Chaos (Tessa Avery Book 1)

by Lucy Roy

  Chaos

  Lucy Roy

  PLEASE DO NOT PARTICIPATE IN PIRACY.

  Copyright © 2019 Lucy Roy, all rights reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to persons, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, transmitted, or distributed without express written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotes for reviewing purposes.

  Cover art: TBR Editing & Design

  Edited by: Jenifer Knox

  Formatting: The Swamp Goddess, Book Formatting and Design

  To my daughters.

  Your sparkly mermaids will be turned into real characters one of these days.

  Contents

  1. Tessa Avery

  2. Tessa

  3. Nathaniel

  4. Tessa

  5. Nathaniel

  6. Tessa

  7. Nathaniel

  8. Tessa

  9. Tessa

  10. Nathaniel

  11. Tessa

  12. Nathaniel

  13. Tessa

  14. Tessa

  15. Tessa

  16. Nathaniel

  17. Tessa

  18. Nathaniel

  19. Tessa

  20. Tessa

  21. Tessa

  22. Nathaniel

  23. Tessa

  24. Nathaniel

  25. Tessa

  26. Tessa

  27. Nathaniel

  28. Tessa

  29. Nathaniel

  30. Tessa

  31. Tessa

  32. Tessa

  33. Nathaniel

  34. Tessa

  35. Tessa

  36. Nathaniel

  37. Tessa

  38. Tessa

  39. Nathaniel

  40. Tessa

  41. Nathaniel

  42. Tessa

  43. Tessa

  44. Tessa

  45. Nathaniel

  46. Tessa

  47. Tessa

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Lucy Roy

  1

  Tessa Avery

  Crack! Crack! Crack!

  The rhythmic sound of my staff striking my opponent’s weapon rang through the basement. It was oddly pleasant, despite the early hour.

  “You’re letting your anger guide your movement, Tessa.”

  I rolled my eyes and increased the speed of my attack. “It’s not anger,” I huffed, not breaking pace as I attempted to maneuver around his blocks. “It’s irritation. Big difference.”

  I pushed forward with my right arm, and immediately felt the pressure of his staff under my chin.

  “Dammit,” I muttered, glaring up at my guardian, John.

  He stepped off the mat, signaling the end of our sparring session, and pulled his own staff out of range. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed before looking at me.

  “Okay, that’s enough for today.”

  “Fine.” I let the wooden staff clatter to the concrete floor, the sound echoing off the cinderblock walls. Trying to mask my annoyance, I picked up my water bottle from the bench against the wall and raised it to my lips. He’d already laid me out twice; I wasn’t itching for a third time.

  John waited for me to put the bottle down before speaking. “Tessa—”

  I held up a hand to stop the oncoming lecture. “I know, ‘things that are out of my control cannot take control, blah blah blah.’” John’s mantra was one of many that had been drilled into my head repeatedly over the last eighteen years.

  “Yes. Yet here you are, letting a few bad dreams dictate how you train.” He crossed his arms. “Why?”

  “What do you suggest? I can’t help that I wake up in a crappy mood.”

  I refrained from saying what was really bothering me; that the effects of my constant nightmares were making me question my mental strength, which was unacceptable in my future line of work.

  “And that’s fine. However, you need to funnel that ‘crappy mood’ into something positive.” He pointed at my weapon which had rolled to a stop next to the treadmill. “I knew exactly where you were going to aim. Do you know how?”

  “Because I drop my shoulder every time I swing,” I grumbled.

  “Exactly. You may have the strength of an immortal but fighting like that makes you predictable. Do you want to be predictable, Tessa? If you come across an empousa in battle, do you want her to predict when to sink her fangs into you?”

  “No,” I said glumly. I didn’t bother mentioning that, once I became a full-fledged Ischyra, it would be nearly impossible to kill me. I knew what his response would be.

  Anyone can be killed. You just need the right weapon.

  “Good.” He grinned and put an arm around my shoulder. “Now, buck up and let’s go get some breakfast. I think Analise said something about blueberry pancakes.”

  “See now, all you had to do was lead with pancakes. That would’ve killed my bad mood on the spot.”

  He smirked. “Somehow I doubt that.”

  Twenty minutes later, showered and dressed, I found myself staring absently into my messy makeup drawer. Apparently, the thought of Analise’s blueberry pancakes wasn’t enough to dissipate the bad mood that resulted from yet another bout of nightmares full of scorching heat, deafening roars, and sheer panic.

  As I absentmindedly dug through the various cosmetics, I contemplated the bad dreams I’d been having recently. I felt certain they had something to do with my upcoming transformation, but I hadn’t figured out how yet.

  I was gearing up to transition from an eighteen-year-old high school student living in Renville, Pennsylvania, to a full-blown Ischyra, one of the many immortal forces that protected the realms of Earth and Olympus. In just a few days, I would join the other soldiers who kept the various demons, witches, and other evil beings from threatening the human world.

  But no pressure.

  I pulled out my concealer and began dabbing it under my eyes, letting my thoughts drift to what everyday life after my transformation might be like. As had been the case recently, questions about the mundane aspects of immortal life began to form in my mind.

  Will I still need to trim my fingernails? Shave my legs? Wear deodorant?

  What will happen to my scars? Will the one I got on my chin from riding a bike with no hands finally heal? Will the filling that was a result of too many Jolly Ranchers in middle school fall out, the cavity it filled suddenly repaired?

  Will I just be a lower-maintenance version of myself with the added benefit of superpowers?

  I should probably know this stuff. I knew the big things, like I would continue to age for a few more years after my transformation, that any injuries would heal almost immediately, and that I would only be able to have children with other Ischyra. I was also fairly well-versed in the history of our world, but that was because it had been drilled into me since I was five, when my guardians first told me I’d been chosen by the Elders Council to become a soldier for the gods of Olympus. I had never really taken it upon myself to find out more than what my guardians required of me.

  I was far more interested in learning how to fight.

  As I looked in the mirror above my dresser, I pulled at the dark circles under my eyes and speculated whether eternal life would relieve me of my desperate need for concealer. I considered those pesky shadows tell-tale characteristics of my humanness. Somehow, I doubted immortal beings suffered the same problems when they had a bad night’s sleep.

  “Tessa! Breakfast!”

  “Just a minute!” I called down to Analise, my other guardian and the woman John liked to call his “better half.”

  Forcing my
face into a neutral expression, I finished layering on the concealer. Once the stubborn circles were covered, I brushed on a sparkly pink shadow that highlighted my green eyes. A few coats of mascara later, I looked much more awake. I threw on a pair of denim shorts and a turquoise tank that showed off my early-summer tan, then wound my long blond hair into a bun.

  As I leaned down to grab my phone, I caught sight of the three wavy, white lines on the inside of my wrist that marked me as an Ischyra, and a jolt of nerves shot through me.

  In just a few days, I’d become immortal, and my mark would take on the vibrant purple of Olympus. I’d be ready to defend humans against the creatures that had been released on Earth by the gods thousands of years ago.

  Or at least, that was the plan. After that morning’s training session, I was beginning to question just how ready I was.

  I sighed and ran my thumb across the mark.

  Hopefully, I’d be able to manage the responsibility the gods were about to put on my shoulders without screwing it up.

  When I reached the kitchen in our old farmhouse, I grabbed a mug from the drying rack on the counter and poured myself a cup of coffee, letting music from the “Relax” playlist on my iPhone pump into my ear. Despite my exhaustion, having nightmares always put me on edge, so the soothing music helped ease me out of the panic I’d felt when I woke up in a cold sweat just two hours earlier.

  I sat down at the table and opened the local paper, The Renville Gazette. As I chewed on a blueberry pancake in silence, I mentally crossed my fingers that no one would bring up my nightmares or training.

  “Tessa!” Analise’s voice snapped me out of my ruminations.

  No such luck.

  “Huh?” I broke away from the paper and met her icy gray eyes, which were narrowed in frustration.

  “I said, is there anything you want to talk about? John said he beat you three times this morning.” She tucked a lock of wavy platinum hair behind her ear and gave me a concerned smile. “That’s unlike you.”

  I schooled my features and looked back down at the paper. "Nope. Just tired, that’s all.”

  "Tessa." John's voice was a bit more commanding than Analise's, but when I glanced up, his brown eyes were softer, despite the firm set of his jaw. "Take out the headphones."

  With an eye roll, I obliged, although I wanted to point out I technically only had one headphone in. When I looked at my guardians—my parents, for all intents and purposes—I saw concern for me etched on their faces.

  "You had trouble sleeping again last night." Analise shared a worried look with John. He slipped his hand over hers and squeezed.

  "No, I had nightmares that kept me from sleeping,” I muttered. “There’s a difference." I fiddled with the edge of the page, absentmindedly setting creases through an advertisement for a local cleaning service. My grumpiness was probably wearing on them at this point, but for the love of Zeus, what did they expect?

  "Do you want to talk about it?" John asked, running a hand over his stubbly chin, a tell-tale sign he was stressed.

  "You know you can," Analise added.

  "What's there to say? I'm bugged because these stupid nightmares about absolutely nothing are keeping me up all night. That's basically it."

  “You’re sure they’re about ‘nothing’?”

  “I don’t know. It’s hard to tell.”

  John’s answering frown told me he knew I wasn’t being entirely forthcoming.

  Wanting to avoid this conversation, I folded the newspaper and set it back on the table, then busied myself by wrapping two more pancakes in a napkin and pouring my coffee into a travel mug.

  "Tessa—"

  I held up my hand and cut Analise off before she could push any further.

  "Listen, I appreciate the concern, but like I said, they're just annoying. I can deal with it. I have to go, my bus is almost here."

  I grabbed my backpack off the back of my chair, then made for the door.

  "Just let us know if you want to talk," John called after me.

  "Will do," I mumbled around a mouthful of pancakes as I slid my feet into a pair of flip flops before slipping through the old screen door. I let it slam shut behind me and headed down the driveway to catch my bus to Renville High, the only high school in our small town on the southern edge of Lake Erie.

  As I walked, I thought wistfully about how the number of family breakfasts with my guardians was now in the single digits, and I was surprised to feel a lump forming in my throat.

  Like the other Ischyra, my birth parents were not a part of my life. By one twist of fate or another, we’d all been orphaned as children. I’d been dropped off at a police station in New Orleans when I was an infant, wearing nothing but a dirty diaper. As soon as the officer who found me saw my Ischyra mark, he’d contacted the local liaisons’ office which facilitated contact between Earth and the Elders’ Council on Olympus. After that, two human guardians had been assigned to raise me.

  Despite the fact that being abandoned had led me to John and Analise, two of the most wonderful people I knew, I still felt a bit resentful when I thought about how I’d been dropped off like an unwanted pet. Apparently, fate had other things in store for me, though, so I tried to keep that in mind.

  John and Analise were only twenty-two when I came to them. Tomorrow I would graduate high school and move on to Olympus, and after that, their duty to me would be done. They were still relatively young, and once I moved to Olympus, they’d be free to live out the rest of their human lives however they wanted.

  There was no question they cared about me and my well-being, but pretty soon they wouldn’t be there for me every morning when I woke up from a bad dream. I wasn't quite sure how I felt about that.

  Who knows? Maybe immortals don’t have dreams. One can only hope, right?

  Glancing down the street, I saw my bus turn the corner. A moment later, it came to a stop in front of me, emitting a puff of black smoke. Stuffing the last bite of breakfast in my mouth, I climbed aboard.

  2

  Tessa

  Mary Miller, my lifelong best friend, was waiting for me when I stepped onto the sidewalk outside the large, two-story brick school. She took one look at my face and immediately pounced.

  "What's wrong?"

  I smiled wryly. "Is it that obvious?"

  "Yes. You look terrible.”

  "Thanks.” I rolled my eyes then downed the rest of my coffee. I slid my travel mug into my backpack and hoisted it onto my shoulders. “I had another dream last night."

  "Same one?"

  "Same one.”

  “Have you been able to make anything out?"

  “Nope,” I said, shaking my head slowly. “Just lots of noise, some red flashes.”

  “Okay, let’s go over this again.” She flipped her wavy chestnut hair over her shoulder and began pulling it up into a messy bun. “Tell me what you saw.”

  "That's the thing. All I remember is that it’s loud and hot, and sometimes I see these bright flashes of red and white, like fire or lightning or something, and I wake up feeling like I’m having a panic attack. I wake up every morning exhausted from tossing and turning all night, with this weird sense of déjà vu. It just seems so familiar, but it’s like it’s… right on the edge of my memory."

  "Hmm.” Mary pulled out her magenta lip gloss and started to slick it on. “The déjà vu makes sense since you’ve been having them so much. Oh! Maybe they’re prophetic! Maybe you’re dreaming about some kind of fight or something.”

  “Eh, maybe. It doesn’t feel that way, though.”

  She sighed, looking deflated. “Okay, so that's one mystery we have no answer for.”

  Mary reached down to pick up her bag, and as she stood, I took in her full outfit. She wore ripped acid-wash jeans and black, knee-high leather boots topped with a black off-the-shoulder t-shirt that bore the Slytherin sigil. Despite our school’s dress code, the shirt left about three inches of her midriff visible.

  Her style always oo
zed confidence, but I wondered how she was going to feel once we were required to wear the traditional black Ischyra training uniforms every day.

  I’d just started walking toward the building when Mary cocked her head to the side. A look of interest came into her eyes.

  “Who’s that?”

  I followed her gaze to a guy who looked to be a few years older than us, leaning against the wall next to the building's entrance. He was tall with light brown hair trimmed short on the sides and longer on top. One foot was propped against the wall behind him, and his eyes seemed to be scanning the crowd of students funneling into the building.

  "Hmm.” I tilted my head to the side and eyed him speculatively. “I’ll bet he’s from Olympus. I wonder which one of us he’s here for.”

  “Well I’m pretty sure Eric’s already here, so it’s got to be one of us,” Mary said, referring to our friend Eric Anderson, the third in our group of three Ischyra who would be traveling to Olympus in two days to make our transitions.

  Just then, our two closest human friends, Leila Malone and her boyfriend Josh Harper, stepped off their bus and walked over to join us.

  “What’cha doin’?” Leila asked, twining her fingers through Josh’s as she looked toward the building. “Ooo, who’s that?”