Demon Guard

by Samantha Britt

  “You will sit in the first row,” Lex says, pointing to the mentioned row. He takes my hand and removes it from his arm. He gives me an encouraging wink. “Have fun. I’ll see you after.”

  I watch him turn and walk out of the room. I know he and his parents will be watching the ceremony from one of the box seats extending from the sides of the auditorium, but I don’t know which one. I look up and count ten box seats positioned above the paintings I observed earlier. None are occupied yet. In fact, I’m only one out of six people in the room. The other four are already seated in the front row. Tugging on my jacket, I take a breath and head that direction.

  My fellow classmates eye me up and down as I approach. There are three guys and two girls. With only forty chairs in the first row, seating options are going to be limited. The guys sit together near the middle of the row, then there is an empty seat. One of the girls sits in the next chair. Her midnight black hair shimmers and diamond tear-drop earrings sway as she shifts her head, scowling as she takes in my clothes. She’d be pretty if she didn’t have “bitch” written all over her judgy face.

  I walk right by her without a second glance.

  As I move farther down the row, I realize there are only five seats left. A pretty girl with caramel colored skin and thick, curly black hair smiles at me from the second seat closest to the end of the row. She wears a dark green cocktail dress. It’s fancy, but not over the top. Clearly, she comes from money, but she’s not dripping in jewels like the other girl.

  The stranger pats the chair next to her. “This one’s free.”

  Instinct makes me wary of her kind eyes and friendly smile, but I immediately push the suspicion aside. I’m going to be forced to sit next to someone once the rest of the new students arrive. I might as well choose who it is now.

  I walk past the girl and the seat she’d patted, taking the one on the very end of the row. This way, I only have to talk to one stranger.

  If she finds my maneuver strange, she doesn’t say so. “Hi. I’m Cortney Elms.” She holds out a hand, maintaining her bright smile.

  You want to start off on the right foot, I remind myself.

  I shake her hand. “Aspen Van der Klay.”

  Her eyes threaten to pop out of her head. She drops my hand. “Van der Klay? Oh my gosh. Is Alexander your brother?”

  “Foster brother.”

  She squeals. “Oh my gosh. He is soooo cute. His mentor brought him to my parents’ house last year for my cousin’s birthday party. He has the brightest blue eyes. Don’t you think?”

  “Uh… I guess.” Objectively speaking, Lex’s good-looking. I know that. And although we aren’t related by blood, he’s still like a brother to me. I don’t make a habit of lying around, thinking about whether or not he’s attractive.

  “Duh, silly me,” Cortney shakes her head, not dropping her smile for even a second. “He’s your brother. Of course you don’t think he’s cute.”

  I observe Cortney. I don’t think her bubbly personality is an act. Her cheeriness seems genuine. I may have made a huge mistake sitting next to her. I might’ve been better off next to the snobby prep. Something tells me she wouldn’t have been so talkative.

  Cortney is undeterred by my silence. “I’m so excited I got into St. Michael’s. It was such a long shot. My parents are crazy proud.”

  I’m not given a moment to ask what she means when Cortney reveals, “I’m adopted. My real parents died when I was two. The Elms were their friends. They took me and my brother, Chris, in when the ministers realized we didn’t have any surviving relatives. The Elms are well-known in the America’s, but my parents were part of the Guardian society in South America. My brother didn’t get into St. Michael’s when he came of age. I wasn’t expecting to get in, either.”

  Our pasts are not identical, but it doesn’t escape me that Cortney is probably the only other student at St. Michael’s who could even possibly understand how it feels to live in a world where you fear you don’t belong. I’m a legitimate descendant of Thaddeus, just like every student here, but their fancy names and historical lineages put them above me. At least, that’s what they will think when they find out I’m not a true Van der Klay.

  “I know how you feel,” I offer when Cortney falls silent. Four more students settle into seats in the front row, but no one comes to our end yet. I find myself saying, “My mom died when I was eleven. The Van der Klays are my caretakers. They were determined to get me into St. Michael’s, but I didn’t think I’d get in.”

  Her smile had faded when speaking about her past, but it returns after I finish speaking. Though, it isn’t as bright as before. No one can hide sorrow that runs so deep. “Glad to know I’m not the only outcast.”

  She says it jokingly, but I’m serious when I reply, “Me too.”

  Our conversation stalls as the volume of voices in the auditorium rises dramatically. I turn and watch as the group of Guardians who’d been watching everyone’s arrivals file in. Students break away from their family members and walk to the front row. The others either ascend the stairs to take a seat in the upper deck, or they disappear from sight to find their box seat.

  In less than a minute, all seats are taken except for the one beside Cortney. A well-dressed guy wearing a purple ascot with sleek brown hair is the only student not sitting. He glides toward us with grace I’m jealous of. I’m steady on my feet when fighting Lex, but I wouldn’t call myself graceful. The stranger settles beside Cortney without saying a word.

  Headmistress Meyer walks onto the stage. Five men follow. They wear black robes with the academy’s insignia embroidered on the right side of their chests. The men range in appearance from tall to short and pale to tan. They appear middle-aged, except for one man who looks like he’s in his mid-twenties, and one with snow-white hair.

  The headmistress stands behind the podium on the stage. The men divide. The young man and one other stand on her right, while the other three step to her left.

  Cortney leans over, “I think those are the first year instructors.”

  I nod. Lex had told me I’d take four classes each year at the academy, including one-on-one training with my mentor. The envelope burns in my hands. I want to open it so bad. The anticipation is killing me.

  I miss whatever cue the headmistress gives to silence the room. My attention returns to her. Her black pencil skirt and blazer scream authority, and her trademark bun conveys a serious demeanor.

  “Students. Fellow Guardians. Welcome to St. Michael’s. It is my honor to serve as the headmistress of this illustrious academy for another year.”

  Polite applause fills the room.

  I clap my hands mindlessly. My eyes might be on the stage, but my mind is preoccupied with the envelope in my lap. Can instructors be mentors? If so, I hope I don’t get the old guy. Call me ageist, but I don’t think he would be able to give me the extra training boost I need to consistently beat Lex when we spar.

  “I have spoken with every new student sitting here today,” Headmistress Meyer looks down at us. Her eyes settle on me once they reach the end of the row. “I am certain you will all become valuable members of our society and do your part to keep mankind safe from the evils in this world. I look forward to watching you develop and hone your skills, and I am eager to see the great things you accomplish.”

  Family members clap loudly. The students dip our head in acknowledgment, but we remain silent. I don’t know why the others don’t clap along with their parents. For me, hearing the headmistress’s expectations are sobering. I’m not attending St. Michael’s to earn a degree and go out into the workforce to make a living as a teacher or engineer. I’m here to learn how to effectively fight and kill demons and other evil monsters that threaten our world. This is serious stuff, and I am resolved to treat it as such.

  Headmistress Meyer waits for the parents to quiet. Then, her eyes lose some of their seriousness and her lips lift into a smile. “Students, I’m sure you’re all eager to see your schedule
s and, more importantly, the identity of your mentor. Please, open your envelopes, meet with your families, and then join us in the reception hall for a banquet in your honor.” Without another word, the headmistress glides off the stage. The instructors follow her out.

  Cortney and I look at each other.

  “That’s it?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “I-I guess so.”

  I’d been expecting a long, drawn-out speech about the importance of Guardians, the reputation of St. Michael’s, our duty to protect, etc. But the headmistress’s speech lasted less than five minutes.

  I guess I shouldn’t complain. It’s not like I want to sit here and listen to her for an hour.

  I look down at the thick envelope in my hands. Some of the other students already opened theirs, and they are comparing schedules with one another. But a few, like me and Cortney, are taking our time.

  “Should we open them?” Cortney asks, sounding just as nervous as I feel.

  “Sure.” I slip my finger under the edge of the envelope and gently tear it open. I remove four pieces of parchment.

  One is a schedule. At the top of the paper is the title “Group B”, then a schedule of classes is listed.

  Monday and Wednesday

  9:00 to 10:30

  -Introduction to Demonology, Room 201

  10:45 to 12:15

  -Guardian History and Modern Affairs, Room 321

  Afternoon Break

  14:00 to 17:00

  -Combatives, Large Gymnasium

  Tuesday and Thursday

  9:00 to 12:00 – Sigil Studies I, Room 205

  Afternoon Break

  14:00 to 17:00 – Mentorship, location TBD

  Friday

  All Student Assessor Analysis

  A. Van der Klay

  11:30 to 12:30, Room 103

  It takes me a moment to convert the military time to standard time, remembering to subtract twelve from the digits listed after the number twelve. At first glance, Tuesdays and Thursdays look like they’re going to be easy. But once I calculate the times, I realize I will be spending three hours training with sigils and then four hours with my mentor. No doubt, I’ll end those days mentally and physically exhausted.

  I flip to another piece of paper. I read the single line of text. Mentor: Guardian Hendricks

  I jerk back as I re-read the name. Hendricks? That’s the Head Minister’s name. I do my best to tune out the Van der Klays when they gossip about Guardian world politics, but there’s no way I wouldn’t know the name of our society’s leader.

  Cortney sees my reaction and peers over my shoulder to see what’s wrong. She gasps. “You got Guardian Hendricks!”

  The Head Minister doesn’t mentor students. He’s far too busy doing… everything the leader of the entire world’s Guardian Society does. This has to be a mistake.

  Cortney whistles low. “My dad says everyone wanted him as their kid’s mentor. Good networking, you know? Being mentored by the Head Minister’s son is sure to get some face-to-face time with Minister Hendricks.”

  Relief washes over me. Of course. The paper says Guardian Hendricks, not Minister. I should’ve realized.

  “You must’ve had a great interview,” Cortney observes.

  My forehead creases. “What do you mean?”

  “Headmistress Meyer chooses our mentors from the list provided by the Guardian Council. She knows how coveted the Head Minister’s son is. She must’ve seen a lot of potential in you or something.”

  A cloud falls over my mind. “Or something” was right. This had the Van der Klays written all over it. I bet Charles and Vivian paid the headmistress a pretty sum to get her to give me Guardian Hendricks as a mentor.

  I shake my head and move on to the next piece of paper. It’s my accommodation information.

  I read my roommate’s name the same time Cortney does.

  “OH MY GOD!” She shouts happily. “We’re roommates!” Without warning, I’m wrapped in a side hug. I can only laugh. No one at my other school would’ve dared touch me, much less hug me. I definitely failed at coming off as a bad ass to my bubbly classmate.

  Strangely enough, I don’t mind that much. I could use a friend. Like… a real friend. Not my foster brother.

  I return the hug awkwardly and then pull out of her arms. I stand and gather all the papers back into my envelope for safekeeping. “We should go to the banquet.”

  Cortney hops up, beaming. “Yeah! Our parents are probably waiting. I can’t wait to introduce you to mine.” She grabs my hand and pulls me with her as she hurries down the row to leave the auditorium.

  Again, all I can do is laugh. This night certainly hasn’t gone the way I expected.

  We begin climbing the stairs to the exit when the snobby girl with the diamond earrings steps into our path. Gone is her bitchy look. Now, she wears a friendly smile. I’m instantly on my guard.

  “Hi, I didn’t get the chance to introduce myself earlier. I’m Lauren Thibodeaux. These are my friends Erin Caster and Fiona Yaleman.” I look over her shoulder and see two beautiful girls standing behind her. One is a tall brunette, and the other is a petite blonde. With Lauren’s black hair, they are about as diverse as rich white girl group can be.

  Each of the girls waves her fingers in greeting. They, too, wear overly wide smiles. They’re obviously fake. I don’t return the greeting.

  “You’re the Van der Klays girl, right?” Lauren addresses me, completely ignoring Cortney who still holds my hand captive. The rest of the auditorium has emptied except for us and Lex. He waits at the top of the stairs, one eyebrow raises in question when I meet his gaze.

  I want to get out of there. Now.

  I look back at Lauren. “Yeah, that’s me.”

  “Oh, great!” She exclaims with a quick clap of her hands. “I am so excited to meet you. The Van der Klays and Thibodeauxs go way back. You should come sit with us at the banquet. We can get to know each other. I’m sure we are going to be great friends.” Behind her, Lauren’s minions bob their head and cry out their own excited remarks. Geeze. Can they tone it down a notch?

  Once again, I notice Lauren completely disregards Cortney, and one glance at my new roommate shows she, too, notices the slight. I make an immediate decision, one that the rich girl mob isn’t going to like.

  “Thanks, but no. I’ve more important people to hang out with.” Before Lauren can pick her jaw up off the ground, I move forward and nudge the girls to the side, dragging Cortney with me.

  Lex is grinning from ear to ear when we reach the top of the stairs. He swings his arm out for us to precede him. I release Cortney, but she follows on my heels.

  Once we are out of the auditorium, Lex can’t hold it in any longer. “I cannot believe you just told Lauren Thibodeaux she’s not important enough for your time.” His incredulous laugh echoes off the walls of the corridor. “I can’t wait to see how she retaliates.”

  “Whatever,” I let his words roll of my shoulder. “She’s a grade-A bitch. She looked at me like I was dirt until she knew my last name. I don’t have time for grubby social climbers.” I’ve dealt with plenty of girls like her before. She will try and punish me with petty or cruel tactics, but none will land their mark. I have thick skin.

  Lex reaches out rubs the top of my head. “That’s my girl. Always sticking it to the villains.”

  I cry out and swat his hand away. My hair might not be in a fancy updo, but I’d taken great pains to tame the frizz.

  I turn to Cortney. I hope Lauren’s rudeness hasn’t hurt her feelings too much.

  I’m surprised when I don’t see an ounce of sadness in the happy girl’s expression. In fact, she’s looking at me like I’m responsible for hanging the moon in the sky.

  “What?” I ask with an awkward chuckle. “Do I have something on my face?”

  “Nope,” she grins. “I was just thinking that I might have found my new best friend.”

  Lex laughs, steps between us, and throws an arm around each of ou
r shoulders. Cortney’s eyes widen with disbelief and then her face turns beet red. I can’t help but laugh. If she knew how messy, gross, and annoying Lex was at home, I doubt she’d have a crush on him.

  “Come on, besties,” Lex steers us down the next hall, leading us to the reception hall. “There’s a banquet full of delicious food with my name on it.”

  “And you need to meet my parents,” Cortney reminds me eagerly.

  I force a smile, telling myself this is part of having a friend. Like Lex said: I’m Aspen Van der Klay. I’m a bad ass. I can hide my brash social behavior for one night.

  I’ll make sure of it.

  Five

  Monday morning rolls around, and I wake in my new bed at St. Michael’s Academy. Due to maintaining the architectural integrity of the building, the rooms are admittedly a little small for two people. Cortney and I each have a narrow twin-sized bed pressed against the side walls, close to the large window on the wall opposite the door. Two desks and tall dressers are positioned closer to the door, along with one book shelf we will share. The room is longer than it is wide, and there is only about five feet of space from the edge of her bed to mine. There’s no bathroom. We have to share a communal bath with the other girls staying in the East Wing of the academy.

  When I’d first walked into the room on Sunday, the day new students were allowed to move their belongings in, I’d almost gagged when I saw the sickly yellow color on the walls. I’d nearly dropped the box holding my coffee maker.