The bedrooms were on the second level. Gerrick used the main sleeping chamber, which was slightly larger than the rest. As old fashioned as the place was, it had all of the modern enmities. The lights were all electric. Wall outlets were hidden throughout all of the rooms. The bathrooms were thoroughly modern, with huge tubs and walk-in showers, as well as mirrored walls.
It was a mansion, Brandon realized. A mansion disguised as a fort.
Brandon had his pick of the remaining rooms. He picked the second largest room. It was on the West side of the house. The long picture window gave a tremendous view of the sunset, as well as the surrounding woods. The room was big, furnished with a king sized bed and matching tables, and had a big mahogany desk in the corner. Brandon thought of his father when he saw it. Had this been his room, once upon a time?
The movers wouldn’t arrive with the rest of his things for another couple of days, so Brandon settled himself in by rearranging his furniture. He had two changes of clothes in his carry-on bag, as well as his toiletries and the book he was currently reading. It was The Last Detective, by Robert Crais. Brandon loved the Elvis Cole books.
After hanging up his two sets of clothes in the huge walk-in closet, Brandon decided to explore his new home. As he wandered down the upstairs hall and back down the winding stair to the first floor, Brandon let his eyes linger on everything. Other than the murals and weaponry, the place had a definite Japanese feel. It felt peaceful to Brandon, clearing away some of the doubt and fear that had been cluttering his brain for the last week.
Maybe this place was a safe haven, he thought? Maybe it would help him become the man his father would have wanted him to be?
Brandon spent two hours in the library, looking at the spines of some of the greatest novels ever written. There were thousands of books, including popular novels by lots of writers that Brandon knew and read himself. Here was all of Stephen King’s works. There was Dean R. Koontz, right next to John D. MacDonald and Donald Westlake. And there, next to Charles Dickens and Lee Child’s Reacher books, was Robert Crais. All of his books, not just the Elvis Cole mysteries.
“Maybe I’m gonna like it here, after all.” Brandon said to himself.
Brandon found the sword in a room all by itself. Nothing else decorated the small room. The only light came from within the glass case that housed the gleaming length of steel. Brandon stepped further into the room, his eyes drawn to the weapon, and he felt his breath go soft, almost quitting altogether. The blade seemed to be lit by an inner light, a flame that ran its curved length.
“It’s called The Phoenix.” Gerrick said, from just behind him. Brandon didn’t turn. His eyes were still riveted by the sword. His uncle stepped closer to the weapon and glanced at Brandon’s eyes, transfixed to the blade. “It’s the centerpiece of the collection.”
“Whose collection?”
“Your grandfather’s.” Gerrick looked at the weapon. The Phoenix. “And your grandfather’s grandfather. And his grandfather. The Phoenix is over a thousand years old.” He met the gaze of Brandon’s reflection and smiled. “Come with me, I’ll show you the garden.”
Brandon followed him out of the room, his head turning for one last look at the glittering blade before the door closed, breaking the spell.
A set of sliding glass doors in the kitchen led to the back deck. The deck was built with pine and stone, like everything else. Brandon followed Gerrick outside, still thinking of the sword. He saw the garden immediately. It was a rock garden, made with small river rocks and sand. Immaculate and maintained with religious care, it looked like something that took a lot of work and devotion to maintain.
From the way Gerrick smiled at the rock garden, Brandon realized that he was right. He said, looking at his uncle. “It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you.” Gerrick gestured at the length of the back yard. “You can see the wall surrounds the property even here, as well as the creek.”
Brandon nodded. At the very rear of the back yard, another stone bridge, this one just for people, not cars, spanned the creek. The bridge led to a path that went off into the surrounding woods. Brandon asked. “Where does it lead? The trail?”
Gerrick looked out into the dark woods and shrugged. “Just more woods, really. If you walked far enough, you would reach Briar Mountain, then the highway. Farther still, and you’d find yourself in Howe, the little town to the North of us.” He turned and looked at the boy. “Don’t wander into the woods, Bran. There are wild animals, even with the town so close. 200 acres is a lot of land when you’re lost and don’t know where you’re going.”
Brandon leaned on the small wall that ran around the deck. He noticed a circle of bare dirt, about twenty feet from the house. Rocks, each with a small hole drilled into the top, bordered it. “What’s that?” Gerrick looked where he pointed and grunted. “That’s the circle. Your father didn’t tell you about that, did he?”
Brandon shook his head. “What is The Circle?”
Gerrick only looked at him before turning away and heading back into the house. He spoke as he walked. “I suppose I need to set a few ground rules, yes?” He led Brandon back into the main hall and turned, facing him. His face and tone were suddenly firm. He gestured at the house around them. “You will have very few chores, other than cleaning up after yourself. One will be tending to some of the regular maintenance of the house. Highgarden is a big place and there is always something that needs doing.” His voice became slightly softer. “The other will be your education. In a week or so, you’ll be starting school. You’re a junior, yes?” When Brandon nodded, Gerrick smiled. “You have to deal with a new school and new people, on top of your parent’s death. I wish I could tell you it was going to be easy, but I’m not a very good liar.” He led Brandon upstairs, stopping at the first of the closed doors. “This is my office. It’s off limits, unless I’m already in there. Understood?” He didn’t wait for Brandon’s nod. “The only other thing I expect from you is obedience. I’m not a tyrant, Bran, but if I tell you to do something, do it. Even if it’s as simple an order as duck. Do you understand? My primary concern, now, is making sure you make it to your eighteenth birthday without getting your head chopped off.” He seemed to hear his own words, and laughed. “Not that something like that could actually happen.”
Brandon nodded. “Don’t worry, Gerrick. I’ll try not to pee on the rugs. I promise not to play with any of the collection, so as to keep my head attached to my shoulders. Will that be satisfactory?”
Gerrick’s eyes became softer and he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Bran. I didn’t mean to treat you like a child. You have to understand that this is as new to me as it is to you. The only people I’ve ever raised were soldiers. In another time, you would already be a man.” He became silent, realizing he had said too much.
Brandon said nothing, though a thousand questions wanted to burst out of him. What soldiers? What had he meant by raised? But he just kept his mouth shut and waited for Gerrick to continue. Gerrick said. “This is a lot to put on your shoulders, I know. I only hope that you will someday understand that I’m doing this for your betterment. And your safety.”
Brandon nodded, still not sure how to feel about his new home. “I’m sorry about the attitude, Gerrick.” He looked at the older man and shook his head. “I’m still sort of freaked out. And I miss my parents.”
Gerrick nodded. “I miss them too. Now that your father is dead, we are the last of our kind.” He put a hand on Brandon’s shoulder. “Now, go upstairs. Get some rest. The movers will probably be here tomorrow night. We’ll help them unload the truck.”
Brandon nodded and started upstairs. Gerrick watched him go with a small smile. Brandon was proving to be a very adaptable young man. Now, if they only had more time.
Chapter 6
The week before Brandon started school went by fast. The movers arrived that first day and Brandon and his uncle spent the day helping them unload the truck. There wasn’t a lot to unload, but since th
e bed in his room was a king size and much nicer than the bed he brought from Braughton, Brandon put his old bed in a storage building built onto the side of the house. His clothes, books, and other stuff, he carried up to his room.
Brandon spent the rest of the evening unpacking his things and decorating his room. His clothes went into the closet, filling it up a little better than the couple of outfits that were hanging by their lonesome in the big space. His collection of comics and novels went into the huge bookshelf built into the bedroom wall. He used a damp towel to dust his small entertainment center before setting up his television and video game systems. His dad had gotten him an X-Box on his last birthday. It was one of his prized possessions, though he hadn’t played much since the accident. He stacked his small collection of games and movies on the bookshelf, next to his comics. Afterwards, he lay down on his bed and rested. But only until Gerrick called him downstairs to help with some yard work.
Brandon spent the next few days getting to know his family home. He explored as much of it as he could, careful to avoid doing anything to upset his uncle. Gerrick was content to let him wander, assigning him only a few chores each day. Mostly waxing floors and dusting some of the display cases for the weapons. Brandon spent a lot of time out in the back yard. He especially liked the little rock bridge that spanned the creek. He spent hours sitting out there, leaning on the bridge’s edge, and watching the water as it moved slowly underneath. The water was clear and deep. He could see the bottom, the river rock clean and inviting looking. There were even small fish. As deep as the water was, Brandon could tell that in heavy rain the water would probably rise dramatically. The water line was pretty high. But it hadn’t rained once since Brandon arrived at Highgarden. Not even a dark cloud in the sky. That didn’t bother him in the least. He felt like he could go the rest of his life without it raining again.
Every once and a while Brandon would look at the bare circle of earth and those strange rocks surrounding it and think about what Gerrick said. Why hadn’t his father told him about Highgarden or his birthright? Why had he been so secretive about his family? He thought about asking Gerrick, but didn’t know how to go about it.
Was it because he was afraid of what the man would tell him? Was he afraid that his father’s secrets would be too much for him to handle? That knowing the truth would change the way he felt about his dad?
Brandon wasn’t sure but he was afraid that he would know the reason soon enough. Whether he was ready for the truth, or not.
Chapter 7
Brandon walked to school his first day, enjoying the slightly humid heat of Oklahoma in the late summertime. For once, the humidity didn’t make him think of the rain. The smell of honeysuckle and cut grass followed him as he walked the winding route from Highgarden to Bachman Road, the sunlight lancing through the trees and bathing the road in golden light. It was hot, but heat was something Brandon could get used to.
Matheson High School was on Queen Ave, across the street from the grade school, down the road from a block of restaurants. There was a private school on the other side of town, as well as a middle school. Brandon followed the sidewalk from where Bachman and Queen met. As he walked, a big yellow school bus passed by, the kids staring at him through the open windows. He saw other kids, walking to school just like he was. Younger and older. Brandon didn’t pay them much mind. He didn’t notice the two boys watching him from across the street, their dark red hair standing out in the morning light. Both of the boys looked much older than their 17 years. One of them was big and slope shouldered; like a Neanderthal. The other, tall and lanky. They had matching faces, black eyed and ugly. The lanky one had a scattering of pimples across his cheeks. They watched Brandon walking and the lanky one nudged the other, laughing and saying something under his breath. They wore matching grins as they turned and moved up the street.
The school office was just inside the main lobby; the first door on the left. Brandon had to wade through kids to get inside, pushing his way to the receptionist’s counter. The secretary was a middle-aged woman with dyed red hair and a pretty smile. She was wearing a bluetooth headset, speaking into it with a brisk, professional voice. The woman looked up as Brandon stepped forward. “Yes?” “Brandon Merryweather.” He said, shifting his feet, nervously. “My uncle was supposed to have enrolled me?”
The woman looked clueless for a moment, than she smiled. “Of course.” She turned in her seat and dug in a tall stack of folders, before turning back to Brandon, his file in hand. “I have your schedule here. Principal Marcus wants to have a few words before you head to your first class. His office is through there.” She pointed to a door, just past her left shoulder. The door was closed. As Brandon approached, it opened and a boy walked out. The boy was smallish and had long sandy blonde hair. He wore thick black horn rimmed glasses and didn’t look up as he slipped past Brandon and left the reception area. Brandon stepped into the office before the door could swing shut and presented himself to the man in charge.
Principal Marcus was younger than his receptionist. A tall bearded man with dark brown hair and hazel eyes, wearing round wire rimmed glasses. His suit was gray, the jacket slung over the back of his chair, and he had his shirt sleeves rolled up, showing off thick hairy forearms. He stood when Brandon entered. His expression was mild and just a little bit curious. “And you are?”
Brandon didn’t exactly know how to start. He had hoped Gerrick would drive him today, to help him get started, but his uncle only frowned when he suggested it, saying that getting through the first day on his own would help him in the end. Stepping forward, he swallowed and extended his hand to the man. “I’m Brandon Merryweather.”
Principal Marcus looked at Brandon’s hand for a moment, his expression amused, before giving it a brisk shake and gesturing at the seat in front of his desk. “Have a seat, Brandon. Your uncle called earlier this morning to let us know you were on the way.” He waited for Brandon to sit down before continuing. “I’d like to say how very sorry I am about your parents. I know it must be terrible, the loss and all of the changes to your life, but it will get better, Brandon.” “Bran. Everybody just calls me Bran, sir.” “All right, Bran. We’re going to do everything we can to make your transfer as smooth as possible.” He sat down and pulled open one of his desk drawers, removing a narrow folder and opening it on his desk. He tapped the front page and nodded his head. “Your transcripts look very good, Bran, and we offer nearly all of the same classes that you were enrolled in at your old school. You shouldn’t have too much trouble adjusting. But, just the same, if you do have any questions feel free to come by my office. Anytime, just as long as it’s not during class.” He smiled.
Brandon smiled back. The man seemed sincere enough, if a little hokey. “I might need some help finding all of my classes.”
Marcus nodded. “I’ve made a small map on the back of your schedule.” He handed Brandon a page from inside his file. Brandon looked at it. It was his schedule, printed out on computer paper. On the back was a simple diagram of the school, with the rooms marked with teacher’s names, as well as room numbers. All of the exits were marked, as well. Brandon pocketed the paper and stood up. Mr. Marcus followed suit, offering his hand first, this time. “Welcome to Matheson High, Bran.”
Chapter 8
The first day of school for anybody is difficult, but it’s even harder when you show up after the semester has already begun. Because that takes you out of the mass of kids who might start at the same time and turns you into the new kid. Being the new kid is no fun. Every teacher will take it on themselves to introduce you to the other students. Most of the time, making you stand up and tell the other kids your name and a little about yourself. Most students will look at you like a smear of bird shit on a new car, if they don’t ignore you completely. Others will see you as easy meat, somebody to haze and bully.
Brandon was no exception to the rules of new kid etiquette, but he had a couple of things going for him. He was tall for his a
ge. And he was good looking. He wasn’t a vain kid, but Brandon knew he was handsome. That helped smooth away some of the rough spots that first day. Mostly with the girls and teachers. At his old school, Brandon and his friends were well liked by all. They never had to worry about not being invited to parties or being picked on by the jocks. Mike played football and was pretty popular with everybody, which gave Brandon and Chad a pretty good standing with the rest of the student body.
At Matheson, Brandon was on his own. He knew that he would have to play it different than back home. The high school was shaped like a big ‘J’ turned backwards. The front entrance to the school was at the base of the ‘J’. There were 5 exits leading outside. One at the end of every hallway. Lockers ran the length of the halls with the classroom doors serving as breaks in the seemingly endless rows of vented metal. Above the lockers, hanging close to the ceiling, were pictures of all the graduating classes from the years the school had existed. The oldest was dated 1908. Brandon thought of looking for his father, but knew he wouldn’t find him. According to his mom, his dad was home schooled before going to college. The hall was crowded with kids trying to get to get to class before second bell. Some hung out in clumps, cliques that stayed together even through the summer months. In a lot of ways high school is like prison. The easiest way to get through it is to join a gang. And there were lots of groups to pick from. You have the popular kids in one corner. The ones whose parents have money, or at least appear to. You could usually tell those kids by their hair and clothes. $50 cuts and designer jeans. Then you had the guys like Brandon. Kids who kept a certain amount of modesty, even when their family had a lot of money. The ones who don’t mind getting their clothes from Wal-Mart or Sears. You also have the Smokers, straying a little to the outside edge, watching everything with jaded eyes. Most of them were drinkers, as well. They came in two types, the smokers did. One group picked a spot out, usually the parking lot, and sat around pretending that they weren’t smoking cigarettes behind their hands. Then you had the loner, who smoked one in the bathroom occasionally, but didn’t let it get around that they sucked on cancer sticks. Most of the popular kids smoked, but only at parties. Never at school.
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