Book One: The Girl (The Sanctum)

by Blaylock, Madhuri

  Turning down the hallway of the North Wing, Dev walked quietly along, tracing her finger along the book shelf, telling herself when she counted thirty steps, she would stop and grab whatever book was at her fingertip. She came to a stop in front of One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Dev carefully pulled the book from the shelf and flipped through the pages, inhaling its earthy scent. Everything was electronic these days, people were always on their laptops and cell phones, but Dev loved nothing more than finding a quiet spot and getting lost in a book. She found a comfortable chair in one of the many sitting rooms, wrapped herself in the blanket draped over the arm and settled in for a chance to disappear into someone else’s reality for a bit.

  A couple of hours later, Dev was fast asleep with the book splayed on her lap when Jools came upon her, finding her lightly snoring in the corner.

  “Wyatt,” Jools whispered loudly, hoping to catch her brother’s attention.

  “What?” he asked without bothering to look in her direction, focused on his phone.

  “Come here,” Jools whispered again, catching Ryker’s attention rather than Wyatt’s.

  Ryker walked over and stuck his head into the room, caught sight of Dev passed out and chuckled.

  “Hey Wyatt,” Ryker called back to his friend, “check it out.”

  Wyatt looked up from his phone and walked over, wondering what Ryker and Jools wanted him to see so badly. He joined them in the doorway, saw Dev and wondered how much longer he would have to bump into her around every corner he turned.

  “Dev!” Wyatt shouted into the room, startling not only Dev but Jools and Ryker as well.

  “Dude, let her sleep,” Ryker laughed.

  “Why are you yelling at her like that?” Jools asked.

  Dev wrapped the blanket closer around her and tried to get her thoughts straight.

  “Get up,” Wyatt snarled in her direction, “everyone’s been looking for you. We’re meeting in my parents’ place. It would be nice to do so sometime tonight.”

  He exited the room without another word, leaving Dev to face Jools’ and Ryker’s surprised expressions on her own.

  “Should I even ask?” Ryker wondered aloud.

  “Honestly, it’s not even worth it,” Dev replied, shaking her head as she left the room and headed for the Clayworth’s suite.

  Ryker watched Dev walk down the hallway, tall and fierce and beautiful but also a little sad and so alone. He would never get involved in whatever was going on between her and Wyatt, but Ryker could not help feeling bad for Dev. Without Wyatt, she had no one.

  “Hey,” Jools pulled him back into the room and wrapped her arms around him with a grin.

  “Hey to you.”

  He smiled down at her, pushing her hair off her face and kissed her softly.

  “What’s wrong with your boyfriend?” she asked.

  Ryker chuckled and shook his head.

  “Apparently, there’s a little trouble in paradise,” he replied as he kissed her again, “but is that really your main concern?”

  Jools pulled him further into the dark room, falling onto the couch with Ryker. He made a trail of kisses down her neck as she wrapped her legs around him and pulled him closer.

  “Your moody boyfriend,” she whispered, “is hardly my concern at all.”

  “That’s more like it,” Ryker smiled before kissing her long and deep, making Jools so dizzy she had to remind herself to breathe.

  “RYKER AND JOOLS!” Wyatt’s voice suddenly accosted them from the hallway, “get your hands off each other and come on already!”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Max ran up The Academy steps and headed for his mother’s office. At this time of night, there was no telling where to find his father, but he knew his mother would be up working. Everyone who knew his family knew Ava was the brains of the operation, Carter was the muscle. The psychotic muscle, but the muscle nonetheless.

  Max strode into her office and just as he suspected, Ava was typing away furiously on her computer, five screens around her providing all sorts of information and her cell phone buzzing repeatedly, as if annoyed it was being ignored. She didn’t look up when he entered and he realized it was because she had no idea he was there; an ear piece was fitted to her head with someone on the other end undoubtedly talking a mile a minute.

  Max removed his coat and scarf, hung them up, fixed himself a drink and then closed the office door loudly. Only then did Ava turn around. As soon as she did, her scowl broke into a warm smile, the kind of smile reserved for Max.

  “Maxwell,” she said with affection.

  Max hated his proper name, but didn’t mind his mother using it. He cringed every time he heard it roll off his father’s tongue.

  “Ava,” he replied, using the only name his mother liked to be called, even by her only child.

  “You are a welcome sight.”

  “I wasn’t even gone for two days,” he noted.

  Ava shook her head in resignation.

  “I know, love. Sad state of affairs we’ve got around here these days,” she admitted then clapped her hands and quickly changed the subject, “but that is not for you to worry about. How was New York and that bloody family you love so much?”

  Max sipped his drink and smirked. Some things just never changed.

  “Much to your dismay, I can report that New York is still standing and the Clayworths are just fine.”

  Ava rolled her eyes.

  “Those people make my skin crawl. I really don’t know how you do it, Maxwell.”

  “Do what, mum?” he asked.

  “Breathe the same air as they do,” she laughed.

  He shook his head and smirked.

  “Spend some time with them and you realize they are not all that bad. I promise.”

  “Oh Maxwell,” Ava smiled at him like he was a disobedient child she was forced to put up with, “you’ve always had a soft spot in your heart for roly-poly puppies, fuzzy farm animals and Clayworths.”

  Max laughed out loud at that statement. His mother could be quite melodramatic at times, feigning all sorts of ailments or making ridiculous statements like she was currently doing.

  “Ava, Ava, Ava. Your hatred for that clan never ceases to amuse me.”

  “And yet, I have always loved you enough to indulge your obsession with them,” she smiled sweetly at her son.

  “Ah, yes,” Max agreed with her, “that you have.”

  “And this time was no different,” she noted.

  Max raised a questioning eyebrow in his mother’s direction and set down his drink.

  “Actually, it was very different, mum.”

  Ava noted a hint of irritation in her son’s voice and felt a strange and almost maternal desire to placate him.

  “Of course it was, love. I didn’t mean that like it sounded. I’m fully aware you were on a mission for your father and Luc. I simply meant I thought your plan was rather brilliant and am very pleased those two supported it as I would have done were it presented to me.”

  Max relished his mother’s praise for a moment before adding, “Luc supported it. Carter had no choice.”

  Ava ignored the comment about Carter, knowing her husband would disagree with any plan or strategy put forth by their son, for doing so was akin to acknowledging the boy’s growing leadership skills, something Carter childishly refused to do.

  “And?”

  Max replied without hesitation.

  “The Clayworths know about the girl. My guess is they’re protecting her within the confines of The Academy.”

  Ava leaned back in her chair and studied her son with newfound respect. There was a part of her that always wondered if her child would ever break his bond with Sam, Josiah and their children. It was the same part of her that always felt rejected by Max, not quite good enough for him. She suddenly felt guilty for ever doubting his loyalty and affection.

  “Maxwell Augustus Breslin, that is quite an accusation to toss around. I would h
ope you have some proof to back up what you’re suggesting.”

  “Solid proof, no,” Max began, “but I’ve known Wyatt and Ryker for a long time and trust me when I say, they’re hiding something. Wyatt never spoke a word about the girl and Ryker brought her up right away. For two chaps who legend has it, act as one, they were completely off.”

  “How about Sam and Josiah?” Ava asked.

  “Josiah babbled away as he always does and Sam was all but invisible. Supposedly she was caring for the vampire, but who knows?”

  “Ugh,” Ava cringed, “their love for Magicals makes my skin crawl.”

  “That is because Magicals in general make your skin crawl, Ava,” Max stated matter-of-factly.

  “Magicals should make everyone’s skin crawl, Maxwell, but we’re getting off topic here. I want to discuss the fact that my suspicions about the Clayworths are most likely true and what we’re going to do about it. I need to find your father,” Ava commented as she turned back to her many computer screens.

  One of the screens was a map of London which, upon closer inspection, Max noted included a blinking red dot.

  “Mum,” Max leaned across the massive desk to get a better look at the screen, “that is not what I think it is.”

  Ava didn’t blink an eye.

  “If you’re thinking that is a GPS tracking device, allowing me to track your father’s every move, then it is precisely what you think it is. However, most likely not for the reasons you are assuming.”

  Max settled comfortably back into his seat, amused as always by his mother’s bizarre behavior.

  “And whatever would I be assuming, mother dear?”

  “Oh Maxwell, spare me the patronizing attitude. Your father has a tendency to disappear with those Magical women at the most inopportune times. I like being able to find him quickly and with little effort. You’re old enough to know that he has wasted so much of my time with his dalliances. When I was offered this solution, I jumped on it.”

  “Solution?” Max asked.

  “A tiny something tossed in a scotch. Very simple and your father is none the wiser.”

  “You are a strange woman, Ava,” Max observed with a grin.

  “I am a smart woman, Maxwell,” Ava corrected.

  “Carter is a clown,” Max added.

  “Tsk, tsk,” Ava admonished him, “that is no way to speak of your father.”

  Max laughed before continuing, “All right, all right, mum. Whatever you say. Just track down Carter in that brothel on Fleming Street,” Max pointed to the blinking red dot on the screen, “and let’s do this.”

  “Rodrigo,” Ava pushed a button on her desk and spoke into her earpiece, “please track down Carter and bring him back to The Academy. Let him know Maxwell has returned. Thank you.”

  Ava removed her ear piece and smiled at her son.

  “Rodrigo will bring him back shortly,” she explained

  “Who on earth is Rodrigo?” Max asked, always suspicious of new members of the Breslin circle.

  “Oh,” Ava waved off Max’s suspicious frown, “one of Carter’s many minions. He helps me with this and that.”

  “This and that?”

  “Yes, Maxwell,” Ava used a tone of voice that suggested the line of conversation was quickly coming to a close, “this and that.”

  Max rose to leave, wanting to hit the shower before meeting with his father and whoever else might join them.

  “Sit down,” Ava instructed, “they shan’t be long. Rodrigo works fast.”

  Max did as his mother ordered, studying her with a strange look on his face. Sometimes he wondered if he really knew her at all. Often he felt he did not.

  “And kindly stop looking at me like that. I am your mother. I am allowed a few secrets.”

  “Such as Rodrigo?” Max asked with a grin.

  Ava ignored her son’s cheeky suggestion, amazed that he was suddenly a grown man and also amused by that fact. Talking to him these days was like it used to be with Carter: intellectual and stimulating, full of strategizing and theorizing, all in furtherance of the amassing of family power. She missed those days--and nights--with Carter. It seemed they were few and far between as he became more obsessed and paranoid about the girl.

  But Ava was confident they could find her and kill her and that was exactly what she intended to do. Carter could torture every Magical in Europe if he wanted to, but all Ava wanted was to see that girl torn from limb-to-limb and burned to death, until there was nothing left of her but ash.

  “Ava,” Carter strode into the room, startling Ava from her rumination. Following close behind was Luc.

  “Carter,” she replied, all business. “Monsieur Arsenault.”

  “Madame Breslin,” he slightly bowed his head and smiled. Her red lips never failed to attract his attention.

  “Max,” Carter nodded at his son as he took a seat next to him.

  “Carter, Luc,” Max acknowledged both men.

  “Enough with the niceties, boys,” Ava began, “I believe it is time to make our move against New York, destroy the Clayworths and kill that blasted girl before she causes us another ounce of difficulty.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Josiah grabbed his laptops and headed for the conference room. He knew he wouldn’t need them but they provided a comforting presence and there were few places he would go without them. He shuffled into the room backwards, trying to hold the door and his equipment, all while maintaining some sense of dignity. Aware that he was failing miserably at the latter, Josiah gave up all airs and threw both himself and his computers into the nearest chair, hopeful nothing and no one landed on the floor.

  Dev sat at the table, mesmerized. Josiah was a bumbling composite of good-natured clumsiness, a rumpled mad professor. The complete opposite of his children. Wyatt and Jools were elegant, beautiful, sleek killers. Josiah looked like he had slept in his clothes all week and forgotten to brush his hair for months.

  “You have no markings,” Dev observed aloud.

  Josiah spun around in his chair, shocked to find someone else in the room with him.

  “Dev!” he noted with surprise as he pushed his glasses back into position and placed his laptops on the table, “you scared me.”

  “Sorry sir,” she apologized.

  Josiah laughed at the sound of that word.

  “Do I honestly look like a ‘sir’?” he asked with a smile. “Wyatt, yes. Most definitely a sir. Ryker has his ‘sir’ moments. Me, not so much.”

  Dev could not help but smile. Josiah was all warmth and affection.

  “And no, I have no markings of the warrior, as I’ve never killed a Magical,” he explained.

  Dev suspected the markings represented something rather sinister but she wasn't quite prepared for the blunt truth of the matter. Her face must have expressed as much.

  "Oh yes," Josiah nodded sadly, "our Sanctum has a very bloody and violent side to it that is lauded and celebrated by some. It didn't begin that way. Yes, the markings reflect a Magical's death at the hands of a warrior however, once upon a time, those kills were heavily researched, analyzed and debated before any action was taken. Months and months, sometimes years of debate and discussion would occur around the decision to classify a Magical as rogue.

  "I don't think the Gods ever predicted our current atmosphere of rampant and wanton slaughter, of warriors covered, neck-to-toe in marks. Look at poor Ryker, for example. That boy has reached a point where he hates every assignment he's tasked with and fights tooth-and-nail against killing anyone, even those that need to be put down. He's tormented by his marks and if he could find a way to deface them, I know he would. Truth be told, but for his parents and Wyatt, he would have left The Sanctum, that's how much he hates what we've become."

  "Your son is also covered with those marks," Dev noted quietly, "but he doesn't seem quite so tortured."

  Josiah shook his head thoughtfully, appearing suddenly rather sad and wistful.

  "Do not be fooled by W
yatt's stoicism, Dev," Josiah finally spoke. "He is absolutely tortured by what he's had to do over the years, but he loves Ryker like nothing else and has done what needed to be done to protect his friend. Since they met, Ryker has always come first for Wyatt and he would rather burden himself than allow Ryker to suffer the consequences of disobeying or ignoring an order.

  "Ryker would like to leave The Sanctum and but for Wyatt, he would have done so a while ago, via death squad," Josiah explained with a shudder.

  "I had no idea," Dev whispered.

  "Of course you didn't," Josiah smiled kindly at her, "how could you? We all have our crosses to bear and pain to carry. Some of us, like Ryker, do it loudly and others, like Wyatt, carry on in silence. Neither way is better although given my druthers, I rather like Ryker's method.

  "My son goes through his life with a tremendous weight on his heart and I ache for him each and every day," Josiah stated sadly. "He is so very serious. There was a time he was full of laughter and light, but I fear that’s been killed out of him.

  “You give me a little hope. He seems a little brighter around you, like he’s able to release some of the grief he carries."

  Dev smiled sadly at Josiah, unable to tell him she and Wyatt were hardly enamored with one another, not wanting to raise more cause for concern. Instead, she briefly grasped his hand in her own, sent him some positive energy and rose to get some water.

  “Josiah, can I get you something to drink?”

  “No, he’s fine. He doesn’t need a drink,” Wyatt slammed into the room, “just sit down and let’s finish whatever seems to have started when you landed in our laps.”

  Ryker and Jools sat down next to Josiah, followed by Sam, Darby and Coco. Dev ignored Wyatt’s rude behavior and brought Josiah a glass of water, then took a seat next to Wyatt, just to annoy him. Ryker watched Dev and raised an amused eyebrow. She winked at him and then turned her attention to Coco, who she found absolutely stunning.

  “I’m Dev,” she extended a hand across the table to the troll.