WAKENED (The Silvervane Chronicles Book 1)

by Rachel Berlynn

  Aylie squeezed his hand again. See? I told you it would be fine.

  “Do you really live in a haunted castle?” Sam asked, wide-eyed.

  Ryder chuckled. “That’s what they say.”

  “Have you ever seen a ghost before?”

  “Sam,” Mrs. Bryant shook her head disapprovingly. “Why don’t you move over to the beanbag chair so Aylie can sit beside her friend?”

  “You mean boyfriend,” Sam muttered, leaving his usual spot on the loveseat.

  Ryder followed Aylie over to Sam’s vacated spot, sitting down beside her stiffly.

  Relax, she thought, pressing her hand into his.

  Mr. Bryant turned the volume down on the television, the sound of the familiar Christmas classic fading into the background. “So Ryder, what are your plans for the rest of the holiday? Do you have extended family in town?”

  “My uncle and cousins should be here any day,” he replied, uncomfortably. “I’m staying with Judge Kavanagh until they arrive.”

  “That’s very kind of her,” Mr. Bryant remarked.

  Ryder smiled. “I’m very grateful for her hospitality.”

  “Where is your uncle visiting from?”

  “England, I believe,” Ryder looked down at Aylie’s hand inside of his. “I haven’t seen him in a few years.”

  “Well, I’m glad they’re able to visit. I’m sure you’ll appreciate having them here.” Mr. Bryant smiled, turning his attention back to the television screen.

  Ryder breathed a quiet sigh of relief, glad that the worst of the interrogation appeared to be over. He relaxed his shoulders, leaning back against the sofa cushions, as Aylie pressed into his side. He noticed that Sam was staring at them and smiled, causing Sam to blush and look away.

  Mrs. Bryant entered the room. “Would anyone like hot chocolate?”

  “Yeah!” Sam exclaimed enthusiastically.

  She carried in a tray of steaming mugs, balancing it on her forearms. She handed the first cup to Mr. Bryant, who preferred his hot chocolate mixed with a little coffee. She gave Sam the next mug, saving the last two for Aylie and Ryder. Lucas had still not returned and would have declined hot chocolate anyway, preferring something stronger.

  Ryder reached for his mug, glancing down carefully at the tray Mrs. Bryant held as he did so. His eyes suddenly fixated on her wrist. The sleeve of her sweater had been rolled up to keep the fabric away from potential hot chocolate spills. The tip of the silvery, liquid vein pattern tracing down her forearm was impossible to miss. His hand stiffened around his mug, just long enough for Aylie to notice.

  Her forehead creased. What’s wrong? She asked silently.

  Your mom’s wrist…

  He saw Aylie’s eyes flash to the exposed skin on Mrs. Bryant’s wrist as she pulled the tray away. He heard her sharp intake of breath and noticed the way she stiffened against his side. He felt her heart pounding and her hand shook a little as she attempted to lift her hot mug to her lips. He could feel the tension growing in her body.

  You don’t exactly seem surprised, he observed, glancing sideways at her.

  A sudden knock at the front door startled Aylie, causing her to spill her hot chocolate on the carpet. She stared at the brown discoloration at her feet with a look of mild terror on her face. Mrs. Bryant was already armed with paper towels, kneeling down to blot the warm liquid from the carpet as Mr. Bryant moved to answer the door.

  Ryder turned to Aylie. Okay, you have to tell me what’s going on here. He thought sternly, forcing her to look up at him. Before she could reply, he was startled by the familiar sound of his uncle’s voice

  “I thought I might find you here,” said Alexander Payne, as his tall, dark figure filled the

  doorway.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  R yder reluctantly said goodbye to Aylie and followed his uncle out to the car parked in the driveway. He whistled, taking in the sleek, black finish of the limited edition Audi.

  “Nice ride,” he remarked. “Where’d you rent this from?”

  “It’s not a rental,” Alexander said, tossing Ryder the keys. “I bought it.”

  “You bought an Audi to visit for the holidays?”

  “Consider it a Christmas gift,” his uncle replied with a smile. “Try it out.”

  Ryder slid into the driver’s seat. He put the key into the ignition and cranked it to life, listening to the purr of the engine in awe. He backed carefully out of the long driveway, checking to make sure he didn’t hit anything on the way out.

  “Oh come on, Ryder—you can do better than that,” his uncle teased.

  Ryder hit the gas hard, pushing the pedal to the floor as they flew to the Mansion in record time. Ryder zipped into the carriage house, putting the car into park. He climbed out, walking around the exterior of the car to admire it once more.

  “Where are Roman and Colin?” He asked, realizing belatedly that his cousins hadn’t been with them in the car.

  “They’re already inside,” Alexander replied, retrieving a piece of luggage from the back seat. “We arrived a few hours ago. Your butler was kind enough to let us in and the housekeeper told me where I might find you. Your girlfriend seems like quite the catch,” he winked suggestively.

  Ryder grinned. “I wish you would’ve gotten a chance to talk to her a little more,” he said, “she’s been a lifesaver.”

  “So it would seem,” Alexander said, carrying two large suitcases to the front door. He set them down to ring the doorbell and waited for the butler to answer the door. “It’s lucky she reached out to me when she did or you would’ve been spending the holidays in the slammer.” His smile was thoughtful. “It was good thinking on her part, tracing my address to locate my phone number.”

  Ryder nodded. “She thought of that on her own.”

  “I wonder how she was able to do it,” he mused, as the butler opened the door, greeting him for the second time that day. “Both my phone number and address are unlisted—I’m a bit of a stickler when it comes to privacy, I’m afraid.”

  The butler interrupted their conversation, taking the suitcases from them as he ushered them both inside. The old man seemed genuinely glad to see Alexander again, though he’d been the one to greet him when he’d arrived with his boys just a few hours before. “Glad you were able to track this one down,” the butler said, nodding toward Ryder.

  Alexander clapped the old man on the shoulder. “Couldn’t have been easier,” he smiled. He paused in the Great Hall, looking around at the massive interior and up at the high, domed skylight. “This place is still as beautiful as I remember it,” he murmured aloud.

  Ryder stood beside him, looking up through the skylight. His heart felt less empty with his uncle beside him. Even though Alexander and his father had fallen out and had not parted on good terms, Ryder still remembered the summers he’d spent with his uncle and cousins fondly.

  “Well, if it isn’t the infamous Ryder Payne,” said his oldest cousin Roman, entering the Great Hall with a grin on his absurdly handsome face. They had very similar facial features, but Roman’s hair was blond and his eyes were an interesting shade of hazel-green. “You’re practically a celebrity right now in the serial killer world.”

  Ryder grinned, reaching out to shake his cousin’s hand firmly. “It’s been too long.”

  Roman clasped his hand for a second longer. “I was sorry to hear about your father,” he said, with a look of genuine sympathy. “I always looked up to him.”

  Ryder swallowed the lump in the back of his throat. “Thank you.”

  Colin sauntered in, wearing an absurdly bright purple, button-down shirt beneath a black silk vest with gray tweed loafers. “What’s up, cuz,” he greeted, with a handshake they’d used in their youth. “We came to crash the party, but it looks like we’re going to have to bring the party to you.” His raven black hair was slicked back, making him look older than he really was.

  “Always the exuberant one, Colin,” Ryder laughed, shaking his head.
“It’s good to see you.”

  The four of them talked over dinner, trying to catch up on everything they had missed in each other’s lives over the past four years. Uncle Alexander’s business had tripled, making him one of the wealthiest men in England, in edition to inheriting the title of Lord Payne after his father’s death. He had managed to buy certain outlying properties that had added to his wealth and prominence on the European Continent. His sons had also been encouraged to invest and had unashamedly taken up illegal, off-book gambling to accrue their own small fortunes.

  Ryder listened to the stories of their accumulated wealth and their claims to self-importance, all of which were a stark contrast to the quiet, unpretentious life of solitude his own father had chosen for his wife and sons. It made him miss his own family terribly, but at least he had blood relatives still living. Having them here in the mansion was still a comfort, even if it wasn’t what he was used to.

  After dinner, Alexander suggested they retire to the billiard room, pulling out an expensive box of cigars he’d purchased on one of his trips to South America. He passed one to each of his boys and then offered one to Ryder, lighting a match for them. Ryder was taken aback at first. His father had always smoked a pipe but had never allowed him to try it. He felt a little uncomfortable accepting the cigar from his uncle, not really knowing how to smoke it. Afraid that Alexander would think he was juvenile for rejecting it, he took the cigar hesitantly, doing his best to blend in.

  “So, tell us about your girl.” Colin said, crossing his legs as he leaned back against one of the gold-trimmed, upholstered couches in the long billiard room located on the second floor of the Mansion.

  Ryder nearly choked as he inhaled a lung-full of cigar smoke before releasing it in one large puff. He coughed, trying to play it off casually. “What do you want to know about her?”

  “Tell us about her family,” Roman suggested, taking a seat next to Colin.

  “Yes, we’re all curious about the girl who rescued you from prison,” uncle Alexander said with a smirk, seating himself in a wing-backed chair across from him.

  “What’s her name?” Colin asked with genuine interest.

  “Aylie Bryant.”

  “Bryant,” Alexander murmured. “That’s an interesting surname.”

  Something in his uncle’s tone made Ryder feel uneasy but he ignored it, determined to enjoy this visit as much as possible.

  “How long have you two known each other?” Colin asked, puffing his cigar like an old man, though he was the youngest one in the room.

  “Only about three months,” Ryder replied, inhaling another puff of his own cigar.

  “Three months? That seems a bit fast,” Roman said, tapping the end of his cigar on the ashtray sitting on the end table beside him. “Do you attend classes together?”

  “We both attend Silvervane Preparatory Academy.”

  Alexander nodded. “At least my brother managed to make one good decision on your behalf—that school is one of the best in the world.”

  Ryder tried not to take offense at his uncle’s insinuation. “I can pretty much choose any university in the country after graduation.”

  “And where exactly do you intend to go from here?” His uncle asked.

  Ryder shook his head. “I’m not sure, that’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “You’ll have to leave the girl behind, of course,” Roman said, taking one last puff of his cigar before discarding it.

  Ryder didn’t respond.

  “If you plan to come live with us in England, he means,” Colin clarified. “Roman’s not much of a romantic, I’m afraid.”

  “Staying with us would be the most logical choice,” Alexander said, with a fatherly smile. “We would love to have you—on your vacations from University, at least.”

  Ryder smiled. “Thank you. That’s exactly what I was hoping for.”

  Alexander finished his cigar and walked over to a silver tray with three glass decanters. He poured himself a glass of bourbon and returned to his seat. He took a sip, staring into the bottom of the glass afterwards, reflectively. “Of course, that would require you to accept certain family duties and responsibilities.”

  Ryder nodded, “I’m happy to assume any responsibilities you want to give me, uncle.”

  Alexander studied him carefully. “Did your father ever mention anything to you about your inheritance?”

  Ryder quirked an eyebrow. “If you’re referring to this Estate, the paperwork has already been taken care of. My father’s attorney has assured me there won’t be any complications.”

  “Oh, of course. But I’m referring to a rather different kind of inheritance.”

  Colin shifted uncomfortably in his seat, glancing over at Roman who was leaning forward in anticipation. Ryder tried to ignore the growing sensation of uneasiness in the pit of his stomach, reaching out for the ashtray on the coffee table in front of him to discard the remains of his wretched cigar. “I’m not sure I know what you mean,” he replied hesitantly.

  Alexander smiled, taking another sip from his bourbon glass before explaining. “Being a Payne comes with certain obligations and social responsibilities. One of those obligations is to carry on the family line—to keep our traditions, our practices, and above all, to ensure that our bloodline remains unpolluted.”

  Ryder felt his jaw tighten. “What exactly do you mean by ‘unpolluted?’ ”

  “We are part of the Royal Family, Ryder. If you were to return to Europe, you would be required to accept the title that is yours by birth—you are a lord, and it is your duty to preserve the royal bloodline.” He paused for a moment. “I’m sure my brother must have shared stories with you over the years about our family ‘history.’ He was obsessed with a heresy regarding our bloodline until his dying day, I daresay.”

  Ryder felt his blood begin to boil. He clenched the arms of his chair until his knuckles were white. He forced himself to keep a calm exterior. He didn’t want to get into an argument with his uncle and cousins on Christmas Day.

  “I don’t mean to alarm you—I know how much you loved your father. But I must tell you that he was very mislead in his later years. He had a book that he claimed was a record of our family history, saying that it contained true accounts of an ancient king who was rumored to be murdered by one of our ancestors. He also ranted about an immortal prince who is roaming about on the earth somewhere, just waiting to save the world.” He shook his head in dramatic sympathy.

  Ryder sucked in a deep breath, trying to remain calm and open-minded, in spite of his uncle’s harsh accusations.

  “It was nothing more than your great-grandfather’s personal journal, but your father read that book religiously after your mother was murdered—a tragedy that shocked us all. I believe he was looking for an answer to his suffering. He believed that someone in our family was to blame for your mother’s death. It was a baseless accusation—nothing short of scandalous. We argued about it several times. I was concerned for his welfare and for the wellbeing of you and your brothers. I begged him to turn to the law for help in finding your mother’s killer instead of fairytales, but he became consumed by the stories in that journal. He was deceived, Ryder. He renounced our family and our traditions. Eventually, we parted ways because of it.” He looked at Ryder with tear-filled eyes, his voice wavering with strong emotion. “He was deeply disturbed, Ryder. I know it’s hard to hear right now, but I don’t want you to make the same mistakes and live to regret it.”

  Ryder cleared his throat, preparing to defend his father’s honor and the manuscript he had cherished till his dying breath. Until today he would have taken his uncle’s side without argument, but he’d seen the distinguished trail of liquid silver in Mrs. Bryant’s wrist…he knew for a fact that Silver Veins existed. If that part of the legend was true, everything else in the journal could be true, too.

  “Think about it, Ryder,” his uncle continued. “Your father renounced our family and our heritage becaus
e he believed in some ancient, immortal prince who was meant to ‘free mankind.’ In all those years of searching and studying that journal, did he ever find any evidence that this prince really exists? Any proof of the legendary immortal kingdom? Did you ever encounter the crazed sorcerers your father claimed were trying to destroy the world?” Uncle Alexander’s eyes filled with compassion. “Have you ever seen another of our kind here in Silvervane? And yet your father accused us of murdering your precious family.”

  Ryder cleared his throat, feeling confused by the raw emotion and sincerity of his uncle’s argument. He genuinely believed the manuscript to be nothing but a hoax and a delusion that had led his poor, delusional brother to an early grave. It was such a rational argument that Ryder couldn’t completely banish the feeling that his uncle could be right. What if everything written in that journal was a delusion? What if Silver Veins had murdered his family and not the Order? What if his father had it backwards?

  “So…you’re part of Edryd’s Order?” Ryder asked, his head spinning with the implications.

  “It’s not what you think,” Colin interjected. “My father is right. The Order would never murder one of their own, let alone the family of the next high priest.”

  “High priest?”

  “Seriously, Ryder—what did your father tell you?” Roman sneered, shaking his blond head. “Of course the Order will have a high priest, how else can they be unified?”

  Ryder shook his head, trying to banish the confusion swirling around him. His mind felt fuzzy, as hazy as the cloud of cigar smoke filling his lungs. He dropped his head in his hands. He didn’t know whether to believe his sympathetic uncle or remain true to his dead father. Their beliefs were diametrically opposed to each other…they couldn’t both be right. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up wearily.

  Alexander gazed down at him anxiously. “Are you okay, Ryder?” He asked with concern in his large, gray eyes. “I didn’t mean to overwhelm you.”

  “I’m fine,” Ryder mumbled. “I just need a good night’s sleep in my own bed.”