Djinn Tamer: Starter: A Monster Battling GameLit Adventure (Djinn Tamer - Bronze League Book 1)

by Derek Alan Siddoway

  “Yeah, well,” Jackson replied, smirking, “until you can figure out how to reject the account transfers I guess this is how it’s gonna be. Doesn’t being old suck?” He said as a ding rang out on Jane’s own holo-watch. “Oh, look at that. Free money,” he said with a smirk.

  Sighing, Jane ran her fingers through her gray hair. “I’m serious, Jack. Tuition isn’t cheap.”

  The kitchen fell silent as both of them let Jane’s words hover over the table.

  Jackson swallowed. Now was as good a time as any. He’d run this conversation over and over in his mind for weeks but struggled to form the words now that the moment was at hand. His eyes dropped to his plate and he stirred around the remaining soggy noodles and gristly pieces of Bovan.

  “Grams?” he said.

  “Oh, no,” she said, half-listening as she flicked through her tablet. “You don’t call me that unless you’re trying to butter me up for something.”

  “I…I’ve been thinking,” Jackson began. He’d sounded much more confident when he’d been practicing with Kay earlier that day in the barns. Swallowing again, he forced himself to be more assertive. This was it.

  “I really like working for Sato Breeders…there are a lot of trade jobs I could apply for that —”

  Jane looked up at her grandson over the top of her reading glasses. “No, Jackson. We’ve talked about this before.”

  A surge of irritation ran through the seventeen-year-old, and he felt a heat begin to extend to his ears. “We never talk about anything — you just tell me no! Listen, there’s a reason I haven’t heard back from the academies yet. I’m just not cut out for it and that’s fine with me. There’s dozens of different Djinn trades I could go into that pay just as well!”

  Dropping her tablet next to her plate, Jane fixed her grandson with a steely look and pulled off her glasses.

  “Jackson, no. I promised your mother I’d make sure you got a proper education and that’s what I’m going to do. Djinn are dangerous. There’s a reason those trade jobs pay so well — people get hurt around monsters.”

  Clenching his napkin in his hands, Jackson rolled his eyes. “People get hurt every day doing all sorts of things that have nothing to do with Djinn. What, you want me to get a tech job and stay in my room working on a holo-screen all day with the blinds closed? If you were so worried about my safety, why’d you sign off for me to work at the breeders, anyway?”

  “Because it’s the only decent job in this town and — believe it or not — I actually care about your happiness,” Jane said. “I thought you had enough sense to realize you couldn’t make a career out of shoveling manure, but I guess I was wrong.”

  “You know Mom would —”

  “And look at what happened to her!”

  Jackson ground his teeth but instead of responding, picked up his plate and dropped it none too gently in the sink. Behind him, he heard Jane swear under her breath.

  “Jackson, please…you know I didn’t…”

  He ignored his grandma’s quiet plea and left the kitchen in a rush. Although he knew she hadn’t meant to hurt him, even after six years the gaping hole left by his mom still ached.

  Rather than pound up the stairs and locking himself in his room, however, Jackson continued down the hall until he came to a closed door off to the right. Before his grandma could give pursuit with an apology, he pushed the door open and shut it quickly behind him. Inside was almost pitch-black. The lights were off and the curtains on the window across from the door shut out the faint light still lingering in the spring evening outside.

  That didn’t matter — Jackson knew every inch of this room. His hand stretched out blind and flipped the switch. The light revealed a well-kept, if not slightly dusty, office space fashioned to look like a professor’s study. Jackson dropped down into the soft leather chair behind the desk and blinked back the last tears. He’d forced himself not to cry about his mom anymore — especially not in front of other people.

  Expensive mahogany shelves filled with old tomes — more for effect than actual use, hardly anyone ever read real books anymore — covered one wall of the study. Most were Djinnology books filled with dry information about the migratory patterns of Rospars, the social structure of Felinx prides, and other bizarre facts about various Djinn. Across from the library, a series of pictures and framed certifications covered the other wall. Jackson’s eyes lingered on two diplomas awarded to Jessica Hunt: an undergraduate degree in advanced Djinnology from Hilkens University and a Ph.D. in Djinn Evolution Studies from Crevajo College.

  The adjacent photographs showed a bright, energetic woman at various stages of young adulthood, telling the story of Jessica Hunt’s short but brilliant life.

  His eyes lingered on a particular frame that sat crooked on the wall behind her desk. For some reason, that one wouldn’t stay level. Jackson walked up to it and carefully straightened it, as he’d done so many times before. And as he’d also done so many times before, he lost himself in the images as the digital frames transitioned from one photo to another: a girl blowing a kiss goodbye on her first day of advanced school, an intrepid explorer studying abroad in some tropical jungle, pointing excitedly to a red and black speckled Freetog on a fallen tree next to her, and of course, a mother playing on the floor of the living room with her then-three-year-old son. She held up a stuffed Djinn of a Lyote, one of the rare species of Djinn she’d studied most before her disappearance. A young Jackson smiled as he reached up for the toy. He wondered what had ever happened to that toy.

  Jackson’s eyes wandered to the right and the years passed by with him, another photo showing an excited Jessica in her graduation robes, brandishing a diploma, followed by several pictures of the budding scientist out in the field — in this particular instance, the High Plains. Jackson came to another photo with him in it — sort of. It showed Jessica speaking at commencement upon receiving her doctorate at Crevajo. From the side shot of the lectern, you couldn’t miss the large bump under the purple robes that would soon become Jessica’s pride and joy.

  But even having a child hadn’t slowed Dr. Hunt down. For as long as Jackson could remember, he’d spent weeks along with Grandma Jane while his mother went off on expedition after expedition all over the globe. When she’d been home, Jessica devoted herself to her son…but those days were few and far in between.

  Jackson knew his mother had loved him but he’d come to the realization that she might have loved her work just as much (maybe even a little more, but he dared not to say that aloud). He still remembered the last expedition, just days before his twelfth birthday.

  “I’ll be back a couple days after your birthday and we’ll celebrate then!” his mother had promised him. “Baby, I’m sorry — if there was any way I could leave later or come home earlier I would, but we’ve got a small window while the weather is good and I’ve got to take it.”

  “Then take me with you!” Jackson said, then already a young kid eager for the adventure his mother enjoyed on a near-daily basis. He could still recall the following moment: his mom taking him into her arms and pulling him tight before whispering in his ear.

  “Then who’ll take care of Grandma while I’m gone?” she’d said. “I’m depending on you to make sure she’s okay until I get back. Can you do that?”

  Sitting in the study, Jackson’s head gave a slow, unsure nod as he recalled the conversation.

  “I promise.”

  “That’s my boy,” Jessica had said, grinning and kissing him on the forehead.

  “Okay,” the young Jackson said, rubbing his forehead in mild annoyance. Sure, he loved her, but it wasn’t like she was leaving forever. Nothing warranted a kiss from your mom at his age.

  Jessica chuckled. “I’ll be back before you know it. And I’ve got a surprise for you then, too!”

  But the only surprise to come had been the knock on the door on his birthday. He’d been watching a Djinn duel on the holo in the living room when Jane answered the door. The cries
from his grandma sent Jackson running to her. And then the uniformed man walking up to their doorstep shattered his world.

  Emergency alert from the plane. Veered off course in the storm. Crashed into the ocean. Found the wreckage. No life rafts deployed, no way anyone could have survived the impact. We’re sorry.

  Thinking back to the final conversation with his mother, Jackson shook his head. At the time, it had been an empty task given to a little boy to make him feel important. Even at his age, he’d felt he was too old for that tired cliché. But, yeah. Her death changed things. He doubted she knew the responsibility she’d placed upon her son’s shoulders that day. Five years later, Jackson could say he’d done his best to live up to his promise.

  I’m depending on you to make sure she’s okay until I get back.

  Ugh. Why was he placing so much importance on the words that even his mom probably didn’t put much thought into?

  As much as he hated to admit it, they were still important to him.

  Somehow, Jackson and Jane had made it through those terrible days and, although the pain faded, it refused to leave. Grandmother and grandson dealt with the loss in different ways. Jackson, already an avid Djinn taming enthusiast, filled his time as a fan of the sport: televised matches, action figures, trading cards — anything he could lay his hands on. Although his mother’s interest in the monsters had always been academic, he somehow felt closer to her when he was around them, as if a kindred spirit could somehow bring a part of her back.

  Jane, on the other hand, wanted nothing to do with Djinn. Still deep in mourning, she’d given away Jessica’s entire research portfolio and rare Djinn specimens before realizing the money she could have made from the body of work. Seeing how Djinn taming distracted Jackson from his own pain, she’d let the boy indulge in the hobby. But much to her chagrin, it hadn’t faded away like she’d hoped and served instead to create a fissure between the two of them.

  At times, Jessica’s absence pulled them apart as much as it brought them together. The ghost of Dr. Hunt loomed in the house at every moment, every birthday, every holiday — the emptiness refused to leave.

  Just like the bills.

  Without a body, the insurance cited some bogus clause allowing them to pay out a meager portion of Jessica’s life insurance policy. To make matters worse, the university had refused to sanction the expedition but that hadn’t deterred Jessica. She’d been so sure this was her big breakthrough that she’d dropped almost all of their savings into funding the trip, leaving her mother and young son in dire financial straits. Which brought them to now: living paycheck to paycheck, hoping for a break that never came.

  Jackson’s elbows dropped to the desk and he buried his face in his hands.

  I miss you, Mom.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “She wouldn’t even listen to what I had to say!” Jackson yelled in exasperation as he stuck his fork into a pile of Djinn manure. The tines sunk in with a squelch and when Jackson pried the mess up it gave off an odorous wave of alcohol and mulch.

  “I don’t know why you thought this time would be any different,” Kay said. She was in the stall next to him, engaged in the same glorious task. “Whining about it won’t change anything.”

  “Yeah, but…” Jackson’s train of thought derailed and he shoveled the last forkful of crap into the wheelbarrow. He could always count on Kay to state the obvious when he refused to see it. He groaned in frustration and jabbed the manure fork into the heap. “If she’d just give me a chance I could make her see — I know I could!”

  Kay stood up and wiped her sleeve across her forehead, pushing at the strands of sweaty strawberry blonde hair that had fallen out of her bandana headband. “Maybe she’ll come around after you go to school? Who knows — maybe you’ll actually like it?”

  “Hey, you’re the bookworm. Not me.”

  “I’ll try to pretend that wasn’t condescending,” Kay said with a sideways smirk. “Hey, come on. I’m kidding!” she said when he didn’t smile back.

  “Are you, though?”

  “About which part? The part about liking school or the part about you being a condescending ass?”

  Jackson gave her an irritated glance.

  Kay shrugged. “In all seriousness, maybe you will like it.”

  “Can we talk about something else? It’s not like I even got in anywhere.” Jackson vented another sigh of frustration and wiped his forehead with the back of his glove — just about the only semi-clean spot available for the task.

  “You’re right. Because I totally love standing here and listening to you complain.”

  “The Roktar Rumble was last night. Did you know?”

  “Of course I did. You’ve only been talking about it for the past two weeks nonstop, you nerd. And you do realize I’ve been trying everything in my power to keep you from talking about it, don’t you? Let’s talk about your terrible grandma some more. Please.”

  “Shut up.”

  As Kay finished her stall, they both pushed their wheelbarrows out into the alleyway and dumped the contents onto the cement floor in a stream of plopping stench.

  Now that they’d finished the final stalls, the self-driving scraper tractor (or shit-shover, as Jackson so eloquently nicknamed it) would come along and clear the refuse from the alleyways in the barn, leaving the floors as clean as if they’d been scrubbed for hours by humans. On their way to the shed to return the wheelbarrows and shovels, Jackson recounted the Mayimbe-Devereaux fight to Kay. If he noticed her thinly-veiled disinterest, he ignored it.

  “And then he just threw in the towel!” Jackson said (“Oh, no. Not the towel,” Kay said dryly under her breath) as they hung up the last fork and shovel and closed the equipment shed door behind him. His incredulous tone caused Kay to roll her eyes.

  “He still had a Djinn in fighting shape and he gave up!” Jackson continued. “People have been freaking out about it on the feeds all morning.” He raised his holo-watch and shoved the screen in her face.

  “Please don’t make me read that, Jackson,” Kay sighed in exhausted resignation.

  Jackson closed the screen and frowned. “This was supposed to be his year in the Gold League, now everyone’s wondering if Mayimbe’s even fit to compete in the league at all.”

  “Mayimbe?” Kay asked, actively participating in the conversation for the first time. “I’ve heard that name somewhere before…Mayimbe…”

  Jackson scoffed and it was his turn to roll his eyes. “C’mon Kay, he’s only one of the biggest tamers out there right now! Of course you’ve heard his name! He’s sponsored by Kradu Corp, he’s been to the league finals each of the past three years. Who hasn’t heard of him? I mean, I’ve probably brought his name up before.”

  “That’s it!” Kay said, snapping her fingers as she ignored Jackson’s admonishment. “Mayimbe…I’ve helped him with a couple of Djinn here! He’s the one with a Unistang, isn’t he?”

  Jackson stopped in his tracks and stared at the red-headed girl. “You actually met Ricardo Mayimbe? The Ricardo Mayimbe from the DBL?”

  “Yeah, sure I know what DBL is,” Kay said, her eyes half-open and her tone annoyed.

  “Djinn Battle League!”

  “I know what DBL stands for!”

  “Sometimes I can’t tell! But do you know who he is?”

  “Yeah, I saw him. Haven’t you been listening? He seemed like a pretty cool guy,” Kay shrugged.

  "Why didn’t you tell me?” Jackson said, voice rising to shrill pitch as his inner fanboy burst free. “When was this? What was he like? What was he wearing?”

  Kay snorted. “Okay, I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that last part. Weren’t you just talking about how everyone hated him?”

  As her friend’s face reddened in frustration, Kay laughed. “He acted just like a regular guy, all right? Why don’t you give me a picture of you and I’ll show him next time? I’m sure he’d love to know he has an adoring fan right here in Tyle.”

  �
�Huh,” Jackson tried to play the moment off. “Not so sure I’m a fan of his anymore. Maybe the casters are right about him. Who folds in the Roktar Rumble? Go big or go home, man!”

  “Says the boy who doesn’t even own a Djinn to go big with,” Kay said. Jackson stiffened and she gave him a light shove. “Oh chill out, you know I’m kidding. Man, you’re sensitive this morning!”

  Their conversation brought them to a tall gate buzzing with light blue bars — an electric enclosure to protect the Djinn from outside predators or enterprising thieves. Kay pressed her hand to the access pad and then typed in a pin code. At first, it felt like overkill to Jackson, but Sato raised, bred, and boarded some of the premiere Djinn in the world and didn’t take any chances with who had access. The gate beeped open and the two employees crossed into the grassy enclosure.

  As the gate whisked shut behind them, Kay whistled while Jackson made a similar action with a hand scan and pin code on the feed dispenser next to the gate. Although most of the Djinn were on a timed system, some tamers required their monsters to be hand-fed at certain times of the day.

  A chime sounded and a series of thumb-sized pellets tumbled into a bucket. Jackson picked it up just as the Camelum bounded across the pen toward them. Seeing the familiar faces, it let out a bellow of joy and raced toward them, its long, knobby legs pumping as fast as it could will them.

  “Well hello, Petunia!” Kay said in exaggerated excitement as the Djinn buried its large nose in Jackson’s pail. Jackson struggled to keep the bucket from overturning as the Djinn pushed harder, trying to reach every pellet all at once.

  “I can’t believe somebody is paying to have this thing receive special treatment,” Jackson said. He waved a hand in front of his face. “And it stinks!”

  “He didn’t mean it,” Kay said, patting the Camelum on its single large hump. She looked at Jackson. “You be nice today! And besides, you know what Mr. Sato says — every Djinn is a champion in its owner’s eyes.”