Exousia - The Patron Saints of the Damned -Book II

“We will test the humans—young ones whose souls are far from darkness and corruption. As the Creator’s champion, you must prove that they can withstand the corrupting influence of my kind if they really wish to. You will guide them to safety and protect them, while I push them to their limits. You may not kill the humans to prevent their corruption. I may not control their will. Any violation will mean forfeiture of this contest.”

-The Agreed Terms of General Ammon’s Challenge

A high-school junior, Brennan Michaels walked toward his new classroom, surrounded by the students around him. He wore a white collared shirt and jeans, not much different from anyone else. But an impish smile slowly grew on his lightly tanned face—beneath the shaggy blonde hair that bounced with every step he took. He stopped at the lockers, ten feet away from the entrance to his government class. He placed his fingers against the combination lock of his new locker. Still unused to the rotating lock, it took him two tries to get the combination right.

“Not bad,” he thought to himself. He reached into the locker, dug under a pile of wadded papers, removed a flash drive out of his pencil carrier, and slid it into his left pocket. He’d spent many hours creating the perfect video presentation for his first class. It was a work of comical art, as well as retribution for being forced to spend any part of summer vacation on homework. This was also the problem. Because with all the effort he’d put in, he wanted all the faculty and staff to witness his glory by force … without getting caught, of course.

His best friend, David Anderson, stepped beside him and said, “Hey man!” He had dark skin, short black hair, and a tall build that was muscular if slightly lanky. His ears, hands, elbows, and knees were just slightly larger than average and made him look a bit clumsier than he was. He wore a crimson t-shirt with the school football team’s logo on the front, just like every day, though the nature of this choice was a mystery to all. He’d not participated in or even witnesses a single school game in all his time there.

Brenna had known David for a while. But they’d become close friends in middle-school, when the latter walked into the science classroom early one day, just in time to see Brennan release lab-rats from their cages. Instead of telling a teacher or ignoring him, David had chased some few into the halls and into as many rooms as he could. The friendship had been instant, and the inevitable detention welcome.

David arched his eyebrow in an unspoken question.

Brennan smiled and handed over the flash drive along with a friendly shove.

Principal Fowler shouted at them, “Michaels, Anderson!” The principal was a wiry little man in his mid-thirties. He was shorter than Brennan and most of the other students. With hair thinning on top, and unusually narrow shoulders, he wore a suit with a significant amount of shoulder padding at all times. Today’s was a grocery store blue one with an even bluer tie. He glanced between the two of them, already visibly suspecting that they were up to something.

Brennan gave his brightest smile and said, “Good morning esteemed Principal Fowler, sir!”

“Do you two need your first write-up for the semester?” Principal Fowler asked in his thick Southern drawl, revealing coffee-yellow teeth to go along with the breath. “Wrasseling in the hall.”

“Wrestling,” Brennan said under his breath, with an overly polite smile.

“Excuse me, Michaels?” Principal Fowler said, addressing him again by his last name.

“Nothing, sir, just a cough,” Brennan replied, clearing his throat again so that it barely sounded like he was saying ‘wrestling’ again. “Flu season … I might need to take some days off to recover.”

“Smart ass,” Principal Fowler muttered.

“Excuse me, sir?” Brennan asked. He took a crab-step away from David, trying to draw the principal’s attention further away from the flash drive.

“Just a cough, Michaels. Like you said, flu season,” Principal Fowler replied, giving a dry smile and looking up thoughtfully as if he admired his own wit. But instead of taking the bait and continuing the banter, he turned to look at them both, not letting either out of his sight.

Brennan was about to reach into his pocket for his phone and press send on a pre-written and addressed ‘abort mission’ text. But he stopped when salvation arrived in the form of a wiry and pasty boy with glasses, ironed khakis that fit too well, and messy, brown hair.

Sam McLean, was covering his nose with a hand. Blood was dripping from it, splattering to the floor, and making a long trail of the mess wherever he walked. “Principuh Fowluh,” he said, through a pinched nose.

“McLean! Cover that up,” Principal Fowler made a disgusted face while he searched his pockets for a tissue. The only one that he could find, however, was the nicely folded blue square in his jacket pocket. His face scrunched up, and there was a battle of spirits in his eyes. After what seemed like too much hesitation, he gave a low groan, wrapped the pocket square around Sam’s face, and led him to the nurse.

Sam met Brennan’s eyes with his own as they rounded the corner.

“That kid still surprises me sometimes,” Brennan said, with a relieved smile. He chuckled and shook his head appreciatively at his friend’s resourcefulness.

Of course, Sam had been the kind of person who could surprise him ever since they were little. His grandmother and legal guardian had spent a good many years babysitting Brennan while his own parents had been working. It wasn’t really known what had happened to Sam’s parents, though. The issue had always been a rather touchy one, and everyone knew better than to ask.

All that really mattered was that they had grown up like brothers, with Sam taking the role of the younger sibling. He was timid, shy, and generally cautious in nature. But he was always able to rise to the challenge and keep up when it was needed of him. It was mostly because of this that their childhood friendship continued into their teenage years, even as they changed and grew into very different people.

Brennan walked towards their classroom and stepped through the doors. He sat in his assigned seat at the back of the room and David sat close to the entrance door. This had no doubt been done strategically by their teacher on the principal’s recommendation.

The bell rang.

At the sound, a tall and slim woman in a large sun-hat entered the class, pushing a television stand on wheels so that it blocked her face. It was apparent just by her figure that she wasn’t their large-bodied government teacher. She began to write on the chalkboard and said, “Welcome to Home-economics class, ladies.”

Her greeting was met with noises of confusion from students, many mutters and whispers. But then the teacher turned to face them.

Underneath the blonde hair and an over-generous application of red lipstick was Ted Owens, dressed in drag. And, per the usual, he was starting the semester off with a bang.

The class erupted with laughter.

“Oh quiet, queens, the show’s not over yet,” Ted said with a wink for the entire class, which just made them laugh harder. Aside from the horrendous makeup, he was a good-looking guy who could have been a hippy for both how he dressed and for his long brown curly hair. His skin was fair, and his nose, eyes, ears were all distinguished, though not cartoonishly so. He generally spent his free time managing the school theater department—directing, acting, and even making props. He liked Shakespeare and always pushed for their selection in school performances, though he was not so purist as to avoid modernizing the language. He spent the rest of his free time getting into trouble with Brennan, David, Sam, and the rest of them and was always happy to lend theater department props to any good cause.

“Ted you’re going to get yourself caught,” Brennan thought, a little worried about his friend.

Even if Principal Fowler wasn’t a rocket scientist, he could put one and two together. Still, there was no stopping the theatrics of Ted Owens.

Brennan managed a reluctant smile at the spectacle but focused on what was happening in the front row of desks. There, David slid the flash-drive into the backpack of the student in front of him.

The backpack belonged to Derrick Owens. This was Ted’s stepbrother and another close friend. He had short and springy red hair, freckled white skin that turned pink at the slightest bit of emotion, and button-like facial features. He usually dressed professionally, and today was no exception. He wore a white button-down shirt, gray slacks, and a tie that hung loosely and at an angle.

Derrick was reserved and kept to himself, but his brother always tried to keep him around. And it was a good thing because he was a pretty cool guy to hang out with. He offered his input on anything they worked on and really put his heart and soul into anything he did. He’d even helped his father to set up the computer system for the school, and offered the knowledge he’d acquired in service of their grand scheme. He turned around, rolled his eyes at the two of them and said, “You could have just given me ‘the package’ before school started. Or, you know, emailed it.”

Both Brennan and David chose to ignore him. They would never admit it, but just maybe all the covert parts of their plan had been for the fun of it.

Derrick shook his head and sighed.

Sam entered the classroom with rolled tissues in his nostrils and the principal behind him.

Somebody shouted “tampon-face” from the back of the class, to which a couple students giggled.

Principal Fowler replied with a tone of bored pleasantness. “Kindly shut up, class. I’m here to tell you that your teacher is … sick. So, Mr. Kale will be your substitute. Please show him every drop of your combined two teaspoons of respect.” He then turned, whispered something to Derrick, and led him out of the classroom.

Mr. Kale walked into the room after them, creating an … unexpected level of presence for a substitute teacher. Beneath his suit, he could have been a body builder, with well-groomed blonde hair, a short but styled beard, and brilliant blue eyes. He was tall, and his facial features were striking.

Already, Brennan noticed at least three girls making googly eyes at him.

Mr. Kale opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted when the door opened again.

“Oh, and Ted. I don’t know what all of …” Fowler looked at him as if to decide which element was the most outrageous about his getup, and finally just pointed at all of him, “that is about. But I’m sure disciplinary action of some sort will be needed. So just see me after school so we can ffigure it out together, won’t you? Thanks!”

“Uh,” Ted said, looking like he was going to say something in protest before he nodded and seemed to accept that this was probably true.

Principal Fowler pointed both hands like pistols, made a smacking noise with his mouth, and then made his final exit.

Ted returned to his seat, which was beside Brennan, and said, “You know … I think I might just be his favorite student.”

“Ted, my friend,” Brennan said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I think we’re all his favorite student. The love in that man knows no bounds.”

“So true,” Ted replied with a shake of his head and dramatic look of admiration.