The Cursed Sword
THE CURSED SWORD
by
Penny BroJacquie
Table of Contents
Title Page
The Cursed Sword (Avallon Academy, #1)
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
PENNY BROJACQUIE’S BOOKS
Acknowledgments
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
THE CURSED SWORD
Copyright ©2020 Penny BroJacquie
All Rights Reserved
Editing: Learning To Fly
Cover Art: Cosmic Cream
Developmental Advice: The Plot Genie
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
To my mother, Roula Triantafyllou
PROLOGUE
*
It all started... you know what? I don’t even remember when it all started. Ever since I could remember myself, I could manipulate time.
I could slow, stop, rewind time. Nothing spectacular like me being able to control the entire space and time continuum. No, I had never been a Master of Time, or the Savior of the world, or a superhero; not that I had ever wished to be one.
In the beginning, my skills of controlling time had been quite limited. I had never been able to forward or loop time. I wasn’t even able to rewind more than one minute. But this changed when I faced the first major disappointment in my life, shortly after my 18th birthday. I would later find out that it was the emotional pain that had shaken my heart what had triggered that special talent of mine to expand and bloom to its fullest.
It didn’t only change my life forever. It also affected the lives of many people who suddenly crossed paths with me.
And this is how it all started...
CHAPTER 1
*
The first time I saw him, I could not stop myself from rewinding time again and again.
I was so struck by his blue eyes, his spiky short blond hair, and his broad shoulders above his slim waist that I wanted to relive that moment, feel the same feeling, have my heart flutter ceaselessly. He had rocked my world that much.
It was love at first sight. However, I had that inexplicable feeling that we had met before. For a long time, I thought he reminded me of someone from my past but I couldn’t recollect who that man, or boy, was.
Lynette, my then best friend, had once told me that people could fall in love with a person they had just met if that person looked like someone they had loved before.
“The subconscious makes them believe that if the new person in their life looks like someone from their past who was good for them, the new person will be good for them too,” she had told me.
The problem was that I had never fallen in love before. There had been a few boys I liked, even flirted with, but none of them had managed to make my heart beat like a jungle drum. Owen did.
Owen Hart. “The dude from table 6” as Lynette and I called him. We were both serving at The Drunk Lobster fish restaurant. He was a customer. I was serving his table when we first met. He was enjoying a few beers with his pals, all loud and cheerful, like they were the kings of the world. They had jumbo shrimps with cocktail sauce, juicy crab cakes with tartar sauce, broiled lobster tails garnished with lemon wedges, whipped potatoes, clams and oysters. I wanted to be the tartar sauce on his crab cake since the moment our eyes met for the first time. I was never anything more than a glass of beer to refill for him. But I would only find that out later in a shocking way.
In my defense, I was too young to know that life was not all rainbows and butterflies and that love was not always a bed of roses. I would later find out that there was no rose without a thorn.
It seemed that at that time my subconscious was trying to make me attracted to Owen and thus, I did everything in my power to get us together, hoping that he would be the one to give me positive emotions just like the person from my past did. If only I knew then who that person from my past was. And if only I had been prepared to deal with another shell shock in my life.
“Do you know you have a lovely smile?” he asked me while I placed the plate with his food in front of him.
The clams almost jumped out of the plate as my hand trembled at the sound of his voice to his friends’ amusement who laughed loudly at my clumsiness.
“I... I didn’t know... I mean, thank you,” I stammered and hurriedly moved away.
“Do you know you have a lovely smile?”
“Do you know you have a lovely smile?”
I wanted that moment to last a little longer, so I replayed it a couple more times in my mind. It was only a couple of times. No one would notice anyway. I could not have enough of it, but I had to get back to reality.
I watched him throwing glances at me as I served other tables, as I picked up the plates with the food leftovers and the beer head filled glasses, even as I comped with my hands my chin-length bright rich purple shaggy bob. That was my trademark hairstyle, not because the haircut was innovative, quite the opposite, but because of its orchid dyed color.
I had spent a serious amount of time to achieve that specific shade of purple. Standing out from the crowd with that vibrant color sometimes felt awkward, but I had never been afraid of being in the spotlight. On the contrary. I’d rather be a beacon of light in a vast sea of anonymous people rather than a wallflower. I had come to realize early on that wallflowers did not get to dance. That was the first thing that I learned in the orphanage.
Orphanage life had never been easy for me. I was in a good one, however, life there had its struggles. Caregivers would come and go, adults would come and go, children would come and go. I had to learn early on that people would leave, never to be seen again.
I had never had a person to call family but in my imagination, being a family member meant that there would be continued contact, even from a distance. That was missing in the orphanage relationships.
Life in the Vulgate orphanage was regulated; life happened on a schedule. We would have to get up at a certain time, dress up at a certain time, have lunch at a certain time, go to bed each evening at the same time. I had learned a great set of survival skills to make life work for me. I had learned how to be successful. I knew how to be superficially charming, stronger and sneakier than the other children in my effort to draw the so much needed attention to myself. When love was missing, constant attention was a nice substitute.
For as long as I remembered my life, I was aware that I could only depend on myself. I could only count on myself. I had to compete with dozens of other children to attract my favorite caregiver’s attention, convince the cook to save me the larger portion of chicken breast for dinner, be the first to get into th
e shared bathroom and have a shower with hot water.
I was one of the most popular girls in Vulgate. I never felt lonely or unimportant. I had always been a significant member of the orphanage population. However, for some inexplicable reason, I never managed to attract the interest of any of the families who visited our place. It was always some other girl, or boy, who was ultimately adopted. I was always the one who was left behind. I had not even been asked for an interview with any of the couples that were looking for their family’s next member at Vulgate. I had never been given the opportunity to show off how adorable I was and steal their hearts, convincing them to take me back home with them.
Me, the most popular girl in the Vulgate orphanage, had never been optioned for an adoption. How could that be possible?
I had so much love to give but I was never given the chance to share this love with anyone.
I never felt neglected. However, I felt abandoned so many times. Every time one of my friends was adopted and left to join their new family, my heart ached so hard I thought I would die. Each departure felt like a death to me. I suffered more deaths I thought my young heart could cope with. Subsequently, all of my besties found homes and there I was, the oldest girl in the orphanage, reaching teenagerhood, waiting for the moment I would leave Vulgate behind and start my awesome new adult life, alone, without guidance.
It was then when Lynette joined us. A tall, skinny teen with large almond eyes and a permanent broad smile painted on her round face. Lacking other options, we instantly became best friends. We were the oldest girls in Vulgate and consequently, we shared the same interests, fears, and desire to start our independent adult lives away from the boundaries of the orphanage.
The world was ours to conquer and we could not wait for the time when we would spread our wings and fly away, free and full of life, to seize our dreams and find true love to fill our empty hearts.
When the time came, the cage door opened, and the little birds flew away. It was terrifying and frustrating and less adventurous than I expected it to be. Sometimes I felt hopeless and insecure. I missed the security Vulgate provided. I missed our caretakers’ guidance and counseling. I was all alone in a crazy world where I had to work hard to earn my living, with no one to rely on and no one to comfort me. Lynette was my only family and I was the only one she had, too, even though we had known each other for less than a year.
But I could still count on the moments of joy and wonder and gratitude that were about to come in my life, hoping that those moments would bring healing and hope to my loveless soul.
No surprise I fell so madly in love with Own Hart.
I sneaked a glance at him as I passed by their table. His face looked so familiar that I started to believe that it was a case of déjà vu, that I had lived through that situation before. I had read once that people who traveled more or watched more movies were more likely to experience déjà vu than others. The backyard of Vulgate was the farthest place I had ever been and given the fact that we had only one movie night per week, I had not watched that many movies either. Suzanna, my most favorite tutor, had once told me than a déjà vu experience could be triggered under high pressure and it could even be an indicator of psychiatric illness.
Well, I was crazy. Crazy for him. And I could tell he was falling for me too.
“Are you sneaking behind my back to see me?” he said and winked at me.
“Oh, no, I was just checking if everything is okay with your food.” I blushed and bit my lip as a child caught stealing candies out of the candy jar.
“It’d be better if you had a drink with us.” He gave me a smile that sent a shiver up my spine.
“Oh, thank you, but I’m not allowed to socialize with customers before my shift ends in five hours,” I bit the inside of my cheek wondering if he would get the message. And he did.
“What about after your shift ends?” he asked.
“I’ll have to check my schedule,” I said, and my heartbeat sped up.
His beautifully shaped lips turned up in a smile as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “What’s your number?” His eyes were gazing into mine.
I slowly uttered the numbers of my phone one by one, trying to keep my voice low and make sure that I would not mess it up. I was feeling so anxious.
“You have got a text,” he said and snickered.
“I’ll check it out later, I am not supposed to have my phone on me while I am working,” I whispered conspiratorially.
“We will have another pitcher of beer,” he said loudly to make sure he would be heard to the other side of the room from where my manager was looking at us and frowning.
“I’ll bring another pitcher,” I said and held my notepad close to my chest as I walked away with quick steps.
After a few minutes, I returned with their drink.
“Did you check your phone?” Owen whispered and put his hand on mine as I placed the pitcher on their table.
“No, I did not get a chance to do it,” I replied, electrified by the touch. I turned all the way around and looked at the back of the room where my manager was standing. He seemed busy having a conversation with a pair of customers. “But I’ll surely do,” I reassured him keeping my voice low and my eyes down.
He nodded and moved his hand away before I turned back and walked toward the back of the restaurant and the curtain that kept hidden the narrow corridor that led to the kitchen. I opened the wooden wardrobe behind the curtain and grabbed my purple backpack. Purple was my color, obviously. I pulled my phone out of the backpack. My hands were shaking so hard with anxiety that I almost dropped it.
“Meet me at Greene’s after your shift ends.”
Quite terse and laconic. I was not sure I liked that approach. On the other hand, I did not want to take things slow. I was eighteen freaking years old, emotionally immature, with zero life experience, desperate to love and be loved. I could not wait any longer to feel alive for the first time in my life. I could not find a reason to prolong the flirting game. I should accept the challenge, seize the day, and meet that striking good-looking young man at Greene’s Grill. At least I would have a juicy steak and French fries even if everything else went wrong at my rendezvous with Owen.
My stomach gurgled and I realized how hungry I was. But I did not have time to think about my diet. I had to think about me looking pretty. And sexy. And desirable. I looked at myself in the mirror on the inside door of the wardrobe. The skinny blue jeans and red checkered shirt was not my ideal outfit for my first ever date. Should I go home and change clothes? I was afraid that I would run late. What if Owen thought I was a no-show? I could not risk it. I would patiently wait for my shift to be over and I would go directly to Greene’s.
“Fingers crossed everything will be okay,” I whispered to myself.
I combed my hair with my fingers and looked at myself in the mirror one last time. After putting on a smiling face, I returned to the restaurant room.
Owen and his friends were gone. I panicked.
“The bastards left without paying the check,” I uttered shocking the waitress that was passing by.
Anne, that was her name, almost dropped the plates she was carrying; however, she quickly regained her balance and turned to me.
“Oh, no, they did pay,” she said. “And they left a tip for you. A quite generous one,” she winked.
“Awesome,” I said dazzled. “Did they leave any message for me?”
“No. Why should they?” Anne gave me a confused look.
“Never mind, I am just shocked by how generous the tip is,” I blushed, and she smiled at me before she turned away.
“Well, I suppose that means that the date is still on,” I mumbled and looked at the room around to check on my tables.
Rewinding the time before Own left the restaurant was still the option, but I did not want to spoil the thrills the anticipation of the date had given me.
I wanted to live every single moment to the fullest as if I could never liv
e it again. Like every normal person would do. And I wanted to live like a normal person for the first time in my life and from then on.
Spoiler alert!
I did not.
CHAPTER 2
*
I put my black leather jacket on, I grabbed my purple backpack, and I rushed out of the restaurant door. My shift was over, and my Uber was waiting for me right outside. I had comfortably sunk into the back seat when my phone text alert made my heart jump. I reached into my bag and pulled the phone out.
“But you know nothing about him. Please be careful. I’ll send you a fake emergency text in thirty minutes in case you need an excuse to get out.”
That was Lynette. She had started her shift at The Drunk Lobster and texted me to express her worry about my date with a man I had just met. That was what best friends were supposed to do after all, right?
I texted her back that although I had a feeling that everything would go well, I would be waiting for her text just in case.
The Uber pulled over at the curb before the Greene’s Grill and I climbed out onto the sidewalk. I rubbed my arms against the early autumn breeze as I made my way to the entrance. It wasn’t that cold; it was me feeling anxious.
Greene’s Grill was crowded with an eclectic mix of white-collar workers, college students, and artists from the music fest in town. Once I made it through the middle of the room, I spotted Owen having occupied a booth at the back of the Grill and looking my way. He waved at me and, after I gave him a slight nod, I moved toward the booth where he was now standing waiting for me.
Smiling, he took my hand and helped me sit down. “Quite a gentleman,” I thought and gave him a flattered smile which kind of froze when he placed his arm around my waist. “Wow, he’s not wasting time,” I thought and tried to maintain the awkward smile that had formed on my face.
“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked quietly.