The Guardian Lineage (18 page)

 

 

Mike killed the ignition and flew out of the car.

“Michael!” Mom threw her arms around her son and squeezed him tight. Her hair was frizzed and sweaty, and her t-shirt clung to her body. “I thought you were gone, too!”

Mike released himself of his mother's grasp. “How did you… I mean, I saw that DuBois—wait, what do you mean, gone?”

By now the cars had emptied, and the Guardians were standing around, awkwardly watching the reunion. A whoosh of air pressed from above, and Groundhog, Amadeus, and Nukes landed on the driveway. When Groundhog saw Mike's mom, his eyes turned to bloodlust.

“Traitorous mongrel!” He pointed a claw in Mom's direction. “Where are the other gargoyles?”

Mike felt his heart pounding. His eyes burned as the image of the roiling pile of carcasses entered his mind.

“Mom, where is everybody?”

“I… I don't know. Everybody's gone.” Mom wiped a tear. “DuBois let me go. Something about Garzan calling for help. DuBois refused to come, but he said that I… that he would send me. When I got here, there was no one around, except…”

“Except what?” Zachariah said from behind, his voice resonating both fear and anger.

Mom didn't answer. Then she looked at Groundhog and said, “You better go in first. They're in the Dining Hall.”

At first, Groundhog didn't understand. Then his eyes flushed from red to white, he ran inside, shoving Mike out of the way. Amadeus and Nukes followed, fearful expressions wearing on their faces.

Mom ran a hand through Mike's hair. “Where were you? I was so worried…”

Suddenly, a scream pierced the air, not unlike the one Jakkus had let out on top of Blackrock castle.

“Never mind that now, Mom,” Mike said as he pushed her hand out of the way. He ran past his mother, apprehension flooding his senses.

The Greeting Hall lay unaltered, but Mike was able to glimpse the carnage through the glass doors that led to the Dining Hall. Everything was wrecked. Tables were turned upside down and broken. Chandeliers lay shattered across the floor, their crystals littering the room like sand across a dance floor. The walls were black with soot; a few spots were still burning, probably from Guardian weaponry. Some paintings had been frozen, others ripped down and torn apart.

And spread out across the room were ten or fifteen gargoyle bodies, still in the flesh, with their stomachs cleaved open.

The smell of decaying tissue hit Mike straight in the nose, and this time the vomit exited his esophagus with full force. Julius Brutus spouted likewise; aside from that, everyone was able to keep their composure.

Mike wiped his mouth in his sleeve, still kneeling on the floor. His mom came over to put an arm around him and helped him up.

She didn't say anything.

Because she didn't need to.

Another slaughter. This time to his own clan. And where was everyone else? The pile in Blackrock Castle contained humans and gargoyles… but this was different. No human bodies, only gargoyles. Mutilated, ripped apart. Maybe there was another pile in the manor?

No, it would've been here,
Mike decided.
So maybe not everyone had been killed…

“Spread out,” Mike said. He pushed free of his mother's embrace and addressed the group. “Aaron, search the guys' dorms. Steph, you have the girls'. Zachariah and Annabella, find any teacher you can. Look in Garzan's office, Stockton's, anybody's, just find
somebody
. JB, you take the other two – sorry, don't know your names – and search the classrooms. If there are any survivors, we have to find them.”

Zachariah opened his mouth to protest, but Annabella grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the exit. Everybody else left without so much as a peep. Words were unnecessary at this point; everyone knew what they all were thinking.

The three remaining Gargoyles were crouched in vigil, teardrops streaming from their closed eyes as they murmured their prayers. Mike wanted to talk to them, but it clearly wasn't the time. He clamped a hand firmly around his nose and went over to one of the bodies, a gargoyle he didn't recognize. Its torso had been ripped open, almost purposefully. Some of the insides were missing, if Mike saw it right. Unless Gargoyles normally lived with a huge cavity in their chest.

Just then, Annabella ran in, her slender legs carrying her as fast as they could. “Mike!”

“What is it?” Mike said.

She was panting, and it took a moment for her to calm down.

“We found the Headmage.”

 

 

Annabella led Mike and his mother to Garzan's office. Zachariah was there, crouched over a prone body whose legs were halfway out the door. Mike feared Garzan was dead, but as he got closer he saw the Headmage's chest heaving up and down. His eyes were closed, and both hands were clutched tight to his stomach.

“He's alive,” Zachariah said, even though it was obvious. It almost seemed like he needed to hear some sort of good news spoken aloud, even though there was no real reason for it. “But I don't know what's wrong with him.”

Mom bent down and ran a finger over the Headmage's chest. She slid the same finger up to his forehead, then withdrew it like it had been seared by fire.

“He's burning up,” she said to nobody in particular. She unbuttoned the Headmage's vest, then gasped. A black splotch was spreading around his belly-button, like an infestation of worms digging into a carcass, about the diameter of a ping-pong ball. Mom cursed, something Mike had never heard her do before.

“What the hell is that?” Zachariah said, his face showing his disgust.

“An Aneksham. The Black Widower,” Mom breathed. “A Brethren spell. It sucks the life right out of you.” She lifted the clothing around Garzan's body to see if there was another one, but the stomach was the only spot that was infected. “Seth,” she muttered, “Where are you when I need you?”

By now Julius Brutus had arrived, with the three girls behind. “You two are medics, right?” Mike called from a crouched position. Both of the girls raised their hands as they ran. The one with her hair braided into cornrows bent down to see the Widower, and her mouth frowned in disgust.

“What is that thing?” Cornrows pointed.

“An Aneksham,” Mike said hurriedly. “Can you heal it?”

“Heeeeeeell no, I've never seen anything like that in my life!”

“What about you?” Mike said to the other girl, the one with blond hair.

She shook her head, her eyes wide.

Steph came running up now. “What's all the commotion? I saw everybody running and… DADDY!” Her hands flew to her mouth as she ran over and crouched by her father. “What
is
that thing?”

Mike stared at Steph. She had never shown so much as a mere appreciation for her father, let alone the undying love that she was demonstrating now. What was this, some fake bull?

Then Mike caught himself. What a stupid thought. Of course Steph was allowed to love her father. But was it jealousy or anger he was feeling? He almost wanted the grief to be his… no, that was stupid… of course, his own father was dead over ten years…

Maybe that was it. Mike never had a chance to grieve for his dad. He'd never had a chance to sit, and think about him, to remember what it was like to chill with his dad… maybe a small part of him wanted that from Steph.

But Garzan was going to get better. He
had
to get better. Who else would teach him how to fight, to guide him, to help him freaking
stay
alive
now that there were battles every single day?

Just then, Mom opened Garzan's clenched fist and pulled out a token of some sort. She held it up to the light, examining it. It looked like a quarter, except it was transparent.

“What's that?” Zachariah asked. He was looking paler than Annabella at the moment, which was saying something. Mike wondered if the Calebra bite was affecting him.

“He left a memory token,” Mom muttered. She closed her hand and started walking back and forth from bookcase to bookcase. “Just trying to remember the spell,” she said to no one in particular.

Most of the students had moved away from Garzan and were now staring at Mike's mom. Apparently it hadn't hit them that she knew magic until just now.

Finally she found the correct incantation and threw the coin up in the air. The token flipped end over end, then hung in suspended animation. Suddenly, a video stream shimmered onto the canvas that was pulled over the map, and Garzan's face appeared.

“Hello, Sepulchra,” the image said.

At the sound of her father's voice, Steph jerked around, her face wet with tears. She crawled over to the screen as if being called by some paranormal force.

“If you are watching this, I am probably comatose, since I brilliantly stepped in the way of an Aneksham from Dementae.”

The color drained from Mom's face.

Dementae
, Mike thought. So he
had
heard correctly that night in Central Park. Who was Dementae, and why did he scare the bejesus out of everyone?

“I won't waste your time with how he has returned. Or my time, as it were.” Garzan looked down at his stomach, as if inspecting the wound he had contracted through his shirt. “I will mostly likely be dead in a few hours. There are a few things you must know.”

Steph shook her head at the video, as if she wouldn't allow herself to believe.

“Sepulchra, you must know this: we are fighting a Brethren-Vampire alliance.”

Mike slid to a position on the floor in front of the projector screen. He looked for any reaction on his mom's part. There was none.

“In case you are thinking of it, I have already attempted – and failed – to negotiate a treaty with the Slayers. Two months ago, when we were about to consummate the alliance, both greeting parties were murdered on the way. Cassandra blamed us for their deaths, which, of course, is false. Be as it may, I do not think you will be able to obtain their help.”

Mike tried to read his mom's expression. Her face still had not regained its color. Her mouth pulled back into a frown, and her eyes were slanted, as if she was frustrated and angry and confused all at the same time. She shrank back over to Garzan's chair and sat. She started biting her nails. Mike knew that was something she would do when she was inexplicably nervous.

Steph, meanwhile, had pulled herself out of worshipping mode and sat cross-legged on the floor. She stared at the screen eagerly, as if trying to soak up whatever words her father gave her.

Garzan sucked in wind. “Something else you need to know – until recently, we have had a spy inside the Black Brethren's closest quarters for some time now. I cannot divulge who it is, for I dare not risk our spy's safety, but Magus Stockton will debrief you as soon as he can. This spy had allowed us to run covert ops against their forces, like the one Michael ran in Central Park. I'm sure he'll tell you all about it when he gets back from Blackrock Castle. Hopefully he'll bring the Blackrocks with him.”

Mike's mother threw him a quizzical look. Mike shook his head and mouthed,
later
.

“In any case, that spy provided us with incredible information. We were able to watch the Brethren's every move, to react to every attack with unmatched precision.

“Of course, this caused them to grow suspicious. They tried their hardest to get back at us, and I fear they have indeed retaliated. We have a mole inside our clan. Beware – the spy is most powerful.”

Mike saw his mother shift in her seat, her eyes sneaking a peek at the other Guardians.

Garzan gasped on the video and grit his teeth. “I… I have to go now, Sepulchra. Warn the other clans. We cannot afford to wallow in our own self-hate. If they do not believe you,
make
them believe you. Show them this video if you wish. Whatever you do, the Guardians must survive this war.” Garzan grabbed his side, and began to tremble. “Your son is a good boy, Sepulchra. He is not the traitor. Of that I am sure.

“Godspeed to you all.”

With that the video shut off, leaving Garzan's office in utter silence. The real Garzan lay prone towards the entrance, chest heaving up and down in laborious patterns. No one spoke for a long time.

Finally, it was Mike's mom who broke the silence. “Steph, you're Garzan's daughter, I assume?”

Steph nodded silently.

“So you cannot treat him. Who else here is a healer?”

The girl with cornrows raised a slender hand. Apparently the blond girl was either too shellshocked or too nervous to respond.

“What's your name, honey?”

The girl said in a cracking voice, “Alexis, ma'am.”

“That's a pretty name. Alexis, I need you to listen real hard. That poison is going to kill the Headmage if we don't neutralize it. I assume you haven't covered the Aneksham in your classes?”

Alexis shook her head.

“Okay. Do you know how to keep a poison from spreading?”

Alexis nodded.

“Okay, great.” Mom's face was mechanical. She had assumed a different role now. A role that seemed almost comfortable, almost normal. She went over to the bookshelf and pulled a random volume, which caused the bookshelf to slide open into a linen closet. How his mother knew which book led to the laundry, Mike had no idea.

Mike's mom spread out a quilt on the floor and laid a pillow down by Garzan's head. She explained that moving the Headmage might aggravate the poison, so she lifted Garzan carefully via telekinesis and laid him down on the makeshift bed. She pulled out several candles from the Headmage's desk and laid them in a pattern around his body.

“Lighter,” Mike's mom said without looking up. Mike heard the click of Zachariah's butane. His mother grasped the flame, then spread the fire ever so gently until each of the candles were burning softly.

“They will help you concentrate.” Mike's mom got up and pulled on another book. This time a small drawer shot out from between shelves. She reached in and pulled out a handful of Amps.

“Mom?” Mike said, but she ignored him.

“Four, five, six,” Mom muttered as she counted. “Nine, one for each of us.” She draped one around her neck, then bent down and gave one to Alexis. “Let me know if his condition changes, either better or worse.” The rest she handed to Mike, who accepted the necklaces as if he was being given a bouquet by some clown in a shopping mall.

“Is anyone here an Espionage major?”

Julius Brutus readjusted his suspenders and meekly raised a hand.

“Mom?” Mike said a little louder.

“There are magical cameras around the Manor, do you know what they look like? Great. There should be at least one camera for each corridor. I need you to combine those videos into one complete stream, so we can see exactly what happened. Maybe that'll give us a clue as to where the clan is. Can you do that?”

Julius Brutus nodded. Mike noticed he was standing a bit straighter now, almost as if he had a sense of purpose, a sense of belonging.

“
Mom?
”

“
What
, Michael?” Sepulchra swirled around to face her son.

“Who is Dementae?”

Mom shuddered, as if the guy was Voldemort or something. Then she swallowed. “Dementae was a Guardian, more than two hundred years ago. He and Garzan engaged in a bitter dispute over leadership of the clan. When Garzan was voted in, Dementae turned to the black arts. He became a ruthless murderer, his whole being bent on destroying Garzan and our clan. The stories I heard as a child… they would keep me awake for weeks on end.”

“Whoa, hold on a second,” Aaron said. “Garzan was alive two hundred years ago?”

Mom rubbed her eyes, but ignored the question. “While the United States fought for its independence at the end of the 18
^th
century, another war was being fought on the western side of the continent. Dementae almost wiped us out, but Garzan was able to defeat him.”

“Is that why our clan is so small?” Zachariah asked.

Mom nodded. “The other Guardian guilds are at least five times as large. Especially when you count those of us who intermarried, who tried to hide their heritage after Dementae's crusade…”

“And now he's back,” Mike said. “Hell-bent on revenge?”

Aaron deadpanned, “Or world domination.”

“Maybe a mixture of both,” Annabella muttered.

“How'd he come back?” Mike said. “I mean, if there was a ‘bring me back from the dead' spell, wouldn't a lot of people be using it?”

“The spell in question requires a living person to willingly give their heart for the reincarnation. And you can't pull any tricks, like stealing someone else's heart and pretending it's yours, or breaking into someone else's mind. So you can see why it doesn't happen all that often. I'm sure Garzan was shocked it happened at all.” Mom moved over to the north bookcase and nudged a book. This one opened another closet, just like the one that held the Guardian uniforms. It was a bit emptier, and the uniforms looked a bit older. Sepulchra leafed through the leather muttering, “They better still have mine.”

The Guardians seemed at awe with his mother. Mike had to admit, she was captivating as she navigated the room. As if she had grown up in it.

Finally she came to the one she was looking for. She jerked it out of the closet and draped it over Garzan's chair. The door slid shut.

“I must go to the other clans to warn them. I want you to both guard this Manor – after all, your Headmage is still alive inside of it – and do what you can to locate the remainder of our clan. They are our brothers and sisters out there.”

She bent down and pulled open another of Garzan's desk drawers. After ruffling through a bunch of papers, she pulled out nine or ten badges. They were orange, rectangular, similar to the Guardian logos Garzan had shown them before the Blackrock mission. The patch featured a gargoyle silhouette standing over a dead body, hands and wings raised in the air.

“Our clan is disgraced no longer.” Sepulchra Prior issued the badges to each and every Guardian.

“We are at war, and the enemies of the Skyfire clan shall feel our wrath.”