Luptator: Ascension

By Tyler Watkins

Wesley Pike thought he had looked evil in the eye, twice in fact, but nothing could prepare him for what he would soon witness. Stronger than ever, the demons dwelling below his own feet, dormant for nearly five years, are famished and ready to rise once more. Coping with a heartbreaking loss, Wesley must unite an extremely powerful group of Luptators to save Earth once again from the creatures far worse than the average Roce. However, for the first time since their existence, the Vechi Roce will have a terrifying reason to never descend into the depths of darkness again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tyler Watkins
• Release date: Jul 10, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311327437

Tyler Watkins

Tyler Watkins was born in Parkersburg, West Virginia and currently resides in Columbus, Ohio. He is a Best Selling Author in LGBT Action and Adventure, as well as Fiction-Fantasy. His debut novel, "Luptator: Daemon Angelum" was released in July of 2014 and most recently, he has released his second novel of the same series, "Klyborne's Revenge". He has been declared a winner of NNWM (National Novel Writing Month) with his unpublished work titled "The Oak Door" in 2013.

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Luptator: Ascension

Tyler Watkins

Luptator: Ascension

Copyright © 2016 by Tyler Watkins

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means – electronic, mechanical, photographic (photocopying), recording, or otherwise – without prior permission in writing from the author.

Locations, businesses, and organizations mentioned are used fictionally and in no way reflects the opinions or actions of those mentioned.

Printed in the United States of America

ISBN 10: 1507629338

ISBN 13: 978-1507629338

Contact:

[e-mail]

DEDICATION

To everyone who has remained with me during this journey.

Table of Contents

Christmas Day

An Unexpected Visitor

Lust and Vizulina

The Seven Daemons

Daemon Amoris

Sensation

Bloodstained Sunset

Unraveling Time

Genesis of the Luptator

Abduction

Twilight

Valerie’s Return

Ascension

La Luptatori Ani

Unified

The Traitor’s Reveal

Draconius-Lignum Mark

Terein’s Gift

A Heartfelt Farewell

The Death of Evil

Savana

Nocticiseren

Vexicur

A Small Attainment

A Deviant’s Offering

Christmas Day

Wesley Pike didn’t particularly care that it was Christmas Day. His parents, Claire and Jack Pike, were in no position of returning home from Washington, D.C., as they continued their clean-up of the chaos that had occurred within the past month. Not only that, but Wesley’s grandmother, Malinda Lunarelli (the Luptator who had fooled everyone into believing she had died), continued wandering around who-knows-where without a single word to him since her initial departure. Nothing, however, could surpass the absence of the one soul Wesley held so close to his own. Milo Savino. Even to this day, one month after his unfortunate departure, Wesley had a difficult time even thinking the words: Milo’s dead.

Snow fell heavily that Christmas day. The town of Manhattan gradually returned to its once chaotic and bizarre self. It took a great amount of loss for the town (and the nation) to realize their true threat: the Roce and the other beings that were not Luptators. The Luptators were forgiven (not that they had really done anything wrong in the first place) and were treated as equals once again. Mostly. There were still groups which referred to themselves simply as Hunters that still pursued the Luptators, but with each passing day, more and more were captured, their fate unknown. Wesley didn’t really expect the media to share that much information.

Wesley’s cell phone read a quarter ‘til two before he finally grunted and rolled out of bed. His feet thudded against the floor as he trudged to the bathroom, giving himself a look of disgust in the mirror before ripping his boxer briefs from his waist. His physique continued to improve, but on the inside, Wesley felt no more than a man who spent his days sitting on a sofa, eating potato chips and drinking soda. The loss of Milo hadn’t helped.

He reached for the lever on the bathtub and turned it upwards, hearing a hissing noise from within the wall before being doused with a pleasant stream of hot water from the shower head. His eyes fell closed, overcome by the incredibly relaxing sensation, and stood there for nearly ten minutes without moving a single muscle. Wesley had gotten pretty good at acting and appearing lifeless.

Wesley tucked a towel snuggly around his waist as he ventured to the closet, the sound of hangers screeching about as he rummaged through the multitude of clothes hanging within. His fingers landed on a smooth, skin-like material that had been tucked away in the back of the closet. He pulled it from the hanging bar, looking upon the suit given to him by the High Committee of Enchanters and Enchantresses, Terein specifically. Wesley hadn’t laid eyes on the suit since the night he returned home, after killing Materick Klyborne.

Wesley thrust the suit back into the closet and pulled a grey sweatshirt that hung nearby. Tugging on the sleeve, the sweater instantly slid off, causing the hanger to bang into the shelf above. Wesley scoffed with annoyance. He threw the stale smelling sweater over his head, inadvertently causing the towel to slide down off his waist. Wesley thought nothing of it as he walked half-naked to his dresser, pulled a pair of fresh boxer-briefs and shorts from within, and dressed hastily as the cool air chilled his rear. Wesley kicked the towel toward the bathroom on his way to his desk where a single black notebook and a pen rested on the table’s surface. His laptop had been pushed to the side, seemingly untouched for quite some time.

After throwing himself into the chair, his eye caught sight of a glistening dragon figurine that had once wreaked havoc among the city. It was the last thing Milo had touched with significance. His fingers stroked the dragon’s horns as he desperately wished that he could feel Milo’s soft fingers instead.

After reaching for the black book, Wesley slowly opened it and flipped through its pages that he himself had written. Wesley did it every time he sat down to write, to scribble his jumbled thoughts, he read every entry from the date he began, November 30th, right up to the empty pages he would soon use to express his somber thoughts.

Wesley nestled himself into the chair and began reading:

November 30th

Not sure why I’m doing this, but Mom said it would help … So here it goes …

It’s been three days and I can’t stop crying, can’t stop myself from hurting. How is it that I, the Daemon Angelum, the one who can relieve anyone of their pains and sorrows, cannot relieve myself of my own? What’s even the point then? I’ve never felt like this before and I don’t like it …

I have to admit, when we first met, I thought you were extremely annoying. Hahaaa. Hell, I didn’t even know I was gay. But those eyes … and your silvery hair … each of those struck me in a peculiar way. You were always so happy and kind — you were the last person to ever deserve what happened to you … I wish I could’ve been the one hit that evening. Why couldn’t it have been me?

I miss the fun we always had. I hate to say it, but I even miss our meaningless bickering. With every make-up that we had, it only further proved how much you and I cared about each other. Now, all of that’s gone … my happiness is gone. I can’t imagine ever feeling the same with you gone, I don’t see how I would. I feel like I have nothing else to live for …

I miss you so much Milo, and I’ll love you forever … no matter what. I promise.

-Wesley

Wesley wiped a tear from his eye and stared at the lone page that had now been smeared by his teardrops. He leapt from his chair, high into the air, and chucked the book at the wall, screaming at himself before falling face-first into his bed, drowning himself with a tear-ridden tsunami. Wesley continued to lay there for some time, no care in the world to ever move again.

A swirling blast, like the wind from a nasty thunderstorm, filled Wesley’s room, causing him to jerk himself upright to come face-to-face with his Ecor, Nikov. Wesley was positive that Nikov was the only part of him that remained sane and calm.

Nikov, Wesley murmured, wiping his eyes. I hate that you keep seeing me like this.

Unfortunately, Master, Nikov said, I needn’t see you in order to know how you’re feeling. I very well knew what I was going to witness.

Wesley shrugged. I guess. He wiped his cheek and sat upright onto the bed.

Valerie — Nikov attempted to say, but was swiftly cut off by Wesley.

I KNOW! he screamed hotly, his face turning red out of frustration.

Nikov only stared at him, his golden eyes piercing into Wesley’s brown eyes. He refused to continue until Wesley had apologized.

"Valerie has just told me that Malinda will be making a stop here very soon. She thought you would like to know."

Wesley brightened up for the first time in a month, feeling extremely foolish and selfish for yelling at Nikov without hearing his full thought. For the first time in a long time, Wesley smiled softly.

Really? What for?

Couldn’t tell me too much, unfortunately, but apparently it’s some interesting findings. I think your grandmother is close to solving some of her own questions, along with yours.

Let’s hope so, Wesley responded. This was exactly what he needed to hear.

Wesley had been grateful that Valerie and the High Committee of Enchanters and Enchantresses hadn’t turned their backs on him after what had happened to the elves the month before. Even though Valerie seemed slightly distant from Wesley since the elves’ deaths, she still relayed messages to him from his grandmother. With every message she sent, Wesley had a hard time not thinking of the elves, their frozen faces lying scattered within the inner courtyard of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.

Wesley shook his head to rid himself of the terrible and unsettling thoughts because he actually had one thing to look forward to, and it was seeing his grandmother again. It had seemed like an eternity since they had been in each other’s presence. Wesley could hardly contain his excitement. Maybe she had learned of a way to bring Milo back from the dead … or maybe that was being a little too hopeful.

We should probably get this place cleaned up then, Wesley said, leaping from the bed. He picked up the towel that had carelessly fallen from his waist onto the floor and tossed it into the laundry hamper outside the bathroom door.

So on that snowy Christmas day, Wesley and Nikov spent the majority of the day tidying up the entire town house, top to bottom. It was unusual for the Pike residence to remain this casual during the holidays. Wesley’s mother, Claire, enjoyed decorating the house immensely while she forced Jack and Wesley to trudge out into the cold to choose the best Christmas tree. Their efforts never went unrewarded, however, Claire always had a thermos full of hot chocolate and freshly baked cookies waiting on the table in the living room.

Sadly, this year was nothing of the sort, and it made Wesley even more depressed. Nothing in his life had been the same since his graduation, since Nikov was born. Wesley couldn’t regret it, however, many great things had happened since that day. Then again, a few terrible things had also happened. For the time being, Wesley tried his best to set his sulky emotion aside and use the small ray of hope within him to feed his happiness before it completely withered away.

The large clock that clung to the wall in the living room had just chimed five, just as Wesley and Nikov finished their deep cleaning. Wesley stood near the entryway of the kitchen, gazing at Nikov who sat with a slump on the sofa.

Come on, Nikov, Wesley said as cheerfully as he could possibly sound.

Where to, sir?

It’s Christmas and we haven’t got a tree. Let’s go get us one!

Nikov shifted to face Wesley.

But sir, we have only a few hours left. And what about those … presents you humans call them, we haven’t any.

Even though Nikov made a valid point, Christmas was indeed nearly over, Wesley pushed it aside. He hadn’t cared about anything lately, so why should he this?

Who cares? We could certainly use some holiday cheer — maybe just some cheer in general. What do you say?

I have no reason to fight you, Nikov responded, rising from the sofa.

Wesley smiled. Great. You better return to, well, you know —

Of course, sir, Nikov said swiftly.

And with that being said, Nikov’s smiling face dispersed into the air as he vanished within shadowy clouds, returning to his chamber that hung neatly from Wesley’s neck.

Wesley hurried to his room, dressed to match the weather’s harsh demands, and nearly slid off his front porch as he darted like a jubilant child toward the car. His feet disappeared with each step he took toward the Mercedes. He threw himself in, knocked his feet against the door frame, and started the car. The cool air from the vent didn’t help his chattering teeth.

Wesley had second thoughts about driving in such terrible conditions, but it was hard for anyone, including his own self, to deter his ultimate decision. So without wasting another minute, Wesley cautiously whirled the steering wheel around and around to pull out onto the snow covered road.

His luck, for once, had made a turn for the better as he came upon a quaint tree lot still open that still had a few oddball trees left. He cautiously slid the car into a parking spot near the sidewalk and jumped out into the high pile of snow created by the snow plows.

He locked the car and made his way into the tree lot, passing a red picket fence on his way. The attendant gave him a pathetic wave upon his arrival.

Wesley quickly chose the best looking tree the lot had and as tradition went, would use an ax provided to him by the attendant to chop it down.

Kind of late to be getting a tree, eh? the tall, slender teenager who was bundled up to his nose asked. All Wesley could see of him was his bright blue eyes and the dirty blonde hair peeking out from underneath his hat.

Why is it that you’re still open?

The teen’s eyes only gleamed as he handed Wesley an ax and motioned for him to continue.

Wesley gripped the ax with a loose, yet firm, grip and began hacking away at the tree’s trunk. It wasn’t too long before Wesley found himself swinging the ax furiously, oblivious to the fact that the tree had already fallen and he only struck the cold, frozen ground.

Wesley, stop. It’s already fallen.

But Wesley did just the opposite as Nikov said, continuing his sudden outburst toward the ground. Wesley felt a force against his chest that caused him to raise right out of the snow and fall straight onto his back.

I’m sorry, sir, Nikov said with a quiver in his telepathic voice.

Not your fault, Wesley mumbled, shaking the snow off himself as he rose from the ground. I don’t really know what’s gotten into me. …

Wesley paid the lot attendant, who flinched with every movement he made, and lugged the tree to the car. Once he had secured it to the rooftop with the rope given to him by the blue-eyed boy, Wesley leisurely pulled onto the main street and headed home.

Nikov braced the tree as Wesley slammed the trunk into the holder and tightened the side screws to keep the tree steady. Nikov tied a gold embroidered tree skirt around the base while Wesley lugged a tub of decorations down the steps from the third floor. It landed with a thud upon the floor and he hastily tossed the lid aside to dig around the many decorations.

How about this color garland this year? Wesley asked Nikov as he held a strand in front of his face.

Lovely, sir!

Wesley smiled. He pulled the garland out of the container, like a never-ending snake, and tossed it to Nikov who began to run around the tree, flinging it around the tree’s spiny branches.

These things aren’t too friendly, Nikov said, brushing up against the tree. Very prickly.

Sometimes beauty is misleading, Wesley smirked.

That it is.

Once the gold and silver garland had been fully draped, Wesley handed Nikov a strand of lights to help illuminate the precious tree. He then fell into the tote and began throwing ornaments out toward Nikov who caught them one-by-one, placing some onto the tree and the remainder on the sofa.

Wesley ceased his firing of ornaments at Nikov once he had pulled a serene-looking angel from the bottom of the tote. She had been wrapped in bubble wrap, a precaution to avoid damaging her fragile porcelain face and hands. Her white dress was lined with silver, her petite wings spread wide as if she were about to flutter around the room if Wesley would have released her. He securely nestled the angel into the sofa cushions and helped Nikov place the remaining ornaments around the tree.

With help from his Ecor, Wesley placed the angel onto the tip-top branch, plugging her cord into the string of lights that spun up and around the tree. Wesley leapt back onto the floor, grabbing the cord to the lights, and securely plugged it into the electrical outlet. The tree sprang to life with a pleasant twinkle, which illuminated the garland gracefully, and empowered the angel to bat her wings elegantly. Her soft porcelain face appeared even gentler with the lights shining below.

How does it look? Wesley asked, backing away to admire their work.

I enjoy it very much, Nikov said, his yellow eyes, somehow, reflecting the light that glimmered before him. Beautiful.

Wesley found himself gleaming at the tree, enjoying the fact that they had just turned something so simplistically beautiful into something more. The twinkling lights reminded him of one thing, one thing he didn’t care to reminisce about at the moment. Wesley forced himself to smile, the thought of Milo on his mind the entire evening, and turned to Nikov.

Let me make us some hot cocoa, Wesley suggested, forgetting that demon’s rarely, if at all, ate or drank.

Nikov giggled. For you, sir, I wouldn’t need such a thing.

I don’t want to leave you out. … Wesley responded, a slight frown forming on his face.

Left out? Why would you think that, sir? We have just decorated the tree together, which I greatly enjoyed. Just being in your presence, master, is all I need.

Wesley smiled once more. I’m glad you think so. At least make yourself comfortable on the couch. Flip on the television for us.

Right, sir!

After pushing the nearly empty tote of decorations to the side, Wesley made his way back toward the kitchen and clattered around as he prepared the kettle for hot chocolate.

Wesley returned to the living room moments later carrying a red mug (to make the moment feel more festive) that produced a steady stream of steam on his way to the couch. Nikov’s size, which seemed to continue to increase, if it were even possible, sat as best he could upon the sofa, watching a show full of not-so unrealistic magical characters.

Wesley felt a vibration in his side pocket. He quickly set the cup of still steaming cocoa onto a coaster on the table and reached into his pocket to retrieve his cell phone. It was his mother, Claire.

Mom, Wesley said, enthusiasm in his voice.

Merry Christmas, sweetheart! Claire and Jack cheered from the other end of the line.

Wesley smiled. Merry Christmas to you guys as well. I miss you. How is everything going? he asked with curiosity, hoping they would respond with the news that they could return home.

That wasn’t the case, however, and Wesley knew it before Claire even spoke in her soft, gentle I’m sorry voice.

Things are getting better, she said, but not to the point that we can return home. The actions committed at the press conference last month have caused quite a stir within every department. Some people have been replaced, or will be very soon.

Not you two, I hope, Wesley responded with concern.

Heavens no, Wesley, Claire said. We haven’t done anything wrong.

Then what’s keeping you?

"The Hunters are still out there, not to mention the Roce. I’m afraid that we will never truly be seen as good people until the Roce are completely gone. They think it’ll happen soon, but your father and I are completely aware that it may take years, decades even, before we can rid Earth of the demons again. Do you know how long it took before?"

Wesley remained silent, not entirely sure of the answer to Claire’s question.

Hundreds of years, she responded swiftly, lowering her voice significantly. But we can only assure them that it can happen soon, even though it won’t. So once the staff is rebuilt, our next mission will be to plan an extermination of the Roce. Perhaps the knowledge of humans will surpass our own and we can figure out a way to end them quickly.

Wesley doubted that, but he assured his mother that it was a possibility. Maybe so.

Well anyways, Claire sighed, how are you? How’s Nikov?

Wesley stared at his Ecor who continued to watch television, barely paying any attention to him and his conversation.

We’re doing fine. Went and picked out a tree this evening and decorated it —

— Christmas is nearly over.

We know, but still, we needed some type of holiday joy in this place. Besides, it’ll be a nice touch for New Year’s.

Having a party? Claire asked.

Haven’t really thought about it, actually. Maybe I’ll invite a few people over … haven’t really seen or talked to anyone the past couple of weeks. It would be nice to see a familiar face or two. …

That sounds like a nice idea, Claire responded with a tone of cheerfulness in her voice. You know the rules, not that it matters too much because your father and I are stuck here. Any who, just be safe and have fun. I know you’ve been feeling down because of —

I know, Wesley interrupted swiftly, not wanting to hear anything about losing Milo. I think I’ve already made up my mind about it, actually.

Good.

Wesley hadn’t said anything more, but sat in a slump while he held the silent phone to his ear.

Well, I’ll let you get going, sweetie. Your father and I will call you the next chance we get!

Sounds good, Wesley responded in a robot-like tone.

We love you! Claire and Jack said in unison once more.

Love you too.

Wesley heard the call drop and he lowered the phone onto the sofa. He sat himself upright.

Looks like we only have a few days to plan for our New Year’s party, Wesley said, breaking Nikov’s concentration with the television.

Huh? Party, eh? Sounds fun, sir.

Wesley leaned forward to grab his cup of hot cocoa that had ceased its release of steam, and pressed it to his lips. He enjoyed the warm, slightly bitter taste of the chocolate as it fell down his throat. The marshmallows that were once floating about had disappeared, causing Wesley to frown slightly. He enjoyed catching them with his tongue as he drank.

Once again leaning forward, Wesley sat the cup onto the coffee table just as a few faint knocks sounded at the door. He looked up at Nikov, who had already been staring at him as if he had known someone stood outside the house.

Better recede, Wesley said, not too sure who that could be. Can never be too safe.

I know, sir.

Nikov exploded into dark clouds as Wesley rose from the couch, approaching the door as the demon’s shadowy remnants glided into the chamber hanging from his neck.

Wesley cautiously approached the door, and with a hand ready to attack if needed, swung the door open. Upon the other side of the threshold stood a rather old woman with spiky grey hair that almost disappeared into the snow behind her. To her side stood a handsome man, gawking at Wesley with a particular glimmer in his eye.

An Unexpected Visitor

For a reason Wesley couldn’t quite comprehend, his excitement to see his grandmother was far less than he previously imagined. Perhaps it had been because of the gentleman, who looked at him with a peculiar gleam. Wesley could only speculate who and why he was with Malinda. Nonetheless, Wesley invited them in with open arms, hugging his grandmother snugly and throwing a friendly nod to the stranger.

So good to see you again, Wesley said as they entered the house. Would you and-and —

Aiden Vokos, the man said, outstretching his hand. "Dis is so exciting to finally meet you in pairrr-son."

Aiden Vokos, unknown to Wesley, was a twenty-five-year-old from Greece. His pitch-black hair was cut rather short, connecting itself to his trimmed, yet extremely heavy five o’clock shadow. His olive skin radiated under the dim lights that shined from above and to either side of them.

Wesley stared at a rugged hand outstretched in front, suspecting it to be rough with calluses. He desired to know why Aiden seemed so interested in meeting him, and the identity of his such foreign accent. Regardless of that, Wesley reached for his hand and shook it firmly. Upon their meeting of hands, an unexplainable, satisfactory sensation immediately filled Wesley. I’m Wesley Pike, nice to meet you as well. Care for some tea?

Oh, I’d like that very much, Malinda said as she sat herself at the kitchen table, tucking a worn bag under her feet.

Aiden Vokos smiled as he passed Wesley to join Malinda at the round marble table. Dat would be lovely! he said as he tore off his jacket, revealing a buff physique underneath.

Wesley closed the front door and slid by the dining table that sat to the right of the kitchen and prepared a tea kettle. After placing it on the stove and turning the burner on, he turned himself around to face Malinda who sat still with a slight smile.

So, Wesley began, what brings you here? I wasn’t really expecting to see you — or him for that matter.

Aiden made a twisted face.

— But it’s a nice surprise, being Christmas and all. Wesley added swiftly.

Ah! Malinda squealed, I have almost lost track of time. I guess I should’ve known from the beautiful tree in the living room. Merry Christmas, dear.

Wesley smiled. Merry Christmas to you both.

Aiden’s face went back to its almost always bright, smiling demeanor. He laughed softly and looked at Wesley, who had been staring at him with interest. The tea kettle whistled and Wesley turned himself around to attend to its continuous cry.

A few moments later, Wesley sat three teacups gently onto the table and tossed in three separate chamomile tea bags. The hot water created a great amount of steam as he filled each cup to the near top. A quaint porcelain container with a small spoon poking from within rested on the center of the table.

This is lovely, Wesley. Thank you, Malinda said as she spooned herself one serving of sugar, swirling it with the spare spoon Wesley had placed on each saucer.

Yes, t-t-thank yew, Aiden stammered.

Wesley threw a slight nod as he swirled his tea.

I guess we should get right to it then? Malinda asked.

Yes, I think so, but one question first. Where’s Valerie? I haven’t seen her in a while.

She’s well, thanks for asking, Malinda said. She desperately wanted to be here, but she’s extremely busy with the group — especially after my recent findings.

And those would be? Wesley asked.

A great amount, actually, she responded, glancing at Aiden. It’s the Demouncil, really…

Wesley urged her on.

Well, I’ve heard around my travels that they’re advancing their plans to move Destolorous, ever so close to making it happen. There’s just one thing stopping them …

And that would be? Wesley asked.

The sun. It’s far too bright for a land full of demonic people and beings to live here as they do in Destolorous.

So, what do you think they are going to do about it?

I don’t have the slightest idea, really, but I’m sure they know what the hell they want to accomplish, Malinda said, irritation rattling in her voice.

It was rather odd to hear his grandmother curse, but under the current circumstances, he understood. Wesley repositioned himself in his chair and glanced at Aiden, who remained quiet, smiling as usual.

Is that all you have learned? Wesley asked, realizing that she had barely told him anything. Why was Malinda really there?

I’ve learned more, but I don’t feel too comfortable divulging that information until I have more proof that it’s true. I don’t want to put the wrong ideas into your head … or Aiden’s.

The way his grandmother spoke, he and Aiden had something in common that his brain had a great difficulty putting together. He desperately wanted to ask, but knew his grandmother would tell him what she always had — he would learn in time.

Wesley never intended for his thoughts to sound rude, but if his grandmother planned on withholding any more information, he found her visit to be a bit bizarre and unnecessary — considering how busy she seemed to be. "Why have you really come to visit me, then?" he asked again.

Malinda looked appalled. "To check on you, dear. I’ve felt terrible just leaving you behind, unable to aid you with Klyborne and preventing you from losing Milo."

Wesley clenched his fists, averting himself from a sudden outburst that would make Aiden think negatively of him. He didn’t want that. With all of his might, he calmed himself and said, Yes, I wish you could’ve been here too. Nothing has been the same without Milo.

Aiden looked at him sadly, as if he knew Wesley’s misfortune. Hell, if Wesley had known any better, Malinda had shared Wesley’s depressing tale to the foreign man on their way there. She also probably told him not to speak of it. Malinda seemed to always give good advice.

Mind if I ask where you’re from? Wesley asked. Can’t quite put my finger on the accent —

Greece! Aiden said happily.

Wesley figured he was from a Western European country, but never imagined for it to be Greece. Beautiful place, he thought.

What brings you here? With my grandmother even? Wesley