Warped Destinies
Christine McDonnell
Copyright 2012 Christine McDonnell
I opened my eyes to complete darkness. The cries of children echoed softly in my ears, a far enough distance away from me. I felt the blindfold across my eyes, not letting any light penetrate it. When I tried to move my hands, I quickly discovered them tightly bound with rough rope.
The memories came flooding back, all starting with the trouble that morning with Michael…
***
“Michael…” I hissed sternly, “Where did you learn about them?”
My little brother, now six years old, glanced naïvely up at me through his dark brown bangs before his eyes darted back to his sketchpad, which I was currently gripping tightly.
“ ‘Bout what, Brother?” he asked me innocently.
Honestly, I thought I was about to break something in the kid’s body.
Lowering the pictures he’d drawn to his level and pointing at it, I growled, “Where did you hear about these two people?”
Michael giggled, “You so serious, Lukey!”
I leaned over and put my angry face close to him. I swear the kid looked terrified at that point. “I am serious, Michael. Now, tell me where you heard about Donovan and Fredrick.”
Michael’s eyes darted away from mine as he murmured quietly, “… Dream.”
I straightened up, looking down at my fidgeting younger brother with a calculating look. “You learned about two deadly criminals in a dream?” After a few seconds of silence, I lunged forward, startling Michael, who started running away.
I ran after him, yelling, “Get back here, you lying little twit!” As I turned a corner to follow him, the sketchbook slipped from my grasp and slid down the rest of the hallway. I skidded to a stop and grabbed the book.
As I heard the tap-tap of dress shoes on the hardwood floor come to a stop a few feet behind me, a voice asked, “What’s that, Lucian?”
I spun around to face my father, who had his eyebrow lifted. Holding the pad close to my heart, I slowly started inching away. I couldn’t let him see this. For some reason, I’d recently been getting blamed for things I didn’t do. And who was the one really causing the trouble?
Michael.
My father’s cold, grey eyes stared suspiciously down at me. He’d had a lot of time to perfect that look. He was Lord Morgan Gallager, the leader of the Realm. The Realm was a secret ‘world’ of sorts, where creatures and beings of all kinds can live in harmony, with no persecution from mundanes. We had cities that mundanes couldn’t find, and even those that lived among them lived in peace. I have to say that most of this peace came from my father’s hard work.
Until I was born, of course.
“Lucian.” My father held out a hand, gazing sternly over the rims of his reading glasses. “Now.”
I reflexively gripped the pad tighter to my chest. If he saw the contents of this sketchbook, I knew he wouldn’t believe Michael had drawn them. They were too detailed. No one would ever expect a little six-year-old boy to draw like a professional. Now, I, with my superior artistic talents… was less of a stretch…
I, Lucian Merrick Gallager, was my father’s heir as Realm Leader. In addition to that, I was the Protektor in the famous foretelling called the Profecia, which made me a big target. My job as Protektor was to contribute to the downfall of another man called the Seeker. The Seeker loved chaos. He wanted to watch the world burn and take it over. So, not only was the future of the Realm on my shoulders as my father’s heir, but our world, Terrara Vikos, was relying on me as well.
But no pressure or anything.
Oh, and those two people Michael had been drawing? Donovan and Fredrick? Yeah, those two were the reason my mother was dead. Fredrick injured her enough to barely be able to move, and Donovan poisoned her to make sure she couldn’t heal and survive. Based on that, how do you think my father would react?
Yeah… not good.
He may have had Jezebel, Michael, and Saber now, but I knew he still missed my mother. I’d overheard him talking to Jez about it one night. The guilt and pain of not being able to save her still haunted him, even eight years later. Though, I have to admit, my father perked up a bit after the first year had gone by when he met Jezebel and her daughter, Saber. My step-sister and I had a big, friendly rivalry between us, and I was starting to warm up to Jez. She was just as overprotective as my mother, but she was a little less wild of a woman. That made her a better role model for Michael, but it seemed the influence of such a conservative mother had yet to sink in.
My father curled his fingers and straightened them again, a signal for me to hand it over. After staring at him wide-eyed for a few more seconds, I decided I wouldn’t let him intimidate me.
I shook my long blonde hair fiercely and took two giant steps back. “No!”
My father growled, “Excuse me?”
Still refusing to meet my father’s gaze, I replied, “I’m… I’m the Protektor! I don’t have to listen to you.”
“Don’t give me that attitude, Lucian!” he bellowed, “You may be the bloody Protektor, but you’re my son first. Hand. It. Over.”
Shaking my head again, I told him, “I’m not giving this to you. You have no right to make me!” Suddenly, the pad ripped free of my grasp and flew into my father’s now-raised hand. His eyes glanced over at me teasingly as he moved the book down to his reading level.
“I have every right to make you, Lucian,” he drawled as he flipped through the pages, “You may be fifteen, but you are still far off from being like Loren.” All of the sudden, he froze, his eyes rapidly skimming the pictures in front of him. I saw red blush rising to his cheeks, a sign he was about to explode.
Putting my hands up, partially to protect myself, I tried to appease him, “Dad… I know what it looks like, but honestly… I didn’t draw those.”
His glare spoke volumes, and I felt myself instinctively want to run. However, my pride as a Gallager wouldn’t let me, and I decided to try to take whatever he would scream.
“So what, you expect me to believe Michael drew these?” he barked. At the end of the hall, the aforementioned second son hurried around a corner, teasing me by sticking his tongue out at me.
Michael giggled, “You can’ts catch me, Lukey!” Blowing a raspberry, he started giggling louder and continued to run down the crossing hallway.
As my fingers curled into fists and I started marching in his direction, I roared, “Get back here, you insolent, miserable little-”
I was cut off by my father using his arm as a barricade, wrapped around my waist firmly. I spun to him, begging, “Dad, the little brat is taunting me! You saw him! How can you not believe he’s a devilish little bugger?”
He pushed me back to my original position, took off his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose in what I guessed was frustration. “Lucian, you’re fifteen years old. Stop acting like a child. I know Michael is a little bit of a hellion, but you can’t expect me to believe he can draw like this.”
… See? Told ya.
“But Dad-”
“No buts, Lucian,” he stated clearly, tucking his reading glasses into his dress shirt pocket, “I understand you’re stressed right now. Even with everything you’ve gone through, you’ve mostly kept a level head. However, with your recent actions, such as the water balloons off the roof-”
I drawled offhandedly, “Michael found my balloon launcher…”
“-Or lighting Mrs. Rendra on fire-”
“Michael wanted to see if she was a wood sprite in disguise…”
“-Or even the koi fish in the swimming pool!”
“Michael wanted to se
e if he could ‘swim with the fishes’ while still al-” The glare my father gave silenced me.
“These insane notions need to be quashed,” he growled.
Rubbing the back of my neck, I joked, “Yeah, I mean, fish in the pool? He doesn’t even really know how to swim!” My weak chuckling came to a stop very quickly when I met his eyes.
When he spoke, my father’s voice was calm and level, which told me he was very angry at that point: “Lucian, you are testing my patience. If you expect me to believe that your younger brother did all that, then you’d be thinking like a complete idiot.”
A teasing grin crossed my face as I quipped, “ ‘Anyone who has declared someone else to be an idiot is annoyed when it turns out in the end that he isn't.’ ”
My father looked like he was going to explode. “Don’t go quoting philosophy to me, Lucian Gallager!” I flinched at his irate tone, directing my gaze to the floor. I heard him exhale eventually.
“Look, Lucian,” he sighed, “I’ve already suggested this before, but maybe we should-”
I knew where this was going. We’d gone this route multiple times before, and almost every time my answer was the same. Eventually, he’d dropped it. Or so I thought.
Now it was my turn to get furious.
As I glared at him, I snapped, “No! I’ve told you this a thousand times already! No shrink!”
He gazed down at me with a look that crossed begging and torment. “Lucian, you need to think reasonably about this. A psychologist would be good for you! If you’re going to be the Protektor, you need to think clearly and not hold anything back. If these drawings are your way of stress relief, that’s fine, but you may need a counselor to help you get past everything that’s happened in the past few years.”
“My stress relief is pounding out trainers in the practice room,” I growled irritably, “My stress relief is downing two sodas and a whole bag of candy in a half hour. My stress relief is most definitely not drawing pictures of my mother’s murderers!”
My father’s eyes narrowed as he said calmly, “Lucian, denial is fine for a teenager of your-”
I’d had just about enough. I felt my magic getting more and more malignant as it swirled around me, begging to be let out. When I shouted at him next, the hallway began to shake. For all I knew, I could have been shaking the whole house.
“I’m not in denial! If anything, you are, because not only will you not believe that Michael is to blame for everything, but you refuse talk to me about Mom anymore! It’s like she never existed! How do you think I feel?”
Before my father could offer a response, I turned around and ran down the hallway. Tears brimming in my eyes, I burst out of the front door before any guards could stop me and bolted through my town. Trees and houses sped past me in a blur as I bit back tears. Eventually, I came to a slow stop about two miles away from my home. After catching my breath, I looked around. I seemed to have run in a bad direction, because the tall, decrepit buildings around me screamed DANGER.
Eh, I figured, I need to cool my head for a bit. So, I started heading for the edge of the creepy city, hoping the walk home would do the trick. Suddenly, I felt a large amount of magic. Strong magic at that. I would have spun around to face my attacker… if he hadn’t grabbed me from behind.
I struggled as hard as I could, but my basic magic hadn’t regained full strength since my outburst, and if I let any of my Protektor magic out, I could flatten the terrain for at least a half mile diameter. The man slapped a black cloth over my mouth and nose. I knew immediately what that meant: drugs. As the lightheadedness quickly overcame me, I sent a single thought to Halden, my best friend and bodyguard, hoping he was close enough to receive it: Help…
***
And then, there I was. Bound and gagged in a seemingly hellish pit. My first thought was, I have to get out of here. I moved my hands ever so slightly to touch the chair I was sitting on. Even behind the gag, I smiled confidently. I started rocking side to side. Each time I got to one extreme, the arc grew, until the chair and I toppled to the side. I twisted and pulled at the ropes just enough so it would loosen a bit. When I slid my arm further through the rope handcuffs, my hand could just barely grip my dagger, which I was lucky that my captors never found.
Yanking it out, I sawed at the ropes until they broke apart. Immediately, I ripped the blindfold off and pulled the gag down to my neck. As I rubbed my wrists, I gazed around to get a lay of the land, so to speak. I saw I was in a small, dark cell of some kind. A single, small window was against one wall, the light from the moon streaming in. It took a moment for this to sink in. The moon? How long was I out? Was Dad looking for me?
Growling, I turned around, facing the door that had been behind me. It did have a handle, but I was positive that they didn’t keep it unlocked. They would be real dumb kidnappers if they did. Sure enough, when I went to turn the curved handle, it stopped about mid-turn.
“Great…” I murmured. I placed my hand against the door behind the handle and closed my eyes, pulling forward some magic. After a few more seconds, I heard the satisfying click of the door unlocking. Quickly, I flung the door open and bolted out of the room. I spotted an open entryway across this expanse of space and made my way for it. I couldn’t believe this! I was getting out of here! And I didn’t even need much magic.
Not like Loren, my butt.
As I ran, a lone figure appeared in the doorway. My eyes narrowed. A single person? I could handle that. Before I got too close, the man swept his hand in an arc in front of him. Suddenly, I flew sideways and slammed hard into the wall, hearing a small, sickening crack right before I crumbled to the ground. As I sat up, pain shot through my arm. I heard laughter getting closer and closer to me. I directed my gaze at the man, who was walking toward me, as I used the wall behind me to help me to my feet. The man stopped only a foot from me, his grey eyes gazing at me curiously. His black hair was waved slightly and greasy, reaching the middle of his neck. Something about this man seemed familiar…
“You know, with your level of magic, I expected something more… magical,” he drawled nonchalantly, “Like, an explosion. Or at least blowing the door off its hinges.” He placed his curved finger under my chin and tried lifting my head to look up at him. Defiantly, I jerked my head away. I heard a small, soft chuckle come from him, making me glance up ever so slightly.
The man continued to gaze greedily at me as he called back, “This is the kid?”
“Yeah, that’s him.” My eyes darted around the man’s body to find a slender woman striding into the room. “Which means,” she told him, “You can’t hurt him, Drake.”
That small, exhaling chuckle came from the man again. “That’s perfectly fine. I’ll be satisfied with his training.” The man, apparently named Drake, used his finger to try and get me to look directly at him again. I did the exact same thing as last time, this time adding a tough grunt for good measure.
Drake laughed, “I like your spunk, kid. What’s your name?”
“Lu-” I stopped mid-name. What was I supposed to say? Hi, my name’s Lucian Gallager, the Protektor, and I’m going to beat your derrière from here to next Tuesday! No, that would just be asking to get killed. I needed to play it safe.
There was probably a reason they kidnapped me, so I needed to find out why. If they kidnapped me without knowing who I was, then it wasn’t for ransom. And if they did it just to kill me, they would have done it by now. Besides, I could still barely hear the whimpers and cries of young children. My pride wouldn’t allow me to abandon them. I used the first surname that came to mind.
“Briareus Falcone,” I lied, “My friends call me… Bryan.” Drake continued to eye me for a few more seconds while I still refused to meet his gaze.
The woman scoffed, “Honestly, Drake, your fascination with young Ascentials is beyond me.”
I breathed a sigh of relief when Drake took two steps away from me and turned to the woman. He snapped, “Well, Ashlynn, it was my job for five ye
ars, and I studied for that job for another four prior. I don’t see where your fascination makes any sense.”
That’s when it hit me. I thought I recognized him.
“You’re Drake Jaegar!” I exclaimed, not even attempting to show my surprise, “You taught at Rolling Hills Middle until last year, when you suddenly disappeared. Everyone thought you’d been killed!”
Drake softly chuckled again and told me, “I wasn’t killed. I simply left. I found a new job, and while I may not be dead, I was reborn…” Then, with a wide, goofy grin, he looked back to Ashlynn. “Isn’t that right, Ash?”
Ashlynn rolled her eyes and groaned, “I understand you had a change of heart, Drake, but to be honest, the only one truly reborn was Donovan.”
My heart practically stopped. Had she just said Donovan? As in Donovan Accardi? My mother’s murderer? At that point, I started shaking. No, that wasn’t possible. My dad sent Donovan to Tortura Mortalle, the highest security prison for Ascentials, awaiting the death penalty for his multiple crimes against society. They had a state-of-the-art security system, with electric fences, doors with uncrackable codes every couple of yards, and guards around every turn. That place was super secure. No one had ever escaped. There was no possible way he could have gotten out.
“Bryan, are you okay?”
As I swallowed nervously, my eyes darted quickly back to Drake, who was looking genuinely concerned. That led me to another question. What was this ‘change-of-heart’ that Drake had gone through? Though Drake had been teaching when I was in that middle school, I’d never had the privilege of having him as a teacher. My friends that had gotten to experience him as an educator said he was excellent at what he did and loved every second. So, why did he alter his love of teaching? And, more importantly, what did he change it to?
Drake laughed, “Kid, you look like you’ve seen a ghost!” The ex-teacher placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Calm down, okay? We’re not going to hurt you. Promise!” That wide goofy grin crossed his face, probably as reassurance. I could see why he was so likeable at RHMS.
Since my mind was still racing, I choked out a weak reply, “… ‘Kay.”
“That’s the spirit! Come with me.” Placing his arm across my back, he started leading me for the door. As he did so, he patted me on the back. When we passed by Ashlynn, I could feel her magic at full strength. Clearly she hadn’t mastered suppressing magic. Drake, however…