The Guardian Lineage

by Seth Z. Herman

  Mike didn’t know what that meant, but his thoughts were interrupted by the startling sound of trumpets. The doors snapped open with a cinematic whoosh. In walked men and women in Stockton-like outfits, two per entrance. Mike guessed there were twenty or so in all. They stood by the archways with their arms crossed, like watchmen on duty. Mike’s heart skipped a beat. Why were they guarding the doors, if—

  Holy shishkabob.

  Mike’s apprehension melted away as people dressed as waiters came in, carrying enormous plates of food. There were different types of deli sandwiches, chicken wings, steak strips, meat on metal sticks, and an assortment of burgers and hot dogs. There was a roar of approval from the crowd. Mike dove right in, and soon he was one of a hundred teenagers stuffing their mouths.

  Then Mike noticed a man walking silently onto the stage. He was also dressed like Stockton, complete with leather buttoned vest and black cape-coat. A strange necklace hung from his neck – a small teal stone supported by a thin gold band. The man’s white-brown hair was cropped short, and his face was clean-shaven. It seemed like he had an important announcement to make.

  Mike leaned over to Aaron. “You don’t think he’s gonna pull out a sorting hat, do you?”

  Aaron smothered a laugh, and Mike tried to figure out whether the kid was being polite, or if he’d actually thought that was funny. Well, he’s eager to make friends, that’s for sure. At least he’s not cursing me out, eh?

  Suddenly, the man clapped his hands twice, creating a noise far louder than Mike expected. The room fell silent.

  “Welcome to Windham Manor. My name is James Garzan, and I am the Headmage here at this school.”

  Mike snuck a peek at Stockton, who was standing next to one of the open doors. Hopefully this Garzan guy was a little more chilled out than Stockton was. From the look of things, he probably was – nobody who actually referred to themselves as a Headmage could be that downbeat.

  “You are all part of a special lineage, a special tradition. I apologize for the haste in bringing you here, but we felt it was necessary to begin the school term as early as possible.” Garzan strolled up and down the stage, gesturing as he spoke. “The Guardians are an ancient guild, a pact formed long ago to protect the creatures of the night from enemies of the day. For those who may not understand…” Here Garzan looked intently at Mike, so that Mike felt goose bumps on his neck, “Perhaps a visual aide will help.”

  Garzan touched the stone on his necklace. It lit up, as if it was battery powered or something. The chandeliers started shaking. Mike heard a loud thumping noise.

  Then the blood in his body stopped moving.

  Onto the stage walked the most terrifying creature Mike had ever seen.

  It was huge, at least twice Garzan’s size, and walked on its hind legs like a velociraptor. It had smooth grey skin, rippled by muscles up and down its legs and arms, and a long dinosaur tail. It wore a vest, similar to Garzan’s, and a custom-made pair of shorts that cut off in the middle of the thigh. The creature had piercing black eyes, gorilla-sized nostrils, and two vampiric fangs on either side of its mouth. A cape was clasped around its collarbone—wait, no, those were its wings, tied by some sort of skin on the tip. A necklace, similar to the one Garzan wore, hung around his neck.

  The gargoyle stepped back and unleashed its wings, causing the crowd to cry out. They were enormous, stretching almost the full length of the stage.

  “The gargoyles are real,” Mike whispered. The gargoyles were freaking real…

  Beside him, he heard Aaron chuckle.

  “Welcome to Windham,” the gargoyle said, its voice deep, as if it had emerged from a waterwell.

  Gasps and cries rang out from amongst the girls. One girl screeched, “He talks!” Mike didn’t say anything, but that was probably because his voice was buried down in his stomach with the hot dogs. But he knew he was thinking the same thing as that girl.

  This was not supposed to happen in real life.

  “Yes, the gargoyle talks,” Garzan said amidst the ruckus. “Flesh by night, stone by day. No doubt you noticed the statues on your way in.”

  Garzan put a hand up, and the commotion started to die down. He motioned to the creature towering over him. “This is Jakkus. He is the leader of the Gargoyle clan that we protect here at Windham. While they roam at night, guarding us, we sleep comfortably, knowing that evil will have a hard time making its way into these walls. As they sleep during the day, we watch the premises. We provide for their safety, and they provide for ours.”

  Garzan snapped his fingers. Mike looked in astonishment as parchment and pen appeared on the tables, one per place setting.

  “At this time, we require each student to choose a major. Each department has its own strengths and weaknesses, so choose wisely. Choose something that speaks to your heart.”

  There were six different possibilities written on the papyrus, each more exciting than the next:

  Telekinesis | Cryokinesis | Pyrokinesis

  Tele101 | Cryo101 | Pyro101

  Object Control | Glacial Control | Fire Control

  Multiplicity | Temp. Maintenance | Flame Defense

  Shields | Ice Preservation | Extinguishing

  Sparring | Sparring | Sparring

  Electrokinesis | Magical Medicine | Espionage and Deception

  Electro101 | Elemental Magic | Stealth

  Electricity Control | Healing Salves | Breaking and Entering

  Magnetics | Life Sustenance | Anti-terrorism

  Electric Fields | Short-range Attacks | Booby Traps

  Sparring | Minor Wounds | Magical Detection

  In addition to your magical training, each student will be required to take normal high school classes that are consistent with your grade level. Any failure to attend these classes on a regular basis will result in suspension and/or expulsion.

  And all of a sudden, Mike forgot about the gargoyle.

  The magic thing is real, too…

  “What looks good to you?” Aaron said as he held up his parchment. He had already circled Electrokinesis. “I always wanted to do the Zeus thing.”

  In truth, Mike had no idea what to pick. He had never really thought of actually learning magic, and now that he was being offered it, he felt totally unprepared. Besides, he was almost waiting for people to jump out from behind the pillars and yell, “Surprise, you’re on Impractical Jokers!” Or some other reality TV show.

  “Come on, you gonna be a Pyro or a Cryo?” Aaron said. “Those are the warrior guilds. Unless you like controlling electricity, or throwing a guy off a cliff from thirty feet away. Then maybe you want Electro, or Telekinesis. The last two are for wimps who can’t handle combat.”

  A few of the teachers – Mike assumed the people dressed in leather were faculty – started coming around collecting papers. Students were now jabbering wildly about their choices, but the buzz in the room only served to add to Mike’s indecisiveness.

  He narrowed it down to Electro and Cryo. He didn’t care which type of warrior he became, but he disliked fire – a house of theirs had burned down in Minneapolis – and he wanted to have at least one friend in his classes. Using that as the determining factor, Mike circled Electrokinesis just as one of the leather-clad teachers (that part was still hilarious, by the way – what was their day job, stunt-doubling for Batman movies?) grabbed it away from him. Aaron hollered his approval.

  “Thank you all for your speedy decisions,” Garzan said from the stage. Jakkus had disappeared, although Mike hadn’t remembered seeing him leave. Maybe he had just been engrossed in choosing a major. Which cracked him up. Most high school kids had to worry about passing Chem, making the football team, or who to ask out to the school dance. But here he was trying to figure out whether to be the Silver Surfer or the Human Torch. He shook his head. It was more than he was ready to believe. Although, he had just seen a real live gargoyle…

  Garzan collected all the papers and stuffed them into a small machine, like a fax, over
on the right of the stage. The machine made a loud screeching noise. Then it spit out another stack of parchment. Garzan grabbed those and handed them to his staff.

  “We will now be passing out schedules, according to your majors. Please read them over carefully – room and class are written very clearly, so please be prompt. Classes start tomorrow. Best of luck.” With that announcement, Garzan strode off the stage in the direction he had come.

  Mike noticed that Stockton was the staff member carrying the printed schedules down his aisle. When he finally arrived, he handed Mike his paper without making eye contact.

  Still playing the twelve-year-old-girl’s cold shoulder game, I see?

  Mike shook his head, then skimmed his schedule. He frowned. The paper read:

  Michael Thaddeus Prior

  9-9:45 | Tele101 | Jorisch

  9:50-10:35 | Cryo101 | Thaler

  10:40-11:25 | Pyro101 | Punn

  11:30-12:45 | Electro101 | Wright

  12:45-1:45 | Lunch

  1:45-2:45 | Human-Gargoyle History | Stockton

  2:50-3:35 | Homeroom / Break

  3:40-4:25 | Magical Detection | Greyskull

  4:30-6:00 | Sparring | Staff

  6:00 | Dinner

  Aside from the fact that he had classes all day, Mike didn’t have any of the promised Electro classes on his schedule, aside from Electro 101.

  He got up from his chair and went over to Stockton, who was still handing out papers. “Uh, excuse me, Mr. Stockton? I think there’s a mistake with my schedule.”

  Stockton whipped around as if he had been waiting for Mike to interrupt him. “First of all, Mister Prior, it’s Magus Stockton to you. Second, the Headmage felt that a special schedule would be most appropriate for Sepulchra’s son.” Stockton bent down and lowered his voice to a menacing tone. “Between you and me, I’d never have let you set foot in this place. So sit down, shut up, and be thankful you’re here.”

  Mike felt like Stockton had cut his tongue out. He wanted to spit out a comeback, but his mind betrayed him, and he said nothing.

  Stockton whisked away to finish distributing his schedules. Once he was gone, Mike’s shock turned to fury. What did Stockton have against him, anyway? Just because he got ambushed on his way home and Stockton had to bail him out… no, it couldn’t be that, the guy couldn’t be that shallow… why shouldn’t he have been allowed in the school? What could he have possibly have done an hour into his Windham career?

  When he got back to the table, Mike realized he must’ve looked pissed off, because Aaron gave him a look that said, what gives?

  “I got totally messed over.” Mike handed over the schedule.

  Aaron skimmed the sheet. “What’s all this? All these intro courses – this wasn’t one of the choices!”

  “Yeah, I know,” Mike said. “I’m not sure if I’m upset or not.” He glared at Stockton as the “Magus” completed handing out papers and strode out of the Hall.

  Aaron said, “You don’t have to take Chem, or Math!” He showed Mike his Electrokinetics schedule, which included those classes, plus English. “I hate Math.”

  But Mike didn’t hear him. He was too busy wondering what tiny detail he was missing here. What had his mom hidden from him? Why did he need a special schedule? Why didn’t he know anything about this place?

  And why did Magus Stockton want to rip his heart out and feed it to a gargoyle for breakfast?

  ***

  Mike had expected to dorm with a stranger or two, but he was totally unprepared for his actual roommate.

  The dorm room itself was pretty big, about the size of Mike’s dining room back home. Two beds were set up, each surrounded by a tall closet on one side and a compact, freshly-polished wood desk on the other. A door lay open on the right, showing the way into a private bathroom, and the place smelled like cleaning spray. The beds were made, with two pillows and fresh linens spread out.

  It was the nicest room he’d ever called his own, but it was the kid who blew his mind.

  He was short and scrawny, wearing glasses that were bigger than his face. Several posters of Shakespearian plays had been slapped on the wall, and physical copies of those books littered his floor space. Two tremendous plaid suitcases were open on the bed, and the kid was pulling out all sorts of checkered clothing and arranging them in his closet.

  Who am I rooming with, Hamlet?

  Mike took one look at the mess, one look at the kid, and then decided to make the most of a bad situation.

  “Mike Prior,” he said, extending his hand.

  “Ahhh… choo!” The kid sneezed into his palm, then grasped Mike’s hand before he could retract it. “Julius Brutus Alloway, nice to meet you, sir!”

  Mike slid his fingers out and held them up like he was examining a bacteria slide. Julius Brutus? Seriously?

  He hurried away to wash his hands. Well, as long as the kid didn’t snore...

  When he came back from the bathroom, Mike saw Julius Brutus flipping through several large books.

  “Where did you get those?” Mike asked, peeling off his t-shirt to get ready for a shower. He could think of no better way to relax than a steaming-hot massage.

  “They were in my closet. You have them too, sir, see for yourself.”

  Sir? Mike smothered a laugh, thinking he didn’t want to offend the kid on the first day. He checked his closet, and sure enough, everything Mike needed for his classes were right there. Notebooks, pens, pencils. He even had the right textbooks for all his classes. Which was crazy – hadn’t he only decided on his major a few minutes ago? Although, decided wasn’t exactly the right word…

  “Oh no, where’s the internet jack?”

  Julius Brutus bent down underneath his desk, shoving the chair away in desperate fashion.

  Mike’s thoughts came to a jarring halt. There was no internet? He fished out his phone, he had totally forgotten…

  There was still no service.

  “Please, please tell me there’s wireless,” Julius Brutus half-wailed as he scrambled back to his bed. He picked out what appeared to be an expensive laptop amidst layers of clothing. He turned it on and waited, all while whimpering, “Please, please, please…”

  Mike just stood there with his shirt off, trying as best as he could to stay composed. If there was no internet, and no phone service…

  “Nooooooooooooo!” Julius Brutus slammed the laptop screen so hard Mike thought it might break. “Inexcusable! How am I going to keep up my wildlife blog?” Julius Brutus stomped towards the door, muttering something about going to see the Headmage.

  Mike felt an inferno starting to build inside of him.

  No cellphone service, no internet… and no way for him to get in touch with Laura.

  Unless this place had a land line, or some internet in the library, his stay at Windham was going to be just another blip on the radar.

  Chapter Six

  Mike didn’t get into bed until after midnight because he wanted to unpack – he hated having a messy room – but even after the lights were out, his mind was totally agitated. He stared at the ceiling for over two hours, going over everything in his brain. What could he have done differently, after he’d been mugged? What had happened with the mutated cat? The tension between Stockton and Mike’s mom… the way his mom acted so strange, the weird reaction Aaron had after learning Mike’s name… and, of course, this whole miniscule thing about gargoyles and magic being real… what was going on here?

  And when Mike finally drifted off to sleep, he ran into the worst nightmare of his life.

  It wasn’t one long dream, but alternating scenes of death and destruction that woke him every few minutes. First he was in a burning castle, with some woman holding a baby screaming so loud that Mike woke up in a cold sweat. Then he was at the gallows in medieval Europe, where someone he loved – he didn’t know why he loved her, just that he did – was strung up despite Mike’s pleas for mercy. The dream switched to more modern times, as a pack of gargoyles
descended on a moving car and ripped it to shreds. When the victims were laid out, Mike saw his old friends from Queens.

  But it was the last one that stayed with him long into the morning.

  He was standing on a mountaintop, in a courtyard that had been totally decimated. Half-broken obsidian pillars lay scattered around the terrace. There was an acrid smell, like when a stray cat had died in their basement in Baltimore. A huge fire in the middle of the courtyard launched smoke that spiraled into the night sky.

  Mike clamped his nose shut. It looked like the fire was fueled by bodies—Gargoyles. They were gargoyle bodies.

  Panic gripped him. Somehow, he knew it was a nightmare, but he couldn’t get out, as if someone was holding him down in the water, making him drown. He tried to force himself to wake, but it didn’t work.

  Then, a face appeared in the flames.

  His mother’s face.

  “Michael,” she said, her features blurred by the heat. “There is a spy at Windham. Be wary. Of everyone you know.”

  A hand reached out of the flames, streaking towards his face.

  Mike screamed.

  And he jerked out of bed.

  ***

  To Mike’s surprise, the classroom for Telekinesis 101 did not look like a seventh-century dungeon.

  For some reason he’d expected some sort of gothic torture chamber with beakers with vinegar and vampire heads, but this place looked no different than his high school classroom at Queens. A standard teacher’s desk was set up in front of a whiteboard, with five rows of desks and chairs arranged neatly behind. The walls were painted beige, and a draft blew in from ventilation shafts overhead, carrying the slight odor of magic marker.

  Mike grabbed a seat in the front, the last dream still fresh in his mind. Be wary. Of everyone you know. He looked suspiciously at his new classmates for like two seconds before figuratively smacking himself upside the head.

  There are no spies out to get you. You are an overtired, apprehensive, ADHD nutjob. Stop freaking out, and go try and make a friend or two. They’re not going to stab you between the ribs on the first day of school.