Rule 9 Academy Series Boxset: Books 3-5 Young Adult Paranormal Fantasy (Rule 9 Academy Box Sets (3 Book Series) 2)

by Elizabeth Rain

  Rough shadows stepped free of the woods at his back, and the Major, Todd, and Terry emerged.

  “She isn’t here, son. It’s time to go home. Dawn is coming and you 're standing in the middle of Jerry Waverly’s yard half naked. You’re close, Thomas, but not quite ready. In the next few days I imagine. Let’s get you home and warm…”

  “Leave me alone. I need her…she’s in danger…gotta save…” he muttered.

  He held his clawed fingers out, watching numbly as the dark-tipped nails flattened, the ravaged and bloody pads shrinking to human proportions. As well, the dark pelt of fur that had kept him warm on his race down the mountain receded, leaving soft, sparse human growth behind, no match for the early morning air. Thomas shivered, his teeth chattering. He was so cold.

  The Major stepped up behind him, swinging a blanket around his shoulders. His siblings clustered around him, looking at him with concern. If they gave him their pity, he’d be giving them a what for!

  Instead, Todd spoke up, an odd note in his voice. “Let’s go home, brother. Kimmy’s home fixing several pounds of bacon and a dozen eggs. Are you hungry? I bet you’re starving.”

  Thomas growled, the deep pit of his stomach empty and hurting.

  He looked up at his father, remorse flooding his senses. “I made a mess, Dad. I’m sorry…”

  The Major waved his hands. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters to me. Everything else is just a hammer, nails, and a spot of muscle. Come home son, there’s nothing for you here.”

  The Major glanced up at the tall figure of Jerry Waverly, who hadn’t moved from the porch. “I’m sorry about this, Jerry.”

  “What for? I’m worried about her, too. But she’s a grown woman and I can’t stop her from doing what she feels she must. I just know I’ll be counting the minutes until she returns.”

  Thomas clutched the edges of the blanket closer, shaking his head to clear the lingering fog of the wolf’s consciousness from his brain. “I don’t know what came over me, Jerry. Dad’s right, I’m so sorry if I startled you.”

  Jerry gave a short laugh. “Go home and be with your family. We’ll talk later when you put some pants on.”

  Thomas glanced down through the opening in the blanket. At least he had on a pair of boxers. He could be grateful for that, at least.

  He gave a rusty chuckle, past a parched throat. “Got it, no more hairy, naked werewolves in your front yard.”

  Jerry shrugged. “I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming the whole thing up.”

  “I wish I had.” Thomas winced as he turned and took the first few steps, the ravaged soles of the bottom of his feet raw and bruised. His father and brothers flanked his side as he walked. Nobody spoke.

  A pound and a half of bacon and six eggs later, Thomas felt nearly human again. He spent the rest of the morning repairing the wall of the barn with his father and brothers, reinforcing the torn timber and making it even stronger than it had been before. The temperatures rose into the fifties as they slapped a second coat of fresh gray paint over the outside wall, concealing new boards from curious eyes.

  Thomas backed away from the barn and gave it a critical once over. He turned to the Major.

  “I have to do something, Dad. I’ll be back before dark, I promise.”

  The Major scowled. “Are you out of your mind? Your being loose didn’t work so well last night.”

  “It won’t go so well tonight, either, if I don’t do this. I’m not asking...” Thomas’ voice hardened with determination, his eyes light.

  The Major pursed his lips, his movements jerky as he gathered rollers and paint. “It’s three o’clock. You need to be back before six. I’ll have Kimmy fix you a plate for supper and leave it in the apartment. I’ll be waiting.”

  Thomas’ eyes narrowed on his father. “Better make it two, I’ll be starving by the time I get back.”

  An hour later, he was standing on the long flat rock along the shore of Deep Lake beside Sirris’ waterproof pack, which held her dry clothes until she returned. Legs splayed, fists clenched at his side, he stared out over the glass-like surface of Deep Lake with longing. She was down there, in those cold depths—somewhere he couldn’t follow or protect her. He’d been an idiot, wasting their last moments together arguing about her going. He’d dumbly assumed he could yell loud enough to change her mind, and influence her decisions.

  Instead, he wished he’d found his courage and kissed her. His mouth tingled as he imagined her petal soft lips and pink cheeks. When had his feelings for Sirris changed? They’d been friends almost all their lives, and he’d imagined nothing else. Now it was all he could think about. And the wolf didn’t like it.

  With a snarl that was more animal than man, he turned and bounded off the rock, muscled legs moving at a ground-eating lope towards home and his self-imposed prison. It was getting late and his father was waiting.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I packed my clothes in a waterproof bag designed specially for me by my father for just such a purpose. I set it aside, standing on the large flat rock at the edge of Deep Lake. The surface was dark and smooth, like a sheet of black glass in the shadows of light just peeking above the horizon. I shivered as the cool air hit my unprotected skin. In the water, the change from human to mermaid would keep me warm, even in near freezing conditions, but until then, I was as vulnerable as any Onlander.

  I hesitated, afraid of those cool dark depths in a way I hadn’t been before. I’d taken my time arriving at this point, spending the better part of a day second guessing myself as I wandered the trails that covered Shephard’s Mountain, trying not to think of everything I was leaving behind. Despite the invite, I couldn’t help but feel like an outsider, an intruder into a world I’d been banned from, along with my mother, when I was still a child. I’d made my choices and lived with them without regret for over ten years. And now I was going back.

  A low growl at my back and farther along the mountain made me turn. I knew that angry wolf, but it was too late for either of us to talk, and in his current state of mind, he wouldn’t be much for being reasonable.

  Before I could change my mind, I backed up three paces, took a running start, and leapt into the air, coming down in a perfect dive. I sliced the surface clean, leaving the faintest of ripples to indicate my passing. Icy water covered me and rushed into lungs that were already altering, becoming gills along the back of my neck, filtering the water into life-giving oxygen. Scales erupted along my shoulders and cheeks, my legs fused, and feathery tail fins replaced my feet and toes. I gave an experimental flip of my tail, cruising smoothly for yards as my body transformed. The entire process was measured in seconds. My eyes took as long to adjust from the relative brightness above to the darkness of my world below. My pupils expanded to make the most of the meager lighting. I looked above me, barely able to make out the rock and the young wolf that stood there, looking with longing out over the lake’s surface—searching for me. My heart gave a lurch, and I wanted to surface and give it to him. But I had responsibilities to see to first.

  Instead, I looked out and down, the lake bottom spread out before me. I struck out, my webbed fingers acting as a rudder to control the smooth flash of fin and tail that propelled me forward at dizzying speeds. I was going to Tarus to find the answers to more than just a summons.

  I swam past fields thick with waving widgeon grass, their long thin leaves undulating in the current. The landscape below wasn’t so different from what was above. Low valleys dipped and rose, becoming steep hills and rocky outcroppings. The result, I knew, of past glaciers that had dug out the lake bed, depositing silt thick with minerals and giving the large lake its depth and shape.

  Remembering my stalkers above, I swam low, my fingers trailing through the silky leaves, disturbing schools of pan fish that hid there from the voracious appetites of Lake Walleye or Largemouth Bass. And Me. I was the biggest predator of all in Deep Lake.

  But today, I wasn’t the most dangero
us.

  Ahead of me, emerging from behind a large outcropping of lichen-covered rocks and weeds, were three Seascrill. I had no way of knowing whether they were the same three from before. It didn’t matter. All three were armed with wicked sharp tridents hanging off hoops over their back and long sharp blades secured on their belts.

  But it was what they held in their hands, aimed in my direction, that made me backpedal furiously against the water to stop my momentum. The closest comparison for weapons we had on the surface I could think of was a crossbow, only this was smaller and handheld. The quarrels were shorter, resembling wicked sharp darts. They weren’t large, and they didn’t appear as if they could deliver a lethal hit, which was why I assumed they were likely poisonous. I reached back for my staff, attached similarly to theirs. I was used to fighting on land, moving like an Onlander. Below the surface of the lake, I drew on my magic, feeling it tingle along my arms and hands and along the length of my staff to where the sharp tip glowed. The vibrations of power created faint arcs of bubbles as I swung it back and forth, waiting for their next move. Running would be futile. Seascrill were smaller than Sylvans, but they were much faster.

  They didn’t disappoint, firing point blank in my direction. Immediately I thrust my staff out, releasing a shock wave of pulsing energy. They were at least 50 yards away, and the density of the avalanche of water combined with the distance knocked the dart harmlessly aside. They must have realized they needed to be closer. They immediately gave chase, their intent obvious. I wasn’t waiting around to give them an easier target.

  I whirled and swam, zigzagging, hoping to make it more difficult for them. I didn’t dare look back, but instinct told me they were gaining. I dived deeper into a bed of flat leaf pondweed along the bottom, hoping to lose them in the tangle, realizing my mistake as soon as I entered. The heavily leafed fronds created drag and slowed me down as much as it did them. Several unkind words burst in a froth of bubbles from my lips.

  A painful thwack to my shoulder made me grunt. A dart bounced off harmlessly into the weeds, but it had been close, and the next wouldn’t miss. They were nearly on me and I was a sitting mermaid, trapped in the heavy forest of waving fronds as they tangled in my fins and hair. I put on the brakes suddenly, causing the next miss, and watched as they swam several yards past me over my head before they whirled, preparing to come back. I darted up and out, facing them, sending a larger blast of energy from my staff. It hit them full on, sending them tumbling backwards for several yards. One of them lost his dart-gun as it tumbled away into the weeds. Righting themselves, they drew their tridents instead, spears tipped with three prongs similar to a fork as opposed to my staff and its single pointed end. What I had was deadly on land, but it wasn’t nearly as effective as what they had in the water. I used my tail to propel myself backwards without turning my back on them. I leapt sideways as they sent the first blast, but it didn’t miss entirely. The partial hit was worse than anything I could deliver as the wind left my lungs and I tumbled end over end through the water; the pain making me dizzy.

  By the time I recovered, they had me surrounded, two guns pointed at center mass where they couldn’t miss. The third had drawn his knife, the wicked blade picking up the light from the surface.

  The larger of the three smiled at me and spoke, the words carrying over the current in a sonic wave. I understood every word. “You aren’t welcome here. You should have stayed above, with all the other Onlanders.”

  “I was summoned,” I protested. Maybe if I kept them talking...

  But they weren’t interested in a conversation. “And now you’re going to die because of it,” he finished, taking careful aim.

  I readied my staff, trying to watch both guns. Maybe I could get off another shot, deflect them again. But I knew, even as I prepared, that it would be a futile effort. They were too close. From this distance they couldn’t miss, and I wasn’t strong enough to withstand the hit.

  My heart thundered with fear and a deep despair. I’d lied to everyone. I’d told them I’d be safe, and that I was coming back home to them. Instead, I was going to die at the bottom of Deep Lake and they’d never know the truth of what happened. I tensed as their long, thin fingers tightened on the triggers. I gulped, teeth clenching. How many pounds of pressure in a hand bow?

  I blinked when the leader gave an abrupt jerk, his hand going wide as he fired reflexively, and the dart sailed harmlessly over my head. His eyes grew impossibly wide and then flattened to two dull disks as he slowly sank into the weeds along the lake floor. The other two whirled towards the unseen threat, gun and knife at the ready.

  Maybe thirty yards beyond, another Seascrill emerged from a thick tangle of weed-covered rocks. Long dark hair waved in a cloud about her head as she swam closer, her hand bow held in expert hands, her dark eyes never leaving the two remaining Seascrill.

  “You’re finished here. Go back to your master, pets. Or die,” she snarled.

  “You’re outnumbered,” the slightest Seascrill challenged.

  She raised the gun, her finger tightening. “Am I? I can even the odds.”

  The last threat had the desired effect. Both whirled and fled, never giving me a second glance, tails whipping furiously through the water and leaving a trail of bubbles.

  I stared at the unsmiling Seascrill as she swam closer, the gun still pointed my way. As terrified as I’d been of the others, her expression was even more daunting. Had she merely wanted to be the one to fire the killshot?

  But as she grew abreast of me, she lowered the gun. And then she smiled, sharp white teeth gleaming in her light lavender face. I realized her eyes weren’t black, as I’d assumed. Instead, they were actually a charcoal grey, contrasting oddly with the mauve cast of her skin.

  “Sorry about that. Some welcoming committee, but then we’ve been waiting over a week for you to come.”

  I didn’t return her smile, not yet. I was still recovering from my near brush with death.

  “I don’t understand. You’re Seascrill.”

  She scowled then, her eyes flashing. “I’m half. And I hold no allegiance to those buffoons.”

  Cautiously, I stored my staff and edged closer. “Who are you?”

  A shadow of emotion I couldn’t define crossed her lovely features. “You don’t remember me. I remember you like it was yesterday. I suppose that’s right. I’m a couple of years older, after all. I’m Mirra. And you are Sirris…heir to the throne.”

  I gave a sharp bark of laughter, the sound muffled in the water. “I’m heir to what I decide. I’m an Onlander, no longer a Sylvan.”

  She shook her head. “You may be an Onlander now, but you can’t hide from what you were born: a Sylvan Royal.”

  I wasn’t going to argue with her logic, though there were a lot of holes in that statement I wanted to widen. “I remember chasing another girl about my age up the stairs, running along the halls of the castle. We were friends?”

  She came closer until only a couple of feet separated us. “We were. But more importantly, is what we are.”

  I arched one fine brow. “Oh, and what is that?”

  “Sisters.”

  I gasped, remembering some details I’d forgotten. “We share the same mother.”

  She nodded. “Yes, that’s right. Like you, I am only half Sylvan.”

  I frowned as I thought of what she’d said. “Then, as the oldest, why aren’t you in line for the throne before me?”

  Anger flashed in her eyes, there and gone so quickly that I wondered if I’d imagined it. “The Seascrill are the sworn enemy of the Sylvan. Considered inferior in every way. Grandfather and the Council decided long ago that Onlander blood, though foreign, still trumped Seascrill genes, which automatically negates any claim to the throne I might have. Suits me fine, too. Who wants to be in charge of a bunch of delusional fools?”

  I didn’t miss the bitterness lacing her voice. I couldn’t blame her. I’d always marveled that even societies that had experienced p
rejudice first hand could still laud the illusion of supremacy over those they considered lacking. Apparently, Onlanders weren’t the only race that suffered from such bigotry.

  “I plan to change their minds, then. I have no intentions of staying. My home is not here anymore. I’m an Onlander, and proud of it.”

  Instead of looking relieved, she gave me a pitying smile. “We should go before those idiots return with reinforcements. We need to get to Tarus. We’ll be safe there, at least for now.”

  “I’ll try to keep up. But these fins aren’t as fast as yours. Been using feet for too long, and that’s an entirely different set of muscles.”

  She threw back her head and laughed. “Well then, we should even the odds, don’t you think?” She drew her fingers to her lips and puffed her lips out and blew, creating a high eerie note that carried through the water, echoing in all directions. Between one breath and the next, I detected a movement in our direction—dark, large, and coming quickly. What skidded to a halt in front of us had me backpedaling in alarm. I could only describe them as a cross between a seahorse and a dragon. About the size of a small pony, they had fins and a tail similar to a goldfish. Long pointed snouts opened over razored teeth, and yellow eyes gleamed suspiciously at me. Replacing their flippers were shortened, arm-like appendages tipped with curved talons.

  Mirra laughed out loud at my expression. Between one breath and the next, she reached up and behind the nearest, her hand covering the bony, knot-like protrusion that formed the base of their neck. “They’re called Abaneki’. Water Dragons. Grab hold and don’t let go. You’re in for a ride.”

  Tentatively, I reached up and palmed the solid bony ridge, casting a gimlet eye on the blue-eyed Abaneki’ I’d chosen at random from the small herd of five. My grip tightened as I felt the first tug, and then we were moving faster than I’d ever gone, the combination of Sylvan strength and water dragon speed propelling us through the water in a blur so fast my eyes hurt and I was forced to squint or go blind from the force of the water blasting past me. Between one blink and the next, we were already there, and Tarus lay spread out below me. I released my grip, my fingers aching and numb. The Abaneki’ didn’t seem inclined to wait around, taking off as fast as they’d arrived.