Bane of Hades (Guardian Academy Book 1)

by Rae Hendricks

  Some days I like that. What teen wouldn’t want almost complete freedom? Of course, I can’t deny the pull of such a life.

  But other days, it’s just lonely.

  "It’s alright. My head doesn’t even hurt. I must have rolled and not hit my head hard. It’s all just a precaution, like always," I explain, exasperated.

  Nurse Imogen pops her head in and points to the phone, whispering, "Is it your mom?"

  I nod, and she gives me a smile and a thumbs up. She does this even though she's more of a mother to me than my own is, sometimes.

  Hell, to be honest, this call is probably because of her. Nurse Imogen had done that at least once before that I knew of. I can remember when I was recovering from the lupus treatments, my mother hadn’t been to see me in a week. I was getting a little down and bored.

  Nurse Imogen got on the phone in my room right in front of me and told her, "Wherever you are and whatever you're doing, you get done and then get down here to see your baby! She needs you!" she scolded over the receiver. I never knew if it was to my mother’s voicemail or directly in her ear. I knew it worked and that it sent Nurse Imogen muttering intelligibly out of the room afterward.

  Maybe she’d done something similar now.

  "Oh," she says, her mood turning so easily. She sounds almost happy that I’m good enough she doesn’t need to panic. Why am I so shocked and angry about this? It’s been her way for eighteen years. Why would it change now? "Well, I'm glad to hear that. I would have rushed down to you, but well, it's just..."

  She pauses, her voice nervous and higher pitched than usual. I can just imagine her biting her lip, chewing on it until she picks perfectly good skin off. This is how she acts when there is something she knows will make her look bad or upset me.

  "Just spit it out, Mom," I tell her, my arm aching from the fall and needing to rest from holding the phone up to my ear. I would put it on speaker but then she pretends like she can’t hear me at all, wanting privacy for her bad behavior.

  "It’s just that I’ve been having a hard time. I’ve been really stressed, and Roger thought it was time to talk to someone about it. I kind of freaked out on him."

  Roger is her latest boyfriend, though I haven’t met this one yet. It’s very new, and what I do know is that he travels a lot; he doesn’t have a lot of time. She is always off meeting him at some fancy hotel on a layover. For all I know, he has his own wife and kid at home somewhere.

  It doesn’t really matter to me, though, selfish as it seems.

  It’s none of my business.

  "So, he brought me somewhere I can relax for a while. They had to get me checked in before I could call you. Said I'm suffering from extreme exhaustion."

  I grind my teeth together, a bad habit when I am holding back any emotion. Then, with a deep breath, I ask the burning question, "You mean, like a mental hospital?"

  "Basically, though it’s nothing like the typical. This is a mental retreat. Like a lot of the celebrities go to. Really, I'll be relaxing on a private beach, doing yoga, those kinds of things. I'll be good to go before you know it." Her voice and mood take an upturn, trying to be convincing.

  I don’t doubt she'll be fine. I mostly doubt she'll want to leave such a place. It isn’t the first time, though it’s been a while.

  "It's okay, you do what you need to do, but can you text me the details in case I need to visit?"

  "Sure thing, Em." Now, it’s my turn to bite my lip - to keep from growling like an animal. She knows I hate when she calls me that.

  "Ember," I remind her gently.

  "Of course, I am the one who named you." She giggles apologetically like a schoolgirl.

  "Alright, Mom, you go rest. I will too."

  She hangs up with no more fanfare, and I call Nurse Imogen, letting her know I'm starting to hurt.

  "That’s okay, baby. I'll wait til you’re awake to let the doctor come give the results to you. Just rest."

  She pats me on the arm after giving me a little something to help me sleep and a low dose of Tylenol.

  And soon, I'm drifting off.

  When I wake up, vague memories of the night when the nurses came to check on me run through my head. I look up to see the TV is still going, just the way I like it, but now it's on the morning news.

  I’ve slept a long time.

  I feel a little better and wonder if maybe I will be allowed to just go home. They'll probably tell me to take a couple days off school and relax, and I will, sort of...

  I know how to login to the modules from home, and most of the school staff has yet to look at dates so much to see I’ve done work at home. I just want to finish and move on with the next stage of my life.

  Whatever that could possibly be with my health.

  Maybe there's an island somewhere that would be better for my health, Hawaii or something. I could go to college there, maybe.

  I could be a journalist or do something with computers. Nothing too strenuous on the body.

  It’s a nice dream, even if it may seem unreachable. Not because of money like most kids my age. But because, like I said, I'm a freak.

  And freaks don’t belong anywhere.

  Nurse Imogen comes into the room, a big smile on her face. "Glad to see you’re already awake. Now, I don’t have to face your wrath by waking you up."

  "Why would you need to wake me up?"

  "Doc says he'll be in here in half an hour. I want you to look and feel your most awake so you understand what he has to say. I know you like to be involved in your own care."

  "Thank you," I tell her genuinely, but then she looks back at the door and to me again, hesitating.

  "You also have a visitor."

  "Who is it?" I don’t have a sibling, don’t know my father, and my mother is stuck at some mental breakdown retreat in Florida.

  "It's a boy." She shrugs but then winks at me. "Want me to send him in or..."

  For some reason, the image of the boy with wings flashes through my mind, and my heartbeat races, made obvious by the beeping monitor.

  "Oh, baby, maybe I should just tell him to come back later."

  "No!" I say a little too loudly. "That’s okay. I'll talk to him for a little bit. I'll call you if I need you to rescue me." I smile at her.

  She eyes me and then laughs. "Okay, but don't let him get you too worked up."

  I watch the door with anticipation, as if Santa might burst through with a gift. Who walks through is not the boy with wings, not a ghost, and not anyone I know.

  Nurse Imogen waves at me from the doorway, then shuts it, leaving me alone with a boy who looks about my age, with silver-blue hair, matching his grey-blue eyes hidden behind thick, black glasses.

  Interestingly, the rest of him doesn't give off a vibe of goth or emo.

  If anything, he looks a bit like a K-pop star. Broad shoulders, towering over me in height, lots of angular features, but very thin. A loose tie is hanging from the messy collar of a white shirt that doesn't look like it’s ever been ironed. It’s the kind of shirt that needs to be.

  Designer, I would say, too. I recognize it from all my shopping trips with my mother.

  And designer black jeans, the kind people wear to be both formal and trendy at the same time.

  "I have something for you," he finally says, his tight-lipped gaze giving absolutely nothing away.

  Chapter Three

  "I’m about to see a million things I’ve thought I’d never seen before. And I, I’m about to do all of the things I dreamed of."

  ~ The Used

  I chuckle, and he looks at me like I'm mad.

  "Sorry," I say, shrugging. "It’s just, when they said I had a visitor, I had a vision of Santa coming through the door with a gift. And here you are, a perfect stranger, saying you have something for me."

  He quirks up one side of his mouth, but I don’t think it’s in amusement.

  "I don’t think you’ll find what I have to give you is as pleasant as all that," he admits.

>   "Okay, so what is it?" I ask, trying to see if there is something behind his back or in his pocket.

  "That's all you are about?"

  I give him a puzzled look. "Didn’t you say you had something for me?"

  "I mean, don’t you have other questions?" He quirks an eyebrow at me, and I am yet again reminded of the perfect movements and plastic surgery of K-pop stars. "They always have questions."

  I think for a moment. "I guess I have one. Who are you?"

  He huffs. "Name's Jax. I was sent here to give you this." He pulls an envelope out of his pocket in an oddly graceful way.

  I take it from his hands as he continues. "I don’t like doing this job, and I'm the second they’ve sent to you already. I have to do it because I'm supposed to be more of a people person or something." He laughs at a joke, I am pretty sure, I'm not in on. "Just open it. I bet you'll have some questions once you read it."

  I do as he says because, like a cat, my curiosity is a pretty big weakness.

  The envelope is already open, and I eye this Jax suspiciously, before reading something that should seem utterly unreal.

  Only, it doesn’t.

  Ember Lawson,

  This letter is to let you know you have been handpicked to join the prestigious Guardian Academy.

  We are aware, due to illness, you have not finished your traditional, human education, but we assure you this makes no difference to us.

  Your gifts will serve you well here, and we would like to help you grow and control them for a chance to become a Guardian. An honor only given to a select, talented, few from our school.

  We hope to see you with us soon.

  Dean Arnold Ryker, Guardian Academy

  "Well, this must have something to do with the fact that I see dead people," I say, not really caring I blurted it out to this boy. If this is all real, which makes so much sense when I think about it, then he is likely a freak too. So, it won’t matter.

  And if this is a dream, it also won’t matter.

  "You’re kidding me, right?" he says, shifting from one foot to another. "No questions? No freak-out?"

  "I do have a couple of questions, though I don’t know if you can answer them. But I’ve done enough freaking out for a lifetime - every time I get sick and, for the first year, every time I found out someone I was talking to was no longer part of the living world," I tell him matter-of-factly.

  A knock on the door interrupts us, and I quickly grit out, "Don’t leave yet."

  He shakes his head and slides into the corner of the room, more unnoticed than I could imagine for someone with blue hair.

  "Miss Lawson," a deep voice booms, almost condescendingly. I feel like it’s part of training to be a doctor. They must learn to talk like that to get hired. Luckily, though, I recognize him. His name is Doctor Carver, and we've been around the block with each other before. "It seems you've had another episode."

  I just nod, nothing to say about that.

  "How are you feeling?"

  "Not too bad today, actually."

  "Good to hear. Your bloodwork was a little off, but nothing out of the ordinary for an infection or an allergic reaction. You have a bit of a bump on your head, but nothing major has been injured. Some bruising. In all, I think you got pretty lucky this time."

  I nod. "I would agree."

  I turn to the corner where Jax stands, stifling a laugh with a cough. I'm sure he’s thinking what plenty of others do - nothing is lucky about this. But it is. I’ve had so much worse. This is nothing at all.

  "I will get the paperwork started. I don’t see any reason to keep you. However, I am giving you a temporary inhaler and a dose of steroids, as well as a round of antibiotics, just to be sure. You know to take your vitamins and all that, so it doesn't upset your...sensitive system."

  He tiptoes around words most humans want to say - crazy, insane, fucked up - and hands paperwork over to Nurse Imogen as she pops her head in, rattling off orders to her.

  It isn’t long before I'm alone with Jax again.

  "Alright, let’s get this over with," he says, stepping forward again. "So, you can get out of here and get to the academy. Then, I will have fulfilled my duty." He says the last word mockingly.

  "Okay, three questions, then."

  "Like a genie?" he teases.

  I ignore it and keep going. "How do I get there?"

  "There's a plane ticket taped to the back of the letter. A car will be waiting for you after that."

  I give a slow nod, processing the information as I feel to find the plane ticket. It’s there. I resign to looking at the exact destination later.

  "Fine. Is this ... whatever I have ... inherited? Because my mother, while not a good one and very weird, is entirely human. No seeing dead people or anything."

  He nods. "Those who get these letters by surprise are often missing a parent in the picture. I would assume it’s the same with you since you only mentioned your mother. But, at least in your case, it’s inherited." I narrow my eyes at him, willing myself to save the question that he has now brought up with his specific words. As if whatever he is, he didn’t inherit it.

  "Well, that gives me some other questions, but none I expect you to tangle with. So, I'll keep the last one simple. What am I, then?"

  He smirks, a genuine one this time. And my skin tingles as I wait for the answer. The one I have been basically waiting for my whole life. "You’re a demi-god."

  I try not to react; grinding my teeth once more. I don’t want him, with his pompous attitude, to see my total shock betraying me on my face. "So you mean my mother fucked a god?"

  Now, he breaks out into full-blown laughter. "Yeah, something like that. Now, if you're done, I have more letters to deliver. Get out and get to the airport." he orders, and I nod, knowing there's a detour I'll have to take first.

  It’s time to make my mother tell me who my real father is. No way did she fuck a god and not know it, especially looking at all the other assholes she’s been with. No, she knows, and she’s going to tell me. And then, I'm going to go discover where I belong.

  Chapter Four

  " Oh! This is the end of everything that I've known

  No way of knowing if I'll ever be home."

  ~ Falling In Reverse

  "Are you sure you'll be okay out there, baby?" Nurse Imogen asks as I walk toward the doors, to leave the hospital. I have officially been signed out, and have a plane ticket, burning a hole in my bag. But I won't be using it; not just yet.

  I have some questions for my mother first, which means another trip.

  "Yes, I'll be fine. You know we have a dedicated Uber driver we use," I remind her with a quirk of my lips. "She's a former cancer patient and meticulously clean for me. A sweet woman with young grandbabies. And I have all my meds, plenty of money in my account..."

  She nods, understanding, though I see the emotions behind her eyes that she won't share.

  She feels sorry for me and how I'm neglected by my mother.

  The thing is, I'm 18 now. At some point, I’ll have to move out from under her thumb. I've just been getting a crash course from a young age.

  It's one thing I'm proud of - how self-sufficient I am despite all my problems. Those with better health often can’t figure out how to do the whole life thing on their own.

  I'm uniquely prepared.

  I saunter out to find the familiar silver, Volvo waiting for me - tinted windows to keep the sun away from Mrs. Rosen's pale and sensitive skin.

  This older woman, with her fiery red hair and thick glasses, understands me the most in the world since she practically had to put herself in a bubble for years of cancer treatment. She’s still meticulous about her health, never wanting to go through that again.

  "Good to see you again, Ember, though I hate it’s coming from the hospital." She frowns through the mirror at me, and she starts driving automatically toward my home, not even needing GPS anymore. She’s been driving me around for two years now.

 
; We don't talk much, both of us preferring to keep quiet, though she asks me how school is going and how close I am to finishing. She knows how much I missed, due to illness, and how badly I just want to get my diploma and prove I could do it.

  Finally, she drops me inside the gate after I put in the passcode to the apartment community where my mother and I live.

  The noise of construction is instantaneous when the door opens. A hospital and a business complex are being built on the northwest corner.

  I use the code once more, choosing to go in through the pool area where families teach kids how to swim, older women sip on martinis and gossip, and teens play volleyball while eyeing one another, knowing I will be totally ignored.

  I'd rather that than the fuss the staff makes when I come through the front, like I'm some celebrity.

  It’s part of luxury apartment living, but I'm just not a fan. Though, I do love the view.

  Ten stories up, I can see over the pool and across the neighborhood, where a 7-11 and a dry cleaner sit, as well as watch all the construction on the corner - our not being on the end.

  But the best part is being level with some of Dallas' glittering steel, the buildings sometimes reminding me of modern castles, when I don't think about what's going on inside.

  Once inside, I immediately pack a bag; just the things I might need.

  Cellphone, charger, laptop, to do more schoolwork on the way, and some of my favorite clothes.

  My mother's very cranky and independent cat hisses at me from his perch upon the freezer as I grab some water to drink. And now I'm out, a wad of emergency cash stuffed in the chain wallet I have tucked into the side of my skirt.

  No one would think to steal it, since the chain looks like an accessory, rather than something connected to money.

  I get back in the Uber since I asked her to wait for me, and then tell her where to go.

  Union Station.

  I'll be taking a train all the way to Florida where my mother is, living it up on the sandy beaches, while chanting to self-affirmations or something.