Page 19 of The Council of Bone


  * * *

  Victor sat back, slumped in his chair, ignoring everything that the teacher was saying. His adoptive father was the owner of one of the largest car dealerships in the state. Everyone in the family expected him to take it over, especially his father. They didn't expect him to anything else, why should he care about something that he didn't even need?

  “Victor? Victor– are you even listening?”

  He looked up at the teacher and groaned. I'm never called on, why now? Mrs. Novak knew he wouldn't answer the question. Who cared if he even knew the difference between a gerund and a participial phrase? No one would care when he owned the dealerships. “What's up, teach.”

  Shaking her head. “Mrs. Novak to you, Mister Cain. The principal would like to see you.

  His stomach dropped as he stood to leave the room, though he kept his face blank as always. There were only a few reasons the principal would be calling him into his office: someone in his family had died or been hurt, he was in trouble, or he'd done something good.

  He snorted at the last one before remembering the other two options and steeled himself as he walked to the office. The secretary looked up at him and smiled. “Victor Cain? The principal is expecting you.”

  He walked through the door and stopped. An elder man sat in the principal's chair, with a small, graying goatee, a well- tailored suit, and piercing blue eyes that twinkled with an unknown humor, as if he was in on an unknown joke that no one else knew. But there was something Victor certainly knew.

  This man was not his principal.

  The old man motioned for him to sit. “Come now, Victor. We have much to discuss, and so little time in which to do so.” Victor didn't move, though he was tempted to run back

  through the door. Oddly enough, he felt safe in the presence of this man, as if he knew the man would never attempt to harm him. “Who are you?” he finally got out.

  “I'm Bramly Mordecai, First Mage of Undermire. The Last Defender of The Veil. But most importantly, I'm here to tell you about your people– your family.”

  “Uh– there isn't really much you can tell me that I don't already know. My dad's a salesman, my mom's a housewife, and my snotty little sister is a third grader who thinks she owns the planet.”

  “Your real family. The family you were born to. I can tell you everything. The things they did. The inheritance you were born to. The things you can do. You've noticed the changes in yourself– haven't you?”

  Victor felt his stomach drop again. Like a bath of ice being dumped on him, he sat completely still, hooked by every word this man said.

  How could this man know anything about who he was? Where he came from? And how in the world could this man have any idea of all the strange things that had been happening to him over the last month.

  He looked Bramly straight in the eye, “I have no idea what you're talking about.” He stood up, but what Bramly said next froze him once more.

  “So you're going to deny your magic? That you can't block out all sound, all too easily. So well that you hear nothing if you wish it? That is only the most base use of that power. A mere trick. That is the least of what could be taught to you if you wished it.”

  “How do you-”

  “Know that?” Bramly smiled. “The same way I know about your family. Your past. Do you want to know? If I tell you, things can never return to the way they were again.”

  Victor slumped back into the chair and rested his chin on his chest. Here it was. His life long wish to know who he was.

  The one thing that his family had never been able to tell him, always deflecting his questions by saying that they were his family now. But why was he so hesitant?

  Victor finally looked up at Bramly. “Tell me– Tell me everything.”

  About the Author

  Tyler Earp is an avid reader with a big imagination and even bigger dreams. His biggest dream was to write a book. Well, he's accomplished that. Now his biggest dream is to influence some young reader to love reading as much as he does. Another reason Tyler likes to write is that he gets to talk in the third-person, and not get called insane for it.

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