Stories say Thaddeus was a courageous man who lived in Mesopotamia, at the heart of the ancient world. One day, he and his family were attacked by dark, scale-covered monsters in the middle of the night. The monster had tried to impale him with his jagged claws, but Thaddeus’s spear breached the demon first. The man had escaped the attack with his life, but the same could not be said for beloved wife and infant daughter.
Grieving and lost, Thaddeus spent weeks in the city’s temple, refusing to eat or drink. He’d lied there, mourning the death of his family, asking God why he’d let such evil happen, begging Him to let him die and join them in Heaven.
The next part of the story seems farfetched to me, but all Guardians swear it’s true. It is said God came down from the heavens and explained to Thaddeus that He has no control over the demons who’d attacked his home. God wept with Thaddeus, joining him in his mourning, but then he offered Thaddeus a gift.
God promised to give Thaddeus the skills necessary to defeat the evil creatures, but only if he vowed to share the gift with others by remarrying and fathering children. God told him he would be the father of thousands upon thousands of Guardians who would work to fight the evil in the world, protecting the innocent from their vile ways.
Driven by the need to find justice for his loved ones, Thaddeus had agreed.
So, God made Thaddeus the first Guardian, and the man hunted down the monsters who’d killed his family and ensured they’d never be able to hurt another human again.
And despite his loyalty to his first wife, Thaddeus fulfilled his end of the bargain by remarrying. He and his new wife had seven children. These children then went on to birth more Guardians. And those Guardians gave life to even more Guardians. And so on and so on.
In no time at all, the world had a formidable force of gifted humans to combat the evil influence of demons. To this day, Guardians continue to roam the earth, fighting to protect humanity from the monsters they don’t believe are real.
And, wouldn’t you know it, I happen to be one of Thaddeus’s lucky descendants.
But I didn’t know that until Logan told me. My mom had never breathed a word. And I hate to admit her secrecy. It makes people suspicious, and I don’t like anyone thinking poorly of my mom.
Headmistress Meyer watches me expectantly. She does not try to pull the answer out of me. She’s patient, and I appreciate that.
“It was just my mom and me when I was growing up. We lived in Chicago,” I tell her, folding my hands in my lap to keep from fidgeting. “As far as I knew, I was normal. Mom never mentioned anything about Guardians or demons. She was a teacher. I went to school with normal kids. We lived in a small two-bedroom apartment. I didn’t know what I was until Master Patrick found me on the streets after she died.”
The headmistress’s eyes soften around the edges, but she’s not surprised by the story. No doubt, it’s written in the file. “I am sorry. No child should have to lose their mother so young.”
Her compassion makes my eyes water. I blink back the tears. I haven’t cried for Mom in two years, and I’m not about to breakdown in this office in front of Vivian and a stranger.
I don’t speak, too afraid emotion with leak out into my words.
The headmistress goes back to business. “While most of our students enter St. Michael’s with hardly any magical training, most have worked extensively on combat skills. Guardians tend to enroll their children in martial arts at the age of three. I see your mother did not follow that tradition. You will be at a disadvantage there.”
I don’t let her words affect me. I know all about the type of training we are to get at the academy. A Guardian’s magic lies dormant until he or she reaches the age of eighteen, and then we go to an academy to learn how to wield it in a way that allows us to kill demons. The academy also helps us develop our combat skills, but it’s assumed all students will be beyond the beginner level by the time they get there. It’s how the academy is able to churn out fully vetted Guardians every two years. They only really need to focus on honing our magic abilities.
Known as the top Shadowguard academy in the world, St. Michael’s graduates are the best and the brightest the Guardian race has to offer. Located on the South Shore of Long Island in the illustrious Hewlett hamlet, they don’t let just anyone enter their doors, and they certainly won’t admit a girl they think has hardly any combat skill. It would be an embarrassment. I see it in Headmistress Meyer’s eyes.
She thinks I will be a burden to the school. The only reason I got the interview is because of who my caretakers are.
Well, I’m about to show her.
Without saying a word, I reach into my back pocket and take out my phone. I unlock the screen and scroll through my videos, landing on the one of me sparring with Alexander. He’s Vivian and Charles Van der Klay’s biological son, and a second-year student at St. Michael’s.
I hit play, then place the phone on the desk. Headmistress Meyer lifts a questioning brow but looks down to watch the video. Vivian doesn’t say anything. She didn’t know I planned on showing a video, but her silence is her way of showing support.
Lex is tall like his father. My growth spurt had ended when I was fifteen, and I only managed to get to five foot, six inches. Lex’s size is both an advantage and disadvantage. He has greater reach, but I’m faster on my feet.
It’d been my second week living with my caretakers when Charles Van der Klay had walked into my new massive bedroom and told me to change into athletic gear. I would start combat training with Alexander. The head of the family had barely spoken to me since I started living in his house, so his presence had been nothing short of a surprise.
Charles is a distant, serious man. He’d retired from fighting demons years ago, but he serves his people by working as a councilmember on the Guardian Council: the international ruling body in charge of overseeing Guardians and assigning them to missions to take out the most powerful and dangerous demons. As a result, Charles wasn’t home much the past four years. But when he was, he was often locked in his office, his nose buried in work.
Not wanting to irritate the man whose house I lived in, I’d scurried off my bed and rushed to change clothes, running out of my room and down the curving staircase until I reached the state-of-the-art gymnasium attached to the back of the mansion. A lean martial arts instructor had greeted me, flanked by a shaggy-headed blond boy. Alexander wasn’t pleased to learn a girl would be intruding on his training sessions, but he’d later gotten over that when he realized he was twenty-times better and could wipe the floor with me.
I’d gone into that first training totally inexperienced and weak, but I’d left it feeling alive. Physical exertion made me feel better. The weight of my mom’s death and the truth of what I was had been pressing down on me, preventing me from finding any joy or happiness in my days. But that had all ended when I started to learn to fight.
Charles and Vivian had hired a private instructor to visit me twice a week, in addition to my practices with Lex, to help me catch up. And catch up I did. I was able to beat Lex by the time I turned fourteen. He still wins duels more often, but I’m determined that won’t be the case forever.
Headmistress Meyer watches my most recent fight with Lex. It’s a good one. I’d been feeling particularly feisty that day, and it shows in the speed of my punches and my quick footwork. Lex and I go round and round, exchanging blows and alternating defensive moves. I deliver a sweet kick to his knee, making it buckle. Lex stumbles to regain his footing, and I twist my body and swipe the other leg out from underneath him. He hits the ground. I’m immediately on him, raining punches down on the sensitive area underneath his ribs. We wear padded gloves, so it’s not doing too much damage. Lex bends his elbows, using them to block the blunt of my blows. Then, he hitches his legs up around my torso, holding down my arms. He’s more flexible than I’d given him credit for. Lex flips me off him with the strength of his thigh. Now, it’s his turn to land on top of me and attack.
&n
bsp; I’m just about to execute a flawless evasive move and free myself when Headmistress Meyer pauses the video.
I hadn’t realized I sat on the edge of my seat. I scoot back into my chair and meet her gaze.
She is smiling, and amusement flickers in her eyes. “I see we have nothing to worry about in terms of combat skills.”
I can’t fight off my responding smile. “No, ma’am. You don’t.”
Her grin widens, then she turns her attention to Vivian. “Aspen turns eighteen in the middle of the semester. Are you sure you don’t want to defer her enrollment until January? We have several students who are delaying their start until they have access to their magic.”
“No,” I answer for Vivian. “I want to start this semester.”
Pain flashes across my caretaker’s face. She tries to hide it, but I see it.
I don’t mean to hurt Vivian’s feelings. She might be a little too perky and proper for my taste, but she’s really not that bad. It’s just that life at the mansion has been so boring since Lex went to the academy last year.
Don’t get me wrong, Lex is annoying and acts like the quintessential arrogant big brother I never had, but I didn’t realize how much I relied on him for companionship the past few years until he was gone. I didn’t fit in with the rich, snobby crowd at the private high school the Van der Klays sent me to. Lex had been my only friend.
After two months of loneliness, I’d made the decision to graduate high school early. I spent the summer finishing up my last four core credits, earning my diploma two weeks ago.
Graduating high school isn’t a requirement to become a Guardian, but I did it for Mom. As a teacher, she’d always stressed the importance of a good education. I know she was mostly talking about college, but the least I could do to honor her was finish high school.
Now that I’d accomplished that, I’m ready to start on the next phase of my life. Going to the academy is about more than learning how to fight and kill demons who terrorize innocents, it’s about the chance to learn more about my mom. The Van der Klays have managed to evade every attempt I’ve made to learn more about Mom and why she hid the Guardian world from me. They’d told me they were looking into it, but after years of no news, I decided to take matters into my own hands. The moment I get into an academy, I plan to investigate and learn the truth. Now, my plans are becoming a reality, and I’m not going to delay it any longer. Not if I can help it.
Headmistress Meyer looks between us, unsure how to proceed.
When Vivian nods her head, accepting my choice, the headmistress closes the folder on her desk and rises from her chair.
“Well, then, let me be the first to congratulate you, Aspen. You are officially accepted into St. Michael’s Academy.” She holds out her hand. I hurry to my feet and place my hand in hers.
“Thank you, Headmistress Meyer.”
“We are happy to have you,” she smiles warmly, looking less severe than when she first walked into the office. “I’m sure you will be a valuable addition to our academy.”
Happiness floods my chest.
I did it. I got into the academy.
Now, all I need to do is kick ass at everything they teach me, rise in Guardian ranks, and find out the truth about my mom.
That won’t be too hard.
Or so I think.
Four
I’ve never been a fan of crowds. Dozens of people huddled together, breathing down each other’s necks as they invade their personal space? No thank you. I try to avoid crowds at all costs. But there is no avoiding the welcoming ceremony for St. Michael’s Academy, unless I want to start my Guardian training off on the wrong foot. Which, despite what Lex says, I don’t.
I know I give off the “I don’t care about anything” vibe. It’s how I’ve dealt with the world since Mom’s death. I refuse to let anyone close enough to hurt me. Well… except Lex. Turns out I couldn’t be a total loner growing up.
Everyone else, I keep at arms-length. And any activity I might enjoy or find pleasure in, I keep a secret. I’m private. That’s all. I’m definitely not emotionally closed off or a shell of a person.
Nope.
Definitely not.
The Van der Klay’s private car swings up the U-shaped driveway to the academy’s entrance. Our driver, Morty, hops out of the car and rushes to the passenger door. Mr. Van der Klay steps out, then he turns and opens the back door to help his wife exit the vehicle. Vivian smiles brightly as she steps onto the sidewalk. Her stunning blonde hair is piled high into an elegant bun, and her black cocktail dress features a delicate lace bodice with capped short sleeves. The skirt flares out into an A-line, ending just below her knees. Looking at her, you would think my foster mother has stepped onto the red carpet, prepared for paparazzi to take her photo.
There’s no paparazzi, but there’s a decent number of people gathered outside the academy doors. They purposefully wait so they can see who arrives, and whose children have been admitted into the academy.
“Ready, little sister?” Lex asks from the back row in the spacious SUV. He wears a black suit and matching tie, just like his father.
“Don’t call me that,” I mutter, but there is no fight behind the words. I’m nervous. I run my hand over my black skater skirt, wondering if I should’ve heeded Vivian’s advice to wear the sleek, satin gown she’d purchased for this event. I’d thought it was too formal. Now, seeing how everyone else is dressed, I’m worried she was right.
“Hey,” Lex leans forward and places a hand on my shoulder. He squeezes, reading me like a book. “You’re Aspen Van der Klay. You’re a bad ass who doesn’t care what she looks like or what anyone else thinks.”
I straighten. He’s right. Why am I freaking out? It’s just clothes.
I shoot him a small smile. “Thanks.”
He pulls his hand back. “You’re welcome. Now, will you get out so I can crawl out of here before my body is stuck this way?” He hunches over dramatically. I roll my eyes. Lex is tall, but the SUV is large. Vivian and I had sat in the two second row seats, but there was an aisle between us for Lex to stretch his legs out.
“Don’t be such a baby. I’m going.” I push off the seat’s elbow rests and climb out. Morty is there with an extended hand. I take it gratefully.
“Thanks, Mort.” I smile at the older man.
His lips twitch. He claims he doesn’t like my nickname, but I’m pretty sure he’s lying. “You’re welcome, Miss Van der Klay.” He guides me forward to allow room for Lex to get out before dropping my hand.
“Have fun, Miss.” He returns to the vehicle, and Lex steps up to my side.
“Shall we, little sister?” His eyes twinkle as he holds out his elbow in a gentlemanly way. I fight the urge to knock it away. We have an audience, after all.
With gritted teeth, I slide my hand into Lex’s elbow. He looks seconds away from bursting out laughing, but a swift pinch from me makes his expression sober. He leads me inside with no more teasing while his parents stay outside, joining the retinue of nosy observers.
Since he’s familiar with the academy’s layout, I let Lex lead me to the auditorium where the welcoming ceremony is to take place.
My ballet flats are soundless against the hardwood floor as we walk down a hallway. I admire the classic beauty of the building. The academy first opened in the 1880s, and all of the original architecture remains intact in the main building. Obviously, the flooring and paint had been updated throughout the years. Electricity has also been installed at the academy, but the light fixtures are arranged along the wall where traditional candle sconces would’ve been. The designs are true to the time period in which the academy was first constructed, and I love the feel of the building. More so than the pristine, modern style of the Van der Klays’ mansion.
“I can’t believe Mother let you leave the house with that jacket.”
I tear my eyes from my surroundings and grin. Vivian hadn’t objected when I walked down the stairs in my white blouse and blac
k skirt, but she’d visibly blanched when I pulled on my black leather jacket just as we were about to step out the door.
For a moment, I’d thought Vivian was going to insist I leave the well-worn item behind, but she’d only sighed and mumbled something about god giving her patience before slipping outside.
“She isn’t a fan,” I admit, “but she didn’t complain.”
“Of course she didn’t. She never criticizes you for anything. Me, on the other hand, I’m constantly reproached by my dear mother.” He feigns hurt. I chuckle.
Lex does receive a fair bit of critique from his parents, but he’s also their golden child. He excels at everything. And I mean everything. He graduated top of his class in high school, and the word is that he’s kicking butt at the academy. His combat skills are among the best in his class, and the same goes for drawing sigils. Lex is going places, there’s no doubt about that. And it’s hard to deny that part of his success comes from having such supportive, if pushy, parents.
We reach the end of the hall. Two theatre doors are held open by two men in tuxedos with white gloves. Between them stands a similarly dressed man holding a stack of envelopes.
“Might I have your name?” he asks politely. Lex remains silent, and I assume he’s talking to me.
“Aspen.”
“Aspen…”
My lips press together. How many Aspens are admitted this year?
Remembering my desire to make a good impression, I say, “Van der Klay. Aspen Van der Klay.”
“Ah yes,” the man rifles through the envelopes until he retrieves one with my name scrolled prettily on it. “Here is your schedule and the name of your mentor. Please refrain from opening it until the headmistress addresses you to do so.” The man hands me the envelope and steps aside, allowing us to enter the auditorium.
The moment I step inside, I’m taken aback by the stunning opulence filling the immense space. Numerous crystals hang down from four gilded chandeliers, illuminating the magnificent room. The walls are not blank, and the seats are not cheap, fold-down chairs. Eight portraits adorn the tall walls, four on each side. They depict men swathed in cloaks, wielding glowing swords or bows or daggers. Only one shows a woman, and instead of holding a weapon, she carries a basket of roses. One is lifted to her nose, and she stares forward with a peaceful expression. The painting doesn’t go with the others, but I dismiss the oddity. My attention is easily drawn to other beautiful aspects of the room. I wouldn’t call the space an auditorium. I’d say it resembled historic theatre—the type you might find in Europe.
Demon Guard Page 3