out those candles?” Hugo yells. “Then we can finally have some cake.”

  “Yes, Harper,” Charles says, “do you have any idea how long we waited for you in that scorching hot pantry? You could’ve been on time for once.”

  “I’m sorry, I was completely oblivious,” I excuse myself. I blow out all the candles at once and make a wish that could never be said out loud.

  “You’re blushing,” Charles jokes.

  A cold and a warm buffet is set out on the tables, people are dancing on the terrace, and others are talking to each other in the garden. Somewhere in the crowd I spot Ava and Maude, and I walk over and join them. Maude wraps one arm around my waist and smirks at me. After the ski trip she treated me coldly for a while, but thankfully that’s over now. I am almost sure that Sam had something to do with it, but that might never get solved.

  “We wanted to invite Chaos,” she says cheerfully. “Then we both would’ve been swooning over the guitarist right now.”

  I feel like I get an adrenaline shot straight into my heart. “W-why?”

  She shrugs. “For one because he’s extremely hot when he plays guitar. Even when he doesn’t, by the way. Guitars are so overrated.”

  Ava giggles like she always does and a deep red flush is gradually coloring her face. “Because a live band would’ve been way more festive but, well, they’re out of town right now.”

  “How do you know?”

  “She was flirting with Bastian at prom,” Maude clarifies. “Or more like he with her. Apparently the boycott has been lifted.”

  I visibly gasp for air. “You flirted with Bastian?”

  She shrugs shyly. “He first started talking to me on the ski trip, and then we danced.”

  Maude smiles. “Honey, people don’t call that dancing.”

  Ava now colors to the tips of her ears. “And because you didn’t want to go to the prom at any rate, we decided we would throw you a surprise birthday party. I asked Bastian if Chaos could come play, but he told me that they were all leaving after the prom to go camping. They’re somewhere in the mountains.”

  �
�Oh,” I stammer.

  Maude looks my way again. “I still can’t believe that you were watching movie classics during the prom. You should’ve seen Sam in his tuxedo, he was smoking hot.” She makes a face. “He left early.”

  “I wonder if they would’ve come,” Ava muses.

  “I don’t really mind,” I say. “I wouldn’t have wanted to listen to hard rock on my birthday anyway.”

  “Where’s that hero of yours hanging out?” Etienne hollers into my ear.

  I turn around. Etienne’s eyes dance with laughter. I pull him aside, out of hearing distance of Ava and Maude. Renee and I had promised that what happened would stay between us so that we wouldn’t become the talk of the town. Only Etienne knows. Martin and Mia wanted him to know so he can alert the police the moment Julien sets foot in the guesthouse.

  “Tell me again how he threw that rugby guy over the pool table?”

  “Before you start drooling all over your cake, it was not a pretty sight, Etienne,” I whisper, “and can we please for once not talk about that tonight? I already told you three times.”

  “How about tomorrow then?”

  I shoot him a warning glance.

  “Never mind, I’ll ask him myself. So, where is he?”

  “I didn’t send the invitations. It’s a surprise party, remember? But trust me, he does not have the slightest interest in being anywhere near me.”

  “Listen, sweets, the guy is lovesick—all the way up to his pretty ears. That night in the lobby, really, he was eyeing you like a hungry wolf stalking his prey.”

  The hairs on my arms rise. “I’m sorry, Etienne, I need to…”

  I run to the restroom and lock the door as tears start running down my cheeks. I sip some water from the fountain, and when I look in the mirror, my expression scares me. All my fears are visible. He was eyeing you like a hungry wolf. Everything that I feel for Sam has now been offset by an all-consuming fear—fear of Sam and who he is.

  “It’s just a metaphor,” I say in a vain attempt to calm myself down. I pull some paper towels from the machine and wipe away the black smudges under my eyes.

  Back in the main part of the restaurant, I slide a piece of cake onto a plate before quickly disappearing outside through the back door.

  After slipping out of my sandals and walking down the stairs, I shuffle across the pebbles toward the infamous rock and sit down. Taking a bite of the carrot cake, I smile at the sight of the little marzipan carrots. Martin had put little carrots on the icing of my favorite cake, just like he used to when I was little.

  The beats of the music on the terrace reach me, and though I probably should, I’m not sure I’m up to going back up there. I can only think about Etienne’s words.

  Hungry wolf.

  I put the plate behind me on the rock. I can’t eat right now. What is the use of analyzing every single facial expression Sam made, every single word he spoke, every gesture he made? He can’t be part of my world—those were his own words. And yet… Even though I’m scared to death thinking about those particular attributes that are as much a part of him as the color of his eyes, I still want him. And you’ll never have him.

  With the back of my hand I wipe the tears away and slowly get up. I can’t stay away any longer. I bend to pick up the plate from the rock and stiffen. Sam is sitting at the bottom of the stairs, and blind panic overtakes me. I’m trapped. Behind me is the dark and turbulent ocean, and a destructive deity blocks the escape route in front of me. My breath gets stuck somewhere behind my diaphragm. Earlier I might’ve been able to convince myself that none of it matters, but right now I’ve changed my mind. Then I remember the conversation with Lou, and I think about the danger my family and I will be in if Sam finds out I know. I don’t have any choice but to walk over to him.

  Calmly and warily, I walk toward the stairs, growing more nervous about who I’m going to face with every step I take. And, even worse, about the idea that he’ll find out there’s something going on.

  I stop directly in front of him, and his beauty astounds me. Just like talking to him, looking at him is usually very exciting, sometimes awkward and poignant, but it always feels like having an out-of-body experience. And now I know why.

  I fold my arms across my chest, and when I finally have the guts to examine him a little more, my stomach contracts in horror. Sam is clearly tortured and worn out, and his beautiful face is covered in cuts and scratches. His left ear is all torn up. He said he was going on a camping trip in the mountains, but I know better, and whatever sinister ritual took place there, it obviously took a toll on him. The thought hurts me in my innermost being.

  He doesn’t move from his seat. “Happy birthday, Laurel.”

  Against my better judgment, I feel a flutter of excitement. “You remembered?”

  He nods. “How old are you? I never asked.”

  “Eighteen today.” Ask him about his vacation. “How was your vacation with your family?”

  “I’ve had better.”

  “Your face… What happened?”

  “A sports game. It looks worse than it is.”

  The sleeve of his shirt is rolled up, revealing bronzed skin covered with dark blonde hair. And a bite mark. “A sports game?”

  He follows my glance to his own lower arm. “A primitive contest with little established rules.”

  I look at him, shocked.

  “Your eye is looking better.”

  “I received great first aid.”

  “Are you okay? You seem nervous.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Really, I am.”

  He turns slightly in the direction of the restaurant. “Sounds like fun up there.”

  “They threw me a surprise party.”

  “So how come you’re crying out here?”

  “I’m not crying.”

  “You were five minutes ago.”

  I try to smile. “What’s that old song again? It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to…”

  “Go back up there, Laurel. And try to enjoy it. Eighteen is a special age.”

  I stay where I am. If I go, he’ll go, and I’m scared that he’ll disappear from my life forever. Scared that I’ll never again feel like I feel when I’m with him—whoever he is. Whatever he is.

  “Do you want to come? There’s cake, music…”

  Sam shakes his head. “I came straight from the mountains, and I believe I desperately need a shower. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  I look down on the guy on the stairs, who for some reason or another looks lost, and the sight hurts my stomach. I try to see him as Sam, but a voice inside my head keeps repeating that there’s a deadly warrior in front of me—nothing pathetic about that. Sam’s forehead wrinkles. His attitude changes.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask him, startled. He’s trying to figure me out.

  “Why do you keep staring at me like that?”

  “I’m s-staring?”

  “Yes. Is something wrong?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or do I need to guess?”

  “Are you good at that? At guessing?”

  “Laurel, please. I’m emotionally drained and not in the best mood.”

  I shake my head. “What do you mean, not in the best mood?”

  He studies my face. “Laurel, if you have something to say to me, just say it and stop with those ridiculous questions.”

  I don’t reply. He exhales heavily through his nose.

  “Okay, fine,” he says, dragging his hand through his hair as he stands up, taking a step forward. I take one back. Sam frowns. “I’ve had a pretty rough week, I have a headache, and I really don’t feel like solving riddles right now. Enjoy your birthday, Laurel.”

  He
turns, and, taking a couple of steps at a time, he hurries up the stairs. Is this really a demigod? I don’t exactly know what my expectations were—it’s not like I have anything to compare it to. But I certainly did not expect a demigod to be walking around in ripped jeans with a beat up face and complaining about a headache. I didn’t expect someone with such sad, tired eyes. But I also know that under normal circumstances, that same face is flawless.

  Soon enough, he’s at the top of the stairs, and he’s not looking back. I panic when I consider that this might be the last time I see him. “I know why you can’t be in my world,” I shout at his back in a desperate attempt to keep him with me. He stops and slowly turns around. His eyes go back and forth over me inquisitively. “I know who you are,” I tell him with a steady voice.

  “Who do you think I am?” he asks me.

  He quickly makes his way back down and stops right in front of me. I try not to flinch.

  “Tell me!” he snarls, hellish.

  I’ve been doing enough research on the God of the sun and light to know how deadly he could be when he ignited in blind fury, but I have to remind myself that it’s not Apollon who is right in front of me. It’s Sam—the guy who has protected me on more than one occasion. There’s no reason to be scared of him now.

  “Who do you think I am, Laurel?” Now he sounds impatient.

  “You are a… demigod. A descendant of Apollon.”

  I started something big, and there’s no way back. Now that I’ve said the words out loud, I can never take them back. The blood rushes through my body and my heart beats frantically against my ribs.

  A few moments elapse without anything happening. Sam is pressing a fist against his lips, and his irises have gone ominously dark. More than ever, I need to know what’s going on in his mind. He has to say something—anything—before the tension gets the better of me. There’s only so much I can take.

  “Please, say something,” I beg. His eyes open wide and I cringe at the sight of his irises that are about to explode. “You don’t scare me, Sam.” It sounds braver than I feel.

  “No? You’re not going to scream for help?”