A Dawn of Guardians Read online

  We moved to the end of the alley and peered around the corner, where a small port came into view. There was a large group of boys and girls our age already gathered there, each carrying big backpacks like us.

  Our parents turned to us. My mom clutched my hands before pulling me in for a tight hug and kissing my cheek. Then my dad wrapped his arms around me and lifted me off my feet in a bearhug before kissing my forehead. After Benedict had his share of hugs and kisses, my mother said, “You both have your phones with you, right?”

  My brother and I nodded.

  “If there is anything at all that you need or want, call us. Your dad and I will keep our phones switched on at all times, and those phones are charmed so you can reach us when we return to The Shade. Otherwise we’ll see you again in two weeks when we pick you up.” She paused to grin. “Don’t try to steal away to Hawaii or anything…”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Somehow I doubt we’ll be doing that.”

  “Bye,” Benedict said.

  Our parents hugged us again, before allowing us to step away and out into view of the port. Julian and Ruby, who had finished saying goodbye to their parents, followed us. Each of us waved one final goodbye to all of our parents before crossing the road and approaching the crowd.

  I knew that our parents wouldn’t hang around for long to watch us leave, because they had a mission waiting for them.

  The four of us walked instinctively close to each other as we arrived among the strangers. Many looked at us, examining us curiously before continuing with their various conversations.

  Based on the accents I’d caught so far, most of these folks were from England, though there were some Scottish and a few Irish. I was sure that we would be the only people with American accents.

  We moved toward the barrier that separated the dock from the water and formed a circle as we waited for our tour guides to arrive. Our eyes continued to wander over our fellow adventurers, whom we were going to be holed up with for the next two weeks.

  Some appeared to have come on their own, and the fact that they stood solitary, not talking to anyone, suggested they had no friends, or at least none who had arrived yet.

  But most had come in groups. Close to us was a group of four girls with immaculate manicures, perfectly styled hair and full faces of makeup. I wasn’t sure how they would fare marching through mud pits. Then there were duos and trios, some clearly siblings, others merely friends. The largest group consisted of ten boys—probably all from the same school. They looked around seventeen or eighteen, and judging by their accents they were definitely all from England. One guy in particular caught my eye. He spoke with a posh accent and appeared to be the center of attention, cracking all the jokes that the rest of the boys laughed at—a blond-haired, blue-eyed boy who could have very well popped out of a sports romance novel. In fact, he looked weirdly similar to the hunk I had just been reading about…

  He seemed to sense me looking at him—or perhaps I’d just been gawking for too long—because his eyes rose to look at me directly. I quickly looked away, pretending that I hadn’t been focused on him.

  “Look,” Benedict said, pointing toward the sea.

  We turned to spot a ferry speeding toward us. At the front were a man and two women wearing matching uniforms: bright yellow jackets and pants. As they moved nearer, I could make out the words “Murkbeech Adventures” stamped on the jackets.

  The crowd’s attention turned to them as they stopped at the jetty. The reps leapt out of the boat and strolled toward us. The man and one of the women had fresh bright smiles on their faces, while the second woman looked unenthusiastic to say the least. Her expression was as gray as the clouds.

  “Welcome, welcome, to Murkbeech, fellow adventurers!” the man boomed in a Scottish accent, clasping his hands together and addressing everyone with his unwaveringly broad smile. “Apologies, we’re a wee bit late. But the good news is that every one of you should have arrived by now, so you shouldn’t have to wait much longer.”

  I glanced down at my watch. They were only five minutes late. I had barely noticed.

  “We’re going to call out your names one by one,” the cheerful woman said, producing a tall black register and a pen from her shoulder bag. “Please shout ‘Aye!’ when you hear your name.”

  She began to call us out in alphabetical order by first name.

  Benedict was the first among the four of us to shout, “Aye!” Then, among a mix of other names, came me, Julian and Ruby. (Benedict’s and my fake surname was “Donovan”, Julian’s was “Hersch”, while Ruby’s was “Stiller”—names Corrine had thought of off the top of her head).

  The blond guy was the last to shout out. Wes Matthews was his name.

  Wes… Hmm.

  Then the second, moody woman spoke up for the first time. “I hope that we have not missed anyone?” At least, that was what I thought she’d said. Her accent was the thickest I’d ever heard, so thick it was hard to make out.

  “My dad’s Scottish accent really sucks compared to that woman’s,” Ruby said beneath her breath.

  I let out a snort, a little louder than I had intended it to be.

  The next thing I knew, the moody-looking woman had turned on me, her dull brown eyes sharpening. “I’m sorry,” she said tersely. “Is something funny?”

  I felt mortified as everyone’s attention suddenly turned to me. I looked down at the ground and shook my head. “No, ma’am,” I said.

  She must’ve kept her gaze on me for a while, because the excruciating silence lasted for the next few seconds. Then the man came to my rescue and changed the subject.

  “Well,” he called out, “let’s board the ferry!”

  Ruby held my hand and squeezed it as the guides began leading us to the jetty and onto the ferry.

  “She sure is a sour puss,” Benedict mumbled.

  I didn’t raise my eyes until we had seated ourselves at the back of the ferry. Most people had hurried to the front, to get a better view of our destination, but I was happy to hang back for a while.

  As we began to speed away from the port over the choppy waves, it began to drizzle.

  “Raincoats out!” the man announced cheerfully.

  The four of us sighed as we stood up to rummage through our bags. Somehow, this didn’t feel like the best start.

  Hazel

  What had started out as a drizzle quickly turned into a downpour. It was hard to stay dry even with our raincoats. Luckily our bags were waterproof, so none of our stuff got ruined, though I was forced to relocate all of the objects in the side mesh pockets into the inside compartments.

  The ferry was open-air, with not even the thinnest covering to shelter us. Rather stupid if you asked me, for somewhere with weather as volatile as Scotland. But maybe they did it on purpose, to give us our first taste of “raw” life. Which meant that things were about to get a lot rawer.

  Although the ground was slippery, and the boat incredibly bumpy from being rocked about by the strong waves, the four of us were tired of hanging around near the back of the vessel. Slowly but surely, we milled through the crowd toward the front, in an attempt to get a better view.

  We slid as close to the front row as we could physically reach. I was just about to grip hold of the side of the boat for support and secure the position I had found for myself when a girl in front of me stepped backward unexpectedly, causing me to lose balance. Slipping backward on the wet floor, I braced myself for a butt-fall, but it didn’t come to that. I fell back against someone. Into someone. Arms looped through mine, catching me and setting me back on my feet.

  Strong arms.

  As I turned around to glimpse my savior… it was Wes.

  Oh, my God. This is like the biggest cliché of all time!

  I felt the heat rise to my cheeks.

  “I’m sorry,” I managed.

  His handsome face broke out in a smile, his blue eyes—boy, they really were gorgeous up close—warming. He even had dimples, dammit. />
  “No problem,” he said, in his dreamy British accent. “Might want to get a hold of the side while you can now, though,” he added.

  He was close enough for me to smell his crisp cologne, and his breath—a nice minty scent.

  “Yeah,” I said vaguely, reaching out and gripping the side of the boat, as I swallowed.

  I was expecting him to drift away back into the crowd from whence he had materialized… but no. He stood next to me. And his eyes remained on me.

  “You’re American,” he remarked.

  “Yeah,” I said again, my insides turning to mush.

  “Whereabouts in America?”

  “Uh, California.” That was rather an outdated answer. It was one that my mother and uncle used to use—only they could legitimately say that they had lived in America. They had spent the first five years of their life in California. I couldn’t say I had, but it was the best response I could give without revealing my identity.

  “Cool,” he said. “Surprised you came all this way though…” His brows rose.

  “Well, this place was recommended by friends of my parents,” I replied, wincing internally as my lie deepened.

  “Must’ve been a high recommendation,” he muttered.

  “Whereabouts are you from, exactly?” I asked, turning the focus on him.

  “Oxford,” he replied.

  “Oh. Cool.”

  “You’re here with friends?” he asked.

  “With my brother and two friends, yes.” I gestured toward them, as I avoided my brother’s eye contact. I knew that he was going to do something stupid like wink or stick his tongue out at me, something I really did not need to see in this moment.

  “I’m here with classmates,” Wes offered. “Went to boarding school together. We’re all eighteen and will be starting university after the summer—most of us going in different directions. This trip is a kind of final get-together for us… How old are you?”

  “Seventeen,” I replied.

  “I see.” His eyes turned away from me to look ahead. “Looks like we’re arriving,” he said.

  Sure enough, the outline of a rocky island was manifesting in the distance through the sheets of rain.

  “Hey, Wes! Get over here!” one of his friends called from the other side of the crowd.

  Wes looked at me again, flashing me another pearly smile. “I’ll catch you later, I guess.”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  I gazed after him as he left me and crossed the deck toward his group of friends.

  My three companions, who’d kept their distance from me while Wes had been by my side, moved toward me. My brother’s face was plastered with a grin that would have rivaled the Cheshire Cat’s, while Julian and Ruby were also looking at me in amusement.

  Ruby nudged me in the shoulder. “He ain’t bad now, is he?”

  I shook my head, my brain still recovering from his presence, my heartbeat gradually resuming its normal pace.

  Man. I need to stop reading so many romance novels.

  Hazel

  The ferry slowed to a stop as we reached a tiny port. Our guides bundled us off the boat and onto the jetty, where we ascended a long trail of stone steps up to a picturesque little town. We passed through a square that held a total of three shops—a general store, a grocery and a gift shop—and a cafe that overlooked the few boats moored by the jetty. As I gazed around, this clearly was more of a village than a town. And the people looked as moody as the weather—or that female guide who’d snapped at me. A few of them peered at us through shop windows darkly, like we were unwelcome intruders. I wondered whether they had been like this even in my mother’s time. Maybe over the years they’d gotten tired of hordes of rowdy teenagers interrupting their peace.

  We ventured down several cobblestone lanes lined on either side by quaint cottages, until we reached a pebbly parking lot. A large bus waited in one corner with the same logo as the guides’ jackets stamped across it:

  “MURKBEECH ADVENTURES.”

  At least we could board a vehicle here and weren’t expected to traipse our way to the facility. We left our bags on the ground for the guides to stow into the large luggage compartment in the belly of the vehicle.

  Benedict, Ruby, Julian and I managed to board the bus first. We headed straight for the backseats (Julian suggesting that Ruby sit by the window since she suffered from travel sickness in general). I peered out of the window as I spotted Wes climbing aboard. He sat near the front with his friends.

  The engine rumbled to a start. The bus pulled out and swerved onto a narrow road that wound close to the coast. I looked through the back window and watched the small scatter of buildings that made up the village fade into the distance. Then I looked back out of Ruby’s window at the mass of churning gray water. Another small island loomed, perhaps ten miles away. That was apparently owned by the adventure company, and nobody inhabited it but animals. It was meant for wilderness survival training, something we were supposed to be starting over the next few days.

  Other than the road, which quickly turned into a dirt track, all signs of human civilization on this island were evaporating too. We wound deeper and deeper into nature, passing rolling green hills grazed by wild goats, until the route became gravel and a building came into view—a sprawling one-story building with a brown tile roof and walls of dark wooden panels.

  “Welcome to Murkbeech,” read the sign above the oaken front entrance.

  It definitely looked like it had been newly renovated. No stains on the building. “Squeaky clean,” as my mom would say.

  The doors to the bus ground open and we began piling out. Being at the very back, Ruby, Julian, my brother and I were the last to climb out. I pulled my hoodie closer to me against the cool breeze. After reclaiming our bags, we were herded into the building.

  A rush of warm air engulfed us, which was a relief. At least this place wasn’t too basic to have central heating. The building smelt like fresh paint and woodchips.

  The guides—who had introduced themselves as Peter, Suzanne and Gillian (the grumpy one) by now—handed each of us a square card with a number before pointing the girls and boys in separate directions; the girls’ residence was to the left of the building, the boys’ to the right. I supposed that was sensible.

  Gillian followed the girls down the hallway toward the female quarters, showing us to our rooms. Oddly, her mood had done a hundred-and-eighty-degree turn. I could no longer call her grumpy. Her previously glum face was now all smiles as she cheerfully helped confused or lost girls find their doors. She even flashed me a smile as we walked past.

  I frowned.

  “Maybe she’s got PMS or something,” Ruby said once we got out of earshot.

  “Hm.” I shrugged, brushing thoughts of her away as we arrived in our dormitory. It contained three bunkbeds—six mattresses in total, four of which were already taken by the group of four girls with spotless manicures I’d noticed earlier. As Ruby and I entered the room, their eyes roamed us briefly before they turned their backs and resumed their conversation. Clearly they weren’t interested in getting to know us, but that was fine by Ruby and me.

  Ruby offered me first dibs on the bunks, and I chose the top one. We dumped our bags on the floor, and, after peeling off our raincoats, hung them on the hooks on the back of the door.

  Then we headed out of the dorm in search of the communal bathrooms. We found them at the end of our corridor, jam-packed with girls taming their hair and blow-drying it after the downpour, or looking in the mirror to retouch their makeup. Makeup was the very last thing I’d thought to bring on this trip.

  After Ruby and I used the toilets, we returned to our dorm. We spent the next fifteen minutes unpacking a few things; we really didn’t want to unpack much. We were only here for two weeks, and besides, we would need most of the stuff in our bags when we ventured out for the survival course.

  Ten minutes later, a shrill bell sounded in the corridor outside.

  “G
ather around, everybody! It’s time for the welcome meeting in the living room.” It was Gillian’s voice, still cheerful.

  We left the room, following after the four girls who had redone their hair and applied spritzes of overwhelming perfume.

  We waited in the hallway as Gillian finished gathering all the girls and then we headed back the way we came, toward the entrance. But this time we strode through a set of double doors directly opposite the main door to the building. We emerged in a large but cozy communal sitting area. Long bouncy sofas were spread generously about the room, along with armchairs, oversized cushions, and thick fluffy rugs covering the wooden floors. In one corner was a massive fireplace, in front of which sat a rocking chair.

  Many of the boys were already here. We spotted Julian and my brother, who had a sofa to themselves. They were playing with Julian’s console while they waited. Ruby and I took seats next to them.

  As I continued surveying the room, I tried to convince myself that I was not looking for Wes, but that would’ve been a lie. I spied him taking a seat a few sofas away, with his band of friends.

  Once the room had almost reached the point of standing room only, it seemed that everybody had arrived, boys and girls. Five guides had entered the room and stood by the fireplace, where all of the couches faced.

  Gillian, Suzanne and Peter were with two other men who were clearly twins. They wore the same cheerful yellow uniform as their colleagues and introduced themselves as Charlie and Jamie.

  “I would like to welcome you all once again to Murkbeech.” Peter spoke up, his eyes traversing the room. “It is an honor to receive you as guests here, and we’re sure that you all will thoroughly enjoy your stay.”