He walked to one end of the room and opened the closet. It was full of brand-new clothing. As he fumbled through the new attire, Lincoln was surprised to note that each item looked like it would fit him perfectly. How had they known his size? Yawning, Lincoln realized just how tired he was and decided the perfect fit mystery could wait until morning.
CHAPTER 5
MR. ROCKWELL
THE NEXT MORNING, THE SAME BELLS THAT had announced curfew the night before rang loud and clear, waking Lincoln from his much-needed sleep. He glanced at the clock. 7:10 a.m. He would have to hurry if he wanted breakfast before his meeting with Mr. Rockwell.
Lincoln took a five-minute shower and then quickly got dressed, picking a pair of blue jeans and a T-shirt with the slogan “Rock’n’Roll is King” from his new wardrobe. He sat down and shoved his feet into a new pair of sneakers. As he did so, his eyes fell upon the fake FBI agent’s wooden weapon sitting on the desk where Lincoln had left it the night before. He hopped off the bed and picked up the object, really examining it for the first time. It was about four inches long with odd markings carved all over it. The ends were rounded and bulging slightly outward, creating a grip and making it so that the object fit comfortably in the palm of Lincoln’s hand. He still couldn’t believe this seemingly harmless piece of wood had been a deadly sword. Deciding to show the object to Mr. Rockwell during their meeting, Lincoln stuffed it into his pocket and then ran out the bedroom door.
Crash! One step into the hall, Lincoln ran headfirst into Skylar. The tray of food she was holding tumbled from her grasp and crashed to the floor with a loud bang. Food went flying everywhere. Skylar gasped as she and Lincoln were covered with a mixture of scrambled eggs and orange juice.
“Oh no,” Lincoln stammered, wiping food from his face which was turning red. “Sorry, I didn’t see you ...,” he trailed off as someone behind him snickered loudly. Turning around, Lincoln saw a boy leaning against a doorway. He was big, much bigger than Lincoln. He strutted toward the mess. Sweeping his long, black hair from his eyes, he peered down his pointed nose at Lincoln.
“Smooth move, newbie,” he smirked and then smiled at Skylar as he made his way past Lincoln, still chuckling. Before he could stop himself, Lincoln impulsively stuck out his foot. The boy hit his foot and tripped, landing headfirst in eggs and orange juice. He jumped up and leaped toward Lincoln, fists clenched, his face twisted in anger.
Milo appeared out of nowhere, stepping between Lincoln and the other boy. “Good for you, Banks, but next time try to get a little in your mouth.” By this time, a small group of recruits had gathered to see the action, and they howled with laughter.
“Shut up, Milo,” the boy replied angrily. “I’m not scared of you or your brother. He can’t protect you forever.”
Milo looked around the room. “He’s not here now, is he? Besides, you’re one to talk when it comes to family protection.”
The boy glared angrily at Milo. He took a step toward the second-year recruit and then seemed to change his mind. His fists dropped down to his sides, and he marched past Milo and Lincoln, bumping his shoulder into Lincoln and muttering, “Watch your back,” under his breath.
Lincoln turned toward Skylar. “I’m so sorry.”
Skylar gave him a little smile as she wrung some orange juice out of her T-shirt. “Luckily for you, I didn’t like this shirt anyway.” Her face turned serious. “Be careful with Nathan.”
“Nathan,” Lincoln repeated. “I thought Milo called him Banks.”
“That’s because there are four other Nathans at the Academy. Anyway, Banks is a bully with a bad temper. Plus, his dad’s on the Guardian Council, which means he gets whatever he wants.” Skylar glanced down at her watch. “You better hurry. If you need help getting to Mr. Rockwell’s office, I can show you the way as soon as I change my clothes.”
“Definitely,” Lincoln replied, a little too eagerly. Skylar gave him a curious look, nodded, and then hurried off to her room.
Way to go, Lincoln! he told himself as he changed his pants and put on a different T-shirt. You’ve been here less than a day and you’ve already picked a fight with the school bully and ruined your chances with the cute girl. Not a promising start ....
Skylar was still in her room changing when Lincoln came out of his room, so Lincoln made his way over to the table full of food in the middle of the great room. He grabbed a couple of bagels and then watched Skylar walk out of her room in a new V-neck T-shirt and dark blue shorts.
Lincoln tossed her one of the bagels. She caught it with one hand and then shrugged him off as he tried to apologize yet again for spilling her breakfast.
They left the dorm and followed the same path Lincoln had been on the night before. They walked in silence, eating their bagels. Lincoln kept stealing glances at her, but she was staring at the path ahead. Finally, he couldn’t take it any longer.
“So, Skylar, what’s your story?”
She gave him a guarded look. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing,” he stammered. This was not going how he had planned. “You just didn’t say much about yourself last night.”
“Oh,” she answered and seemed to relax. Lincoln breathed a sigh of relief. “What do you want to know?”
“Whatever,” Lincoln replied with a shrug of his shoulders. “Where you’re from ... your family ... stuff like that.”
“I’m from Phoenix ... well, a small town near Phoenix.”
“How small?”
“One-traffic-light small,” she answered.
“That small, huh? So ...,” he grinned, “have you ever heard of a thing called the Internet?”
“Shut up,” she replied with an exasperated smile.
“How old are you?”
“Twelve,” she answered. “Just like you.”
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
She held up two fingers. “Two brothers. They’re both younger than me.”
“And your parents? Are they Guardians too?”
She shook her head. “My dad’s a lawyer. My mom used to teach school, but quit when I was born.”
“So how did you end up here?”
“I stopped some kids who were trying to rob a store in a Phoenix mall.”
Lincoln looked at her and raised his eyebrows. “How did you do that?”
She gave him a sheepish look. “Ever heard of Violet the Vampire Princess?”
“Sure, it’s the book series that was just made into a movie.”
“Well, I used to be a huge fan. Don’t give me that look! The books are a lot better than people think. Anyway, my mom and I were shopping in a store that had a big display for the new movie. I was checking it out when four kids with guns rushed into the store and tried to rob the place. My mom was up front paying, and one of the robbers used his gun to hit her in the back of the head. When I saw what he did, I snapped. I grabbed the plastic sword Violet was holding in the display and kicked some serious butt. All four robbers ended up in the hospital.”
“Sounds like a scene straight from the movie,” Lincoln said with a laugh. “What did your mom say?”
“She was knocked out. The only other people in the store were three boys who ran off before the police showed up, and the store clerk who convinced himself he must have imagined the entire thing. I heard he didn’t go back to work for more than a month.” Skylar grinned as she finished the last sentence.
“So your mom doesn’t know you’re a Guardian?”
“No one from my family does. After what happened at the mall, one of the Keepers came to my house and recruited me. He told my parents I had done really well on some test and was being offered a full scholarship at an expensive boarding school. They were a little hesitant at first, but he had papers and everything. It looked totally legit. So they signed the docs, and here I am.”
They continued in silence until they reached the end of the path and entered Roemick Tower. The younger secretary sat at the lobby desk. As soon as she s
aw the two of them walk through the front door, she glared at Lincoln and quickly left her spot behind the desk.
“Wow, what did you do to Grace?” Skylar asked.
“Nothing!”
Skylar looked skeptical. “Whatever. She’s new, but she’s always been nice. Anyway, we’re here. Mr. Rockwell’s office is on the top floor. The elevator is the only way to get there.” Skylar pointed to a silver, circular elevator next to the large Assembly Hall.
“So, as long as I survive my meeting with Mr. Rockwell, I guess I’ll see you at lunch.”
Skylar grinned and left Lincoln on his own inside the tower. Suddenly nervous, he got in the elevator, pushed the button for the eighth floor, and leaned back against the wall, wiping his sweaty hands on his new jeans as the elevator climbed upward.
A small chime dinged, and the elevator slowed to a stop at the eighth floor, its doors sliding open. Lincoln stepped into a long, tall hallway with large, arched pillars lining the sides. Waterfalls flowed from the ceiling, forming the walls between the pillars. Lincoln reached his hand out and touched the water. It was solid. Even stranger, his fingers were completely dry when he pulled them away.
The hallway ended in a stone door with a small, blue square like the one on the front door of his dorm. Lincoln pressed his palm against it, heard a slight hiss, and quickly stepped back as the door swung open.
“Well, Mr. Thomas, are you coming or going?” an amused voice boomed out at him. “Come in, come in!”
Lincoln walked through the doorway into the Academy Director’s office. It was big—much bigger than any office Lincoln had seen—and taller than the hallway. Large, wooden beams stretched from one end of the stone ceiling to the other. Lincoln suddenly felt very, very small.
A bookcase full of books lined the wall directly in front of Lincoln and stretched all the way to the ceiling. The wall to his right was full of colorful paintings and large windows offering views of the academy grounds. Next to the last window was a doorway leading to a garden area with several large trees, a small pond, and a comfortable-looking bench.
“I find that when I have a particularly perplexing problem, the sights and sounds of nature bring me fresh ideas. Plus, who wants to sit in a stuffy office all day?”
Lincoln turned to his left and saw a man sitting behind a desk. Hanging from the ceiling above the desk was a metal chandelier in the shape of a globe. The flickering light from the candle within cast shadows against the brick wall behind the man. The shadows danced along the wall as though alive.
The man stood and walked around the desk. “Lincoln Thomas, I presume?” Lincoln nodded. The man flashed a warm smile and held out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. As you have undoubtedly deduced, I am Gordon Rockwell.”
“Thank you, sir,” Lincoln replied, and he shook the director’s hand. Mr. Rockwell appeared to be in his late fifties. He was probably much older, based on what Lincoln knew about Guardian aging. He wore a white, short-sleeve, button-up shirt with blue jeans and tennis shoes. For someone his age—whatever it was—he looked to be in great shape, though he was a little on the thin side. He had short, greyish hair and the stubbly beginnings of a beard. Lincoln guessed the scruff was a constant thing, as Mr. Rockwell did not seem overly preoccupied with his appearance. Mr. Rockwell sat back down and gestured for Lincoln to do the same in a chair across the desk. As he did so, the sunlight streaming into the office flashed across a ring he wore. It was silver with a pale blue gem set in the top.
Lincoln sat down, and Mr. Rockwell began speaking. “Let me start by welcoming you to the academy. I trust Otis and Bernie took good care of you last night.” Lincoln nodded. “Good. You have quite a colorful collection of dorm mates in Finn, and I think you’ll fit in splendidly.”
Mr. Rockwell leaned back in his chair. “I have known your family for quite some time. Before I became director, your grandfather and I worked together as instructors. In fact, this office would have been his had he stayed. He may have decided to leave the academy, but your grandfather continued to serve the Guardians until his tragic death. Over the years, he saved us from one catastrophe after another, all the while refusing to take any credit. I worry we will never find an adequate replacement. I know of no one with half his skill or tenacity. He was a great man.”
Mr. Rockwell reached into a desk drawer and handed Lincoln an old photograph. It was a picture of his mom and dad with Grandpa and Grandma Thomas. They were all much younger than Lincoln remembered them, and they looked happy. “I trained both your father and your mother during their time here at the academy. He was a year behind her. That picture is from your father’s third Atlas Day. By then, he and your mother were inseparable.”
Mr. Rockwell gazed off into the distance. “Your mother finished her training and immediately took a job with the Secret Service. A year later, Ryan followed. They were two of the best recruits the academy has ever seen, and before they retired, they were our top DC agents.”
Mr. Rockwell leaned forward. “Lincoln, you and the rest of us at the academy are here for one simple reason. We have powers no one else has. These powers allow us to control, or manipulate, the eight rites, which are time, gravity, life, light, air, water, land, and fire.
“Rite control is very complex. Different rules exist for each rite. For example, the time rite can be used to slow time down or speed it up, but it cannot be used to go back into the past or to jump into the future. The life rite can be used to delay death, but it cannot be used to bring the dead back to life. Learning all of the intricacies behind the eight rites takes a lifetime.
“Your new abilities will also change you physically. You will become stronger, faster, and more coordinated than any normal person. You will also live twice as long as those around you.
“Here at the academy, we will help you learn how to control these rites and use your powers for the benefit of others. Your training won’t be easy, but I promise it will be worth it.”
Lincoln nodded. “And after my training I join the Secret Service?”
“Possibly,” answered Mr. Rockwell. “Following completion of training, recruits decide if they wish to take the academy final exam. Those who do so and pass are sent all over the world on different assignments, protecting government officials and other influential people.”
“What about those who don’t pass or don’t take the final exam?”
“They do with their lives as they see fit,” Mr. Rockwell answered. “Choice and freedom are essential parts of life, Lincoln. Not all Guardians are destined to serve as bodyguards. Some choose other careers, such as working for the Guardian Council or specializing.”
“Specializing?” asked Lincoln.
“Specialization is for those who wish to receive advanced training in control of a single rite. They surrender their ability to control the other rites, and in so doing, dramatically increase their skill and strength to control their selected rite. We have several Specialists here at the academy, for example, Alice Cross, the head Healer, and Elias Turfue, the head Seer.”
Lincoln shifted in his chair. As he did so, the wooden weapon in his pocket pressed against his leg. He pulled it out and placed it on Mr. Rockwell’s desk, quickly sharing his story while Mr. Rockwell listened.
Mr. Rockwell gently lifted the wooden handle off the desk, twisting it in his hands while examining it curiously. “Last night, we received word that the Guardian who attacked you and your mother escaped shortly after you and Otis left.”
Maybe that’s what Otis and Wolfert were discussing last night, Lincoln thought. He gave Mr. Rockwell a worried look, and the Academy Director added, “Don’t worry, Olivia’s perfectly fine. Based on her description, we believe the Guardian who invaded your home was Boggs, an extremely dangerous criminal infamous for his violent crimes and daring escapes. In many ways, you and your mom are lucky to be alive.”
“So he was obviously lying when he said Grandpa died swimming.” Lincoln continued, mostly to himself.
“He kept asking if Grandpa had sent us something,” recalled Lincoln.
Mr. Rockwell nodded. “Your grandfather visited the Council months ago, warning them of a possible conspiracy, but with no hard evidence, his warning was quickly dismissed. The probable connection to his death and the subsequent attack on your family cannot be ignored, but we must remember your grandfather has been working for the Council for decades and has made several enemies. We need to look at each and every possibility. Some of our very best agents have already begun the investigation.
“Trust me, Lincoln. We will get to the bottom of this. The best thing you can do is to focus on your training. Can you do that?”
Lincoln nodded.
“Good.” Mr. Rockwell held up the wooden object. “Now as for this, it appears to be a G2.”
“What’s that?”
“A Guardian Gadget—something created by Guardians that holds special powers and is to be used to help us on our missions. Why don’t you come with me? There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
Lincoln followed Mr. Rockwell down to the seventh floor and past several office doors, finally stopping in front of the last one on the left. Across the middle of the door, someone had painted William Worthington: Head of Guardian Gadgets in large gold letters. Mr. Rockwell knocked twice and then entered. Lincoln followed, and he found himself in the messiest room he had ever seen.
The floor was covered with stacks of books, magazines, and old newspapers. Nearly invisible behind the piles of madness, a balding, overweight man with thick glasses sat at a desk, scribbling furiously on a piece of paper.
“Yes?” he asked in an irritated voice without looking up.
Mr. Rockwell cleared his throat. The man stopped writing at once, dropping his pen and looking up at Mr. Rockwell.
“Sir,” he began nervously, “I had no idea it was you. One of the staff cooks keeps asking me to try out her new recipes. I can’t take much more of it. I have too much to do to be her guinea pig.” Mr. Rockwell raised his eyebrows and Mr. Worthington quickly added, “Of course, anything I can assist you with will be an honor, sir.”
The Academy Defenders Page 5
