“Probably should have kept that too myself.” He chuckled and kissed my nose. “I think it’s a good idea we go back in, you need to eat. You look a bit faint.” He led me to the back door, through the kitchen, and into the living room. “Grace, can you take Rouge to get some food?”
I realized that while we were outside, I’d never bothered to pay much attention to what the backyard looked like, I’d been too busy concentrating on the hot body smothered against me. My skin grew warm at the thought.
Michael squeezed my hand and then darted into Caleb’s office. I stared hungrily at him for a moment and then turned to Grace.
She burst out laughing. “You might want to put your ponytail back in, your hair’s a mess.”
Face burning, I reached for my hair and tried to tuck the escaped wisps behind my ears.
Grace didn’t say another word, but her giggling didn’t stop the entire drive to Jim and Sally’s.
We walked through the front door of the house.
“It’s so quiet. Are the foster-folks out?” Grace held her arm out to stop me. She cocked her head to the side. “This normal?” she whispered.
I sucked in a quick breathe, instantly paranoid. “Maybe. I ran out earlier today without talking to them.” I glanced around. “Nothing seems out of the ordinary.”
“You wait here by the door. I’m just going to have a quick look around to be sure.” Grace darted away before I could argue.
I leaned back against the doorframe and checked up and down the street. Nothing was different. Hopefully Jim and Sally were out. Besides being freaked out by Grace tiptoeing thought the house, Jim had been freaky-weird the last time she came inside. I didn’t want to have to deal with that again. When she walked back from the kitchen I said, “Let’s go upstairs so I can have a quick shower, and grab clothes for tomorrow.”
“First let me make sure everything’s clear upstairs.” She took the stairs two at a time.
I followed once she hit the landing. By the time I reached the top, she’d checked the rooms and turned back to my room. “How about you stay the weekend? You shower and I’ll have a look through…” She paused, as if searching for the right word. “I’ll check what’s in your closet and see if there’s anything I can do something with.” A hand flew to her mouth. “I don’t mean that in a bad way. I just meant…”
I laughed. I’d miss her being around. “I’ve got a duffel bag on the closet floor. You can throw what I’ll need in there.”
Opening the bedroom door, I saw why Grace had paused. My room had shoes and piles still on the floor from my lame attempt at sorting it last night. “It’s not always this bad.” The argument sounded really lame and Grace’s raised eyebrows stopped me from bothering to say more. Instead, I grabbed a pair of jeans and the pretty, silver top Grace had bought before heading into the bathroom. The water needed to run for like an hour before it would heat up enough to step in. Stripping down, I stepped into the shower. I reached into my toiletry bag and grabbed a razor and shaving cream. Always better to be safe than sorry.
My shower lasted longer than my usual ten minute one. A twinge of guilt reminded me I’d made Grace wait. I dabbed a little perfume on, then grabbed my hair dryer and headed back to the bedroom. I didn’t see her right away, but I did see clothes flying out of my closet with lots of muttering going on inside of it.
She came in and out of the closet, throwing assorted bits of clothing into the suitcase. The closet was one of those old ones, kind of square shaped with hangers set on the side, perpendicular to the door. As I towel dried my hair, she continued to come in and out with more clothes. Even my dresser drawers had been opened. She rolled three pairs of my jeans and then stuffed them into the near overflowing duffel.
“Whoa. I’m only staying the weekend. That’s a lot of stuff.”
Grace shot me a sympathetic smile. “I think I got everything that can be salvaged from your closet and dresser. While you were showering, Jim came back. He was on the phone and now he’s downstairs in the living room. It sounds like he wants to talk to you.”
“How’d you…” I didn’t finish the sentence. She obviously had some super-sonic hearing or something. “You’re joking? Of all nights.” I stuffed my hair into a bun.
“He seems pretty fired up.”
“What did he say on the phone?” What am I? An eavesdropping ten year old?
“He was talking to Sally. They were fighting.”
“On the phone? That’s weird. Guess I’d better go see.” I was reluctant. Dealing with Sally had always been a two way street, with Jim it felt more like a one-way with bad construction.
I walked down the stairs and found Jim pacing in the living room.
“Hey. What’s up?”
Jim muttered something under his breath.
All I caught was the word, “disrespectful.” The sharp intake of Grace’s breath told me she’d followed me down the stairs and had heard than I did. Jim’s head shot up when he heard Grace. He gave her a weird smile, then he turned to me.
“Where’s Sally?” I asked before he had a chance to speak.
“Gone. Flew back to Ontario.” He took a swig from the liquor bottle I hadn’t noticed before.
“What?” The word was out before I could stop myself. She left, and didn’t say good-bye? Surely not. “Everything okay in Niagara Falls?” Maybe something had happened to hear family.
Jim snorted. “Figures you’d take her side.” He pointed an accusing finger at me. “You think it’s all a joke. You and her have probably been laughing at me not finding a job.”
Huh? “I—”
“Don’t bother. I can see it in your eyes.” He began pacing the room. “You know what? You’re out. I want you out. Sally was the one who wanted to help your hopeless ass, I only agreed for the crap money. You’re eighteen next month and I’d have booted you out then. Why wait?”
Who would throw a girl with no family out on the street? “I’ve got no where to go!” Sally must have left him. Left us. We weren’t super close, but still. What would make her just up and leave? Unless something had scared her.
Grace stepped in front of Jim, inches from his face.
I blinked. Did she somehow make herself look taller?
Grace spoke quietly but the power behind her voice made me glad she was on my side. “This place is a dump. You should be shot for the care you’ve offered. I’ve seen scum in this world, and you appear to be on the lowest rung. Rouge deserves better than this.”
Startled, Jim shot her a nasty glare. “Shut up!”
Grace didn’t bat an eye. “I never met Sally, but I’m not surprised she left.” She laughed a sound between disbelief and sarcasm. As she stepped back, she grabbed the duffle bag. “You’ve been such an example for Rouge—”
“Of course we have,” he snapped.
“—on what not to do in life,” Grace finished.
“Get out! Both of you and don’t ever come back, Rouge. Ever!” Jim hollered.
Grace pushed me toward the door to the fresh air outside, and led me to the passenger seat. She threw the bag into the back of the car.
“Stay here. I’ll double check if there’s anything else in your room you’re going to need.”
I sat in the car, too dumbfounded to respond.
Life freakin’ sucked. I was officially screwed. Being able to read a weird language as if English and kicked out of the only place I was barely able to call home.
What do I do? I leaned my head back onto the seat and closed my eyes. Where was I going to go?
** End of Excerpt **
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nbsp; Scepter
Scott L. Collins
Scepter
Copyright © 2012 Scott L. Collins
All Rights Reserved.
This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.
Dedication
First to my readers, who give me the courage to wear my heart, or imagination, on my sleeve for the world to see.
To my wife, my beautiful bride, who first inspired me to put my stories down on paper. It was you who kicked open the door to my mind and convinced me that others would enjoy a look inside.
And to my to beautiful and wonderful boys, the inspirations for this book, who fill my days with laughter. I hope this book gives you the same joy you give to me every day.
Acknowledgments
I’d like to extend my thanks to those who helped make this book possible. First, to my two beta-readers, Bekki McQueen and Gary Collins, thank you for pointing out what worked and what didn’t. To my fans who have been such a wonderful source of character names. Last, but certainly not least, to my editor, Shelley Holloway, who did such a wonderful job of polishing my manuscript up to a high shine. Thank you all so much for your contributions!!! Without you, Scepter would never have been published.
Chapter 1
Waiting
They were coming. Argyle’s men weren’t here yet, but Daniel knew they were coming. Actually, he was surprised they hadn’t shown up already. Pulling the deerskin coat closer around his shoulders, he sat in a chair by the fire and watched the flames dance slowly and methodically over the dry logs and sticks. The house was dark and quiet except for the crackles and pops from the fireplace, yet his heart raced. He’d been waiting, waiting for them to arrive. He was sick with dread knowing they were coming. They were coming for him this time. They would take him, and Aidan would be left alone. Knowing this was to be their last day together, Daniel had tried to make it as normal as possible for his younger brother. He hadn’t even mentioned that it was his birthday, his fourteenth birthday. Up until a few years ago, that wouldn’t have had a great significance. Times had changed. Now, fourteen years of age was when they came and took you.
Tears fell silently down Daniel’s cheeks at the thought of leaving, of being dragged from his home, never to see his brother again. His chest ached as he tried to stifle the sobs building up inside of him. It had been bad enough when their parents were taken to the slave camps and he and his brother had been left to fend for themselves. Now Daniel was to be taken, and he feared for how Aidan would survive on his own. Aidan was only eleven and would now be alone. Though they both knew how to collect food and water and the like, who would take care of Aidan if he got sick or injured? Ever since their parents had been taken, they’d been there to take care of one another when the need arose. They’d never really searched out neighbors, keeping mostly to themselves instead, relying on their own skills and knowledge. While it had been the easy thing to do at the time, Daniel now questioned the logic of isolating themselves so thoroughly. There was nothing he could do about that now. It was too late. He’d failed his brother like he’d failed his parents. Fresh sobs rose in his chest. Daniel tried to be quiet as he wept, being careful not to wake his younger brother, but a few strangled cries escaped his lips anyway as he fought to ignore his breaking heart.
Aidan, for some reason, had retired to bed unusually early. Daniel wondered what he’d been up to. He’d acted strangely all day, speaking very little to Daniel and seeming to avoid eye contact with him. While Daniel knew Aidan was having a difficult time with what was to come, he’d hoped their last few days together would be happy ones, something he could look back on with fondness after being taken away. Instead, he felt almost completely ignored by his younger brother. Aidan had spent most of the last week off in the woods somewhere, leaving the house early in the morning and not returning until well after dark. Even then, he usually just grabbed a bite to eat and went to bed, giving Daniel little more than a grunt of acknowledgment before he disappeared into his bedroom.
Daniel thought about how much he would miss his younger brother and wished he’d been able to spend more time with Aidan over the last few days—that Aidan had been around the last few days to spend time with. That time was now lost, and the only thing the future held was a life of slavery in Argyle’s mines. Pulling his feet up to his chest and wrapping himself even tighter in his coat, Daniel finally cried himself into exhaustion and slumped back into his chair, the need for sleep finally overcoming his fear of what lay ahead.
A sound outside startled him awake. Rubbing the salty remains of tears from his eyes and dropping his coat from around his shoulders, Daniel rose and moved quickly around the supper table to the front door and looked out. There was nothing to see but the dark forest that surrounded their modest house. No voices could be heard, no torches visible in the surrounding trees or further out on the rising hills. Not yet. Only the moon pierced the blackness of the night that closed in on Daniel. A scratch on the roof made him jump, and Daniel stepped outside to try to see what was making the noise. A fat raccoon froze and stared at him for a moment before continuing across the roof and jumping to a nearby branch that crowded the corner of the house. The animal waddled cautiously along the branch before disappearing into the leaves. Daniel turned his gaze toward the path that ran from the house and disappeared into the shadows of the forest and shuddered.
He could run, but that wouldn’t do any good. If they showed up and he was gone, Aidan would be punished. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow his brother to be hurt because of his own cowardice. “I won’t run from you,” Daniel muttered to the empty woods. Scowling, he shuffled back inside and eased the door shut. He ran his fingers over his short, dark brown hair and stretched his aching neck from side to side as he made his way back to his chair. Daniel collapsed into it, emotionally drained from a long day of worry and fear. He covered himself once again with his coat and shifted uncomfortably before settling in. Falling into a fitful sleep, his dreams were filled with violent visions of the past.
Chapter 2
Tales
Even the youngest of children knew the story well. The Kingdom of Castiglias had fallen decades before, and the “Outsiders” were cast from the city into the surrounding countryside and mountains. After the murder of King Rai, only the “Elite” were allowed within the walls of the new kingdom, a kingdom now crumbling under the rule of the evil Argyle.
Though King Rai had been a young and unmarried man, he was considered a wise and noble king, one highly regarded for his knowledge and pursuit of justice. His only fault, if you could call it that, had been his trust in others. He’d failed to heed the multitude of warnings about his sorcerer’s scheming. Why, one might ask, would a king so highly regarded for his wisdom fail to see the evil in his closest counselor? Well, Argyle had been his magical advisor for years. He had also been an advisor to Rai’s father and had always served him with honor. Still, the time came when King Rai was told of secret meetings taking place between Argyle and some very rough and shady characters. Violent plots to murder the king so Argyle could assume the throne were said to be the topic of these meetings. Unable to believe his closest confidant would be capable of such things, King Rai had dismissed the accusations and focused his attention elsewhere. After all, Argyle had been instrumental in helping to negotiate treaties with the outlying kingdoms that surrounded King Rai’s lands. What reason would Argyle have fo
r securing the future of the kingdom, only to overthrow it? King Rai ignored Argyle’s ongoing meetings with visitors from those lands, assuming them to be related to the treaties that had been signed and not to some treasonous conspiracy. Shortly thereafter, he’d suffered the consequences.
The battle for the city lasted only one morning. Most of the king’s guards never even had a chance to fight and were captured while still in their beds, swords lying untouched in their sheaths. Others were slain where they slept.
The king himself was taken alive and dragged from his chambers to the center of the throne room where he was forced to the floor. Dressed still in his bedclothes, King Rai landed on his hands and knees, skinning them on the stone floor. He looked up, glancing first over his right shoulder, then his left. Surrounded by the new “Elite Order of the Guard,” he rose to his feet and stood fearlessly next to the altar that dominated the center of the room.
The altar was a rectangular structure that rose to the king’s waist. It was carved in jade and decorated with symbols of peace interwoven with ornate vines that wound their way around the base. In it was embedded the “Scepter of Harmony,” a gift from the Fairies of the Wood. A hole had been drilled in the very center of the altar, and the base of the golden staff slid snugly into it, rising roughly a foot from the surface of the green table. Legend had it that the Scepter was the source of the tranquility and prosperity that had held the kingdom together for so many millennia.
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