Academy of Protectors (The Protector Guild Book 1) Read online

  Michael smiled, and my stomach did this swirly thing when he looked over at me and chuckled. “I’m liking it better now, we’re from southern California, and no.”

  “California? That’s so cool. Do you surf?” Hollywood made it seem like everyone from California surfed. His tousled blond hair definitely fit the stereotype.

  “No we lived on the east side of the state, plus I’m kind of afraid of the ocean.” He ruffled his hair and looked at me from the side of his eye. “Not being able to see what you’re walking on top of sort of wigs me out, you know?”

  I nodded enthusiastically, even though I didn’t really know what he meant.

  With the ice broken, we sat in pleasant conversation for the rest of the meal and I did my best not to put my foot in my mouth. Dating was one thing Cyrus and Ro didn’t really bother teaching me. All I had to go on was movies and books. Not for the first time, I found myself suddenly wishing for girlfriends to hangout and chat with.

  “Could I maybe get your phone number, Max?” Michael cleared his throat, and I smiled at the nervous tremble in his words. Maybe he sucked at this whole dating thing too? And maybe we could help each other and learn together?

  “No, sorry.” I paused, realizing how that sounded. “I mean, not no because I don’t want you to have it, but no because you can’t.”

  My cheeks reddened and I kicked Ro in the shin when I heard his laughter crack through the awkward silence.

  “I mean, I don’t have a phone. So I can’t give you my number. Because, you know, since I don’t have a phone, I don’t have a number...to give...to you,” I finished awkwardly, mentally smacking myself with a hammer and hoping like hell that I wasn’t as bright red as I felt.

  Jason and Ro were both laughing behind their hands, and I shrunk a few inches into the booth, silently promising myself that I’d kick Ro’s ass tomorrow during training.

  “We’re in town every Saturday.” Ro said. “I think what Max is trying so eloquently to say, is that maybe we could all just grab dinner again next weekend and go from there?”

  Why was Ro so much better than me at this? It wasn’t like he had much more practice when it came to socializing or flirting. I pushed my jealousy at his easy conversation down, determined to take notes for next time.

  Michael nodded, a bemused expression on his face. “Yeah, next Saturday works.” His hand brushed against mine and my nerves disappeared a bit, which was odd. In novels the heroine’s stomach was supposed to explode with butterflies at the first touch of her hero. “Could I walk you to your car?”

  I averted my eyes and tried to stop the grin from exploding all over my face. “Yeah sure.” I turned back to Ro. “Meet you there in a few?”

  We threw some money on the table and made our way out the door. I didn’t have too much time to kill since we still had to grab some groceries before the store closed, but Michael and I took the long way, walking around the town square a bit before we made our way back to the mouth of the alley where our car was parked. Sometime between leaving the restaurant and crossing the street, he grabbed my right hand. My first instinct was to kick him in the knees, but I realized at the last second that this was normal teenager stuff and I didn’t have to worry about fighting tactics.

  Then again, maybe he’d be impressed by my reflexes?

  “How come you guys only come down from the cabin on the weekends? Is your dad really strict or something?”

  I wasn’t totally sure how to handle that question. I was, however, perfectly sure that telling him we spent our time training to kill supernatural creatures wasn’t normal conversation for a human.

  “Yes, he’s just really overprotective,” I lied. Really, he just didn’t want us getting too close to humans. And considering that’s all Ro and I seemed interested in doing when we came into town, he had good reason to be worried. Cyrus enjoyed solitude, but Ro and I craved a social life. I looked around for a safer subject. I knew that dating a human would come with some lying, but I wanted to avoid it as much as I could. “Your brother mentioned you were at work earlier. What do you do?”

  “Currently I’m working at the auto repair shop down the road, but I’m taking some online classes. Hopefully in a year or two, I can get my associate’s degree and apply to a four-year school. That’s my endgame, anyway.” He shrugged before leaning his back against our truck. What about you?”

  Ro and I were homeschooled. Cyrus taught us traditional subjects, but he also made sure we understood the basics when it came to the hell realm. Still, we both knew that as protectors, we couldn’t have real careers. And, honestly, now that we were both technically adults, we needed to start thinking about our own endgames. If I had a choice in the matter, I’d spend all my extra time reading, but I didn’t think that could ever really count as a career. Unfortunately, the same was probably true for being a professional Netflix-watcher. If I were human, I’d probably want to be some sort of scholar. I loved fighting, but if I wasn’t doing that, I was just as happy with my nose in a book or computer.

  Michael cleared his throat loudly, which I think was a sign that I’d been silent for too long. Sorting through my head for human careers, I landed on one I wouldn’t hate. “I guess I’d like to be a veterinarian one day. I really love animals.”

  He smiled, his features brightening with interest. It was the best I could come up with, since I couldn’t exactly tell him that my career would involve saving unsuspecting humans from supernatural creatures that escaped from hell. Then again, maybe he watched Buffy—in which case, he might think I was kind of cool?

  Our conversation grew easier, as he cycled through questions and lighter topics, and I carefully wove through and around them the best that I could. After a long, rambling monologue about one of my favorite books, I looked up at Michael only to find that he’d moved a few inches closer, his nose just a breath away from mine. Before I had a chance to say anything, his lips pressed against the corner of my mouth.

  It was an awkward first kiss, but he corrected his positioning after a moment, enveloping my lips more fully. His tongue parted the seam of my mouth, and I tasted the baked cod he’d ordered for dinner.

  Not exactly great first-kiss flavor.

  Still, in a town this small, I had to take what I could get. I waited for my stomach to explode with butterflies or for a light to ding in my head signaling that he was the one. Would my lips be swollen? Romance novels always went on and on about swollen lips after a kiss. While all of this ran through my head as our lips collided awkwardly, all I could focus on was how I would never order the cod from the diner if I could help it.

  He gasped into my mouth, a nanosecond before he was torn from my lips. Before I could make a corny comment about how I literally took his breath away, his body flew back into the truck and I watched, mesmerized, as a giant brown wolf dragged him further into the alleyway behind the diner. The wolf had to be about two hundred pounds, and came up to my chest while standing on all four legs...which meant it would be a lot taller than me if it were standing on its hind legs. The bright yellow glow in its eyes told me everything I needed to know.

  This was a straight up werewolf.

  Chapter Two

  Max

  Wolfie was not going to steal the date I’d waited so long for. Not on my watch.

  I grabbed the knife I kept in the lining of my boot and pounced. My feet pounded against the gravelly road as I bound after them, ready to rescue my soon-to-be boyfriend in a grand heroic gesture.

  I was all about flipping the narrative.

  Harsh steps behind me beat in a familiar rhythm. Ro reached the wolf almost at the same moment I did. He must’ve been secretly eavesdropping on us. Hopefully none of the other townspeople noticed the wolf. There was a reason humans stored books about them in the fantasy section—werewolves weren’t usually this brazen and obvious with their attacks.

  My blade sank into the wolf’s flank and I twisted before pulling it out and repeating the maneuver. Ro grabbed Mic
hael and threw him, his heightened strength unintentionally knocking him out in the process. Which was probably for the best. Too many witnesses wasn’t good news for us. While Ro fought to get a good grip on the wolf, I pulled my silver-plated blade back and struck into the creature’s heart. Hard.

  And missed, hitting its shoulder instead. Target practice was so much easier when the target didn’t fidget about so much.

  The wolf bucked Ro across the alley and came charging towards me, an annoyed glint in its eye. Could werewolves be annoyed? I wasn’t really sure, but this one sure looked it. The wolf growled low but, oddly, didn’t strike. Instead, it cocked its head and looked at me with what I can only describe as curiosity. It seemed so...human. I positioned the knife and bounced softly on the balls of my feet, ready to spring and go full on Van Helsing on its ass.

  Before I had the chance though, a huge black dog, as big as a small pony, beat me to it. It tore into the wolf’s neck, and with a whimper and growl, the werewolf sprang off into the forest, sparing one strange glance back at me before its yellow eyes disappeared from sight.

  The black dog was slightly larger than the wolf. It walked over to me, bowed its head, licked a small cut on my arm and ran off in the opposite direction.

  Animals were so weird. Maybe I really would be a vet.

  “Just so you know, I’m totally taking credit for that win,” I yelled after it, wiping off the drool. The cut would be healed within the hour. I didn’t have Ro’s speedy superhuman healing, but I was no slouch.

  I stood, flabbergasted, until Ro caught up, limping slightly on his left foot. We checked quickly to make sure Michael was still breathing, only to find Jason at the mouth of the alley staring at us like we were a couple of serial killers. I tucked my knife not-so-discreetly into my boot, as if hiding the evidence would suddenly make this whole thing disappear.

  “Wh-what the hell was that?” He pushed past us and ran to his brother. With his finger on Michael’s pulse point, he shot us a terrified look and grabbed his phone. Judging by the fact that his fingers only pressed on three numbers, he was calling the police.

  Okay, apparently Jason wasn’t a fan of Buffy. Good to know. Ro could definitely do better.

  Ro mumbled something about rabid wolves in the woods this time of the year and rabies, before shuffling me back towards the car. Michael would be okay. Probably. Humans were so freaking fragile.

  On the bright side, werewolves couldn’t turn humans. Contrary to popular literary beliefs, their bite couldn’t transform a human into a wolf. There was no way, as far as I knew, to turn a human into anything even remotely supernatural, so I had no idea why they were always so terrified of that in the movies. A werewolf could theoretically turn a protector into a wolf, but it was rare. Generally though, most protectors who were bitten either died from the bite or they didn’t exhibit any effects at all. Werewolfism was hard to predict.

  Magic wasn’t really a science in that sense.

  The wound on Michael’s leg from where the beast grabbed him appeared pretty shallow. Honestly, Jason probably needed to worry more about the head injury, but I didn’t want to call Ro out on that.

  Our bodies were still pumping adrenaline from our first real supernatural encounter. Not wanting to waste time or field questions, we skipped the grocery store and sped home.

  “Sorry, Ro. I didn’t mean to ruin your date. Jason looked pretty pissed.” I traced indiscernible shapes in the dust of the car window. The night had started out so promising. So normal.

  “Don’t be sorry, it wasn’t your fault.” Ro exhaled loud and hard. “And to be honest, I don’t know that it was so bad. The werewolf part was obviously not great. But I’m not sure how much I liked Jason because I liked him, and how much I liked him because he’s only the second gay guy I’ve met in this town. And the only gay guy under fifty.”

  I frowned in sympathy, not sure what to say.

  “Besides, it’s foolish to think it would work, being with a human.” Ro shrugged his shoulders, glancing briefly at me as the car wound up the familiar path. “We can’t hide who we are forever, Max.”

  That was true, Cyrus was always warning us about humans. And he would not be happy to hear about our trip—the part about the werewolf or the part about us getting cozy with two humans in a pseudo double-date. Protector-human relationships weren’t exactly encouraged. But that’s okay. At least I had my first kiss. Even if the best part of it was the resulting fight. I’d never seen a werewolf before.

  For the first time, I felt like an actual protector.

  ◆◆◆

  “A werewolf? You’re certain?” Cyrus was pacing around the living room, wearing down our already-worn-down rug even more. The cabin itself was small, but there was a warmness about it that I loved.

  “Yes, its eyes were glowing and it looked way too big and intelligent for a regular wolf.” Mentally, I traced through all the information I’d learned about werewolves from Cyrus’s books. There wasn’t much known about them. The internet was rife with made-up information, and Cyrus only had a few books in the house from his time working in official protector capacity for The Guild. Still, I did know that they came from the hell realm and fed primarily on animals they caught in the woods. Werewolves were generally able to control their transformations, but they were far more volatile and unpredictable in their wolf forms. Still, it was incredibly rare for them to show up in the middle of a town filled with humans. Secrecy kept them alive. If humans had concrete evidence that they were real, werewolves would be in serious trouble.

  Ro nodded, confirming my diagnosis. He had mastered the art of talking without words. I wasn’t there yet.

  “And it didn’t kill the human? Or seriously injure you two?” Cyrus dragged his hand through his dark locks, his fingers catching on a few tangles. He could use a good brush, the Tarzan look wasn’t really working for him at the moment. Cyrus wasn’t usually filled with this much nervous energy and I had a feeling it would be a long while before we were allowed back into town without him. And since he avoided going into town like the plague, Ro and I would be spending the next few months as recluses.

  Cyrus’s eyes locked onto us, like he was scanning for injuries.

  So much for my big date next weekend. I’d spent the whole trip home mentally running through ways I could subtly convince Michael to order something other than fish. I wanted a do-over.

  Then again, the odds of Michael wanting to see me after being attacked by a wolf in my presence weren’t exactly great. And Jason didn’t exactly seem impressed with our participation in the encounter either. I was starting to understand why protector-human relationships were so taboo. Dating was already complicated enough. Hiding your whole world from your partner? That was just unnecessary trouble to throw into the mix.

  “Oh,” I chirped, rubbing a hand over my face. The adrenaline was starting to wear off and I desperately wanted to curl up with a good book and hot cup of tea. “Also there was a big dog. It sort of saved me. I think.”

  Cyrus stopped his excessive pacing and turned to look at me like I was dense. It was an expression he used frequently when talking to me. I had learned not to be offended.

  “A big dog? Saved you from a werewolf?”

  The familiar line between his brows made an appearance and I blushed under the doubt in his coal eyes. “I mean it was, like, a really, really big dog. So, you know, way more believable, right?”

  Ro shook his head, a grin stealing over his face as he glanced between me and Cyrus. “She’s telling the truth, Cy. The dog was huge. As soon as it bit the wolf and sent it running, it pranced over to her, bowed, licked her, and left us. It was like a weird, overgrown house pet. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  I beamed. I was practically Dr. Dolittle.

  “How huge?” Cyrus seemed way more interested in the dog than he’d been in the wolf, which had my stomach fluttering nervously.

  “Like, small-pony-sized. Or like, you know, giant-dog-sized. Way
bigger than Mrs. Dell’s pug that walks around town sometimes.” Words were not my strong suit when I was feeling anxious. Between talking to a boy I liked, an awkwardly fishy kiss, a werewolf attack, and Cyrus’s unusually heightened energy, I was doomed. Not my fault.

  Cyrus looked to Ro in exasperation, clearly aware that he wouldn’t get a useful answer from me. I rolled my eyes. At least we had a system worked out.

  “I know what you’re thinking, it wasn’t another werewolf. It was at least four or five feet tall while on all of its legs, probably close to two hundred pounds. Definitely not a human breed of dog, but kind of looked like an enlarged Newfoundland, if that helps,” Ro reported, the spitting image of a soldier reporting for duty.

  Cyrus’s lips thinned into a tight line. He nodded his head, his expression growing distant. “I see.” He looked at me and, thinking better of it, turned back to Ro. “Anything else?”

  Annoyed with being brushed off, I dug my hand into my black bag, pulling out the crumpled letter from the post office. “Yeah, you got mail.”

  ◆◆◆

  Ro and I exchanged glances while Cyrus read the letter. And then read it again. And again. With each pass, his eyes darkened and his posture grew more stiff. It didn’t appear that long, so I had no idea why he needed so many passes over it. I could have read a whole chapter and taken notes by now.

  Finally, he looked up at us, his mouth set in a grim line. “Pack your things.”

  I glanced at Ro again before turning back to Cyrus. “Er, why?”

  “We’re leaving, and I’m guessing you’ll want your things.” Cyrus sprang to action, gathering his rather sparse collection of items around the living room and kitchen, before he moved to his weapons room, which was significantly less sparse.

  “Care to tell us where we’re going, Cy?” Ro rolled the words slowly over his tongue, as if he were talking to a toddler.