Risers & Dreamers: The Rose Cross Academy, #1

Risers

&

Dreamers

Copyright © 2015 Rissa Renae Tsang

RissaRenae.com

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are either the product of the author's imagination or are used for the purpose of building fictitious situations. Any resemblance to persons either living or deceased is coincidental.

Renae, Rissa.

Risers and Dreamers / Rissa Renae.

Paranormal—Fiction.

Demons—Fiction.

High schools—Fiction.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9948840-1-5

Trade Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9948840-0-8

First Edition published November 2015.

Edited by Rachel Small, http://rachelsmallediting.com/

Author photograph © Jeff McDonald, http://mcdonaldphoto.ca/

Cover Design Copyright © 2015 Rissa Renae

THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO

Jeff and Gabriel, whose patience knows no bounds,

and

My cat, whose patience is bound by belly rubs,

and

To everyone who believed in me, even when I had no patience.

Office of the Headmaster

The Rose Cross Academy

1313 Bidwell Street

Vancouver, British Columbia

CANADA

Dear Student,

I am pleased to inform you that the Office of the President of the United States has made a recommendation to the Order of the Rose Cross for your admission to the Rose Cross Academy, Western Cross (Canada), for the upcoming academic year. I am pleased to offer you this formal Letter of Admission for use with Citizenship and Immigration Canada.

Membership in the Order of the Rose Cross begins with your four-year enrolment in the Dreamer program at the Rose Cross Academy to commence September 2, 2015. The Dreamer program is extremely rigorous as each student must pass exceptional mental, physical, and academic challenges in order to be accepted into this prestigious society. I hope the guidance and training we provide will help you to succeed in your newfound career.

You are about to take your first step into an education unlike any you have experienced previously. As a student of the Rose Cross, you will face many hardships—I ask that you ponder your acceptance to the Rose Cross Academy with great care and reflection.

Exorcist Charles Nevin, Professor of Demonology, will be your team commander. He will be responsible for organizing your missions and academics, and ensuring your safety while acting as an officer of the Rose Cross. Please contact Professor Charles Nevin once you receive this Letter of Admission to begin your onboarding.

Let me join the entire Western Cross in welcoming you to the Rose Cross Academy. We look forward to meeting you in September.

Yours sincerely,

Grand Master Wolfgang J. Rosenkreuz

Headmaster, Rose Cross Academy

Western Cross (Canada)

Contents

The Forest

Demons and Dim Sum

A Few Arms and a Leg

Eat Your Problems for Breakfast

School Daze

Demonology 101

Elysium Blues

Show No Fear

God, Save the Children

Below

This Little Piggy

The Blood and the Bone

Ghost Box

Under Glass

Red

. . . Is Through His Stomach

Growl

Burn Your Fear

Mr. Grimm

Hide and Go Die

Easy Act to Follow

Go Climb a Tree

To the Dawn, To the Hale Sky Above

Dark Shame

Hello, My Name Is You

It’s Not the Weapon Nor the Skill

Preview: Grimms and Garms

The House

Jeffrey LaCaille was lost, and so terribly so. Here, the mocking songs of birds made for eerie company.

Forever in every direction, looming trees grew in dark, thick clumps. Through a dense canopy, sunlight reached out towards him with long and pallid fingers. Hues of red and orange and gold in the leaves created an eye-wrenching canvas of distraction. He wanted to run—wanted to escape and find safety. Jeffrey knew he was somewhere he should not be. Barring his path, however, was a single pile of leaves.

He peered further into the forest to spot another pile of leaves a few paces from the one before him. He counted two more piles further into the trees, making four in total. Each pile lay still and unassuming, each hiding what was bound to be the body of some nightmare or another.

Demons—he was certain of it. They lay buried here, all waiting . . . waiting for him.

Trembling eyes trailed down to the pile at his feet. The leaves heaved without warning, a hand shooting out to latch on to his ankle. With a yell, he fell backwards on to his rear, tugging and kicking at the thing hidden under the pile in a frantic effort to free himself. Leaves stirred from the pile, becoming green and heart-shaped as they took flight. They assaulted him, blurring his vision as a dark shape rose from another of the leaf piles off in the forest.

Grey, bruised skin made up skinny legs with knobby knees. Where legs met torso, the body did not hold clues as to the being’s gender—the thing was just a humanoid shell. At its side, hands with elongated fingers ending in long, pointed black fingernails twitched and jerked. Soon another grey-skinned figure rose, followed by another until three demons twitched in the darkening forest. As a single unit, the three demon's heads turned to Jeffrey as he struggled against the hand that held trapped.

Black holes bore into faces where the demon’s eyes and mouths should have been. Eyeless, they easily picked Jeffrey out. As their grey bodies turned towards him the grip on his ankle tightened. Jeffrey’s heart beat painfully in his chest as he kicked harder and harder at the thing holding him, yelling and screaming. No matter how hard he kicked, no matter how hard he struggled, he couldn’t find the strength to free himself.

The pile heaved again and a body sat up. A misshapen canvas of a face snapped around to him, a dark hole that marked its mouth widening into a silent scream. The grip on Jeffrey’s ankle turned icy and burned his skin. He squeezed his eyes shut until he saw stars and screamed.

Jeffrey’s eyes shot wide open into darkness and he took a great gasp of air. Blood thundered in his ears and his whole body shook with fright. Dampness on his brow told him he was sweating.

Seconds passed in a blur of terror as Jeffrey wheezed air back into his lungs and tried to make sense of his surroundings. Recognition slowly seeped back to him. He was lying on his side at the precipice of his bed frame on the verge of falling onto the floor. A large poster of his favourite rock band stared down at him where it hung tacked to the wall. Three men in their mid to late twenties posed ostentatiously with their guitars, their band name scrawled in bold letters at their feet.

A dream. Everything—the forest, the leaves, the demons—all a dream.

Jeffrey tried to calm himself with a few deep and laboured breaths, but the dream still plagued him. In his mind’s eye he saw the creature’s face turn towards him. Three black holes for eyes and a mouth plagued his sleepy memory. And that thing had touched him.

With a groan, he flexed his ankle. Jeffrey thought his skin still held the residual sting of a cold burn as he moved and tested his foot. The experience had been so vivid that the actions of the dream had translated into a physical sensation even after waking. These dreams, he knew, could let demons cross into the world where he lived.

Another steadying breath helped to calm his nerves and the stinging in his ankle. In the darkness of his room, he stretched out a leg and groaned as tense and weary muscles rebelled. He thought he must have been lying like this, teetering close to falling out of bed, for quite some time. His body protested as he stretched, and it was a chore to push away from the edge.

Yawning, Jeffrey tried to roll over, but was stopped by an unexpected mound underneath the sheets.

Something was in his bed!

The mound under his sheets pushed him back with such force that Jeffrey nearly tumbled off the edge of his bed. Muscles in his back clenched from the touch and his body seized. His eyes flew open—he wasn’t alone! Something was definitely in the bed with him. Irrational thought told him that the thing in his bed was one of the things from his dream—a demon using him to break into the Waking World!

Adrenaline poured into his veins again as his heart dashed into a mad thunder in his ears. An inability to move froze him solid where he lay, once again perched at the edge of his bed. He thought any movement on his part might attract its attention. So he stayed still, the rock poster staring down at him almost laughing. He felt the bed move and sag, felt the covers tug at his shoulders.

There had to be a logical explanation! The small part of his reasoning that still functioned through the urge to get up and run assured him that he had indeed been dreaming and this was all just a part of his over-active imagination. Maybe the cat had crawled into bed with him, or his little brother! The youngster often did so when loud thunderstorms moved through the neighbourhood, or when he had a bad dream.

A bad dream, Jeffrey thought with ire. He licked his lips and turned his eyes without turning his head as if it were somehow possible to peer over his shoulder and through his own skull without moving. The bed shifted on occasion and the comforter pulled free from his shoulder. The thumping in his chest made his whole body vibrate. One leg was close to dangling off the edge of the bed, threatening to bring him to the floor with it. If he fell out of bed, the demon would certainly notice him.

Several minutes passed as Jeffrey lay stiff and still. An ache began to creep into his back from the strain of keeping his body in the odd position. Discomfort in his knotted muscles grew more painful and began to scream for attention. He needed to do something quick before his muscles lost their strength and dropped him into a sloppy pile on the floor. Gathering every ounce of courage he could find in his panic-stricken body, he rolled over to find an empty bed.

Not wholly convinced, Jeffrey leapt away in a furl of sheets and a comforter to plaster himself to the wall beside his rock poster. The bedroom door was closed and the power light from his desktop computer bathed the carpet in a soft blue glow. The corners of his room sat piled high with dirty clothes and school books. But nothing appeared to be undead, supernatural, or out of the ordinary.

Still suffering the after effects of panic, he slid sideways down the wall until a shaky hand found the bedside light. It clicked on and Jeffrey winced at the brightness. Weary and watery eyes peered about the room while a hand shielded them from the light. He surveyed his belongings with suspicion as he set out to inspect his room.

First, he approached the closet door, inspecting the mess of his closet which was filled to overflowing with clothing, miscellaneous items and a snowboard—nothing unusual or vaguely supernatural there either.

Next, Jeffrey hunted about the clutter in his room. Half-lidded but wary eyes found his study desk, computer, stereo system, and dresser all as they should be. Nothing in the room appeared out of place. But most important of all of his findings: there was no remnant of his nightmare lurking in the shadows.

Last, he approached the foot of his bed, keeping back a good distance as his racing heartbeat still warned him to be careful. Licking his lips, he crouched down on to his hands and knees and peered under the bed. Other than a few lost socks, a couple of piles of car magazines, and some dust bunnies, nothing hid underneath the bed.

Just a dream, he said to himself with a sigh. He pushed his tired body back to its feet and walked over to the bedside table. Convinced his room was safe from anything abnormal or demonic, he relaxed. A yawn reminded him of the late hour, and that he had school tomorrow. Jeffrey clicked off the bedside light before crawling back under the covers and situating himself in the middle of his small single bed. Within a few minutes, he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep, never noticing the dark bruise forming like boney fingers around his ankle.

1

Demons and Dim Sum

Half a dozen dim sum steamer baskets huddled together for safety in the centre of a booth table. Steamed buns, rice crepes and pork dumplings all waited to be consumed. The majority of the items still sat content in their little baskets, awkward gaps between some marking the ones already eaten.

A pair of chopsticks made a valiant yet sloppy attempt to secure one of the steamed buns. The plastic utensils skittered around the round and doughy object as they tried to capture their prey. At one point, the chopsticks came close to success only to drop the Chinese breakfast item back into the basket to join the others. Again and again, the chopsticks tried their best to seize their goal, with each attempt ending in failure. For the moment, the breakfast items had won.

Reinforcements arrived in the form of a single, gleaming chopstick. It swooped in to spear the bun right through to the steamer basket. Victorious, the prize was hoisted across the table to the victor’s bowl. There, the chopstick’s owner grinned as he covered the bun generously in red vinegar.

Any bets on what’s in that one?

In the booth sat three teenagers, two boys and a girl. Each wore a school uniform consisting of a black, double-breasted suit jacket trimmed in brilliant blue. Embroidered on the left breast pocket of each jacket was an eight-pointed compass rose in silver and vibrant blue thread, the blue matching the trim of the uniforms. On one collar of each of the crisp white dress shirts they wore sat a single budding red rose fashioned from shiny enamel.

Sixteen-year-old Noel Sebastian looked up from his captured food—the helpless steamed bun was now drowning in a watery prison of red vinegar. Elbows on either side of his bowl, he spun the single chopstick around in his fingers and stared down the food. A thin, blond eyebrow rose over a blue eye as he raised his head to throw a skeptical glance at the other boy sitting across the table. You mean you don’t know what’s in these things?

Across the booth, June Bae slumped lower in his seat, more interested in the news his smartphone was reporting than the goings-on at the table this morning. Fingers slid across the screen to type out messages and search the Internet. On occasion, he brushed his chin-length dark brown hair across his forehead to free his vision. Dark eyes glanced over the brim of the phone now and then to make a quick survey of the restaurant before returning to the screen with great interest. This was taking forever, and June bored easily.

June? Noel raised an eyebrow before kicking him under the table. June!

June bounced in the booth and almost dropped his phone. Ow! Noel, what the heck? A hand shot under the table to comfort his offended shin. And he may have even pouted a little.

Are you gonna put your phone down and have some breakfast?

Careful to keep his phone away from the mysterious food items, June set the device on the table and slung an arm over the back of the booth. Breakfast? He eyed the dim sum with deep suspicion.

You’re Asian. What the heck is half this stuff?

Noel, he huffed, exasperated with his teammate. I grew up in Ohio, remember? He wiggled around in the booth until he found a comfortable spot in which to lounge. I grew up on McDonald’s and Burger King, not this stuff. He gestured to the table with a quick flick of his hand. Ask Stella. She’s into all this stuff.

Seated beside Noel, Stella Everhart chewed on a rice crepe with a smile. Blonde hair hung in two puffy pigtails just above her ears, and brown eyes shone brightly in a fresh face. Chopsticks moved with expert grace in her fingers as she ate her dim sum. She only shrugged when Noel swung his head to give her a questioning glance. Just eat. I swear, you two whine too much.

June sat forward to eye the baskets of food one last time before collapsing back into the booth. When we’re done here, I’m hitting the McDonald’s.

Noel pushed at his bowl, his chopstick still impaling the vinegar-coated bun. I’m game for that. Hunting makes me hungry.

Stella hushed him and poked an elbow into his side. Around her neck, she wore a silver pendant that glimmered eagerly on a thick chain. The pendant mirrored the eight-pointed compass rose embroidered on her left breast pocket. Gleaming blue lacquer marked the four cardinal points of north, south, east, and west, with the four intermediate points offset in polished silver. This was the symbol of the Order of the Rose Cross and the source of their power: the Rose Cross Compass.

At the west cardinal point sat a small, budding red lacquer rose identical to the one affixed to the collar of her uniform shirt. As she led another bite of rice crepe to her mouth, she used her free hand to rub the rose in the Compass, as if assuring herself it was still there. Her eyes drifted from the booth to survey the establishment with June.

This was small for a Chinese restaurant, given Vancouver’s large Chinese population. A dozen or so tables of varying sizes created no particular pattern between beat-up white walls and a large red mural of a phoenix and a dragon. Five booths lined one of the walls under traditional ink-and-brush paintings of rivers, landscapes, and mountains shrouded in fog. Here and there, servers pushed dim sum carts through the maze of tables, stopping at each to offer up baskets of various food items.

Bells chimed happy and clear when the door to the restaurant opened. An elderly Chinese man paused once inside to rub his hands together for warmth. He was greeted by one of the staff, and the two held a brief conversation in Mandarin before the woman ushered him to a table somewhere off in the restaurant. A chorus of greetings welcomed him as he sat down.

How long do we have to pretend to like this stuff? Noel pulled the chopstick out of the impaled steamed bun as if unsheathing a sword. He analyzed the bit of dough and red vinegar left behind on the utensil before giving the residue a lick.

Just stop complaining. Stella rescued the steamed bun from its doom with her own chopsticks. The sooner we finish this mission, the sooner you two whiners can go grab a Big Mac.

June scoffed. McDonald’s doesn’t serve burgers for breakfast. That fact should be known to the entire world, as far as he was concerned. But just to make sure he hadn’t lost track of time, he checked his watch—a quarter past nine in the morning. For a moment, he dreamed of digging in to a nice, fat, juicy burger.

A belt wound through the loops on June’s black uniform pants. The belt buckle sported the same eight-pointed Compass hanging around Stella’s neck. Within the west cardinal point, a budding red lacquer rose winked beside the blue and silver points of the Compass.

Anything at McDonald’s is infinitely better than anything here. Noel waved his left hand dismissively at the makeshift breakfast. On a thick silver cuff around his wrist sat the same Compass with the same red lacquer rose budding at the west cardinal point. I’m getting antsy.

June met his eyes and nodded once. He stretched an arm over his head and sat back in the booth again. I hope this one hurries up. He hated waiting, especially when he could be sleeping. Or eating. What are we waiting for again?

Professor Nevin said this will be a Medial Myocastor.

Great, Stella drawled dramatically. A giant rat. She shivered and stuck out her tongue. I hate rats.

The orders for this mission had come down earlier this morning from The Council—the governing body of the Order of the Rose Cross. Using ancient Masonic methods, the Council detected infiltrations of demonic origin into the Waking World and pin pointed each demon’s place of origin. Leading members of the Council then issued orders to the closest Rose Cross branch to eliminate the invasion. Demons rarely migrated beyond their places of origin, give or take a few kilometres. Due to Vancouver’s densely populated core, and the fact that the city was a hotbed for demon activity, the team was often left to fight unwelcome visitors from the Below worlds in coffee shops, apartment buildings, and gas stations.

Bells chimed again when the door to the restaurant opened to admit another patron seeking shelter from the crisp Vancouver morning. An aged and gaunt man sporting a head a bit too large and somewhat horse-shaped hobbled about the front area. With a toothy smile, he sparked up a loud conversation with the woman at the front of the restaurant. She laughed high and loud at something he said before ushering him to a seat at an empty table.

The Rose Cross Compass on June’s belt buckle took on a heavy, demanding presence; their target had arrived. The weight caused him to shift and grimace. Noel and Stella shifted as well. Part of June was linked to that unassuming device of blue lacquer and silver on his belt buckle. Together, June and the Compass formed a bond between human and weapon.

June’s dark eyes rose. Stern determination now ran rampant on his face. Noel and Stella met his gaze and stiffened. Both wore the same stone-set expressions.

Finally, it was time to get to work.

Setting her chopsticks on the edge of her little porcelain bowl, Stella took a small white cup of tea. She sipped at the hot, bitter liquid while letting her eyes survey the patrons. Her voice became low and resolute as she cradled her hands around the little cup. The professors say this will be a tricky one. It may take some extra work on our parts. We may even get to let loose a little on this mission. With a quiet grace, she set the cup back on the table to watch the tea swirl. I’ll handle the Barrier. I don’t want to get in June’s way when he lets loose. She smiled across the table at him.

At the mention of his name, June grinned like an unruly child. Anxious energy gleamed in his eyes. It had been almost a week since their last mission, and June wanted to get back to work. He hated feeling rusty.

Noel paused as if recalling a previous encounter with his teammate before he too gave in and nodded his head. Good point, Stel. June and I will take the restaurant. You cover us.

Stella dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a paper napkin. She took her time before she folded it and placed it back on the table just so. As she kept an eye on the restaurant, one hand reached over to her purse and unzipped a side pocket. She fumbled through the depths of her purse before pulling out a small capsule, no larger than the tip of her pinky finger.

Deep and rich blue metal made up the top half of the capsule and a metallic grey rounded out the bottom. The little metal cylinder glimmered warmly as Stella popped off the dark blue half with her thumb. Slow and gracefully, the capsule top sailed through the air in a perfect arch to land on the table. As it struck a plate, a tiny sound like tinkling crystal filled the restaurant above and beyond all hum of movement and morning conversations. Bounce by bounce, the small metal top chimed along the table to loose itself into June’s side of the booth.

Seated alone at a table, the chatty and gaunt man with the too-big head gave a start at the sound. Bulging eyes scanned the restaurant as he tried to pinpoint the origin of the chime. Chopsticks and a bowl found his plate in a noisy serenade of dishes when he abandoned his breakfast. Turning this way and that in his chair, the old man surveyed the restaurant until he locked eyes with June.

June tossed the man a mock salute and an ornery smile. Found you.

Soft light began to form a small, cube-like projection in Stella’s hand, growing from the remainder of the capsule. Brilliant blue glowed in the palm of her hand as the power of the mote spilled out to begin building the Barrier. At first, the blue cube grew at a calm pace to engulf the booth and the three team members. There it paused briefly before rushing out to engulf the interior of the restaurant in a single, swift motion. As the Barrier snapped into place, all movement within the cube stopped.

The low hum of conversation that once filled the air disappeared, plunging the restaurant into uncomfortable silence. Overhead speakers continued to play a gentle song in Mandarin, adding an eerie note to the stillness settling in around the tables. Patrons paused unnaturally where they sat, some in mid bite of their food or in mid sip of their tea.