Legends of Astræa: Cupid's Arrow Book 1 (Legends of Astræa Series) Read online

  I turned my gaze to see the other six wolves sitting outside Mr. Tarbelli’s clear glass garage doors, ready to tear Mr. Tarbelli’s head off because he wouldn’t let them in. The sole exception was Gavril, who seemed fascinated with the cars after he sneaked past him inside.

  It sounds more like your kind is the one with the short fuse, I said, looking at his large and very unhappy brothers outside, while Gavril was busy checking out the four tires of the special edition.

  “Miss Pearson, wolves belong in the wild, and there is no place for all of them here.” He used his most patronizing teacher tone of voice.

  “And I don’t care if it’s the Queen of England’s royal carriage. I am not riding with you if you insist on not bringing this wolf.” I pointed at Gavril. The truth was that I wanted Gavril to come with me, wherever I was going. Mr. Tarbelli narrowed his eyes.

  “Why this one?” Mr. Tarbelli asked.

  Uh—oh, careful, Gavril warned me.

  “Because I like this one. Do you have a problem with my preferences?”

  “Miss Pearson, first I asked you to wait for me in your room. Now, you seem to misunderstand my directions. This kind of rebellious behavior will not be tolerated anymore. Am I clear?”

  “Are you kidding me?” With my two feet planted on the floor, I dared him. Was that a glimpse of admiration in his eyes after my obstinate reluctance? It lasted a nanosecond.

  “No. In fact, I am extremely serious. Now that we have cleared that…” Mr. Tarbelli turned on Gavril who was next to me with both swords aimed at him. Crap. The other wolves snarled at him viciously from outside.

  “STOP—Mr. Tarbelli, please stop. He won’t hurt you,” I yelled at him, holding my shaking hand in the universal sign, as if that would stop Mr. Tarbelli’s swords. He pinched his lips together and clenched his jaw. He wasn’t exactly amused, but I had managed to stop him. With Gavril’s nozzle just an inch away from his sword, he retreated very slowly.

  Dude, you look seriously funny when you cross your eyes, I teased Gavril.

  He whimpered. His powerful jaw hung over his front legs on the floor, and he looked at Mr. Tarbelli with his most blackmailing gaze ever. His puppy-dog eyes said, “Don’t kill me, I am cute and adorable.”

  Mr. Tarbelli’s muscles went stiff as they looked at each other while he held his swords. For a moment, I thought I was going to need the large, shiny wrench on the wall to yank them away. But he put them back in the leather holsters on his back then rolled the tension from his shoulders, sighing as he closed his eyes. Frustration exuded from each and every one of his pores at my interference.

  “Miss Pearson, must you be under the illusion that these dangerous filthy beasts—could be pets?” Mr. Tarbelli’s voice sounded a little thwarted as I scratched Gavril’s ear. In contradiction with Gavril’s brothers who growled, retracting the skin around their sharp teeth at the insulting comment, Gavril took it like a good pup.

  “If you want me to trust you, you must trust me,” I said.

  Right, Gavril complained mockingly. It was obvious I was withholding vital information at this point from Mr. Tarbelli too. Information like Gavril was a boy who could shift into a wolf on a regular basis. Mr. Tarbelli sighed again, rubbing his neck.

  “Very well, Miss Pearson,” he said, hopefully realizing he needed to win my trust. It was hard to tell. The man had a poker face. Even though he had come to my rescue twice, I couldn’t decide whether I trusted him or not.

  One thing was clear. I was determined to find my way to France. I didn’t exactly know how. I stood firmly, looking into his eyes. He shook his head, evidently frustrated with me, and opened the door of his fancy car for Gavril.

  Let’s follow him, buttercup. He will answer all our questions, Gavril urged me, pushing my inner knee with his large nose. Mr. Tarbelli muttered unintelligible curses at Gavril as he jumped inside the car.

  I’ll be okay, Gavril assured his brothers, who waited impatiently outside the garage while he was standing inside the fancy car. I think, he said as an afterthought.

  I remained outside the car, unsure of jumping inside like he did.

  “Miss Person, why are you so set up on ignoring my help?” Mr. Tarbelli asked when he saw me hesitate. I could have argued with him that it wasn’t an act of defiance but common sense and self-preservation.

  “That’s because you haven’t given me a real reason as to why I should listen to you,” I kindly informed him. Was that another rare glimpse of admiration in his eyes? His jaw was tense the next moment. We stared at each other, both of us without even blinking. It was a staring contest for all I could say.

  We all watched Gavril’s brothers retreat into the forest, and Mr. Tarbelli halted his armed surveillance, putting his swords back inside their leather holsters.

  “I will only answer your questions after you have agreed to come along, Miss Pearson.” Mr. Tarbelli’s stolid composure was somewhat at odds with his old teacher dorky geekiness.

  I held my anger, even when I wanted to scream at him again. “And I will not go anywhere with you until I know I can trust you.” I crossed my arms and stood my ground, unwilling to give him one inch. He had withheld vital information from me. The truth was that I had had enough with the secrets, the lies, the loss, and the hurt. Besides, I had other plans. I had to find my way to France.

  Well said, princess, Gavril approved.

  “Miss Pearson, do we have to discuss this right now?” No better time like the present.

  “Since you are a know-it-all, Mr. 20/20 Perfect Vision with ninja moves and strange friends in high places. What do you think?” I was pissed off. I also realized that I had to work more on my insults department. We both heard a suspicious sneeze from inside the fancy car.

  I can help you with the insults, batty-girl. He sneezed again. He meant batty as in “bat’s in the belfry” and not the comic superhero.

  “Very well. Your parents have entrusted me to protect what and who you are,” he said.

  Great, he was using the “what” word. Sigh. I was beginning to form a complex. Apparently, everyone kept labeling me an unnatural thing. They didn’t say it out loud, but they thought I was unnatural—a freak. I was a human being for crying out loud, and I had feelings—couldn’t they all see that?

  But I didn’t have enough space in my head to argue about that with him, especially after he mentioned my parents. A ball of hot temper I was trying (very poorly) to hold back, boiled in my veins.

  “You knew I have a mother. You even knew I have a last name. You knew!” I accused him. I was as certain as he was that all the details he’d gathered about me over less than a year at St. Mary’s were not an accident nor by chance.

  “And I owe you a great apology, Miss Pearson,” Mr. Tarbelli said. Although he sounded sincere, I wasn’t sure of his intentions at this point. “I thought I should get to know you first, before telling you anything. Mother Clarisse agreed with me. I wish I had been more diligent.” He paused.

  I was willing to believe him. Then I felt a pang of guilt; Mother Clarisse had discussed this with him on my best behalf.

  He continued. “There are important but confidential situations that we should discuss, but the academy was not the right place nor is this island. Now can we keep moving?”

  He sounded just like Mother Clarisse. Why were they both so settled into not discussing anything of importance with me? How could I trust him?

  We don’t have to. Come on, let’s get off the island. I want to know how fast this thing goes, Gavril said.

  I sighed. I nodded back at Mr. Tarbelli and sat in the passenger front seat. And for the very first time in my life, I was going to ride in a car and leave the island away from St. Mary’s. And just like Gavril inside the fancy car, I couldn’t contain my excitement, while Mr. Tarbelli sighed constantly with contempt at the slobbering and forepaw scratching of his soft leather seats. I was confident Gavril was doing it on purpose with his overly sharp claws. I rolled my eyes.

>   It was the very first time I had seen the pier or the disappointedly small ferry in person. On the other hand, our timing couldn’t have been better. We boarded a couple minutes before it departed. The ocean sparkled like little golden diamonds. I realized with some relief that the sun was setting. I felt grateful this horrible day was over as we stood on the ferry starboard moving west. My gaze turned back and watched as the island disappeared in the horizon behind us.

  Just when I thought the ferry trip had been somewhat magical, the sight of the city, lights, people, high-rises, and storefronts made my heart soar with excitement. I realized with disappointment that everything my gaze quickly caught as the car sped through traffic wasn’t enough to appreciate or even understand what I was looking at. But my jaw dropped open, and I couldn’t stop gaping at all as we parked on the tarmac next to a large private jet.

  I must be dreaming it all, my mind kept repeating. A jet. I could see the world from above. In a small way, I had prayed for this.

  “Where are we really traveling to, Mr. Tarbelli?” I asked him. With all the rush to get off the island, I had not asked him. I waited, secretly holding my breath with equal amounts of increasing concern and excitement.

  “France, Miss Pearson.” Mr. Tarbelli’s tone had a touch of worry.

  Too soon, Demyan’s warning crept up. He had warned me about not stepping on French soil. Once again, I questioned if this was a big mistake. I knew I was running a high risk by jumping on this plane with Mr. Tarbelli. He was practically a stranger, and I didn’t know what awaited me in France, besides Father Dominique.

  “Why France?”

  “Because I can give you the answers to all your questions, and I can help you find Father Dominique—together.”

  What? I wanted to slap the gloating smirk on his face. Had Mother Clarisse confided with him about Father Dominique? Did he know about the letter she left for me? He also knew I would do anything to go to France.

  “Seriously?” God, I needed confirmation. His eyes squinted and tightened. He was mistakenly taking my question as an act of mistrust. I didn’t mean to insult his honor.

  He nodded. Yes! I fisted my hand in front of me and pulled it in.

  I almost broke into my happy dance when an abrupt realization punched me hard in my gut. I had no passport. There was no way I would be admitted into France without a passport, and I had double-checked on that. Crap. I was going to sit out this trip to France with disappointment and without documents. Crap. Crap.

  “Even if I decided to leave right now, I can’t,” I said, my voice suddenly hoarse. I surprised both of them. Mr. Tarbelli and Gavril turned their heads toward me so fast, I thought their necks would break. “I didn’t even know my last name until this morning. What am I supposed to do without any documents?” I felt like crying—again.

  “Don’t fret, Miss Pearson. You do have documents. Although, you won’t need them or ever use them,” Mr Tarbelli informed me.

  Uh—oh. I didn’t like the sound of that. Why not? “Well, forgive me for fretting. You not only pretended to be my teacher but took way too long to tell me that I do have papers, a name, parents, and a legal guardian.” Feeling very resentful, I accused my ex-teacher again. I forced the door of his pointless, extravagant, and costly vehicle open and got out. Gavril jumped next out of the luxurious car, not giving Mr. Tarbelli time to do anything.

  If Mr. Tarbelli could have just imagined the great stress I’d gone through. I wouldn’t have gone through the torturing hours of not knowing what to do without those papers. Perhaps then he would understand he had taken too long to say something—anything at all.

  A man, who I hadn’t seen approach our vehicle, dressed in dark blue coveralls and an bright orange vest, greeted Mr. Tarbelli, who handed him his precious car keys.

  Hum… I think we should worry about getting you all cleaned up and beautiful. Perhaps a nice new dress, eh? Gavril was suspiciously condescending. Right… Even if I wanted to clean myself, I had no other clothes with me, at least not clean ones. Crap.

  “Miss Pearson, it is clear you aren’t ready to handle any more information.”

  Evidently, I had finally been successful at misleading him all this time at St. Mary’s. Almost an entire year of pretending to be mediocre to hide my cursed gifts, and Mr. Tarbelli finally thought me an idiot. Great timing too. Nuh.

  You aren’t ready to handle any more information. I mimicked him behind his back as he climbed the stairs to his jet, followed by a happy wolf, who happened to be delusional, wagging his tail and acting as if he owned the effin jet.

  “Miss Pearson, I am your legal guardian and whether you like it or not, your heinous pet won’t be traveling with us any further.” Mr. Tarbelli stood like a wall in front of Gavril at the threshold of the jet’s cabin door. “He is a wild animal and requires a three-month quarantine for his paperwork. And since he is not a regular Chihuahua, we don’t have the time to wait. He can’t travel with us.” He repeated his initial intent, almost gleeful that Gavril wasn’t coming with us.

  Crap. Crap. Crap. What are we going to do, Gavril? I clutched and wrung my hands, glancing longingly at the jet in front of me. France. Gavril snorted, but it sounded more like another ugly sneeze as if he was daring to laugh at Mr. Tarbelli. I obviously missed the joke behind it.

  Trust me when I say your kind has more connections and tricks than anyone else on earth. The last thing he wants is to make a scene and draw attention to us, well—you—specifically.

  Me-ee? Why me?

  Besides, I suspect he is in a little bit of trouble with you…

  I tapped my foot, bit my lip, and looked back at the same private airport gate where we’d come in. He thought he had me there, but I wasn’t going to leave without Gavril. I guess we were going to watch him leave without us. I sighed.

  “I am not going to get rid of the mongrel, am I?” He narrowed his eyes in contempt, directing his dislike at Gavril.

  “Nope.” I shrugged my shoulders, daring him, standing over the tarmac with my arms crossed right before the jet ladder. I was not going anywhere alone without Gavril. He would protect me. “Think of him as my shadow if you want me to go anywhere with you.” I wiggled my eyebrows at him.

  Mr. Tarbelli nodded with something that resembled an accepting sigh or a nostril scowl. It was hard to tell which. He moved aside to let Gavril inside the jet.

  This should be interesting, Gavril said as he reached the inside of the jet.

  “You better make sure the filthy mutt behaves, if you don’t want me to turn him into food chow. Now, I suggest you get inside this jet before I change my mind about the mutt,” he grumbled.

  Does he ever quit? I am a werewolf not a mutt. He should at least have some respect for his superiors, he glared menacingly toward Mr. Tarbelli as he found his perfect spot inside the jet—a white leather plush sofa. I didn’t have to see Mr. Tarbelli’s teeth grinding. A werewolf? Seriously?

  Main reason why you shouldn’t mention it, he warned. Was Gavril telling me he was cursed? Just great. My day continued to get crazier and crazier. I forced my attention to the interior of the jet.

  It seemed larger and more spacious inside than from outside. A sitting lounge room with a long sofa, individual seats, and a large TV dominated the entrance. Apparently, this was Gavril’s territory now. I watched him as he stretched comfortably on the white leather sofa.

  I stood next to a small bar and kitchen galley that displayed a colorful glass-art surface, glass and stainless steel cabinets with liquor in a shelf on top and several small wood doors. Beyond the bar, a round wooden table for six sat fixed to floor with modernistic leather chairs. Everything was mostly cream white and tan leather. I wondered who else used this jet, but I had the acute suspicion the jet was singly used by Mr. Tarbelli, who pointed at an individual seat. I marched to it, sat, and mimicked how he strapped himself into his seat belt. The jet jerked a little and off we went. I felt sick as my stomach went against gravity for a long moment.r />
  Breathe, it will be over soon, Gavril told me. I did, hoping I hadn’t marked the leather armrests too much with my nails.

  Once in the air, I watched the mounded white cumuli clouds with fascination. I covered my mouth as I gasped with unknown excitement. They were beautiful like cotton candy. It was as if we were flying through a piece of heaven. I closed the shade. I opened the shade. My ears were oddly plugged. I loosen my belt. I made it tighter. I closed the shade once more.

  Mr. Tarbelli studied me but said nothing. I opened the shade. He undid his security belt, and then he pulled a book out of his leather bag and gave it to me. I read the title. The Art of War by Sun Tzu.

  “Miss Pearson, this book is your first assignment.”

  Assignment? Was he even considering giving me homework? Unbelievable. I rolled my eyes.

  Too late to reconsider this France trip an entrapment, I blew a lock of hair out of my face. I raised my questioning gaze toward him, but he pretended he was looking for something else in his bag. When he pulled them out, he slid headphones over his head, and at no time did he acknowledge me. I frowned. He wore one of his famous cryptic grins. I smirked and very carefully opened my shade once again and looked outside the window. Mr. Tarbelli’s arm reached and closed the window shade. He was insufferable.

  I frowned and opened the blasted book.

  “Know your enemy and know yourself, find naught in fear for 100 battles. Know yourself but not your enemy, find level of loss and victory. Know thy enemy but not yourself, wallow in defeat every time,” Sun Tzu said.

  Holy crap. Why did I have to study this? This wasn’t literature but a war treatise that imparted indoctrination into the art of deception and war. I continued glancing through the book. It was pretty much an outdated philosophical and vague approach to understand the implications of becoming a leader, of making difficult decisions, of saving a kingdom. Why would I need to read this? Demyan had mentioned something about a kingdom. Mr. Tarbelli needed to explain this and so many other things. Sigh.

  After a long moment of being unable to concentrate on the book, I asked him, “How did you know about Father Dominique?”