Old Beginnings (The Forgotten Slayer Book 1)

by Alix Marsh

  Flynn fell asleep while trying to figure out if that meant he was supposed to tell Ice or not. Which might have explained his bizarre dream. Jack had written a song for him—not for him, but rather for him to serenade Evana with. She was leaning over an ivy-draped balcony in a scene that could have been taken straight from the clip of Romeo and Juliet they’d watched in English earlier that day. Flynn couldn’t see himself in the dream, but he had a suspicious feeling about the stiff, lacy collar tickling beneath his chin. Every time he was just about to check if he was dressed in medieval tights and ruffs, Evana smiled down at him and he totally forgot to go through with it.

  And then Ice was there, shoving Jack’s black book under his nose, turning over pages and pages of doodled hearts and Flynn was trying to sing doodled hearts, which he couldn’t, but felt he really ought to be able to, and then Evana leant too far over the balcony trying to hear the words he wasn’t singing and she toppled right over with a piercing screech—

  Flynn bolted upright, his heart knocking violently in his throat.

  “Sorry,” mumbled Jack, his hand flapping over the bedside table for his cell phone.

  “The. Cat.” Flynn threw off the covers and stood, glaring down at him. “Has. To. Go.”

  “I did turn the volume down.”

  Flynn just glared at him some more.

  “Fine, fine… Blimey, someone left their Friday mood in bed.”

  After that great start, Friday could only get better, even if their last lesson of the day was History. With Mr. Gaskin, a wiry man with scraps of grey attempting to cover a shiny scalp. His glasses had two sets of lenses, which he flipped up or down depending on whether he was writing on the white board or giving the class stern looks.

  Flynn’s mind glazed over. He could scarcely remember the names of the Tudor kings and queens…trying to learn the chronological order of their reigns was just setting himself up for disaster. And Mr. Gaskin’s monotone voice dragged more and more as the lesson went on, as if he found the subject as much a chore as Flynn did.

  A kick to his shin blinked Flynn wide-awake. Ice was in the chair next to him…he could have sworn she’d been sitting behind him a second ago.

  She cupped a hand over her mouth as she leant in to whisper in his ear, quite loudly, which was why he knew she wasn’t saying anything coherent. It sounded a lot like, “Mhwaw…mhwaw… mhwaw…”

  “What are you—”

  “Shhh, just go along with it.”

  He turned to her. “Go along with what?”

  “Miss Bridleton,” rasped Mr. Gaskin. “Mr. Heath. When you two have quite finished flirting…?”

  Ice smiled at Flynn. “A few more minutes, Mr. Gaskin?” She swept her smile forward to the teacher. “We’re almost done.”

  “Be so kind…” Mr. Gaskin made a show of setting his whiteboard pen down and folding his arms. “To let us know when we may continue.”

  The entire class turned to look at them.

  Flynn didn’t blush. He knew at once what this was about—her bet with Jack. He could, however, very easily have strangled her right there and then, especially when she cupped her mouth again and whispered another round of rubbish in his ear.

  Milo sniggered aloud.

  Most of Perses House immediately followed his example, but they weren’t the only ones. Even Jack had a hand clasped over his mouth, and his shoulders were heaving.

  Flynn pushed Ice firmly into her own chair. “We’re done, Sir.”

  “Are you quite sure?” Mr. Gaskin was looking at Ice.

  Luckily, Ice nodded, else Flynn might have kicked her on the shin, and he’d never kicked a girl before.

  After class, on the way out, Milo bashed into him from behind. “Don’t go thinking anything of that, Heath,” he said as Flynn stumbled forward. “She was only making a fool of you.”

  “Jealous?” Flynn muttered, but Milo was gone, swallowed into his herd outside the door.

  When Ice saw the look on his face, her grin dried up. “I honestly didn’t think you’d mind, Flynn.”

  “Why on earth would you think that?” He barrelled past her and Jack.

  “Hey, it was only a bit of fun.” Ice chased after him down the trail. “I did it to myself as well.”

  “I’m with Flynn,” Jack said as he caught up to them. “That was really lame, Ice.”

  Flynn walked faster, fed up with both of them.

  “This dare was your idea,” she said to Jack. “And, by the way, you lose.”

  Jack groaned. “Just remember you only have till the end of term to—”

  “I’m calling in my favour right now.”

  “Let me guess. You want me to convince Flynn to forgive you?”

  “No… I want you to come to the party tonight.”

  “No way! You can’t do that!”

  “And yet, I just did. Something called a favour?”

  Even Flynn was shocked into stopping dead. He turned around to glower at Ice. “You’re still going with Milo?”

  “I’m not going with Milo,” she said. “I’m going to a party at Perses House.”

  “Which Milo invited you to,” Jack reminded her.

  “He invited you and Flynn as well.”

  Jack gave a hard laugh. “That’s the way you saw that go down?”

  “I know Milo can be stuck-up.”

  “That’s rather an understatement,” Flynn retorted.

  Jack was less tactful. “Milo Christos is a snub-nosed bully. You’re mad if you think we’re all going to be friends. That’s just not going to happen.”

  “I just think it’s not an awful idea for us to mix with other houses.”

  “Yeah,” said Jack, “and I’m wondering how many kids Milo invited besides you? And don’t say me and Flynn.”

  “Think what you want.” She threw her hands up and pushed past Flynn.

  “Un-freaking-believable.” Jack looked after her, shaking his head.

  “You don’t think…” Flynn swallowed, his gaze also stuck on her. “That’s she really, like, into Milo?”

  “Not that. Well, maybe, I don’t know,” Jack said. “But I can’t believe I have to go to that stupid party.”

  “That’s what happens when you make stupid bets,” Flynn said dryly.

  Jack grabbed his arm. “You have to come with me.”

  That was the very last thing Flynn intended to do. He thought of Milo bashing into him, telling him what he should or shouldn’t think. The Perses first years seemed to move as a pack, but there were two others that were almost as bad as Milo. The red-headed girl, Marissa, and the other one, a brick-faced boy, Lander: the two who’d taunted Rowan about catching a cold from him.

  And they didn’t just pick on Flynn. They’d said something to Leva after lunch yesterday that had left her close to tears, but Leva wouldn’t tell Flynn, she’d said it was nothing, a bug had flown into her eye, her lower lip still quivering as she dashed off…and Ice had been there. Surely she didn’t really think a bug had flown into Leva’s eye just as Milo and his lap dogs were passing by?

  “Okay,” Flynn said. “I’ll come.”

  “You will?” Jack looked at him as if he’d grown two heads.

  “I don’t trust Milo.” Flynn started walking again. “I don’t trust any of the Perses lot. I don’t know why Ice is so determined to hang out with them, but I don’t think she should go alone.”

  Ice was waiting for them on the oval path.

  “You were right the first time,” she told Jack in a rather subdued voice. “I did want you to convince Flynn to forgive me. I just didn’t want to say in front of him. So that’s the favour I’m calling.” She gave Flynn a terse smile, then strode off in the opposite direction of Atreus House.

  “So I don’t have to come to the party?” Jack called after.

  “You don’t have to come to the party,” she shot back over her shoulder.

  Jack pumped a fist in the air, before he remembered. “We’re still going, aren’t we?”<
br />
  “Uh-huh.”

  “How did she get that right, wrangling two favours out of me?” Jack grumbled.

  “You don’t have time to worry about that.” Flynn chuckled, and gave him a friendly shove. “You have to work on convincing me to forgive her.”

  In the end, the party wasn’t quite as bad as Flynn had expected. Then again, he had expected the very worst, so that wasn’t saying much.

  Ice had been so happy about them coming along after all, the horrid afternoon was totally forgotten by the time they trooped downstairs that evening at half past eight. They’d got special permission to stay out until eleven o’clock.

  “And not a minute past,” Mrs. Avery told them when they stopped by her private sitting room to collect a house key. “Icilia, just a moment, sweetie.”

  Ice was tugged inside the room, the door pulled gently but firmly shut, leaving Jack and Flynn to share a confused look in the hallway.

  “She’s probably instructing Ice to keep an eye on us,” Jack guessed. “If she only knew…”

  “If we walk really slow,” Flynn said, “we’ll only have to be there for an hour and a half.” It was a sad fact that he’d done the math. He tucked the key into the back pocket of his jeans. “Never thought I’d be grateful for a curfew.”

  When Ice emerged from behind the closed door, her ponytail was gone and her hair fell past her shoulders. Flynn was surprised to see it had a bit of a wave when loose.

  “What did you do that for?” Jack asked with a suspicious note to his voice.

  “I didn’t.” Ice tucked some strands behind one ear. “Mrs. Avery did.” She glanced down at herself as they headed out. “What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed, anyway?”

  Nothing that Flynn could see. She wore her usual black leather pants, a soft jersey top and, of course, her leather boots. He didn’t say anything, though.

  Neither did Jack. He was up front, dragging his feet and holding them all up—which was part of the plan—but also clicking the flashlight he’d brought on and off. The sun had only just gone down and there wasn’t a cloud in the fading sky, so they didn’t really need it yet, but it was still irritating.

  Ice didn’t seem to mind. “I haven’t been to many parties,” she said. “Isn’t this exciting?”

  “Yeah,” Flynn and Jack muttered with a mutual lack of enthusiasm.

  They turned right at the oval path, walking a good ten minutes in an anti-clockwise direction. Flynn took note of the yellow wild gorse bushes at the trail entrance to Perses House. Whatever other problems Rowan had, his advice had been excellent.

  The sounds from the party reached them long before they arrived at the walled courtyard. There was no gate, just a gap in the wall with incredibly ugly-looking gargoyles mounted on each side.

  “Hey, there, Mr. and Mrs. Christos,” Jack greeted amiably as they passed through.

  Flynn laughed. “Yeah, I can see the resemblance.”

  Ice gave them a look, but didn’t say anything.

  The courtyard was lit with the crossbeams of spotlights attached to the limestone walls of the enormous L-shaped house. The party had spilled from the French doors thrown open; some kids gathered near the doors, some older ones lounging on the stepped-stone wall that ran around a massive ornamental fountain: a bull, rearing up on its hind legs in the centre of the pool of water.

  Furniture—a couple of sofas and several puffy armchairs—had been moved outside into one corner of the courtyard where coloured lanterns were strung above a makeshift serving counter. Whatever was happening there, it had drawn quite a large, laughing, chattering crowd.

  The rhythmic thud of a deep base pounded from inside the common room—there seemed to be some type of revolving blue and yellow lights going on there as well. Ice moved them in that direction, very slowly, because she kept glancing around quite intensely, as if she were looking for someone.

  A boy broke away from a pack clustered beneath a cherry blossom tree wrapped in fairy lights and made a beeline straight for them. Well, since it turned out to be Milo, it would be more accurate to say he made a beeline straight for Ice.

  “We’re just putting teams together for a dagger throwing contest,” he said to Ice by way of greeting. “You can be on my side, if you like.”

  “Um, maybe later?” She snuck another look around while she spoke. “We might get something to drink first.”

  “Everything’s inside. Would you like a soda?”

  She turned to him with a smile. “Thanks.”

  Milo started off, then realised she wasn’t following. But Ice’s gaze had already wandered across the courtyard. He stood there a moment (looking like a complete fool, in Flynn’s humble opinion) before striding off for the common room.

  Ice’s gaze swerved sharply back to them. “They’ve got teams,” she hissed indignantly.

  “Yeah.” Flynn gave her a quizzical look. “Those would be the teams Milo just asked you to side up with.”

  “And don’t mind us,” Jack said. “We’ll just stand quietly in a corner and pretend we’re not here.”

  Ice was too infuriated to even hear Jack. She waved a hand toward the cherry blossom tree. “Yes, but those are all first years. We all know how many Perses have, but making teams is just rubbing our noses in it!”

  “While we fully support your newfound disillusionment,” Jack drawled, “you do realise that’s not our biggest issue with Milo Christos?”

  Ice glared from Jack to Flynn. “Look at us, we can’t even form half a team between us. I’m telling you, if Jason—”

  “Ice?” came a new voice, approaching from the side. It was the boy with the long blond hair, the one who’d stopped Ice on the path once. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

  “Julian…” Her glare softened and the frustration crumpled right out of her voice. “Hey.”

  “Oh, right, Milo must have asked you.”

  “We were invited,” she said hastily, stepping back so she was in line with Jack and Flynn. “To, you know, just hang.”

  “Oh, cool… So listen, we’re brewing up cocktails—non-alcoholic, of course, although I’d stay away from Arran’s Misty Blue Banger, I swear he smuggled something in. Anyway…” His mischievous grin swept across all three of them. “Sound good?”

  “That sounds awesome,” Ice said in a somewhat dreamy voice, falling into step with Julian as he turned to go.

  Julian raised a questioning brow at them over his shoulder.

  “We’ll be right there,” Jack said, holding Flynn back. They watched them heading for the corner with the furniture and coloured lanterns. “You don’t think…?”

  A light flickered on inside Flynn’s head. “What? That he’s the reason Ice wanted to come tonight?”

  “I don’t really know Julian… Third year, I think,” Jack said as they drifted around the fountain until they found a relatively isolated spot to sit on the stepped-wall. “He seems okay, doesn’t he?”

  “Better than Milo, I suppose.”

  “Anyone’s better than Milo! I wasn’t going to say anything about it, you know…”

  Flynn snorted. “You said rather a lot, actually.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s not like I want to choose her friends, but that would be too much to take.”

  A boy and girl, holding hands, came around their side of the fountain. They were so wrapped up in each other, they almost sat down right on top of Flynn without noticing.

  “Oi!” The girl jumped back, then seemed to find the whole thing incredibly funny and burst into giggles.

  “Sorry.” The boy gave them a good-natured grin. “You two wouldn’t do a guy a favour and scram, would you?”

  “Peter!” The girl tugged him away, still giggling.

  “That guy,” Flynn said when they were gone, “isn’t he Hellys?”

  “Yeah, I think so.” Jack grinned at Flynn. “That should make Ice happy, all this intermingling.”

  Flynn was quite happy himself. Maybe he’d bee
n a bit paranoid about this party.

  As out of the way as they were, Rowan somehow managed to find them. “I’ve been looking all over for you,” he said eagerly. “What’re you doing here?”

  “We didn’t feel like talking to anyone,” Jack said rather pointedly.

  The hint went straight over Rowan’s head. “I know the feeling,” he said. “I’d rather be reading in my room, but Milo made us all come down.”

  Flynn didn’t really want to encourage Rowan to stay, but curiosity won out. “Why do you all let Milo boss you around?”

  Rowan plonked himself down next to Flynn. “What else are we supposed to do?”

  “Stand up for yourself?” suggested Jack harshly. “Not act like a flock of sheep?”

  “It’s not that easy,” Rowan sighed. “I wish I’d picked Atreus instead of Perses.”

  Flynn’s jaw dropped. “I thought we didn’t get to choose.”

  “You don’t,” scoffed Jack.

  “My mom and dad are both slayers,” Rowan explained. “My dad is Atreus, but my mom wanted to pledge me. She said her bloodline was stronger and she made Perses out to be so great…”

  “Do not, ever,” Flynn stressed, “mention that to Ice.”

  She’d flip if she knew; she’d cast him in the same traitor pool as poor Jason Forgue, who hadn’t actually done anything wrong. Yet.

  “It wouldn’t be so bad, really,” said Rowan, “if not for what’s his face.”

  As if summoned, Milo strode into sight just then. His sneer (trained on Flynn) looked a tad more sour than usual. “I should have guessed you’d be skulking in the shadows. Where’s Ice?”

  Flynn took great satisfaction in informing him. “She went off with another guy. Who was it again, Jack?”

  “Julian. A decent bloke, yeah?”

  Flynn nodded. “Ice seemed to like him.”

  Rowan sat as quiet as a mouse, hoping to not be noticed.

  “What are you talking about?” Milo grated out.

  Flynn pointed at the can of unopened soda he was carrying. “You know, I think she completely forgot she’d sent you on an errand.”

  “No one sends me—” A nasty sound in the back on his throat swallowed the rest of his words. “You wouldn’t be so mouthy, Heath, if you knew Victor Grey only took you in to keep an eye on you. Cold Slayers were outlawed ages ago.”