The Inheritance Book 1

Ch 1 The Arrival [Monday Morning, Week One]

The hotel lobby was packed. Among the crowd were several teens who, along with their adult chaperones, wandered here and there, watching at the windows, waiting for further instructions.

A brassy, irritated voice rose above the chatter. "If you're headin' for Trecorin, come over here!"

The kids and their guardians filtered through the throngs toward the voice. It belonged to a hard-faced, bleached-blonde woman, whose top was bursting out of her Harley Davidson tank top in the same proportion as her bottom in her cutoff jean shorts.

"I don't know why they didn't just pick up these punks at the airport and save us all a trip." The woman flapped the hem of her shirt. "Ugh! Hot as hell! Last thing I wanted to do was fly to Phoenix in June. June! Are you kidding me? All expenses paid or not. And for what? We're just gonna turn right around and fly back outta here tonight."

She elbowed her teen. "You better damn well win this thing, niece. Whatever it takes. Make it worth the hassle."

The girl, a dark-haired version of her aunt--right down to her tight shirt and short shorts, looked the other kids up and down. "Don't worry. I got this."

There was an awkward silence for a moment or two, accentuated by a few eye rolls.

Finally, the kids turned back to their adults for one last conversation.

Five minutes later, a blue bus with the words "Trecorin Transport" painted in fancy white lettering along its side pulled up and parked at the curb.

"Look! It says 'Trecorin'. That's us. Let's go!" someone said, and they all pushed out of the sliding glass doors and into the sweltering Arizona heat.

A paunchy older man in a rumpled suit got out of the bus. He scanned the group, lips moving as he silently counted nine contestants. He mumbled a gruff hello.

Hands and voice trembling slightly, he read from a notecard, "Parents and guardians, Allora Eversleigh would like to thank you for allowing your child to participate in the first ever Trecorin Trials this summer. She wishes you safe travels home and looks forward to welcoming you to the castle for the closing ceremony in a few short weeks."

The buxom, brassy, bleached-blonde whispered something to her niece. They smirked and giggled.

The man, his bald head shiny with sweat, jammed the notecard into his pocket and opened the storage compartment on the side of the bus.

One of the boys went over to help him load the bags.

When there was nothing left to do but get on the bus, the driver tugged at his collar and said, "Oh, and uh, per the rules, don't forget to leave all electronic do-dads with your parent or guardian."

Amidst sighs, pained grimaces and even a few tears, the teens handed over their phones, said their goodbyes, and climbed aboard.

The bus was quite plush and roomy. There were enough benches so that each of them could sit alone, which they did.

The man hefted himself up behind the wheel and fiddled with the buttons and dials until an old black and white t.v. show flickered onto the high-mounted screens. Before putting the bus in gear, he mopped his head with a handkerchief and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt. With the a/c blasting, they were off.

As the hours dragged on, some of the kids watched the show, others fell asleep, and a few stared out the window at the scenery, which soon changed from big city to desert, and finally, to forest. The highway climbed higher and higher. They had to keep yawning to pop their ears. No one spoke much.

Finally, the driver turned off the highway onto a loose-gravel road. The kids began to stir. They sensed that they were almost at their destination.

The bus bumped along through the pines for another half hour or so before reaching a clearing. Up ahead was a massive iron gate set into high stone walls. On top of the walls was a spiked iron railing, which was at once both elegant and intimidating.