Pinehurst: A Magical Olympian Adventure-Young Adult Romantic Adventure/Fantasy Novel

by Grane, Nicole

  “Oh yes! They pick me up every break. Sometimes we visit The Islands!” The Islands are an exclusive get-a-way for the Mageia. They were located somewhere in the Caribbean. I say somewhere in the Caribbean because the location cannot be found on any map. It’s invisible to humans; like our schools are. I’d been there many times on vacation myself. I’d guilt George as often as I could into taking me. It was a prime spot to host the Volleyball Nationals—an event I rarely missed.

  “Here we are.” Iris led me through a set of double doors into the dorm common area. It was bursting with life. Tables were scattered about, filled with students pretending to study. A big screen TV in the corner, surrounded by plush couches, held a group of giggling girls enthralled with the Junior Division of Mageian beach volleyball. With all the commotion of being ditched, I’d forgotten there was a match today—I stopped to gawk.

  “Ms. Spencer, we have a new girl, Evie . . . I’m sorry, what was your last name?” Iris nudged me on the arm, claiming my attention once more.

  “Huh? Oh, Hollyander.”

  Iris did a double take. “As in George Hollyander?”

  “Yeah, he’s my dad.” I suddenly felt self-conscious. “How do you know my dad?”

  “Everyone does dear.” Ms. Spencer looked just as all women did at the mention of my father’s name—flushed. “Well Evelyn—”

  “Evie,” I corrected her. “It’s Evie.” I was still thrown by Iris’s reaction.

  “Yes of course. Forgive me, Evie. I’m the dorm matron.” She smiled warmly. “I’m going to put you in room 204. That’s next to Iris,” she smiled excitedly, obviously hoping that I’d made a new friend. Don’t get me wrong, I liked having friends, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to be best buds with Iris here. She was nice enough, but there was something about her that screamed sweet. I wasn’t exactly wicked myself, but sweet I was not.

  “Wonderful!” I tried to sound as enthusiastic as Iris looked. For all I knew, I was her only friend in this place, and being that I was the new kid, I figured . . . why not?

  “Come on, I’ll get you settled.” Iris was more than excited that we were going to be “practically roommates.”

  I followed her to an elevator, thanking the architect we wouldn’t have to lug my bag up another flight of stairs to the second floor; my room was only a few doors down the hall. I put the key in the lock and opened the door to reveal a pale blue room. There was a large window that overlooked the gardens I’d just walked through. The room was simple. A twin bed, a desk that held an ornate reading lamp and an armchair that looked comfortable. Part of me wanted to collapse in it then and there. But something more pressing had to be addressed.

  “No bathroom!” I searched the doors. Closet—yes, bathroom—no!

  “Oh, the bathroom’s just down the hall,” Iris offered quickly.

  “We share a bathroom?” The very idea was appalling, and it had nothing to do with the overwhelming amount of girls I was suddenly going to be living with. I could deal with living in a dorm, I guess, but having to share a bathroom was ridiculous, bordering on cruel. I added another item to my grievance list that I was going to take up with my dad ASAP.

  Iris laughed. “You only have to share with the girls in our hall, silly. Don’t worry; there are several sinks and showers, so the wait isn’t long.”

  “Wait?” The very word was foreign to me. I plopped into the chair, exhausted now. I never had to wait for anything.

  “So, what classes do you have?” Iris made herself comfortable on the bed. Apparently she had nothing else to do.

  I handed her my class schedule.

  “Oh good, we’ve got Shielding together, and third period Biology with Mr. Mayer!”

  “Shielding?”

  “You’ve never done shielding?” Now she looked appalled. “It’s self-defense.”

  I looked at her blankly.

  “You’ve never taken a self-defense class?” She leaned in closer.

  “Why should I? I can hold my own.” Actually, I was pretty good at holding my own. When I was fourteen, Miles taught me how to throw a punch, “just in case I’m not there,” he’d joke. My natural knack at delivering a wicked blow earned me several detentions for giving a black eye to more than one overly presumptuous male at my previous school. In doing so, I’d become somewhat of a novelty. The girls hated me because of all the attention the male species gave me—no doubt due to my good looks and charm—as if. And the boys wanted to see who could get past the first punch and score.

  The question was: why were they teaching self-defense in high school?

  “But aren’t you afraid of the Daimonas?”

  “The what?” My answer was a bit surlier than I intended. What the heck was this girl talking about?

  “You mean to tell me that you don’t know what the Daimonas are?” Iris asked. She reached over, took my hand, and pulled me to the bed to sit beside her. Her expression was grave. “Evie. How can you not know about them? Everyone does!”

  “Well apparently not everyone,” I corrected. My dad isn’t the fairy tale type. He’s more . . . grounded.”

  “George Hollyander knows better than anyone who the Daimonas are. They aren’t a fairy tale, Evie. They’re only the deadliest creatures our kind has to fear. Not to mention the humans. Your father must have told you about them.”

  I stared at her and then gave her my most sympathetic smile. Clearly she was, as my mother would say, “touched in the head.”

  “Look Iris,” I pulled her up gently by the arm and led her to the door. “I really do appreciate your help, but I’m really tired—”

  “Evie, I’m serious!” She protested.

  “I’m sure you are . . .” I pushed her out the door. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

  “But Evie—”

  “Bye, bye, now.” I shut the door and leaned up against it, sighing in relief. “What a nut job.”

  I went to my purse and pulled out my cell phone. My call was expected—my dad answered on the first ring.

  “What the heck were you thinking sending me here?” I thundered, not bothering to say hello. My dad was getting it now; I hardly let him get a word in.

  “You can’t leave me here! I hate this place, and Ms. Leech wants to eat me alive!”

  My father sighed. He was used to my . . . disgruntled attitude. A trait I’d inherited from my mother as he’d said on more than one occasion.

  My mother Gwendolyn, a pampered trophy wife, spent most of her days vacationing along the French and Italian Riviera. They stayed married for appearances only. Hollyanders did not get divorced. The scandal of such a thing was, well . . . scandalous.

  She had little to do with me—like I cared. She’d done her duty by producing a child for George— “it isn’t my fault I had a girl,” I’d heard her say before. My mom was not about to ruin her figure with another pregnancy on the off chance she might produce a son to carry on the family name—as if I wanted a sibling.

  My dad blabbered on about giving things a chance.

  “I did give it a chance,” I yelled over him. Why wasn’t he listening to me? “I’ve been here a whole hour!” My voice was getting louder by the second. Usually by the time I’d reached this octave, my dad had caved and given me my way . . . but this time he was holding firm. Since when did he grow a backbone?

  I tried a more dramatic approach, something I used often in my younger years. I added a touch of desperation for good measure—sure to make the old man crack.

  “Daddy, you can’t leave me here. There is a really weird girl in my dorm that is convinced that there are some demons that are trying to kill us. Is this the sort of environment you want your only daughter raised in? These are my formative years after all!”

  The phone got deathly quiet. The silence was surprising considering my dad was a man of many words.

  “Daddy? Dad?” Nothing. And then he started to speak again—I lost it.

  “What do you mean you’ll explain when you see me?” My dad
was trying to give me the brush off.

  “Hello? DAD!” I slammed my phone shut and tossed it across the room.

  “He hung up on me!” I growled as I kicked my bed in a pout—thank heavens no one else witnessed my tantrum. This conversation was so not over. I stormed out of my room and strode down the hall looking for Iris. I was not going to wait until George decided to grace me with a visit. I wanted answers, now!

  Chapter 3

  Okay. That was not what I’d expected. According to Iris, who may or may not be touched in the head—I’ll reserve the right for judgment at a later time; Daimonas have been around as long as the Mageia can remember. They are “dammed souls from Hell that have escaped and must therefore be thrust back into the fiery infernos from whence they came.” My mouth popped open.

  “Evie, the Mageia were put on this Earth to protect the humans from the Daimonas . . . we’re Guardians! We were sent down from the Heavens to destroy all Daimonas on Earth.”

  “I’m an angel?” I breathed.

  Iris grinned. “Not quite. But you are gifted. That's why we're able to do magic, a powerful tool that can help thwart evil.”

  I thought about that. I wasn’t feeling so powerful at the moment. In fact, I've never felt less powerful. I still couldn’t believe my dad would have kept this from me.

  “So if they were thrown into Hell, then how did they get out?” I asked.

  “They’re not all out.” Iris explained. “And we don't know for sure how they escape. Evil seeps into the world every day, Evie. It's our job to destroy it.”

  I let that sink in for a minute. “Okay, I’m leaving.” I jumped up. I was exercising my right to believe my previous assumption. Iris was more than touched—she was crazy! There was no way Mageians were demon hunters.

  “Evie wait! I’m not lying!” she beseeched.

  “I believe you believe that Iris, but I—”

  “I can prove it!” She grabbed onto my hand, holding it tightly. Her eyes were wide with desperation.

  “How?”

  “Your father, he’s legendary! He’s killed more Daimonas than anyone!”

  I took my hand back gently. “My father is a government diplomat. The most danger he’s subjected to is a paper cut.” And my wrath once I get my hands on him. Poor Iris, she’d probably cracked up after being dumped off here and forgotten, a fate that would not befall me.

  “Ask anyone!” Iris ran to her door and flung it open. She looked up and down the hall. “Aubree, Gillian, come here.”

  A thin girl with dark eyes and hair peeked into the room. Iris grabbed her arm and yanked her inside.

  “What’s going on?” A tall, Barbie-doll type girl followed behind her.

  “Aubree, Gillian, this is Evie . . . Evie Hollyander.”

  Aubree was a little slower than Iris had been but not by much. I actually saw the light click on. Her eyes grew wide. “George Hollyander’s daughter?” she gasped.

  Gillian, who for now I’ll just refer to as Barbie, became flushed all of a sudden.

  “Oh my gosh!” Aubree gushed. “Like, your dad is SO my hero. I can only dream of being such a bad-ass.”

  “You mean, you can only dream of marrying one.” “Barbie” tossed herself onto Iris’ bed, looking starry-eyed. “It’s not like you’re ever going to have to actually fight.”

  “See?” Iris looked smug. “I told you he was a legend!”

  What the hell was going on? Was everyone here crazy? “Excuse me.” I made a beeline back to my room, found my phone under the chair, and called the only other “credible” person I knew . . . Gwendolyn.

  “Hi, Mom.” I flung myself into my chair and threw my head back. I listened to the “darling it’s been so long . . .” the, “I’ve been meaning to call you but I can’t possibly pull myself away from my obligations . . .” speech for the umpteenth time.

  “Yeah, Mom, it’s fine. That’s not why I’m calling. Listen, I’m at Pinehurst—”

  I pulled the phone away from my ear as Gwendolyn squealed loudly with excitement. Both my parents had graduated from Pinehurst back in the day. It was one of my mom’s favorite topics of conversation. The endless social events and boyfriends that broke up the monotony of her school day were all she spoke about. I'd often wondered why my parents had never sent me here from the beginning. With my “behavior” in question, I would have thought it easier on my dad.

  Unfortunately my mom's voice invaded my musings. She was currently gushing about an old boyfriend of hers. Gwendolyn was one of those extremely beautiful, and extremely popular, girls—if only I inherited some of her good looks. I was pretty in my own right, but I had more of my dad’s genes. The wavy red hair, the deep blue eyes, the sensitive Irish skin. Luckily, the “powers that be” graced me with her curvy body—a feature that did not go unnoticed to the male eye.

  My mom, however, was truly a supermodel. She had luscious, chocolaty brown hair and eyes that were so dark you felt as though you were looking into an abyss. Add to that a perfect figure, and you’ve got a package women envied and men found irresistible—it was almost embarrassing.

  “Yes, I know that’s where you and dad met.” I sighed, sinking further into my chair. “I’ve only heard this story a million times.”

  She had her pick of guys but settled on my dad—if you can call it that. My dad was beyond handsome, captain of the football team, All American Mageian volleyball champion, and senior pick to the Mageian Diplomatic Advisers office—where he interned and eventually earned the position he holds today. He was a stud. Apparently, my mom still thought so by the way she was reminiscing about him. Interesting . . .

  “Dad didn’t tell you he was sending me here?” I interrupted her trip down memory lane. Honestly, I didn’t know why I even asked. George didn’t consult Gwendolyn about anything, especially when I was concerned. He felt mom was a little too “free” to be a good role model for me.

  “Listen, Mom. I have to ask you something very important about dad.” My mom was known to ramble. Usually, if I stayed quiet for a half hour or so, she’d eventually run out of thing to say about herself. I didn’t have the patience today.

  “Mom, I really don’t have much time, I just need to ask you a quick question. Is dad some kind of Mageian Guardian?”

  She stopped. It was a first for my mom. I checked my phone to see if we were still connected.

  “Mom, are you there?”

  Now I was quiet. For some time, I just . . . listened. I listened to the “how did you find out?” And the “oh Evie, there’s so much you just don’t understand . . . you’re so young. We didn’t want to worry you about it. Your father has everything under control.”

  I was awestruck. I sat in my chair and stared at the wall after my mom “let me go.” Who were these people? I felt like I didn’t know either of my parents. How could they keep something like this from me? And how could my mom act so blasé about it? Well, that wasn’t such a shocker—but my dad?

  I looked out my window and stared down at the kids heading off to dinner. I was sure they all knew their parents. I’d bet their parents hadn’t lied to them their whole lives. I’ll bet their fathers weren’t legendary Mageian Guardians who destroyed demons from Hell! And if they were, I’d bet they wouldn’t keep that from them.

  Suddenly, the four walls around me appeared to be closing in. I had to get out of here. I rushed down the stairs and out the door into a crowd of hungry students. I took in a deep, calming breath. I followed along into a large dining hall within Building K that was so cleverly referred to as “The Kitchen.” It was packed with students.

  “Evie! Over here!”

  I looked around. Iris, Aubree, and Barbie were waving at me. I made my way over to them, weaving in and out of traffic. They were already in line and had no qualms about pulling me in with them.

  “Hey, are you alright?” Iris looked legitimately concerned.

  “I’m fine.” I masked the lie with a smile. I was so not fine.

  “
That has to be totally weird not knowing your dad’s a Guardian and all,” Aubree commented, dodging Barbie’s elbow.

  “Aubree! I thought we agreed not to say anything,” she growled through her teeth, still maintaining a “Colgate smile.”

  “It’s okay. Really, don’t worry about it.” I waved them off.

  “For sure, you should be more worried about why your dad stuck you here.” I could tell Aubree was the loose cannon in this group. She’d say whatever was on her mind. I’d have to remember not to say anything I didn’t want thrown back at me.

  “Aubree!” Iris was trying to rein her in.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, even though I wasn’t sure I could handle the answer.

  “I mean . . .” she spoke like she was stating the obvious, “ . . . why wait until now to send you to Pinehurst? Your dad has obviously wanted to keep his identity secret from you. So why send you here, now, where you’d be sure to learn about the Daimonas, about him. It doesn’t make any sense.

  She was right. I half-heartedly took a tuna sandwich, some chips, and a soda. I followed the girls to a table in the corner and sat down.

  Why did my dad send me here, now? I mean, why not just let me finish high school where I was? I’d still be in the dark about him.

  “Oh my God, here comes Roland.” Barbie’s face was all a-glow.

  I shifted my attention to the left and fell into suit with the rest of the female population. My mind went completely blank. All I saw was a tall, blond, blue-eyed hunk of man walking my way. Well, maybe man was a stretch, but it wasn’t that far off.

  “Roland Vandenberg.” Two of the sweetest words whispered into my ear. Barbie spoke them slow, letting each syllable roll off her tongue like she was sharing a bite of the tastiest, most delectable dessert ever—yum!

  Roland commanded the room. His presence was felt before he even walked past. And as he approached, a smell of what could be none other than extremely expensive cologne hit me. I drank it in.

  He stood tall, maybe six feet or so. He walked with an air of confidence that none of the idiots at my old school could have ever pulled off on their best day.