The Secret Guardian
by Wes Dodd
The Secret Guardian
Publisher: CreateSpace & BookTango
Release Date: April 2013
A Sacred Society exists amongst us all. Believed only as a myth—its origin thrives in secret. Once transformed, each generation of its members become the elite of our society—some for good and some for evil as well. Troy Anthony, unknowingly and somewhat unwillingly, is about to join the elite, like his father before him. It takes a close family friend to ultimately expose the Secret to Troy, revealing his true destiny, and then she becomes a valuable ally. They inadvertently share a unique bond—one of which many doubt its very existence. Troy is taken to two magical places where he learns many secrets of the world, many of which we all have been curious about. It becomes an epic battle where Troy clashes with an evil tyrant, his father’s assassin, a distant cousin sharing many of Troy’s unique abilities.
Claire Anthony suddenly rose up in bed, escaping the nightmare which held her hostage. Breathing heavily as if running from fear, she threw back the deep heavy quilts and sat nervously on the edge of her bed. Still shaken, beads of sweat rolled down her forehead, gently sloping along her narrow cheekbones. Her silken auburn brown hair was drenched along the hairlines. She sighed heavily as she glanced at the clock on her night stand—2 a.m.
This was not a rare nightmare, but rather a recurring one, brought on by a Secret she had kept for many years, an ancient secret known by only a few. She needed to reveal the Secret to her son, Troy, even sooner than she wished. The Secret would change their lives forever if Troy decided to fulfill his destiny—like his father before him.
She noticed a mysterious shadow lingering on her rug from the bright moon shining through her window. Driven by curiosity, she walked to the window to take a peek, as if searching for someone or something in particular. The brilliance from the moon illuminated the entire farmyard, almost like day. After a thorough examination and seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she quietly returned to bed. She once again buried herself within heavy handmade quilts passed down to her from her grandmother, most of which Claire as a child watched her make.
Claire and her son, Troy, lived on her grandparents’ farm in Virginia where she was raised. She lost both of her parents in an auto accident when she was barely eight years of age. When her grandparents both passed, she inherited the farm. She and Troy moved back there after the loss of her husband, Bruce, in the North Tower during the 9/11 attacks in New York City. Much like herself, Troy had to deal with death at a very early age. After the tragedy and some healing time, she thought it best to get her son out of the city, which prompted her move back to the farm. The farm was nestled in a small valley amongst the Blue Ridge Mountains near the sleepy little town of Sweet Springs. Claire recollected the good times she had growing up there. The clean fresh country air and the friendly people made it a perfect place for raising her son and teaching him strong values. The beautiful scenery and a laid-back lifestyle made it perfect for her as well.
Claire was a slender woman of forty years, about five-and-a-half feet in height. Her vivid green eyes and captivating smile made everyone take notice when she entered a room. Even with hints of gray blending in with her auburn brown hair, she appeared to be at least ten years younger than her age. Many men had come calling on her, but she had turned them all away—graciously.
The next morning dawned cool and crisp with a bite in the air that rendered noses and cheeks rosy red, much like good old Saint Nick’s. The heavy frost had the appearance of a coating of freshly fallen snow. As the sun peeked over the horizon, the trees sparkled and glimmered as if infused with magic. The hillsides were speckled orange with pumpkin patches. The valley was consumed with the fragrance of seasoned oak and hickory burning in fireplaces. In the home of Claire and Troy, the aroma of freshly cooked bacon filled every room—making your tongue tingle, mouth water and stomach cry.
This aroma awakened Troy every morning at 6:30 sharp. He would always leap out of bed, bounce down the stairs, and be at the table anxiously waiting before his mother could finish preparing breakfast. This morning was oddly different. Claire had finished cooking and Troy was not yet at the table. She glanced at her grandmother’s antique clock on the old mantle—6:45. She was astonished, for she had never had to call him for breakfast before. She made her way to the hallway, then called up the stairs, “Troy, are you up yet?”