HOUSE OF GUARDIANS
THE AMBROSIA TRILOGY | BOOK ONE
Beatrice Sand
Sand Publishing
COPYRIGHT
Copyright © 2016 by Sand Publishing
All rights reserved. Except for the use of a book review, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the written permission of the book’s author. For permission please contact: [email protected]
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters and events are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events, is coincidental.
Published by Sand Publishing
House of Guardians (The Ambrosia Trilogy, Book 1), Beatrice Sand
Cover Design by Oliviaprodesign
Cover Photographs: DepositPhotos
Interior Design by The Deliberate Page
ISBN 978-90-825913-1-6 (paperback)
ISBN 978-90-825913-0-9 (e-book)
PRAISE FOR HOUSE OF GUARDIANS
“This story is dark, intelligent, and entirely gripping.”
~Horrorgirldonna
“It’s heartfelt with a multitude of emotions.”
~Livres Recommende
“The heroine is gorgeous, the hero handsome and sexy - there’s even naked wrestling - what more could we want?”
~PussyCat
To Bodine and Daniel, my beautiful niece and gorgeous nephew, whom I love to pieces.
“I wouldn’t believe this if I weren’t seeing it with my own eyes. It’s real, and it breaks my heart.”
– Shakespeare, King Lear
Contents
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DEAR READER
THE AMBROSIA TRILOGY
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
1
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Some say it’s rough, unspoiled and adventurous out here.
I don’t.
I find the spooky wilderness where I’ve ended up to be boring, gray, and more than anything, dangerous. No one in his right mind would move voluntarily to an inhospitable island with desolate beaches, savage animals, and infinitely thick fog. And yet, that’s exactly what I have done with no other explanation than some sort of feeling, an urge, a sense of just having to be here.
So here I am, sitting at the kitchen table, trying to figure out what on earth I’m doing here. Because to be honest, it’s hard to picture myself building a life on this island completely enveloped in fog.
“You’ll be late, if you keep sitting there staring like that,” Mia warns in that typical way of hers. “Renee is at work already.”
I resist the urge to sigh and glance at the clock. Hastily, I scoot off the stool. “I’m on my way.” I try not to sound as annoyed as I am.
I still haven’t managed to build a relationship with my dad’s wife. And the fact that she’s constantly comparing me to her daughter isn’t helping the situation any.
The restaurant where I have recently started work as a waitress is my dad’s, and it is located right next to our home. At least a few hours of waitressing will offer some distraction—and hopefully good tips. I’m dying to buy my own car.
I enter the back of the restaurant. Martin is absorbed in checking the dishes leaving the kitchen and gives the bell a powerful slap.
“Hi, Dad. I’m sorry I’m late. Full house?”
“Hey, there’s my girl. That’s okay, everything is under control,” he says, remarkably calm for him. He gives me a quick smile. The dark circles under his eyes betray his lack of sleep, and it’s obvious that he has been working too much over the last couple of days. He is such a control freak. And whenever he is not personally behind the stove, he is busy creating new dishes.
Since my arrival last September, I have yet to find a real chance to talk to him, because the brasserie takes up all of his time. Our only chance of having any kind of conversation is when I’m waitressing, and even then our conversations are limited to statements like ‘not done’, ‘too cold’ or ‘they have been waiting for half an hour’. Even so, I’m taking every opportunity I can to spend time with him—after all, he is the reason for my moving to this godforsaken place, although I keep wondering why. My dad is more or less a stranger to me, and it seems much too late to start a father-daughter relationship at the age of seventeen.
“Laurel, take these plates to table three. They have to be served while they’re still hot!”
Quickly, I take the two plates newly approved by Martin’s critical eye and walk toward the swing-doors. Renee rushes past me.
“Well,” she says on her way, “what was it this time? Did you get lost or did you happen to get a flat tire?”
For the second time this afternoon, I stifle a sigh before entering the crowded restaurant.
The provincial road to Sooke High is long and boring with nothing but bushes, tall pine trees, and an endless row of wooden power poles. The last mile goes through old-growth rainforest. On Vancouver Island—also known as wilderness—you can find any type of natural feature or animal that you can imagine.
I ride to school on my granny bike, which I’ve spent a small fortune to import from my home country. Mia suggested that I go with Renee, but it was pretty clear that neither one of us was up to that. I don’t need to be under my stepsister’s protective wings, and I don’t think Renee is exactly over the moon about her foreign stepsister either. Our bond is similar to the one I have with her mother—practically non-existing. And whenever it’s pouring rain, I can always borrow Martin’s van. Today it’s drizzling—an ordinary Monday on the i
sland. Thankfully, the final semester has begun. I just need to hang in there for a couple of months before school is finally over.
The first three classes go by quickly, and by lunchtime, I look a bit lost as usual. I still haven’t managed to make friends after all these months.
Carrying my tray, I walk over to an empty table and sit down. Just as I’m about to open a bottle of soy milk, a girl comes over and stands next to me. I recognize her from history class earlier.
“Hi, is it okay if I join you?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
She pulls back a chair and grins at me. “My name’s Ava.”
“I’m Laurel.”
Ava has a sweet face with friendly eyes. A black bang falls in long strands across her forehead. She opens her prepacked sandwich and gazes at me curiously. “You’re new, huh?”
I nod.
We hear a commotion and both turn around. Renee’s table. As usual, my stepsister is the center of attention. And why wouldn’t she be with that beautiful blonde hair and slender figure? Her boyfriend is bent over her, kissing her intensely. The others at the table are applauding and whistling. I know how Mia would react if she witnessed this. I imagine her disapproving look and chuckle.
“That’s the popular table,” Ava remarks in between bites. “The boy kissing that pretty girl is Julien. He’s the right wing.”
Like that explains anything. “Ah, right.” I give her a smile. “And that pretty girl he was kissing is Renee. She is my stepsister.”
Ava stops chewing instantly. “You and Renee are stepsisters?”
“Yep. But we don’t know each other that well. I just moved here in September.”
“Then your dad owns that restaurant?”
“He does. Have you eaten there?”
“Yeah, the food’s great. Especially the warm chocolate cake.”
I smile again. “I like that one too.”
“Where are you from? I hear a slight accent.”
“The Netherlands. My mom’s Dutch, my dad Canadian.”
“Sounds cool.”
I smile.
Two boys and a girl sit down at our table. They watch me curiously.
“Everyone,’ Ava says, ‘this is Laurel and she is from the Netherlands. Laurel, this is Hugo, Maude, and Charles.”
I put my hand in the air. “Hi.”
“The Netherlands?” Charles asks. The hair on his head is parted perfectly. “Isn’t that the flat country with the wooden shoes and the windmills and the drugs?”
“And one of the most developed countries in the world. We are one of the top ten strongest economies in the world.”
Charles whistles between his teeth. “And all accomplished wearing wooden shoes and being high on weed.”
I shrug and take a bite of my sandwich.
“What’s with the weird bike?”
I look at the boy that was introduced as Hugo. He has a fun and playful face. “It’s an omafiets, which means a granny bike.” They burst out laughing. “The granny bike is a typical Dutch product,” I say, smiling broadly at Charles, “just like the wooden shoes.”
“You don’t have a driver’s license?” Charles asks.
“I do, but I’m still saving to buy a car.”
“You can ride with me if you want,” he offers kindly.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to embarrass you when I show up in my wooden shoes.”
Everyone laughs.
“How come you just came to this school the last year?” Maude asks.
Because I totally lost my mind. “My dad lives here and I… I wanted to live closer.”
I look at Maude and she looks at me. She is every bit as beautiful as Renee is, and her hair is blonder than blonde. I wonder why she’s not at the popular table, she would fit in perfectly.
“Her dad owns the brasserie by the beach, next to Renee’s mom’s guesthouse. Renee is her stepsister,” Ava explains. There it is—my life’s story, right here in the cafeteria in the Podunk town of Sooke.
“Really?” Maude asks fascinated. She gazes across the room, stopping at Renee. “Did Don really leave her in that shitty way?”
“Maude!” Ava exclaims shocked.
Maude looks at her friend. “Come on, it’s not like it’s a national secret. Everyone knows. And you were pretty curious about it yourself.”
Ava blushes and quietly stares at her lunch.
“Who is Don?” I ask. I know so little about my stepsister.
Maude smiles and shakes her head. “He defies description. When you see him, you’ll know. It’s just that he and his friends practically live in the gym, they are hardly around.”
“So, what’s it like,” Hugo asks, ‘going to the same school as your stepsister?”
I shrug. “Nothing special, as you can see, we don’t exactly get in each other’s way. I wasn’t supposed to go to this school at all. I signed up for another school, but because of some sort of administrative error, I ended up here.”
“Good thing you did,” Charles smiles. “All female beauty is very welcome here.”
I remain the center of attention all week and get bombarded with all sorts of questions, which I answer patiently. It seems like I’ve finally found a fun group of people, so I don’t have to spend the last couple of months in complete loneliness after all.
On Saturday night, our strange blended family experiences an unusual moment—we are all eating dinner at the same time, at the same table.
“The applesauce is delicious, Laurel,” Martin says. “You used just the right amount of cinnamon.”
“Thanks, Dad.” It seems like Martin and I have something in common, and I’m hoping he’ll want to teach me some of his recipes.
“How are your new classes, Laurel?” Mia asks kindly. “Are you managing? It’s been quite a transition for you.”
“It’s fine,” I mutter, taking a bite of peas with the fresh applesauce, which is still slightly warm. It does taste pretty good.
“Are you planning on doing something fun the last semester? You could join a sports team… volleyball maybe? There is so much to do.”
“No. I don’t like that kind of thing, Mia.” It annoys me even more than usual when she tries to be friendly with Martin around.
“Well, I suppose you’ve got enough to do just studying.”
“Not really, actually. The level is not that high.”
“Laurel!” Martin yells, sending me a knowing look. “How about we are nice to each other?”
I shoot him a withering look. Mia looks at Renee all embarrassed. Pfff. “I’m sorry, Mia, I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just different and I don’t want to do other things. I just want my degree as soon as possible, so I can get on with my life.”
“But this is your life, Laurel,” she says pedantically. “Your high school years are one of the greatest times of your life, and you must try to enjoy it. How about acting? They have a beautiful theater.”
“No, not for me.”
“Don’t you want to socialize, Laurel?”
I look up at Martin. “Why should I? I have my volunteer work. More than enough socializing if you ask me.”
“They are hobos, sweetheart.”
“Homeless.”
“Laurel made some friends last week,” Renee chimes in.
“That’s great,” Martin exclaims, overly excited.
I shrug. “They’re all right, I guess.” I feel a dull pain developing behind my eyes. What am I doing here? Everything feels so forced.
“And guess what… James is interested in taking you to prom.”
The dull pain gives way to twinges. “Whoever that may be,” I murmur.
“James is a fullback. Last line of defense,” she adds when I don’t immediately jump up and down in my seat with excitement. “And a
friend of Julien’s,” Renee explains for the benefit of Mia and Martin. “Very popular and fast,” she chuckles. “Every girl in school would die to go to the prom with him, but he hasn’t made up his mind, yet.”
I roll my eyes. I couldn’t care less about the positions on the rugby team, or about popularity for that matter. “Well, I will make this a little easier for James, because I’m not going to the prom.”
“Of course, you’re going to the prom,” Mia says. “It’s a unique once-in-a-lifetime event. It will be your first formal dinner dance.”
I calmly swallow my food. “There will be other unique events.”
Mia looks at her husband. “Say something, Martin.”
I hate it when she does that—tries to get support from my father and set us by the ears.
“You are going, right darling? You might regret it afterwards. And Mia would love to help you with a dress. You would do her a great favor.”
I feel my stomach tie up in knots. “I’m not going to a stupid prom because it’s what I’m supposed to do or to do someone a favor. I’m not going to start acting, and I’m definitely not joining any kind of sports team. And I won’t let anyone force me to do anything.”
I push away from the table and run out of the dining room. Why didn’t I stay with my aunt and uncle to finish school in my own familiar environment? There is absolutely nothing for me here. I will never accept Mia as my stepmom, and Renee considers my dad more of a father than I do. I don’t belong here at all.
I spend the rest of the night in my room, asking myself for the millionth time what on earth I am doing here.
2
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The final day of the weekend starts out sunny. I try to remember what I know about the climate—something about mild, wet winters. Mild sounds good, wet not so much.
While tilting my head back and letting the sun warm my skin, I tell myself not to give up so fast and that I have to accept the fact that I’m still adjusting. I’ve been away for almost fourteen years! And of course, there is a place for me here—I was born here, after all. I have just as much of a right to live on this island as any other islander, and…
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