Haven: Revenge of the Viper (3 page)

Sam,

Do not forget to clean out the garage like we talked about. Goodwill will be coming tomorrow to pick up the boxes of old clothes so have them ready to go near the front of the garage. Remember, I need you and Sarah to help out this summer, so make sure you do all your chores. I had to open this morning at the diner but I will see you when I get home.

Mom

“Great,” he sighed, “more cleaning.”

He hated to clean, but his mom needed the help. Besides, since he couldn’t get a job to help her out, this was probably the next best thing.

It wasn’t long before Sarah made her way down the stairs. Her long brown hair was pulled back into a tight pony tail. She was wearing a gray tank top, matching shorts, and was barefoot.

Sam had already made up his mind that he was not going to make any of the Dalcome women cry today. As bad as the last few days had been the last thing he needed was the bitter and sarcastic resentment the Dalcome women were famous for once they had been scorned. No, that was a mistake he would not make twice in a row.

“Good morning,” Sam said, trying his best to be cheerful.

Sarah didn’t even look at him as she walked directly to the pantry and pulled out a loaf of bread.

“What’s so good about it?” she replied in a monotone voice.

She was obviously still mad at him for yesterday’s little outbreak of word vomit in which he had told his extremely annoying, yet apparently very fragile older sister to shut up. That had gone over like a lead balloon. He had expected her to fight back, but instead she had said nothing. Even worse, she had cried. Not like a boo-hoo cry, but like a single-tear-you-hurt-my-feelings kind of cry, and who can deal with that?

“Um, I was going to make us some breakfast, if you want some?” This was Sam’s first attempt at a peace offering.

“I’m not hungry,” she snapped while removing two pieces of bread from the plastic bag. Sam smiled briefly.

“Well, it looks like you might be a little hungry,” he said, his tone still cheerful.

Sarah twisted the bread bag into a tight knot and shoved it back into the pantry. What was once a large loaf of bread now looked more like a small dinner roll. She whipped her pony tail around and walked over to the large kitchen window where Barron was waiting like he did every morning. She flung the window open and threw out the two pieces of bread. She then slammed the window shut and whipped her head back around to face Sam.

“Satisfied?”

Her face was red and her eyes glared back at him. Sam actually thought he might laugh. She looked like a cartoon character who was about to blow steam out of her ears. But he didn’t. He knew that would throw a big wrench in the whole
I’m not going to make any of the Dalcome women cry today
plan.

Sarah waited for a moment, expecting Sam to make some kind wise crack, but he didn’t.

“Okay … well, I thought I would ask,” he said politely.

Sarah scoffed, then turned and left the room. Sam looked out the window at Barron as he bit into the first piece of bread.

“Well, that didn’t go well,” he said to Barron, who licked his lips.

For most of the day Sam did his best to avoid Sarah so as to not make things worse between them. Not to mention it was safer to steer clear of her because of the mood she was in. They both did their chores; Sam did everything outside, which included de-weeding the flower beds, mowing, and edging. Sarah did everything indoors like dusting and vacuuming. Whenever Sarah wasn’t working she was constantly yelling on her phone with Barry. There was obviously something wrong in Sarahland and the queen was not happy!

Travis called at about noon to tell Sam he would be over later; they had a lot to talk about with regards to the previous night. Sam also wanted to let him know about his dream he had again. But before any of that could happen he had one chore left—the garage. This was going to be a beating of epic proportion, he could just feel it.

Sam reluctantly made his way out the back door of the house to the gray and white garage that was nestled between two large oak trees. A rusted handle hung loosely on the weather-beaten door. The door itself had sporadic patches of brown wood where the paint had fallen off. The wood looked old and fragile, no doubt from wood rot.

Sam reached for the handle, lifting it up to raise the door. The dilapidated wood creaked and the springs twanged as they recoiled. Sam quickly let go of the handle and the rickety door gradually slid up and out of view.

A wave of hot, humid air hit Sam square in the face. The smell of dust and cardboard boxes vanquished every molecule of fresh air around him. He stood there amazed. It had been some time since he had been out to the garage and what the hell happened in here?

“Epic,” he sighed.

The garage was a twenty-by-twenty giant cluster of chaos with tons of old boxes, bikes, yard equipment, lawn chairs, and countless other things.

This is going to be a life-sucking event,
Sam thought. How in the world was he going to move all this crap around?
And they thought my room was a mess? Give me a break.
This was going to take forever. What if there were spiders in there, the same spiders from last night? Man, he didn’t even want to think about that.

This was a horrible way to start the summer. But maybe he deserved it.
Maybe this is what they call bad karma,
he wondered.
Maybe this is what happens when you tick off your mom and your sister in the same weekend!

Even with the garage door open, there was very little breeze inside. It felt like a bad sauna in a spa from hell. Sam found a rusty floor fan that barely worked. It squeaked and rattled as its blades slowly turned, throwing out more dust than air.

Sam worked vigorously for hours with his ear buds in, shuffling music from old 80’s rock to the latest top 40. He thought of the last few days, the magic he knew existed, and the stranger that had disappeared. They were connected somehow, he just knew it. But how?

Four-and-a-half-hours later, Sam was finally done. He stood at the front of the garage examining his work. It was funny—for something he hated doing so much, he was really quite good at cleaning.

All the boxes for Goodwill were neatly stacked at the front of the garage, the lawn equipment was organized to the side, and the bikes were hung up on hooks from the rafters. Baseballs, picture frames, and old Hot Wheels had been thrown in a few empty paint buckets along the back wall. Sam put the remaining clutter in neat piles on the curb for tomorrow’s trash pickup.

The only thing left to do was turn off the fan, sweep the floor, and call it a day. Sam was walking back into the garage to grab the broom that was leaning in the corner when he noticed a small panel that had been dislodged from the wall near the floor. He walked closer, pulling his ear buds out, and knelt down next to the small opening.

Sam grasped the wooden panel and moved it to the side. Behind the panel, tucked neatly away between the two wooden wall studs, was a book. But it was not just any book; it was a book with four golden symbols. Four symbols he had recently seen before: Earth, Water, Air, and Fire.

Chapter 3

T
he word Viper hung in the air as the Majesty stared back at Atamar in utter shock. Eyes darted around the room in quiet panic. Fear fell like a plague upon them, seizing every ounce of their courage. Then several of the Vampires stood, followed by the Orcs and Witches and the quiet room exploded into pandemonium. An upheaval of protest erupted around the table, and multiple questions clamored together into one congested voice.

“Holly,” Demetrius gasped, “It was Holly! She was one of the Keepers who had been attacked!” Demetrius looked over at Vallen, who had come to the same conclusion.

Vallen could only imagine what was going through Demetrius’s head. Holly was one of his own, one that he had trained since she was a child, just like Rylan Dalcome. Now, she too had been killed.

Atamar tried frantically to regain control over the meeting but his voice was lost in the outcries of the angry leaders.

“Please … please … I need your attention!” he yelled. But no one was listening. Vampires were now yelling at Goblins, Elves and Witches were yelling at Orcs. This was the very outburst that Atamar had been trying to avoid.

Suddenly, without warning, a loud crack rang out like a whip, echoing through the Grand Hall. With a loud, thundering roar, purple flames exploded into the chamber and billowed across the ceiling, traveling down the walls before evaporating into tiny sparks on the ground.

“Silence!” Bellisoria shouted, her silver wand held high above her head.

The commotion ceased at once. For a moment the leaders stood motionless, completely stunned. This was out of character for Bellisoria. On many occasions she had been the voice of reason, the calm in the storm. But tonight she seemed to be on edge. Tonight there was a sense of urgency in her voice. The Realm of the Estates quietly took their seats. All eyes were focused on Bellisoria.

“I need each of you to listen,” she said firmly. Her eyes moved around the room. The leaders were scared, angry, and confused, just as she knew they would be. She lowered her wand and slowly slipped it back into its silver sheath.

“Tell us then, Bellisoria, tell us what has happened,” Elessar, the Elvin King, said. He was clearly trying to keep his composure.

“It is as Atamar said—we have received confirmation of a Viper. At the moment we are not sure how many there are.”

“I don’t understand. How can this be? We killed them—we killed them all many years ago,” Elessar continued, his gray eyes pleading with the Witch.

“Bellisoria, could there be more?” asked Braya, the High Priestess of the Eastern Coven and Principal of Hecate Academy of Witches.

“We are not sure, Braya,” Bellisoria replied.

Then Alexandria stood to her feet, her violet eyes bearing down on Bellisoria.

“Well, apparently you have not been sure about a great many things. Bellisoria, correct me if I am wrong, but isn’t Blackfoot the location of the last remaining portal?”

Bellisoria did not like Alexandria’s tone and her golden eyes narrowed with irritation.

“Yes, that is correct. But as you all know it was deactivated many years ago,” she said, directing her attention back to the other leaders.

“So you say,” interrupted Tobias, the Goblin King. Bellisoria turned to face him. Tobias met her gaze, and his lips curled into a horrific smile, exposing his small yellow teeth. “But we really don’t know that for sure, do we? I mean, you never found the gate keys. It was assumed that they were destroyed during the battle, along with the thieves. Right, Bellisoria? So how do we know for sure that the portal is deactivated? All we really have is the word of an Orc who supposedly searched the bodies,” he said, relaxing back into his chair. It was obvious he was getting some sort of enjoyment out of this line of questioning.

Cantor, the Orc King, stood up and slammed his fist on the table. Even his cloak and armor could not conceal the huge muscles that rippled throughout his arms. Cantor was massive. He was a staggering seven feet tall and as wide as two grown men, so when he stood he took up a great amount of space in the chamber. Like all Orcs, he was bow-legged and long-armed with ashen skin and a snout-like nose. He had an immense head with slanted red eyes and pointed ears.

“What are you saying, Goblin? Are you calling me a liar?” Cantor asked, his voice deep and stern. He snapped his broad jaw threateningly to expose a host of terrible fangs and sharp teeth.

“No, no, come now,” Tobias said in his sly tone. “I am merely suggesting that you might have made an error. I mean after all, you did think the Vipers were all but extinct and you were wrong about that. I’m simply pointing out that what you assumed and what we now know are two vastly different things. Someone, or in your case, something, got it wrong. That’s all.”

Cantor’s eyes narrowed and the veins in his thick neck began to bulge.

“How dare you speak to me like that, you filthy Goblin!” he roared, pounding his fists on the table again. “You were not there! You did not stand and fight, you coward! You did not spill your blood to make the way safe! We searched the dead and found no keys!”

Vallen did not like where this was going. Cantor was furious and he was known for his temper. The Goblin needed to keep his mouth shut, Vallen thought.

Tobias leaned forward. His yellow eyes were slits now. “I assure you, Orc, had we been there we would not be sitting here today wondering why there are still Vipers running loose.” Suddenly, Tobias stood from his chair and they both reached for their swords.

“Enough, both of you!” Bellisoria yelled. She and Atamar withdrew their wands simultaneously and pointed them directly at Cantor. Vallen and Demetrius had already emerged from the shadows, brandishing their staffs in Tobias’s direction.

“Sit down and sheath your weapons! We have far greater problems at hand!” Bellisoria commanded. “And Tobias, it would be wise of you to hold your tongue. Many Orcs, and countless others, died in the Great War. Assigning blame will not bode well for you here. I suggest you refrain from those kinds of accusations. Do I make myself clear?” she asked with a contemptuous look on her face.