The Conduit (Gryphon Series) (2 page)

So when Grams mentioned “the unmentionable
,” I braced for yet another blow up. To my surprise, he just gave a noncommittal “Not yet.”

“Do you plan to get a job?”
Grams pressed.

“Don’t know.” Gabe shrugged but didn’t look up from his pizza. I couldn’t tell if the tension in the room had actually reached a palpable level or if I was anxious it was about to.

Grams pursed her lips, clearly not happy with how this conversation was progressing. “How did you occupy your time back in Michigan?”

“Sports and stuff.”

“I see. And did you become a professional athlete with one of those million dollar contracts?”

“No
,” he said with a sarcastic half-grin.

“Hmmmm. Guess you should probably get a job then, huh?” She raised her eyebrows, daring him to argue. Wisely, he did not.

“Probably,” he answered.

“I could talk to Will Burke for you.” Grams grabbed some napkins off the end table and passed them out. “He’s the athletic director at Gainesboro High. He might be able to find a coaching position for you.”

A spark of genuine interest lit up Gabe’s broad face. “That’d be great, Grams. I’d really like that.”

I marveled at this turn around. Maybe I wasn’t the only one that needed a fresh start in a new place.

“As for you.” Grams turned to me with narrow, pondering eyes. Her hands rested on her hips. “I know you have all the grace of a two-legged race horse, so what the heck do you do for fun?”

Ahh, nothing like the loving banter of family. Just gives me warm fuzzy feelings.

I pushed a strand of uncooperative brown hair behind my ear. “Until I head off to Rhodes in the fall, my plan is to sketch, veg, and basically give my pre-collegiate brain one last chance to be mush before it’s forced to study and actually learn stuff.”

Relaxation of any kind had been foreign in my life for a while now.
After Dad died, I put my college plans on hold and concentrated on taking care of my family. Mom needed all the help she could get, so it hadn’t really been a choice. With time, things calmed down enough for Mom to begin prodding me to put the focus back on my education and my goal of becoming an art teacher. First up, I wanted to have a nice, relaxing summer. Then rejoin the land of the living as a freshman at Rhodes College in Memphis. I couldn’t wait. Eighteen seemed a good age for my life to finally begin.

Pleased with how our “orientation speech” had gone, Grams plopped back down in her recliner. “Sounds good to me. You should head up to the clearing. You’ll find plenty to sketch up there.”

I wiped my face with my napkin to remove the remnants of the pizza slices I killed. “The clearing?”

Grams kicked up her foot rest and grabbed a gossip magazine off the end table. “Grandpa and I used to take you kids there when you were little, remember? Just outside of town
, there’s that walking trail that leads into the mountains. You follow it up and you’ll find a clearing right next to a little brook. It really is lovely. I don’t know why I don’t go up there more often. Ooh, another celebrity bump watch! I love those.”

Gabe quirked his eyebrow in Grams’ direction and laughed. There was no question as to why Grams didn’t hike anymore. Grandpa was the outdoorsmen, not her. When he passed, so did her hiking days. But I did remember our trips into the mountains and all the amazing things we saw. It would be the perfect place to find inspiration for my drawings.

“That’s a great idea, Grams.” I admitted. “I’ll definitely check it out.”

Grams set her magazine in her lap and
folded her well-manicured hands over it. Her eyes crinkled with a warm smile as her gaze shifted from Kendall, to Gabe, and finally to me.

“Kids, I think this is gonna be a pretty unforgettable summer.”

C
hapter 2

We spent the following morning unloading the truck and settling in. That lasted until early afternoon when Grams’ “stories” came on. Then we were kicked out of the house and told to go find our own fun. Gabe and Kendall set off with their own agendas. My plan had been to check out the trail an
d stretch my artistic muscles—until I saw the mess that my darling brother left me.

While Grams’ house was always neat and tidy, the garage held the truth of her pack rat tendencies. I hadn’t realized how tightly Gabe wedged the front of my truck in amidst the clutter until I attempted to
back it out. The wheels of my S-10 moved back an inch and a landside of knick knacks, boxes, and outdated furniture pelted down on my tiny truck.

Fan
-freakin’-tastic.

I climbed out, shuffled my way through the mess, then st
ood back to survey the damage, turning my head to look at it from all angles.

“What on earth happened?” Grams exclaimed as she rushed out of the house. “Oh! Celeste! What the heck did you do?”

“Just thought I’d rearrange the garage by ramming my truck into stuff,” I grumbled.

Grams grimaced, “How bad is the damage?”

“I won’t know until I unbury it. But from the way that armoire is leaning, I’m guessing there’s going to be a nice dent in the side panel.”

“Let me go
DVR my stories, and I’ll give you a hand.”

“No, that’s okay. Go back to your show. I caused the destruction
; I can clean it up,” I said and gave myself a mental forehead smack.

If Gabe was home
, I would’ve made him help. This was his fault. But he’d gone up to the high school to look into an assistant football coaching position Grams found out about. I would go it alone.

Another exasperated groan and I got started. I cleared a path to the armoire, righted it
, and checked out the damage. Not too bad, just one dent where the corner of it impacted. I could live with that. I noticed a chunk of wood sticking out from under my tire and squatted down to investigate. A chair must’ve fallen in the avalanche and I backed over it. Shrapnel from the chair carnage impaled my tire. It was hissing its way flat.
That
I couldn’t live with.

Grams came back out toting an icy glass of lemonade. I snatched it, muttered a quick “thanks
,” and downed it in one gulp.

“Ouch, that’s a bad dent.” Grams watched my face to gauge my reaction.

“It’s not that bad. But by any chance do you know how to change a tire?” I motioned toward the flat.

“No, sorry. It’s always been my feeling that the ability to change a tire is one of the reasons we keep men around.” She gave me a strained smile, trying to make light of a bad situation.

“Gabe does, but it won’t matter right now. I don’t have a spare.” I knew for a while I needed to get one but had failed to do so. It wasn’t an issue until this very moment.

“That’s not a problem
,” Grams explained. “It’s a short walk to Hank’s place.”

“Hank?”

“He’s the only mechanic in town. He’ll loan you a spare. Gabe can throw it on. Then you can drive up to Hank’s, and he’ll get you all fixed up.” I pondered how I would get the spare home but quickly dismissed it. Small town like this, Hank probably did pick-ups and deliveries. I guess some good came from everybody knowing everyone.

“Sounds good.” I handed Grams back the glass and got back to work. I picked up a box that’s contents were scattered across my hood
, and I glanced inside. “Whoa. Who’s this nasty-looking guy?”

“What’s that, dear?”

I set the box down and pulled out the item in question. Carved from one solid piece of wood was a creature I had never seen before. Its head and wings were that of a bird, but it had the body of a predatory cat. It stood assertive and proud—chest out, feet planted wide. Its head was thrown back as if in a roar.

“Hmmm…where did that come from?” Grams scooted up beside me to get a better look.

“You’ve never seen it before?”

“No, never. It must be an heirloom of Grandpa’s. I know what it is though. It’s the Gryphon. He’s supposed to be half eagle and half lion.”

I turned the sculpture over in my hands. Along the bottom, words were etched. “Protector of the Divine.” I read. “What does that mean?”

“The legend was that the Gryphon protected divine items from those with evil intent.”

“Divine items like what?”

“The Holy Grail
…Noah’s actual ark…I’ve even heard a couple of these guys guard the gates of heaven.”

“So, he’s like a big, mythical guard dog?”

Grams chuckled, “Well, look at him. Who would want to mess with that?”

“Good point.” I flipped the mysterious sculpture over as I continued to examine it. Something inside of it clicked, followed by a faint whir. Before I could pull my hand away, a too
thpick-sized wooden spike jutted out and pricked my finger. “Ow! Crap!” My blood dripped onto the sculpture, and I put my finger in my mouth to clean it off.

“Why the heck would anyone booby trap a wooden figurine?” Grams took the carving from me and set it down so she could inspect my injury. “Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

It didn’t hurt. Odd as it seemed, a liquidly warmth had spread through my hand. “I’m fine. It surprised me more than anything.” A succession of clicks, like a crank being turned, and the spike retracted itself. “It must be important to someone if they felt the need to protect it like that.”

Grams scoffed, “It’s so important it’s been sitting in my garage for God only knows how long.”

For reasons I couldn’t explain, I asked, “Can I have it?”

Grams
’ penciled-in eyebrows shot up. “You want the booby-trapped artwork?”

Wordlessly
, I nodded. I thought it best to refrain from telling her that as soon as my blood touched the sculpture, I felt a powerful draw to it. Or that the tingling heat from the spike’s impact had spread all the way up my arm.

Grams scooped up the sculpture and dropped it in my hands. “If you want it, it’s yours.”

Those simple words filled me with a sense of joy I couldn’t explain. Claiming the enigmatic item as my own felt right, and I had no idea why
.

CHAPTER 3

I was wrong. Absolutely nothing good comes from being in a town this size.

As it turne
d out, Hank didn’t offer a drop-off/ pick-up service. They loaned you the tire and sent you on your merry way—a fact that would’ve been helpful to know
before
I walked there. I was left to my own devices to figure out how to get the stupid tire home.

After failed attempts at alternative methods, I accepted my only choice and rolled the tire down Gore Avenue to
ward Grams’. Had it been a full-sized tire, it may have been better. I could’ve walked normally and rolled it along. The stance I contorted myself into to push the spare tire along knocked me down about a thousand cool points, even if I was the only one who cared. My face blushed bright red as I squatted down and rolled it hand-over-hand.

Hank’s entire crew watched me out the window
, not even bothering to hide their laughter. Could even one of them offer me a ride home? No way! Turns out chivalry isn’t dead, it’s just busy laughing and pointing.