Chapter One Hundred and Three

Havermouth, five Years Before

Cameron drove her home after lunch. “We have a thing,” he told her cheerfully, as he boosted her into the front passenger side of his Ute. In contrast to Rhett and Heath, Cameron’s thoughts were easy going and cheerful. In his mind, they’d get a reprimand, and Heath would talk their way out of any real punishment.

His confidence was well founded, as that was what had always happened since they had become a Triquetra with Rhett, as well as before, as Cameron and Heath had grown up together. Rhett’s lingering grimness was, in Cameron’s mind, due to his father being in town, and the effect Mr. Salem’s presence had on the household. With Mr. Salem in the house, Mrs. Salem was unable to see her lover, and that human lover objected to the ongoing marriage, not understanding werewolves’ ways…

Aislen could sympathize, she thought, with the lover. “What thing?” She asked, to see what he would say. Would they continue to pretend that she didn’t know, or would he admit to it? She saw the flash of uncertainty cross his face as he got into the driver’s seat, and knew he would be debating whether he believed Rhett’s declaration that she knew about them, or whether perhaps Rhett had been mistaken.

She wanted to say something, but Rhett’s warning stilled her tongue.

“Sort of a community thing that many of the older families in the area are part of. You know,” he shrugged, and reversed back to turn. She saw Heath and Rhett on the balcony, wrapped in an embrace, Rhett’s face on Heath’s shoulder and Heath’s hand cupping his skull. Heath was talking, his lips near Rhett’s ear, and his expression intent.

“Like the Freemasons?” She prompted Cameron.

“Yeah, actually,” he flicked the house a worried look before starting down the drive. “Except, we’re not part of that. It’s a Havermouth thing.”

“What is your group called?” She asked.

He wet his lips with the tip of his tongue whilst he contemplated the answer. “Les Guerriers Sanctifies.”

“What does it mean?” She was surprised that he had told her.

“I don’t know,” he lied. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. There are rules, and we broke them, so, we have to go to this thing tonight so they can tell us off. It’s nothing to worry about. Heath will talk our way out of it.”

“Rhett’s upset.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “His dad’s mad that he’s had to leave Rideten to attend the meeting tonight. Rhett will be alright tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she watched him, admiring his profile and the flop of russet hair that fell over his forehead.

He slid a look at her out of the corner of his eyes and grinned. “This weekend was pretty good, eh? Everyone stayed pretty happy, and there weren’t any major fights… except for the barbeque…”

“Your friends don’t like me.”

“They’ll get used to you.”

She swallowed hard, starting and then stopping the question twice before finding the bravery to ask it. “The Triquetra… and me, Cameron…” She said hesitantly. “And the other sex toy… I mean… Are we…? Is this…?”

His eyes were wide, and his expression bewildered. “I have no idea what you’re asking,” he said.

“What is this… with the Triquetra and me,” she asked in a rush. “I mean, are you guys just fucking around with me, and there will be others like that girl last week, or… is it… just us?”

“Aislen,” his voice was pained. “Fuck,” he sighed and then grimaced, as he pulled into her driveway. “That was just to scare you into behaving. I’ll,” his eyes went to the porch of the house. “Shit. Your dad is at the door glaring at me. Look, Aislen,” he caught her hand and looked at her earnestly. “I’ll speak to Heath. He’ll pick you up tomorrow, and he’ll… He’ll know what to say. Fuck, he’s coming over.”

Aislen’s door opened, and Cameron released her hand as Patrick Carter leaned into the car. “Grab your things, Aislen,” Patrick said gruffly. “And go inside. We have visitors who want to speak to you.”

“Mr. Carter,” Cameron said with a smile. “Nice day, hey?”

“Yeah,” Patrick’s eyes narrowed. “Move it, Aislen.”

“Bye, Cam,” she whispered, regretting not being able to kiss him.

“See you tomorrow.”

Patrick closed the door between them, and followed Aislen to the Ute tray, taking the bags from her. “Inside, Aislen,” he said.

“Yes, dad,” she flicked a look over her shoulder as Cameron reversed from the driveway. “You don’t have to be rude to my friends,” she added angrily.

“We have people here, Aislen, don’t start,” he replied.

“There really are people here?” She was surprised. “I thought you were just…”

“Yes, there’s people here. I’ll take your bags to your bedroom. You go down to the kitchen where they’re waiting.”

Aislen made her way through the house to the kitchen, hearing her mother’s voice bright and cheerful, and a man’s answer. Visitors, her father had said, not police, she hoped. Perhaps someone from the school, or, and she really hoped not, Dr. and Mr. James…

The man drinking tea out of her mother’s good china was no one that she knew or could recall meeting before, but he sat with Ms. Grace, so Aislen assumed that he was a teacher at the school.

“Ah, Aislen,” Tiffany greeted her cheerfully. “Come in, come in. This is Mr. Mason, and you know Ms. Grace.”

“Mr. Mason, Ms. Grace,” Aislen murmured, as she edged around the table to take a seat.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Aislen,” Mr. Mason’s smile was warm and friendly, but his blue eyes were appraising. “I’ve been hearing a lot about you recently.”

“Am I in trouble?” Aislen wondered, looking at Ms. Grace.

“Oh, darling,” Tiffany laughed and rolled her eyes at Mr. Mason. “Teenagers. Always assuming they’re in trouble when you want to talk to them.”

“Collective guilt,” Mr. Mason replied. “We see it all the time.”

“Of course, you would, working with teenagers as you both do,” Tiffany included Ms. Grace in her reply.

“You’re not in trouble,” Mr. Mason told Aislen. “Rather, the opposite, in fact. Your art teacher, Mr. Graynor, during Friday night’s meeting of the school council, submitted your art portfolio for consideration of a scholarship. It caught the eye of both the Zeus Forest Representative and I, and it was decided that we would sponsor your application to The Rideten School of Art, a full ride scholarship covering school fees and equipment, accommodation, as well as $20,000 a year to cover the costs of living, food, and that sort of thing.”

“Oh my god,” Aislen’s jaw dropped.

“It’s a very generous offer,” Ms. Grace said emphatically. “A wonderful, once in a lifetime opportunity, Aislen.”

“Aislen, say thank you and that you accept,” Tiffany prompted. “She’s shocked. She accepts of course. She’s just stunned stupid for the moment. It is an amazing opportunity, isn’t it Patrick?” She looked up at her husband as he leaned in the doorway.

Patrick’s eyes went to Aislen. “It is.”

“Say something, Aislen,” Tiffany was becoming embarrassed by Aislen’s silence.

“Not Rideten, Aislen, stay local,” Rhett had said.

“We have some brochures and the paperwork, of course,” Ms. Grace said encouragingly, her eyes sliding to Mr. Mason and then back to Aislen. “They might help her to visualize what we’re offering her, August.”

“Of course,” Mr. Mason took a leather folder and removed from it a brochure and passed it to Aislen. “Your parents have already signed the paperwork, Aislen,” he added quietly. “Congratulations. In a week’s time, you’ll be moving to Rideten to participate in three years of studies.”

Aislen’s swallowed hard. “Thank you, Mr. Mason, Ms. Grace,” she said, feeling her heart striking against her ribs. Everything within her wanted to scream no. She couldn’t leave the Triquetra behind. Her eyes met Tiffany’s across the table, and Tiffany’s expression was strained.

Was she really thinking of passing up the incredible opportunity to study art in Rideten? Aislen asked herself. Was she really thinking of passing up that opportunity for the Triquetra, a bunch of bully-boy werewolves, who would probably get bored of her in another week, and move on to someone else? Yes, she admitted to herself, yes, she was.

She looked at the pamphlet and then up at Mr. Mason. “Thank you, Mr. Mason, my mother is right. I’m just stunned, shocked. This is… it’s more than I ever dreamt of. Yes, I would love to go, and thank you so much, you, Ms. Grace, Mr. Graynor, and the people from Zeus, for this incredible opportunity.”