Archanum Manor Read online

  Logan and Autumn were standing alongside Darius and his family. I then noticed Isolde sitting alone by the markers of her slain family members.

  “What about Isolde?” I asked. “She’s lost everyone.”

  “I think your mother’s already taking care of that,” Nicholae said and urged me to take another look.

  Mom walked up and knelt beside Isolde. They exchanged a few words and ended their short conversation with a tight embrace. They rose together and headed over to Nicholae and me.

  “Isolde will join us in The Den,” Mom said. “Are you coming, Oliver?”

  “In a little while,” I said, looked at Isolde, and smiled.

  I turned back to the white headstones. Not more than a minute later, Matilda joined me in silent reflection. Our eyes remained straight ahead, not quite sure how to address one another. I wasn’t the only one who’d lost someone.

  “You loved him, didn’t you?” I finally said.

  “And he loved you,” Matilda answered.

  Her voice sounded labored. I glanced over and saw she had beads of sweat drenching her forehead and a paler than usual complexion.

  “Are you all right?” I asked.

  “Besides this?” She paused. “Morning sickness.”

  “Congratulations,” I said. “I didn’t know.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “Even more deserving because it’s turned out to be an old friend we’d thought was lost forever. Oliver, it looks like you’ll finally get to meet Zachariah.”

  “Are you for real?”

  “I’m quite sure. And the circle continues.” Matilda gave me a hug and asked, “Are you coming?”

  “In a little while,” I said again.

  Matilda left me with a kiss on the cheek and headed toward The Den to join the rest of the family.

  But a little while never came. I remained in the cemetery long after everyone else had gone home. I could picture inside the inner castle—The Den—and remembered once calling it home, the place to where I was supposed to return. All the events of the past ten years had led me right back here.

  I gazed up at The Den’s menacing walls and shiny stone tower on the right where my family resided. Golden light now flickered from two windows overlooking the ridge to signal they were home, a lighthouse beacon to guide me in. I was led away, I was led home, and I was led through all the silly, sad, and stupid shenanigans in between. Always led, never the leader. Guided to the next step, but never the guide. Just the spear carrier in the unfolding drama that constituted my own life, not the protagonist.

  The biggest events in life happen in a moment. Changes occur through decisions, which are made in a moment. These memorable events are strung together like pearls to reveal—something. Mostly that something is merely the next step. But certain moments reveal a new path or a larger picture and that next step is significant.

  “Don’t waste your time, energy, and attention on what you don’t want. Focus on best-case scenarios. Focus on what you want to achieve. Do this without the thought of failure, and you will achieve anything you set your mind to.” Mr. Gordon paused. “What do you want?”

  It took long enough, but I finally found my answer to his simple question.

  In that moment, I made the decision to venture down a new path—my own road number two without the safety of my selfless guide.

  “Thank you, Mr. Gordon,” I said and rushed to see my family so I could tell them the news. I was heading home.

  Epilogue

  It turned out that the three houses and all of his financial accounts—of which there were numerous and all with staggering balances—were under the name Oliver Grain. It was as if Daniel Gordon didn’t exist on paper. He left everything to me. He remained one step ahead all the way to the end.

  I could visit Mom and Nicholae whenever I desired, but I wanted to live here—at least for now. I retrieved a few personal items from my old house, including TJ’s journal. He would not be forgotten. Mr. Gordon’s house already felt like home and I’d only been back and living there for two days. I took some time to get all my affairs in order. Finding work to bring home a paycheck wasn’t a concern with all the money Mr. Gordon had left behind. I could focus on going back into the normal swing of high school, and then off to college in a few short years.

  But there was one thing I did need help with in the short term to uphold my new self-sufficient lifestyle. Mom came back to sign me up for drivers ed so I could work toward getting my license. The car in the garage would also be mine just as soon as I earned that little card from the DMV.

  I allowed Amber to keep the cocker spaniel Frolics because they’d formed quite a bond and requested Mom bring my golden retriever Frolics back with her.

  “You know where we are when you need something—anything,” she said.

  “I’ll be fine,” I said. “And I’ll be around. It’s a short journey when you know where you’re going.”

  “I know. I’m not worried about you in the least.” She gave me a kiss on the forehead. “I love you.”

  I awoke the next morning with a nervousness that felt good to have back. With a to-go mug of coffee, I said goodbye to Frolics and left for school. The walk was much shorter starting from Mr. Gordon’s house. Even though it felt like home, it felt awkward to call it mine.

  This time it wasn’t a coincidence when Desiree sat next to me in chemistry, glanced over, and smiled. I pictured her doing so on the first day of school, and knew she’d do it again. Mr. Gordon would have been proud. As would Jeremy.

  I had my textbook and notebook opened on my desk, and had intentionally left all writing utensils hidden away in my backpack. While she retrieved her supplies, I made a show of rummaging through my bag and coming up empty-handed.

  “Do you need a pen?” she asked.

  I shook my head in mock embarrassment. “Can you believe it? I’m totally unprepared,” I said. “What a terrible way to make a first impression.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” she said and passed me a click-top ball-point pen. “I like purple.”

  “Thanks. You saved me big time,” I said. She had no idea how big. I took the pen and offered her my hand. “I’m Oliver.”

  She shook it and simply said, “Desiree.”

  Mr. Clayton entered through his office door at the front of the classroom and noticed me almost immediately. “Mr. Grain, you’re back—again,” he said.

  “Yes, sir. And this time I’m here to stay,” I said.

  At the end of class, I asked Desiree if she minded me keeping her pen for the remainder of the day so I wouldn’t be unprepared for all my classes. She graciously honored my request. I stuck the pen in the spiral of my notebook and stuffed them both in my backpack.

  With my backpack perched on the desktop, Desiree noticed the button I’d taken from her before she exited the Doria compound with Mr. Gordon.

  “I love Elliott Smith,” she said.

  “Oh yeah? Me, too.”

  “I had one just like that, but it must have fallen off or something.”

  “Actually, I found this one in the quad,” I said and eagerly removed it from my backpack. “How lucky is that? I guess I was meant to return it to you.”

  She hesitated, but after I insisted several times, Desiree took the button and pinned it to the small pocket of her backpack—where it belonged.

  “Well, it was nice to meet you, Oliver Grain,” she said with a shy smile.

  I gazed into her captivating emerald eyes. “Believe me, the pleasure was all mine, Desiree Behring,” I said and followed her out of the classroom.

  She turned right, and I turned left and I couldn’t wait to see her again in a few short hours. I wasn’t starting over, I was starting anew. And that meant: I was open to all possibilities.

  “Do you believe anything is possible?” Mr. Gordon had asked his classroom of unsuspecting sophomores on the first day of school. I felt like he’d been talking directly to me that day, and now I knew my intuition had been r
ight.

  Yes, I do.

  ###

  December 8, 2008—April 6, 2015

  Thank you so much for reading Oliver’s journey all the way to the end. It’s because of readers like you that I get to continue to do what I love.

  Please remember that word-of-mouth and reviews are vital for any author to succeed, but especially for indie authors such as myself. If you enjoyed Archanum Manor, then please tell your friends and take a few minutes to leave a short, honest review on Amazon. Your review will also help potential readers searching through the ever-expanding sea of books for the next story that’s perfect for them.

  Click here to review Archanum Manor on Amazon

  And now that you’ve completed this series, you may all enjoy my other Young Adult dystopian series, Royal Replicas. In the following pages, I’ve included the first few chapters to give you a preview. Also, if you are a Kindle Unlimited member, then you can read it for free.

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  Prologue

  Beatrice Ramsey stood against the wall by the bookshelf while the doctors were working on her daughter; the girl was still lying unconscious from the procedure and looked so peaceful in her bed. Beatrice gazed upon the wooden crucifix above the bed that—once upon a time—had been her own. She felt the full weight of guilt for everything the poor girl had been subjected to.

  Doctors Sosin and Crane had been taking care of Victoria since before she was born. They had good reason for their investment and concern with her wellbeing. Her current state was a definite cause for worry.

  A lot of equipment had been loaded into the small, dark room, so much so that the portable dress rack and dresser needed wheeling outside. The machines blinked and beeped, connected to her daughter in a multitude of ways; some were more invasive than others.

  “When will she wake?” Beatrice asked.

  “In a few hours. Maybe a little longer,” Dr. Sosin said.

  “You don’t sound so sure.”

  “There’s always some degree of guesswork in science. For all the many things you believe you control, equal numbers of variables and unseen factors challenge that certainty. You’re a woman of faith; you must understand there are things beyond our control?”

  “And things we should not even be attempting to control,” Beatrice said.

  “I’m not here to have a theological discussion with you, but to help keep you in good standing with the Queen,” Dr. Sosin said.

  “After this, I don’t see how we can continue to be in good standing,” Beatrice answered.

  “To the Queen’s knowledge, this is another routine checkup. Nothing more.”

  “I don’t know whether I should be worried or relieved.” Beatrice stepped forward, approaching the bed. She reached out to touch the still girl lying beneath the covers but pulled back. “What will she remember?”

  “We’ve reset her to last summer—that should be far enough—before their first meeting. We didn’t want to take too much from her.” Dr. Sosin checked the screen of one of the chirping instruments. “Just so you know, this isn’t the first one we’ve had to reset. Teenagers can be… well, unpredictable.”

  “Tell me about it,” Beatrice said with a pained chuckle. “I practically have three.”

  “I fear you’re getting too close,” Dr. Sosin said. “You do realize she’ll have to be returned soon?”

  “I know. I’ve been preparing for it—though it doesn’t make it any easier.”

  “You should really distance yourself more.”

  “Are you telling me you always do the right thing?”

  “Of course not. We all have our… vices and regrets.”

  “I don’t regret this.” Beatrice gently laid a hand on her sleeping daughter and waited for her to wake.

  “Neither do I,” Dr. Sosin said, removing a roll of gauze from his bag and beginning to wrap Victoria’s head. “She’s my daughter too.”

  Chapter 1

  I was only ever allowed to wear shoes when sent on errands into town. This was mandated by Master Ramsey and had been so ever since I was a little girl. I wasn’t a Ramsey though; I was a Sandalwood and was reminded of that every single day of my life.

  The Ramsey estate was large and sprawling, a testament to their position as Duke and Duchess of the 24th Ward. We were in the ring of the outermost wards in the Kingdom, considered the Borderlands. The electric fence protected us from whatever stirred in the Outlands, but from my limited experience, protections from things inside our very own Kingdom were most needed.

  From one of many hallway entrances, I padded outside on calloused, bare feet and followed a path through the East garden, making my way to the gaping mouth of the hedge maze. On one side of the maze entrance grew a cascading willow tree, and on the other, a copse of young birches, hazels, and hickories.

  I approached one of the hazels with its low-lying branches, gripping the handle of my paring knife in one hand. There were fewer and fewer branches every time I came out here, but I found two that were sturdy yet flexible and cut them down. I’d become something of an expert in choosing and smoothing them, always returning with two just in case one snapped before my time was up. If only one was supplied and it broke before the determined time, then I’d only have to fetch another, and the whole act would begin again.

  I returned with haste to the Master’s den—the one where he loved to sit by the fire, read from one of his hardbound books from his library, and occasionally watch television. I found him waiting there, and presented him with the switches.

  “These look adequate enough,” he said, taking them from me and proceeding to bend and flex them. “They shall do nicely.”

  Master Ramsey pulled the leather-bound bench away from the wood-paneled wall. Above where the bench was stationed, sat a shelf displaying a stuffed mountain lion; the Master had shot it himself in his younger years before the shades of gray hair had completely overtaken his beard.

  I got into position, lying down on my stomach across the hard leather and placing my hands behind my back. I gazed at the open doorway as he secured my upper body and lower legs to the bench and bound my hands.

  Mina passed by, stopping in her tracks when she saw what was happening—my preparation for punishment. She was only twelve, but already a stunning copy of her nineteen-year-old sister, Johanna. And the boys were taking notice of her—even Johanna’s regular gentleman callers.

  “Mina, darling, please fetch your sister for me,” Master Ramsey said in an even, but commanding voice. “And you come back with her as well.”

  “Yes, Father,” she said as she scampered off.

  The only thing worse than the switching itself was having an audience. Mina and Johanna sat in quite often, so they could learn their life lessons vicariously through me—through my pain and shame. I felt my pain rising like the tide from the last session. I was supposed to be learning. I was supposed to be more disciplined and obedient. I seemed to be none of those things.

  Master Ramsey pulled on the ropes securing me to the leather bench; he said they were for my own safety. My skirt was pulled up to just past my knees, and he leaned the second switch against the wall where it would wait for its chance to kiss my imperfect skin. He stood silent and stoic, awaiting the girls’ arrival.

  Waiting was also excruciating when all I wanted to do was get this over with and go back to my room. And this was not the only time I’d be forc
ed to wait in terrible anticipation of the coming waves of pain.

  When the girls entered the room, I knew it was time and my whole body tightened.

  “Good, now we can begin,” Master Ramsey said.

  The girls knew exactly where to stand.

  “What are you being punished for?” Master Ramsey asked, stepping to the side of the bench where he could see my face and I could see his.

  If I did not answer, then it would only be worse. “For going into town unescorted,” I said.

  “Yes. You know the rules.”

  “It is a new rule,” I pleaded. This rule hadn’t been implemented until after my recent accident.

  “A new rule or an old rule, it makes no difference. Disobedience does not have varying degrees,” Master Ramsey said. “What interested you in town? Was it to meet him?”

  “I don’t know to whom you’re referring. I was simply asked to retrieve a few supplies for the kitchen.”

  “Be that as it may. I cannot allow this insubordination to go unpunished.”

  “Yes,” I said and closed my eyes, anticipating the first strike. A single tear escaped at the mere thought of what was to come.

  The switch came down with full force across the vaults of my feet, followed immediately by searing pain. I cried out, as I did every time on receiving the first blow. Only so much tolerance could be built up, not enough to keep me from screaming; the girls standing before me melted away in the blur of tears.

  I tried to catch my breath, but there was no time during the initial onslaught of strikes. One after another, they rained down on me. I could feel the welts forming on the bottoms of my feet already; Master Ramsey didn’t hold back. He hit me again and again, as fast and as hard as he could. And as I screamed, I strained against my restraints, but there was no escape, no reprieve; I couldn’t shield my sensitive flesh from his powerful blows.