Shock of Fate: A Young Adult Fantasy Adventure (Anchoress Series Book 1)

by D. L. Armillei

  Van grimaced at Paley’s newest choice of colored contact lenses and answered, “We learned in school that the Native Islanders have an altogether different ancestry. We’re the only ones left of our tribe in the whole world. That’s why our island is private and basically kept hidden from the mainland.”

  “And why there are so many rules,” Paley added, checking out her newest eye color in the wall mirror.

  Miss Nutting continued to blow out Van’s hair; their eyes met in the hair-dressing mirror. “Ever wonder why your stepmother was allowed Native Island resident status, despite her not being a Native Islander?”

  “Not really,” Van answered.

  “Why she goes on shopping trips off-island at least once every month?”

  “Genie is from the mainland, and she likes to buy expensive things so she can look nice.” Van shrugged. “The island shops don’t have what she wants.”

  “No.” Miss Nutting shook her head and sighed. “No.” She shut off the hairdryer. “I’m just going to come out with it. Genie is not from the mainland. She’s from the other world.”

  “You mean . . . like an alien?” Paley said, her jaw agape. She dropped into the salon chair next to Van, as if her body had gone limp from shock.

  Van narrowed her eyes at Miss Nutting. Of course, Genie was a piece of work, but to claim she was from another world? Come on.

  “She’s from a different tribe than your father and you, Van. She’s not a Lodian by birth. That’s why she’s not liked by many here.”

  Mention of the word Lodian made the hair prickle on the back of Van’s neck. Both Uxa and Fynn had used that word last night while Van eavesdropped through the window.

  “Wait—what?” Van’s head was spinning. She closed her eyes to get a grip.

  Miss Nutting sighed. “I thought I’d made myself clear. Van, you and your father—and all the Native Islanders—are from the other world. The Living World. Some live there, some live here in the Earth World, on the island, mostly on the reservation. Your father obviously lives here, but he commutes to the Living World when the need arises. Though, as a Grigori in the field, most of his work is on the mainland.”

  “Hold up,” Van said, raising her palm as if to stop this flood of information from drowning her. “You’re trying to tell me my father and stepmother and I are all from this other world called the Living World?” She felt numb.

  “Sure am.” Miss Nutting nodded so vigorously, ringlets popped from her hair clip. “And Aelia, your birth mother, she was Lodian, too. You’re all Lodians, you, your father, all the Native Islanders, including the Elders, and all the Grigori. All from the Living World. Genie was offered asylum by the Elders, so she’s considered a Lodian, which is why she was allowed to marry your father. Genie tells you she’s going shopping on the mainland as a cover for when she travels to the Living World, sometimes to visit your father when he’s working at Lodestar, which is Grigori headquarters. She’s not always shopping.”

  All Van could muster was, “M-My parents didn’t go to Canterbury Bells?” Her world, as she knew it, was falling apart. She rubbed her throbbing forehead.

  “I’m afraid not, hon.” Miss Nutting anxiously glanced at the salon’s window, then resumed styling Van’s hair. “Here on the island, townies live their lives same as any other Massachusetts resident, but they are bound by the rules of the Elders, unaware another world exists, as you and Paley were.” Miss Nutting finished Van’s hair with Jungle Mist hairspray. “Uxa and the other Elders are bigwigs. High-level politicians. They’re part of the Lodian Consilium, the ones who make our rules here on the island, which is their Earth World outpost, and in Salus Valde, which is Lodian territory in the Living World.”

  Van glanced at Paley, sitting in the adjacent hairdressing chair, to see if her friend was buying it. Paley’s slack jaw and lack of movement indicated she was sold.

  Miss Nutting pulled over a swivel stool. “The Elders require all of the Grigori here to take an oath to keep knowledge about the other world a secret.” Miss Nutting glanced at the door, then said in a whisper, “The island holds things that need protecting from both worlds.”

  “Protect what?” Van asked. Miss Nutting’s hands trembled as she removed Van’s old nail polish with a cotton wipe.

  Miss Nutting finished rubbing off Van’s polish. “Well . . . , ” she hesitated. “The portal, for one thing.”

  “Portal? You must be kidding.” But after overhearing Fynn, Uxa, and Genie last night, Van knew Miss Nutting wasn’t kidding. Her numbness gave way to a wave of anger at being lied to her whole life. During her childhood, she had overheard adults using strange words but figured they were whispering about boring adult problems. She never gave the “code words” another thought. Until now. “That’s why the reservation is off limits, because of this portal?” she asked in a sharp tone.

  Miss Nutting picked through the nail polish bin. She found Van’s specially formulated for her, hot-pink-colored nail polish called Twinkle Toes and rolled it between her palms. “One of the reasons,” Miss Nutting said. “Grigori are a select group of the Lodians’ military who take an oath to protect the portal, terrigens, and Salus Valde from any enemies. They vow never to pass the secrets of the portal to anyone other than another sworn Grigori. Those in the Lodian Consilium, including some of our Elders, don’t even know how to use the portal.”

  “Why once a month?” Van asked. “You mentioned Genie’s shopping. What do her trips have to do with this?”

  “I don’t think Genie is a Grigori,” Paley said, her mouth agape. “Is she?”

  Miss Nutting shook her head, as her curls bounced back and forth. “People of the Living World are born with a component in their blood called ichor. We call these people vichors. If you have no ichor in your blood, you’re called a terrigen.” Miss Nutting set aside the polish and began shaping Van’s nails. “Vichors can’t spend more than one moon cycle in this heavy, dense Earth World without getting, well, dopey . . . weak. They have to go back to the Living World to recharge. If they don’t, they’ll get sick and die.”

  “Tell me more about these vichors,” Paley said eagerly.

  “All the Native Islanders are vichors, including the Elders and everyone else who lives or works on the reservation side of the island. All of them need to recharge. They travel back and forth constantly. That’s why no townies are allowed onto the reservation, to keep the portal a secret. The orphans in the Gables were all born in the Living World—”

  “I knew it!” Paley leaped out of her chair and bounced up and down like Miss Nutting’s curls. “I knew I was special. My parents are Lodians! I’m supposed to be in the Living World!”

  “Calm down,” Van scolded, as she reached out and shoved Paley back toward the chair.

  “Do you know who my parents were?” Paley asked.

  “Sorry, Paley. I don’t know anything about your parents. Please, let me finish. All the orphans—”

  “Why are you telling us this?” Van said, putting it all together. “Is it because my project isn’t on the mainland? It has something to do with traveling to the Living World?”

  Miss Nutting stopped filing and grasped Van’s hands with such sincerity, it made Van squirm. “If Uxa told you to pack, then—yes, I’m afraid so, hon.”

  “Does it have to do with the death of . . . , ” Van fumbled for the memory. “Uh, some Balish guy named Prince Devon?”

  Miss Nutting froze. The expression on her face looked comical, as did Paley’s.

  “H-How do you know about that?” Miss Nutting asked.

  “Yeah, how?” Paley said, dumbfounded.

  “I overheard Uxa and Fynn talking to Genie last night,” Van confessed.

  “You know it’s not polite to eavesdrop, Van!” scolded Miss Nutting. “There are severe consequences for loose talk. All three of them could get into serious trouble if they knew someone had overheard them.” She resumed filing Van’s nails.

  For a second, Van feared she had gone too
far.

  Then Miss Nutting opened up. “Death? That’s putting it mildly,” she said, gripping Van’s hand a bit too tightly. “Prince Devon was attacked outside the Balish Palace, in the woods of Tipereth. Burned to death, nothing left of him but ashes, I heard.” She briefly raised her eyes to Van’s, without stopping her aggressive filing. “It was the work of demons.”

  Paley gasped, as Van frowned.

  “Demons? Oh, come on,” Van said. Miss Nutting is apparently taking drama lessons from Genie. “You must have mixed up your words. You meant to say something else, right?”

  “What’s a demon? They sound dangerous!” Paley said, straightening her spine and wiggling close to the edge of the chair. She seemed more excited than terrified. As if the whole story was make-believe, like the Native Island myths told to the kids.

  Miss Nutting finished filing Van’s nails and began smoothing on a bottom coat. “The demons are gone from the Living World,” she said. “But beware! It is still a dangerous place to be right now.”

  “Oh! This is so cool!” Paley popped out of her chair again.

  “Not cool,” Miss Nutting said. “Something is happening with the Balish over there. The Moors—the Balish royal family—have supreme power in the Living World, and Lodians are their sworn enemies. I hear the Moors are up in arms over the death of Prince Devon. They’re sure his death was an assassination by a Lodian. I think they’re planning an invasion of Salus Valde.”

  “What if I turn down the placement?” Van asked. The pit in the bottom of her stomach told her this was all too much.

  Miss Nutting’s curls jiggled again, as she shook her head. “Uxa will find a way to manipulate you into accepting.” She started painting color on Van’s nails.

  Van took pleasure in watching each pink stroke of Twinkle Toes cover her otherwise unsightly bare nails. “Why hasn’t anyone ever told me any of this?” she asked, trying to hold her hands steady for Miss Nutting to finish polishing.

  Miss Nutting waved her hand, indicating the locked door. “People here are cautioned against speaking of that which should be kept secret,” she said, as if reciting someone else’s words.

  “Uxa would never risk Van’s life with anything dangerous,” Paley said.

  “Paley’s right,” Van said. “You adults are always so overdramatic. I’m sure my project has more to with filing papers in a boring office than with this ‘Living World’ and its problems.”

  “I agree,” Paley said enthusiastically. “We’ll probably be doing office support for the Grigori while they sort this mess out. It’s still going to be exciting!”

  “We’ll?” Miss Nutting asked, lifting one eyebrow.

  “Forget about sneaking visits, I’m so going with!” Paley glanced at Van, as if expecting an objection, and then said to Miss Nutting, “Can you get me through the portal so I can go over with Van?”

  Miss Nutting paused and raised her eyes to Van.

  “Well?” Van asked. “Can you?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Day 1: 11:37 a.m., Earth World

  No way am I going by myself, Van thought. If it’s at all possible for Paley to travel to the Living World and help me with my project, it’s going to happen. Screw Uxa and her placement tests.

  It was close to lunchtime, and Miss Nutting worried that they wouldn’t eat, so she ordered wraps, a side of fries for Paley, and diet iced teas from the Boardwalk café. Van treated them by putting lunch on her family’s account.

  While they munched on their wraps, Miss Nutting finally said, “There is a way to get Paley over, but it’s risky bringing a terrigen through the portal and not done very often.”

  “Terrigen? Who’s a terrigen?” Paley asked, with a mouthful of steak-and-cheese wrap.

  Miss Nutting tipped her head toward Paley.

  “Who says I’m a terrigen?”

  “Your blood tests do,” Miss Nutting said. “No ichor, none at all. Same as me.”

  “Tests aren’t always right,” Paley said with a pout.

  “You told us Paley was born in the Living World,” Van said, confused. “That means she’s a vichor.”

  Miss Nutting shook those curls again and started talking before she finished chewing a bite of her tuna salad wrap. “The orphans placed in the Gables are known terrigens, no ichor in their blood. It is possible for the other kids on the island to develop ichor by the time they begin kindergarten. On rare occasions, it comes out later. If it doesn’t show up by the time they come of age at eighteen, it never will. The Elders are always on the lookout for this.” Miss Nutting swallowed, then sucked iced tea through her straw. “People in the know can tell which kids have ichor—they’re the kids who are a bit slow. They’re put into the Reservation Program. Van, you have ichor.”

  Van had her cucumber salad wrap halfway to her mouth. “You mean my special classes were really—?” She put the wrap down, appetite gone.

  “Were really wha—?” Paley asked, shoving fries into her mouth.

  “In the Living World,” answered Miss Nutting. “So you could recharge. The elevator to your classroom took you through the portal to a floor in Lodestar Station. That’s why you had to continue with your classes even after you got smarter—um, older.”

  If Van had come from the Living World and had ichor in her blood, why didn’t her father and Genie feel proud of her? Why was it such a big deal that Van had been born slow? Was Pernilla right—that Van remained dumb, despite being recharged? Had the Elders fixed her placement status to cover it up? Why? A more depressing thought occurred to Van. Was this the reason her father always seemed so disappointed in her?

  “Whoa,” Paley said. “I kind of figured only adults would need to recharge.”

  “How could I not have known my classes happened in another world?” Van asked, worrying that this validated her lack of intelligence.

  “Oh, the Elders and the Grigori go out of their way for the kids not to know,” Miss Nutting said, chomping away. “And their parents. If their parents are terrigens, that is. It wasn’t just you, Van. No one is supposed to figure it out. The program is designed to make the kids and the parents think it is simply another class in a different location, one better equipped for athletic training.”

  “How can we get Paley over?” Van asked. Her mouth felt dry, and she grabbed her iced tea.

  “First things first,” Miss Nutting spoke, again with half-chewed food in her mouth. “You can’t get through the portal without being attuned, usually by a Grigori.”

  “My father’s a Grigori,” Van said and then remembered he was already in trouble at work. And missing. And possibly a traitor.

  “That’s no help,” Paley said, rummaging around for the last French fry. “Where can we find a Grigori who’ll help us?”

  “The reservation is filled with Grigori. Not one of them will help you.”

  Van felt affronted. “Why not?”

  “They took an oath to keep the portal a secret from terrigens. Another problem is the Grigori monitor the portal. I’m sure there’ll be a transport record. Grigori also take an oath to protect terrigens. Sending you through the portal is not protecting you, Paley.” Miss Nutting, her pretty face now pale and tense, stood up, leaving the rest of her wrap. She walked over to the shampoo bowl and fiddled with the faucet.

  “Keeping me from transporting will protect me?” Paley asked, halting her last fry midway to her mouth.

  “Van will be able to travel through, no problem. It’s you, Paley, who we have to worry about.” Miss Nutting stopped fiddling, and her expression grew grim. “Bad things happen when a transport goes wrong.”

  Van resisted rolling her eyes. More adult drama. “Just tell us what to do, and we’ll do it.”

  She could use Paley’s help over there, especially if her father was in trouble. With Paley watching her back, it would be easier for Van to cover up her father’s mistakes, if it had to do with a paper trail. Van would do whatever it took to protect the Cross family’s reputation.
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  Miss Nutting motioned Paley over to the sink. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, considering whether to tell them.

  “I’ll take the chance,” Paley said, plunking herself down in the shampoo chair. “I really want to see where my parents came from, what their life was like. Maybe . . . even . . . find out what happened to them.”

  Miss Nutting, always a sucker for a sob story, turned on the words like water coming out of her shampoo faucet. “They’re called the Twin Gemstones. They’re not used for transport anymore, considered too unstable.” The shampoo foamed, as Miss Nutting massaged Paley’s scalp. “We don’t know which terrigens will transport successfully and which ones won’t.”

  Paley wrinkled her brow. “If I can’t transport through, so what? Wouldn’t I just stay in one spot?”

  “It’ll seem like you can go through, but you’ll bounce back. What you’ll get for your efforts is an addled brain, memory loss at best, brain damage or death at worst.”

  “It sounds risky,” Van said. And like something I would get in trouble over.

  Paley raised her wet head, nostrils flaring. “I have a chance to find out about my parents! I’m not letting it slip by me. I’m doing this with or without you, Van.”

  “No. You won’t. You can’t, actually,” Miss Nutting said, pushing Paley’s head back into the sink and continuing to rinse her hair. “The Twin Gemstones have to be used in pairs. The holders of the Gemstones must travel through the portal together, and one must be a vichor.”

  Miss Nutting sat Paley up and wrapped a towel around her head. “The vichor’s energy, along with the energy of the Gemstones, is what makes the attunement high enough to transport the terrigen.” She sat Paley down in a hairdressing chair. “Each Gemstone will automatically attune to each traveler’s vibration—her unique energy pattern—and then combine into one vibrational signal. Once you’re attuned, the portal’s vibration will change to match your vibration, which allows for transport.”