The Guardian Lineage (6 page)

“No!” Mike said involuntarily, his hand still outstretched.

The crowd broke into pandemonium. Zachariah ran full speed towards his girlfriend, hollering at the top of his lungs to see if she was harmed. Mike stood there, frozen, shocked at what he had done.

Zachariah knelt over Annabella, then wheeled around and stared down Mike from across the room. “What the hell is wrong with you, Prior?”

Before Mike could respond, Zachariah fired a volley of flames in his direction. Mike threw up a shield as a reflex, and the flames dissipated harmlessly.

“You also going to cheap-shot me?” he yelled. He reached back to grab some fire, but the sound of Stockton's voice caused him to stop.

“Prior! You are hereby suspended from Sparring until further notice.”

Mike wheeled around. “
What?
”

Stockton was standing there with his arms folded, expression unreadable.

“How does
that
work?” Mike yelled.

“You will attend all the classes, but stand on the side and not participate in the fighting until you learn how to control your own power. Furthermore, at the end of one week, you will meet with me in my office to discuss your reinstatement.”

“Are you serious?” Mike said, too furious to care whether this was a good idea. He pointed at Annabella and Zachariah. “She attacked me early,
he
attacked me late, and
I'm
the one getting the suspension?”

Aaron took a step forward. “Yeah, that's not fair, they attacked Mike without—”

“Do not make me add you to the list, Mister Caulderon!” Stockton's nostrils flared. “Mister Prior, if you open your mouth again, I will turn those lips of yours into a pair of garden slugs.”

Mike stared at Stockton, incensed. This was pure bigotry, racism, or whatever you called hatred for no friggin' reason…

“Nothing to add?” Stockton sneered. “Pity.” He turned back to the class. “Levine, Stulberger, you're up next.”

 

 

Mike spent the rest of class seething, leaning on the far wall with his arms crossed. It was oddly comforting that during most contests, somebody usually ended up on their butt. But no one got suspended except for him, which only fueled his anger.

When the bell rang, Mike grabbed his knapsack and stormed out of the room. There was only one person in the world he wanted to talk to right now. Asking Stockton was out of the question, and all the other teachers had been avoiding him all day, so Mike decided to go straight to the top.

He found the Headmage in the Greeting Hall, talking to Mrs. Jorisch about something. Mike stuffed his hands in his pockets and waited from a comfortable distance, going over the potential conversation in his head. Several students walked past, giving him looks that said ‘what gives?' but Mike ignored them, much like he ignored the looks after History. They probably thought he was going to protest his suspension or something. Which would've been a good idea, if he didn't have a more important request to make.

Mrs. Jorisch squeaked when she noticed Mike. Garzan turned around, then nodded to Mrs. Jorsich. She half-curtsied nervously and ran off towards the girls' dorms.

“Mister Prior,” the Headmage said.

“Hi,” Mike said. He rubbed his neck and shifted his weight onto his other leg. “Um… is there any way I could make a phone call?”

Garzan's face registered surprise. “I'm afraid there are no phones here, Mister Prior.”

Mike started to launch into his secondary arguments. Then he caught himself.

Wait, what?

“No… phones?”

Garzan shrugged. He touched the gemstone on his necklace. “We don't need them.”

“Oh.” Mike stared at the opal. “So I'm guessing there's no internet, either,” Mike said, in case Julius Brutus had missed something. He knew the answer even as the words came out of his mouth.

“No, Mister Prior.”

“And my mom won't be able to pick me up on weekends?” Mike clamped his mouth shut. He realized how childish it sounded as soon as he said it.

Chuckling, Garzan said, “Why would she need to do that?” He tilted his head slightly. “It is much safer for you here, trust me.”

“Oh,” Mike said, his cheeks hot. “Okay, then.”

Mike turned on his heels and headed straight for his room, a single thought in his brain.

I am out of here.

His mother had lied to him. She'd known she'd never be able to pick him up on the weekends. She'd known there were no phones, no internet, no contact with the outside world.

And just like Rachel in Baltimore and all his friends in Minneapolis, she'd known there was no chance Mike would ever speak to Laura ever again.

Sorry, Mom, I'm done with this game.

Mike bit back a curse. His mother had
betrayed
him. She'd known what he wanted… and still hadn't cared. She'd sent him away, like a delinquent, to a place he didn't know, to people who hated him, away from the person he cared for most…

He'd been right. This
was
a teenage jail.

And he was about to break out.

 

 

Mike waited for nightfall, then stuffed a bunch of clothes in his knapsack and slung it over his shoulder. He left his suitcase and most of his stuff, not because he wanted to, but because he'd probably attract less attention that way.

He had thought it over the past few hours, and he'd realized his sensei in Baltimore had taught him the perfect escape route. He had been giving a class about the history of ninjas, and he'd mentioned something about stealth.

People only notice something
, the sensei had said,
if they're expecting to see something else
.

Someone who acted completely normal, completely comfortable… that person wouldn't stand out at all.

And that was how Mike was going to escape.

Right out the front door.

He headed down the hallway, confident in his plan. Sure enough, the few students who passed him didn't pay him any attention. Mike smirked to himself as he made it to the front door and pushed it open—

Then he stopped. He saw the front lawn, the winding road, the granite steps…

And the gargoyles, shoving and pushing each other all over the grass.

Mike wanted to punch himself. He was so unbelievably thick… of
course
he couldn't leave at night, not with the gargoyles watching…
Idiot!
If ever there was a time to kick his own butt…

But going back now meant losing Laura forever. He couldn't leave during the day – there were classes going on, many of which were held in classrooms with windows that overlooked the lawn. Half the school would see him leaving. If he chose to leave around sunrise, well, there would definitely be Guardians awake then, guarding the premises; that was the most vulnerable time for Gargoyles, after all. And to leave at dusk meant skipping out during dinner, which might've been a good idea, but he'd have to time it just right, so the Gargoyles were sleeping and the staff wasn't looking, and if Sparring ran late or he got detention or something…

No.

Mike put his head down and started to walk. It had to be now. Maybe the Gargoyles would ignore him. Maybe they would be so caught up in their wrestling matches that they wouldn't notice him. Maybe he was
insane
for trying this…

He walked down the road, preferring to stay in plain sight rather than to play hide and seek. He didn't know how well a Gargoyle could detect other creatures, but if they had senses beyond those of a human – which was likely – sneaking past them was a no-go. Maybe if he looked relaxed, purposeful, they wouldn't bother him. Mike tried to stay calm as the gravel crunched under his feet. He heard the Gargoyles playing, laughing… paying no attention to him…

And then, silence.

Mike's heart fluttered as he realized all the sounds had faded away. He risked a glance at the grass, only to see that there was nothing there.

All the Gargoyles were gone.

He barely had time to process before heard a
whoosh
and a thud. A huge mass of grey landed right in front of him, and the wind from the Gargoyle's wings almost blew him off his feet. Mike stumbled backwards, barely keeping his balance.

It was Jakkus, if Mike remembered correctly. The Gargoyle he'd “met” during dinner last night. At least, he thought it was… he wasn't sure how to tell the Gargoyles apart; they all looked like grey bat-wrestlers on steroids. But the creature was wearing the same outfit as Jakkus had – shorts to the knee, leather vest, and a necklace just like Garzan's.

“Young master Prior,” the Gargoyle grumbled.

Mike tried to stop himself from shaking. He tried his breathing technique, but for some reason, it wasn't working.

“Well met. I am Jakkus, chieftain of my clan, brother to the Guardians stationed here.” Jakkus sniffed the air. He looked around, as if he expected someone else to be here. “You are alone?”

“I…” Mike's words caught in his mouth. What was he supposed to tell him? Did Gargoyles have a lie detector thing among their powers? Mike's eyes fell to the longsword on Jakkus's hip. It occurred to Mike that lying to a Gargoyle might be the last mistake he'd ever make.

“Yeah, I'm alone.”

Jakkus made what seemed like a surprised face. “And… where are you going, alone?”

Mike took a deep breath. “I… I was leaving.”

“Leaving?” Jakkus repeated the word as if he didn't understand its meaning. “Why would you be leaving?”

Mike hesitated. Telling the Gargoyle the truth was one thing. Spilling his guts to him was another.

Then, suddenly, the Gargoyle touched him. It was so sudden that Mike didn't have a chance to back away. Jakkus put the tip of his wing on Mike's head. Simultaneously, his necklace started to glow.

And before Mike had a chance to react, his world melted.

Instead of being on the Manor grounds, he was in the middle of a battlefield. There was fire everywhere. Blown out machinery littered the charcoaled ground. The world rumbled, as if there were bombs exploding nearby. And the screams… Mike looked down to see hundreds of bodies at his feet. They were yelling at him, screaming, clawing at him. He was on top of a small hill, and the bodies were crawling up the blackened soot.

Mike got a look at their faces. Garzan, Stockton… Aaron with his mismatched eyes, Julius Brutus… and even worse, Laura… and his
mother
…

Then, all of a sudden, Mike was back on the gravel road.

“This is the fate that awaits you, should you leave the grounds,” Jakkus said, folding his wings over his collarbone and behind his back. “Is this what you want, son of Rafael?” He didn't seem to be saying it as an insult. He seemed to be saying it like,
You have a choice, boy. Your grandfather's path, or your own.

Except Mike wasn't buying it. Was the Gargoyle really trying to guilt him into staying? With some crazy vision about the world dying, and him being responsible? No offense, but it was going to take more than some hocus pocus and the classic doom-of-the-world-prophecy to keep him away from his girlfriend.

“Listen, I have to go,” Mike said, still breathing heavily but getting over the intimidation factor. “Are you going to stop me or not?”

Jakkus eyed him, and for one horrible second, Mike thought the Gargoyle might actually pick him up with his claws and fly him back to the Manor.

Then Jakkus stepped aside.

“So be it. It is your life to live.”

More surprised than anything, Mike merely nodded. Then he gathered himself, adjusted the knapsack on his back, and walked straight ahead.

 

 

He finally got a hitchhike two hours into his trek, just when the anger and shock were starting to subside and the fatigue was starting to set in. It was an old pickup truck, and even though the driver seemed twice as old as the vehicle, he seemed friendly enough. At least he was polite enough not to ask how Mike had come to be hitchhiking in the woods of Western Massachussetts, and soon Mike dozed off, his head bobbing against the glass window.

He woke up when he realized they weren't moving anymore. He sat up groggily, then glanced over at the wheel.

There was no one in the driver's seat.

Mike bolted upright. They were on the side of the road, and as far as he could tell, and there was no one around. Rain was falling softly, making it both hard to hear and even harder to see. Mike started freaking out again, thinking that this was the the singularly worst idea he'd ever—

No, wait, there he was. The hood was up – Mike felt silly for not noticing that right away – and the guy was bent over the engine, fixing something. Mike felt obliged to go help him. He opened the door to step out of the vehicle.

Suddenly the forest filled with movement. Black figures surrounded the car, dancing out from behind the trees. Straight ahead a small orb of light appeared out of nowhere, growing in magnitude.

“Look out!” Mike yelled as he dove out of the truck. He tasted mud as he landed on his stomach, crawling desperately with his elbows while his arms covered his ears and head. Then the vehicle exploded, and he was flung against a massive treetrunk. Mike's body collided with the wood at a painful speed.

Shrapnel rained down as if a missile had exploded overhead. Mike buried his head in his legs. Metal projectiles bruised his body. Mike yelped as pain shot through his ribs. Finally, when the metal rain stopped, Mike forced himself to stand, using the tree as leverage. He opened his eyes, and was shocked by what he saw.

Automobile remains lay all around. There were pieces of metal on fire, scattered around the blown-out chassis. The grass was black as coal, and small fires were everywhere.

Aside from all the dead bodies, it was an exact replica of the vision Jakkus had shown him.

Man,
Mike thought grimly,
that was quick.

Suddenly, Mike saw a figure dressed in black – complete with black mask – streaking towards him. He forgot about the pain in his side and held his fists up. The assassin jump-kicked at him, but Mike slid out of the way. Incredibly, the guy landed softly against the tree trunk and bounded off, as if he was a panther or something. He rolled on the ground and popped into a crouched stance, then came at Mike with speed that seemed impossible. Mike blocked one punch, then another, but the third caught him on the stomach. He grunted, then quickly jerked out of the way of an anticipated uppercut that barely missed his chin.

Mike may have been cocky when it came to his karate skills, but he was not stupid. He realized the truth almost immediately.

I cannot win this fight.

Mike fell to the ground and threw out his leg, kicking his assailant in the shin. The guy tripped and fell, giving Mike the opening he needed. He rolled and got to his feet, then ran, splashing through the woods. He had no idea where he could run to, but he knew he had to get away—

All of a sudden, there was a shriek from behind, and a whoosh, which sounded familiar. Mike felt heat behind him, and peeked over his shoulder. His attacker was still running after him, but he was
aflame
. The guy stumbled and fell, screaming from behind his black mask.

Mike whirled to see a Guardian in uniform, surrounded by two more assassins. Mike's first thought was to help him, but as the fight went on, Mike realized the Guardian didn't need any help at all.

Rainwater streaked to the Guardian's hands, then slammed one would-be attacker in the chest and knocked him backwards. Another assassin came from the side, but the Guardian stepped back and grabbed the outstretched arm, snapping it like a twig. The warrior screamed from behind his veil. The Guardian slipped behind the man – it seemed to be a man – and snapped his neck in one smooth motion.

Mike crept closer, now that the attackers' focus was on his savior. He hid behind a tree, peeking out to try and see who it—

Mike's breath caught.

It was the
Headmage
.

Another assassin approached from behind. Garzan slid to his knees, just as a knife stabbed at where his head had been. Garzan reached around and tripped the warrior onto his back. Mike stared incredulously as Garzan grasped the assassin's wrist forced his knife into the man's own chest.

Even more fighters swarmed as the Headmage got to his feet. One of them tried to attack from the front, but Garzan thrust a hand forward and the assassin flew back, his body crashing into an enormous tree. Another assassin came at Garzan from the side, but the Headmage grabbed the guy's arm and flipped him downwards. Garzan stretched an arm to the sky and muttered something under his breath. Lightning crashed out of the clouds and connected with the assassin's skull, creating a brilliant fire across his torso.

Holy hell,
Mike thought. The Headmage was
badass!

The remaining warriors hesitated, looking from Garzan to his flaming adversary. Then they vanished almost as swiftly as they had appeared.

Almost immediately, Garzan started whirling all around. “Michael? Michael, are you still here?” There was a panic in the Headmage's voice that made Mike realize this wasn't some trick. He stepped out from behind the tree, and the two of them locked eyes.

“There you are.” The Headmage hurried in Mike's direction. Mike was surprised to see an expression of relief – not anger – on Garzan's face.

“Are you hurt?” the Headmage said as he approached.

All of a sudden the pain returned. Mike doubled over and grabbed his stomach, as if his temporary supply of adrenaline had just run out.

“Here,” Garzan said. He placed a hand on Mike's ribs. Warmth filled Mike's body. Then Garzan released him, and Mike realized he didn't hurt anymore.

“How did…”

Garzan shook his head. “No time for that.” The Headmage held out a hand in the direction of the wreckage. For a second, Mike thought he was going to resurrect the pickup truck, but then Mike noticed a pair of headlights, just beyond the fire. There was an SUV there, lights on, engine still running.

Mike took a deep breath. Then he nodded, and stepped towards the waiting vehicle.