Academy of Protectors (The Protector Guild Book 1) Page 3

  “The Protector Guild. I’ve been offered a position. By default, you two will be accepted as students. If there really are werewolves in this area, there’s no use pretending that hiding out is doing you any good. So, we’ll try this instead for a bit. I’ve taught you what I can, now you need formal training.”

  “W-what?” I asked. The Protector Guild housed the most elite training academy for protectors. According to Cyrus’s books, they only accepted the best of the best. Seeing as how Ro and I were completely segregated from the North American community of protectors, I highly doubted we came anywhere near the traditional standards for their students.

  “We leave tomorrow night. Anything you haven’t packed by then, gets left behind.” Cyrus’s voice echoed over the clatter of metal as he tore all his weapons from the walls and threw them haphazardly onto a large sheet. I cringed. He really should be wrapping them each individually and taking proper care of them. Ro and I watched, stunned, as he gathered the ends of the sheet together, creating a makeshift sack that he dragged towards the door. “I mean it.”

  I looked at Ro, watching his blue eyes widen, and then we jumped into action, gathering our meager collection of clothes, books, and weapons before Cyrus had the chance to leave them, or us, behind.

  Chapter Three

  Max

  After driving for two hours, we pulled up to a large gate that opened as soon as our car came within a few feet of it. A winding road led us through a forest and an odd collection of small buildings for at least a mile before we reached what I can only describe as a mansion. Or a small town housed under a single roof.

  The place was huge and looked like an old castle. According to Cyrus, The Protector Guild was hidden away in northern Montana, protected by spells that ensured no human would ever find it. The spell part didn’t shock me. The place looked like a freaking magic castle you’d only hear about in fairy tales. Though I guess, by now, I shouldn’t be surprised to learn that fairy tales were always partially settled in truth. I did just encounter a werewolf and pony-dog after all.

  When we reached the front door, a man with graying brown hair and a whiskery beard grasped Cyrus closely. I studied them both, tracing the similar square jaw, lean muscular build, and black intelligent eyes. This man was related to Cyrus.

  “Brother, it’s been too long,” he said.

  Well, that was confirmed quickly.

  The man looked over at Ro and me. “And I guess that makes you two my sort of niece and nephew, eh?”

  “What the hell, Cyrus, you have a family? Why didn’t you ever tell us? And your family lives at Guild Headquarters? Also, why didn’t you tell me that this place looks kind of like Hogwarts?”

  Ro slammed his palm against my mouth, cutting off my questions a moment later than he probably should have. Cyrus always said that the one thing he failed to teach me was how to create a filter between my thoughts and words. So really, it was his fault. Nerves did weird things to my brain.

  The man laughed, the deep rolling sound similar to Cyrus’s, though I’d only heard him full-out laugh a few times in all of my eighteen years. “Call me Seamus.”

  Cyrus gave me that stop-being-asinine look that I was so familiar with. “Seamus, this is Rowan and Maxi—” Cyrus’s voice cut off as I stepped on his foot. He knew I hated my full name. And that was also his fault. He was the one who named me. “I mean Max. She prefers Max. Anyway, these are the kids I raised—against my better judgment.” He muttered the last part softly to himself, but we all heard it anyway.

  “Excellent. You both will be staying in the student housing. I’ll have people send your bags up to your rooms in a bit. In the meantime, dinner just started, so let’s grab a bite to eat while I explain how The Guild operates. I’m sure you’re all starving.” Seamus moved his hand, a gesture signaling us to enter the creepy, beautiful castle ahead of him. It seemed oddly poetic that a place housing people trained to kill vampires, werewolves, and all sorts of fantastical beasts looked like Dracula’s castle.

  I nudged Ro, making it clear I wanted him to go first. We’d never been around protectors before, and I was woman enough to admit that the thought of suddenly being thrust into the community had me all sorts of nervous.

  The doors opened into a huge entrance hall. Or was it a foyer? I think that was the fancy term for entrance hall. Anyway, it was huge and lit with a giant chandelier that threw chaotic but beautiful patterns of light around the room. The rugs lining the halls were a rich burgundy that matched the accents painted along the walls. It was beautiful, and so very different from the decor I was used to.

  Seamus led us through the hall, whispering softly to Cyrus. I watched from behind, comparing the two brothers. Cyrus was taller, but his slight limp affected his posture, making him look to be about the same height. He refused to talk about how he got the limp in the first place, but it had to be a hell of a story. Protectors didn’t incur permanent damage easily.

  Seamus turned left and opened another door into a huge room. This new room was strange, in part because it seemed completely modernized, whereas the castle and entrance hall looked like they dated back to the Victorian period.

  The room was at least four times larger than our entire cabin, and lined with food stations. The main floor was filled with scattered tables and chairs, and a musical hum of people engaging in various conversations. As soon as we stepped in, hundreds of eyes turned in our direction. I slid quietly behind Ro, happy to let his extra height and bulk shield me from the attention. Maybe I was more introverted than I realized.

  As Seamus led us towards an empty table, I noticed that everyone was staring at Cyrus, not us. The realization calmed my nerves, but heightened my curiosity. Why would they be so interested in him? He was just a grumpy old man whose idea of fun involved making us run ten miles in the rain. In the middle of the night.

  The whispers filtering through the hall, suggested that they knew exactly who he was. Clearly I didn’t.

  Seamus pulled my chair out, waiting to seat himself until I was comfortably settled in the metal chair.

  “On second thought, Seamus, why don’t you let Ro and Max grab their food now. That’ll give us a second to catch up. It’s been a long time.” The firm look in Cyrus’s eye was one I was familiar with—it usually meant ‘do as I say, don’t ask any questions.’ Clearly Seamus was familiar with it as well. He pointed us in the direction of food without another thought.

  “We can have whatever we want?” I asked, salivating at the thought. The room smelled divine. Cy wasn’t exactly a Food-Network-quality chef. He’d mastered boxed spaghetti over the years, but not much more than that.

  Seamus nodded, smiling indulgently.

  Not waiting for more confirmation, Ro and I were off.

  “My eyes aren’t going right? That’s Cyrus Bentley?” A pale boy with freckles whispered to his friend as we passed, his eyes wide with shock.

  “If it’s not him, it’s someone who looks a helluva lot like him, anyway,” the friend responded, not even bothering to lower his voice.

  I followed Ro towards the nearest stack of trays, glued so closely to him that I was practically tripping him. “Ro, why is everyone staring at Cyrus?”

  “Not everyone.” Ro’s expression was filled with curiosity as he discreetly glanced across the room.

  I followed his line of sight and was met with a pair of brown eyes, set in the most strikingly handsome face I’d ever seen. He had to be several years older than me, his dark eyes speaking of a level of maturity and experience I hadn’t reached yet. His hair was black, longer on top and shorter on the sides. A layer of black fuzz shadowed his square jaw, and a slight bump on his nose told me he’d likely broken it before and hadn’t had it properly set before it healed.

  Which was strange. Protectors healed so fast, it made sense to just break it again and reshape it. My eyes took in the clear, olive-toned skin covering muscular arms. When my gaze made it back up to his eyes, I saw that he was giving me a sharp look filled with distrust and a strong dislike. The second that our eyes met, sharp chills ran down my spine, pushing my anxiety into overdrive.

  Maybe Cyrus wasn’t popular among the protectors? And we, by association, were also going to be unpopular?

  Great, first chance to make friends—ever—and we were already coming in at a disadvantage. I cleared my throat, uncomfortable under the man’s scrutiny, and started distractedly piling food on my plate.

  When we made it back to our table, Seamus’s face split in a wide grin. “I see you like dessert, Max.”

  My eyebrows bunched in confusion, until I looked down and found that my dinner consisted of various pies, cakes, and cookies. So much for a nutritional meal.

  “Er, um, yeah,” I said, frowning. “Cyrus doesn’t really keep our place stocked with sweets.” I unenthusiastically grabbed one of the cookies. Truthfully, I didn’t have much of a sweet tooth, and I eyed Ro’s collection of salad, steak, chicken, and potatoes enviously. After a lifetime of training, I knew which foods kept my energy reserves up. Sugar didn’t do it for me.

  He rolled his eyes, trading a piece of my chocolate cake for half of his steak. I squeezed his hand under the table in gratitude.

  We ate while Cyrus and Seamus got up to fill their own trays. I was conscious of a pair of eyes boring into my back, and I knew, if I turned around, who they’d belong to. After finishing half of Ro’s steak, I grabbed a pile of potatoes and slid him some of the peanut butter pie I’d accidentally grabbed.

  “Thanks, my dude.” I laughed around a mouthful of potatoes, fueling my anxiety with carbs. Carbs cured everything, it was a fact. Some girls dreamed of swimming in pools of diamonds. And then there was me. I would happily dive into a mountain of pasta instead.

  Seamus sat next to me, his plate full with what looked like a much more balanced meal than mine, and I caught myself eyeing his vegetables with envy. I had a serious love affair with broccoli and spinach, but would be perfectly fine with never seeing a piece of chocolate again. I blamed my weird taste buds on my fear of Cyrus’s disappointment and my obsession with Popeye growing up.

  “Cyrus tells me that you’ve both been taught various fighting techniques, and have some basic knowledge of the parameters of the hell realm?” Seamus politely cut his steak into neat little bites. He seemed so refined and polished in comparison to Cyrus. Had they grown up together? Or was Cyrus just raised by wolves?

  Ro and I nodded around mouthfuls. We’d all but traded plates at this point. Sometimes brothers were the fucking best.

  Cyrus cleared his throat, his eyes meeting mine before turning towards his own brother. “Their, er, knowledge of hell is pretty limited. But their fighting is up to par with your best, I’m sure.”

  Seamus narrowed his eyes slightly and titled his head, studying Cyrus with curiosity. “Knowing that, I think I’ll keep you both with your age groups for the physical training. We may need to assign you both some tutors for the theoretical stuff though, to make sure you understand how The Guild runs. I’ll know more tomorrow, once Cyrus and I have had more time to hammer out the basics. Any questions?”

  “Uh yeah,” I stammered, jealously eyeing the slice of pizza on a girl’s plate as she walked by us. “What do you all do at this place?”

  Cyrus rolled his eyes, but Seamus smiled. Guess it was clear who won all the manners in their family.

  “Great question.” Seamus dropped his fork before dabbing a napkin at each corner of his mouth. “This is the North American home base for protectors. That’s why it’s so huge here, and why the campus runs a few miles in each direction. We have the academy portion, which works on training and instructing our young adults, obviously. But most of our resources are devoted to our research unit, which tries to gain more knowledge about the supernatural creatures we hunt. And then of course, there’s our operations base, which houses and manages the many teams of protectors that actually work on, well, protecting.” Seamus nodded towards Cyrus. “He’s here to help us manage and train a few field teams, since we’ve been experiencing some heightened supernatural activity lately.” He smiled warmly at me. Why was he so much nicer than Cy? “Other questions?”

  Ro shook his head no, but there was absolutely no way I was passing up the open offer to learn more. Cyrus was so tightlipped about all things Guild-related, and I was ready to soak up the information like a damn eager sponge.

  “Yeah, why does everyone keep staring at Cy?”

  Ro and Cyrus both groaned into their food—a pretty common occurrence during our meal time if I was being honest.

  Seamus laughed, the warmness in it reaching all the way up to his eyes. “You were right, Cyrus, she is a very curious girl.” He turned back towards me. “Let’s just say Cyrus is a very, very well-known fighter and people are just surprised to see him here after so many years in solitude. It’s been a long time since he’s participated in anything relating to The Guild.”

  I shrugged, made sense I guess, with all the time he devoted to training us in fighting strategies and techniques. Maybe he was like the Harry Potter of his day. The Chosen One of The Guild. I imagined a lightning scar across his forehead and swallowed my laughter.

  Seamus nodded to someone behind us. “Eli, come here for a second. I want to introduce you to a few people.”

  A boy, well, I guess man was a better way to phrase it as he looked to be in his early to mid-twenties, walked up to our table and my breath hitched. He had light, shaggy brown hair that fell just above warm, honey-brown eyes. There was a mischievous edge lurking there in the amber pools—it drew me in like a magnet.

  Were protectors, on average, all good looking? Maybe it was the universe’s way of saying ‘thank you for saving everyone from the baddies’—here, take some pretty. His eyes fell on me and I felt my cheeks heat when he lifted his lips in a cocky grin. The top lip was slightly fuller than the bottom and I had a difficult time looking away. He was trouble.

  “This is my son, Eli.” Seamus lifted a brow at Eli’s predatory smirk and shook his head. “Eli, this is your Uncle Cyrus. And his adopted wards, Ro and Max. Treat them like your cousins.” He growled the last part in a low, deep voice that I suspected was meant for only Eli, but we all heard. Protector senses made it almost impossible for whispering to be effective.

  Eli gripped Cyrus’s and Ro’s hands firmly, but when his hand met mine, his eyes darkened, directing all of his attention to me. I squirmed under the appraisal.

  “Pleasure to meet you all.” His voice was deep and smooth, and I looked back to Ro, uncomfortable with the prolonged eye contact and the feel of his coarse, strong hand around mine.

  “Eli’s part of one of our elite teams here. They’ll be helping with training some of the recruits for the next couple of months, in between their assignments.” Seamus turned back to Eli. “Can you show Ro and Max to their rooms?”

  When Eli nodded, Seamus slid him an envelope which I assumed had the details of our living assignments. My stomach lurched. I’d shared a tiny cabin with Cyrus and Ro my entire life. Hell, mine and Ro’s rooms were separated by nothing but an old, worn sheet. I wasn’t comfortable with the idea of living away from them, even if we were still technically housed under the same roof. We might as well be living in different zip codes, for as big as this place was.

  I wouldn’t admit that out loud though. I wanted to play the badass protector card for as long as I could.

  Eli turned and led us out of the dining hall. My eyes lingered for a brief moment on the man with dark, assessing eyes before I forced myself to follow.

  We wound through several hallways and up two different staircases. Each room we passed was more elaborate and breathtaking than the last. I’d need a map if I had any hope of finding my way around tomorrow.

  “My father says that you and Cyrus grew up in isolation, away from most protectors. Is that true?” Eli asked. His pace was lazy and self-assured, and I had a feeling he could find any room in the building with his eyes shut.

  How different would my life be if I’d grown up here like him? If Ro and I spent our childhood learning about the hell realm and studying the fantastical creatures we were meant to kill? Why had Cyrus hidden himself away for so long?

  “Uh, yeah.” I cleared my throat and tried to track every turn we took. I’d want breakfast in the morning, and getting lost was not on my to-do list. “Just us. Cy got the letter to move here only yesterday.” I looked from wall to wall as we walked, trying to soak up as much of the beautiful art and decor as I could. I was used to such a simple life in the cabin. The fanciest thing I’d ever seen in real life was the new Quickie Mart with one of those automatic paper towel dispensers. Everything about this place screamed lavish excess, like I was living in a movie. Apparently demon hunting paid well.

  “Well, if you both trained for most of your lives with him, I imagine you’ll have no trouble catching up in your sparring classes. He’s a bit of a god amongst our people. Especially those of us who focus on field work.”

  “Is your father in charge of training the students?” Ro asked, his strides matching Eli’s one for one.

  Eli smiled, and my stomach fluttered at the brief glimpse of straight, white teeth. His smile lit up his whole face, turning him from a predator into just a boy. A very, very good looking boy. “My father doesn’t usually lead the student training. Generally, he focuses on managing and training some of the elite teams. The headmistress, who usually works with her bondmates to train students, is out of the country meeting with the heads of the other Guild locations. I imagine it’s why my father called Cyrus in. We’re a bit strapped here right now and could use more qualified hands on deck.”

  “Bondmates?” I stuttered over the word. “As in plural? And mates as in, like, animals?” I tried not to show the disgust I was feeling at the idea. It just seemed so animalistic and, I don’t know, imprisoning?

  “You’ll learn quickly that female protectors are relatively rare, and that protectors in general are quickly declining in numbers. For those who are particularly powerful, like the headmistress, it isn’t uncommon to have one or even two bondmates. It’s built-in protection and evolutionary planning—not necessarily romantic. For our people, bondmates are the symbol of complete trust and camaraderie. If you’re chosen to bond, there is a complex ceremony to initiate the process.”