Heroes & Harbingers: An Adult Fantasy Academia Novel: Secret of Pantheons, #1

By A.R.K. Horton

Food fights. Detention. Dissecting fairies for science class. Just another day for teachers at a Magical Public School.

 

Ms. Sirin's fate as a death harbinger has ruined her life. She longs to be more than a herald of doom, aspiring to impact lives in her teaching career. But when a new student with bold dreams joins her class and is picked as this century's Chosen One, Ms. Sirin's dark power senses a terrible sacrifice to come.

Finn MacCool's warrior past didn't prepare him for a hundred years of teaching for his community service. Spending the last decade of his sentence at a new school, the immortal develops a crush on his tempting but aloof coworker. The Irish legend blows his chance when he butts heads with the Council of Pantheons' latest brave heroine—who also happens to be Ms. Sirin's favorite pupil.

 

However, the Chosen One's quest isn't all it seems. Pavlina's lethal prophecies come to pass, and her gift warns of more to come. Will this daring trio of heroes have what it takes to make the grade, or will they fail before they even make it to Summer Break?

Set in an alternate reality of Jacksonville, Florida, this adult urban fantasy is the first book in the Secret of Pantheons series. If you enjoy a hearty helping of mythology, found family, and unbreakable bonds, this book is for you. Class is in session with Heroes & Harbingers—delve in now before the bell rings!

CONTENT WARNING:

This is a book written by an adult mostly about adults and for an adult audience. While many teenagers may appreciate this book and even learn positive things from it, please read ahead if you intend to gift it to anyone under 18. It may contain some content you deem inappropriate for them. Consider the following content before purchase.

 

Grief

Death

Kidnapping

Pregnancy Loss

Substance Abuse

Life-Threatening Situations

• Language: English
• Publisher: A.R.K. Horton
• Release date: Apr 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781737499879

A.R.K. Horton

A.R.K. Horton is a small woman made of round shapes and long sighs. Children and animals surround her in her Florida home. Her vice is hoarding responsibilities, and she has the tired eyes to prove it. They still have a sparkle, though, seeing the next project ahead. She began writing as a child when she became obsessed with learning about the most obscure fairytales, folktales, and myths. Now, she blogs extensively about them and uses them as inspiration for her novels.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The black downy feathers on the back of Pavlina Sirin’s neck prickled, and an icy wash of nausea rolled down her spine. Only two events triggered such a sensation: someone’s impending death or her mother’s imminent phone call. The telltale vibration in her back pocket warned her of the latter. Pavlina held her breath, counted to five, let the breath go, and swallowed down the curse burning her tongue.

Pavlina pulled the buzzing phone from her jeans with one hand while wiping off the sweat on her forehead with the other. She pressed the button for the speakerphone and placed it on the desk.

Stuffing her grade book and lesson binder into her canvas bag, Pavlina forced the words out with a sunshine that didn’t belong to her. Privet, Mamushka. I can’t talk right now. I’m—

Pasha! It’s happening!

Pavlina’s back straightened; her eyes widened. Baby time? I thought Luda wasn’t due for a couple of weeks.

She wanted to feel happy. She really did. Her sister deserved this, and she looked forward to being an aunt. Yet she plunged into grief, even after the months she spent trying to bolster herself for heartbreak.

Pavlina’s eyes darted to the framed photo on the far corner of her desk. There, in black and white, was a snapshot of Pavlina’s happiest memory; the day she married Henry. He stood behind her in the image, his arms wrapped around her waist, while kissing her neck. The portrait version of Pavlina doubled over laughing. She wore a lacy, white wedding gown and the widest smile of her life. Years later, the photo shifted to yet another reminder of mortality. She wondered what life would have been like if Henry hadn’t died and their child had made it to term.

How soon can you make it to Savannah from Jacksonville? her mother asked, shaking Pavlina out of her reverie.

Perfect. Of course, she expects me to drop everything at the worst possible moment. She wouldn’t be the same woman if she didn’t have unrealistic expectations. Pavlina brushed away her bitter thoughts, knowing they came from exhaustion. Prepping for a new school year depleted her. She knew the first week would be worse, and she would fall asleep on the road if she had to drive for more than fifteen minutes anywhere.

Mama, I can’t. Tomorrow is the first day of school—

Those happen every year, her mother interrupted. Babies are special. Alkonost babies, even more so.

Pavlina wondered why her mother had assumed the child would be an alkonost like Luda. After all, sirins were born to alkonosts all the time. Her own surname of Sirin served as a reminder of that, even when no one could see the triangular patch of glossy, black feathers on her back. Dark wings sprouted from there when she came face to face with death, followed by the spread of more feathers over her entire body. If it went too far, no one could ever mistake her for a human, no matter what she wore.

She supposed her mother wanted to assume the best would happen for her youngest child. Everyone wanted an alkonost, with their bright plumage and songs of paradise. Sirins, on the other hand, acted as harbingers of death. Their songs inspired melancholy. Their wings faded into the night. As a result, Luda received a hero’s welcome everywhere she went, while Pavlina often felt ostracized by her own family of alkonosts. Now, they wanted her to drive three hours at a moment’s notice during the busiest week of the year.

It’s not a choice. I have to be there.

Who says?

Principal Cailleach, Pavlina answered, pressing two fingers to her throbbing temple. You know. My boss.

A moment of static signaled her mother’s thought process. Pavlina knew better than to ask if she was still there. The woman hated nothing more than people who rushed her during conversations. Yet, her mother had no problem with interrupting others. Pavlina didn’t mind. She used the opportunity to toss the stapler into her canvas bag and put her school-issued laptop to sleep.

Well, come after school, then, her mother said at last.

You’re three hours away with good traffic. I’m sorry, Mama, but it will have to wait until Saturday.

Her mother gave her the sigh, and Pavlina held back her own. Well, I suppose we will see you this weekend. I will settle for what little time I can get with my daughters.

Luda’s there. She was always there, the favored child and blessed one, whose rich husband had set their mother up in her own suite on their property.

There’s no balance without my Pasha.

A yawn escaped Pavlina before she had a chance to tamp it down. Sorry, Mama. I just got home from setting up my classroom, and I’m tired. I know it seems like I don’t care. I do, but… I need a shower and some rest before tomorrow.

It’s only nine o’clock.

I have to get up at four, Pavlina explained. Good night, Mamushka.

Good night, Pasha.

Pavlina disconnected the call and stuffed her phone back into her jeans before zipping her laptop into its case. Her aching legs shuffled out of what she had once intended to be a nursery.

Atlas, turn off the office lights.

The Atlas device chimed, and the lights in the room faded to black. While running down the next day’s mental checklist for the millionth time, Pavlina watched the room grow darker.

She had managed to get everything ready, and a sense of accomplishment tended to follow a completed list, but something nagged at her. Touching the back of her neck, she realized her feathers had stayed puffed up. Queasiness still chilled her spine.

It hadn’t been her mother’s doing, after all. She would cross paths with death soon.

Pavlina threw her hands up. Great. Like I don’t have enough on my plate with school starting.

Finn figured the bleach blonde with the fake tan looked to be college age. She fit in with the rest of the patrons at this cheap bar, which still sported the fast-food chain sign broadcasting the building’s past life. Yet, she wasn’t dancing with her friends or flirting with the bros at the pool table. She was staring at him with her big blue eyes; had been since he walked up to the bar and failed to get the bartender’s attention.

Can I help you? Finn asked.

Oh my Gawd, am I starin’? She pressed her manicured hands to blushing cheeks. Sorry, I thought I heard an accent, and I was just curious.

You were staring, but that’s fine. I get it all the time.

She bit her lip and leaned closer to him. Are you Scottish?

Finn clenched his jaw, holding back a long string of swear words. I’m Irish.

Oh, that’s why you’re here! She pointed at the blinking neon light on the wall, the only evidence of the bar’s real name: Paddy’s Pub. I just love Irish people!

Of course she did. He had never had an experience with an American woman who didn’t melt in the presence of his lilt, especially those who frequented Irish themed bars. If he had known its name before entering, he might have gone for the tropical joint down the road. 

I’m actually just here to get gargled, he said, and the young woman’s nose wrinkled up with disgust. Drunk. I came here to get drunk.

Oh! Language barrier.

Finn’s mouth tilted up in a crooked smile. Thought we were both speaking English.

As she giggled, the bartender acknowledged Finn’s existence at last.

I’ll have a lager.

The bartender, who Finn doubted had even reached drinking age yet, pointed at the tap. That’s all we got.

Yuengling, then.

In New York, most bartenders would have understood. Finn would give anything to leave this hick town and return to the bustling city he’d grown to love. Unfortunately, he didn’t set the parameters for his community service. The Council of Pantheons did, and they had decided Jacksonville, Florida needed him more than the Big Apple. Finn knew better than to not do as told. He knew firsthand just what the CoP did to anyone who bucked the system. His recurring nightmares kept those memories fresh.

He reminded himself once again that he only had a decade left of this. Ten years until he had his godlike powers again. Then he could make everything right. Oisína could come back. Maybe he’d even go back to Ireland. Maybe. Until then, he would have to be at the CoP’s beck and call in this backwards city.

Measuring the young, attractive woman ogling him, however, made him consider that moving down here had some benefits. Finn could be a big fish in a little pond. Some of her friends gathered nearby, their eyes lighting up as she whispered something to them. No, I’m a shark in this pond.

So, what are you doing here? the blonde asked.

I’m teaching at Annie Lytle, Finn answered, grabbing the cold glass of Yuengling the bartender offered him.

The magic high school? a brunette asked, sitting next to her blonde friend. 

Yes, they called me down from New York to teach.

The college kids circled around him at this point.

That’s like the best magic magnet in the state, the blonde said.

Finn offered a nonchalant shrug in response.

Wait, doesn’t school start tomorrow? the bartender asked. Shouldn’t teachers be asleep at this hour?

I’m not a teacher for another eight hours, Finn said with a laugh.

What’s your name? the blonde asked.

Finn. He left out his last name to avoid the usual teasing that followed. Immortal warrior and leader of the Fianna.

Let’s get this guy some better drinks! one bro called out.

Perhaps life wouldn’t be so bad in Jacksonville.

The bedside lamp gave Bree’s room a warm glow. The bed tempted her with its comfort and promises of slumber. Her eyes ached to close, but her mind had other ideas.

Bree counted out her color-coded pencils and pens before sliding them between the zipper teeth of the adorable neon pencil pouch. After deciding she could get by with eight pens and eight pencils for the week, Bree placed the case into the front pocket of her brand new, school-mandated, clear plastic backpack.

Her parents had huffed at the school’s rule that all students only have clear or mesh backpacks. What if she needed to keep her tampons in there? Wouldn’t she feel embarrassed? Bree didn’t care. She had gotten into one of the best schools in the state for her Freshman year. Sure, it was a magic magnet, but it had boasted the highest average PSAT and SAT scores in Florida for the last six years. That would go a long way toward her getting into an excellent law school.

Bree hung her backpack on her bedroom door’s coat hook and turned to the chest of drawers. Her outfit for the day sat on top in a neatly folded stack. She sniffed the clothes to smell their newness before glancing down at her white sneakers. She found not one speck or scuff. They had remained in pristine condition all summer. Last but not least, Bree examined herself in the mirror to find nothing out of the ordinary—still the same dark curly hair and brown eyes set against deep, coppery skin.

Satisfied that she had prepared as much as she needed to, Bree turned off the lamp and climbed into bed. She reveled in the scent and feel of freshly laundered and high thread count bedding.

Her eyes closed at last, and her mind drifted into a trance close to sleep when cold fingertips touched her arm. Bree started at the sensation, sitting up.

Bree? Her little sister stared at her with giant, frightened eyes. I had a bad dream. Can I sleep with you?

Bree smiled and lifted the cover. Come on in, Liz. Her sister’s thin body nestled in, and Bree put a protective arm over the girl, offering her warmth. Even in the insufferable heat of Jacksonville in August, Liz’s bones held a chill. Truth be told, she was a little old to ask for a sleep companion, but years of health problems kept Liz the baby of the family in more than one sense. What did you dream about? Bree asked.

The surgery.

Bree squeezed her sister a little tighter. The surgery is a good thing. Mom and Dad worked really hard to get the insurance to approve it.

I know, but…

What?

Liz wriggled against Bree, burrowing deeper into the bed’s warmth. What if it doesn’t work?

It’ll work, Liz, Bree said and moved a hand up to stroke her sister’s hair. They have the best wizards on staff at Shands. Chiron himself is on the board of directors.

You’re right. Liz’s voice communicated the opposite of the words she spoke. I hope you have a good day tomorrow.

I’m sure I will. You’ll have a good time at your school in a couple of weeks.

If the surgery works.

When the surgery works, Bree said, correcting her sister. Just tell the teachers you’re my little sister, and middle school won’t be so bad.

Anything will be better than spending all my time in the hospital. Liz fell silent and then chuckled. You think I’ll meet any cute guys at school?

Bree shrugged. I don’t know. Maybe. I never thought about it.

Liz squinted at her sister. Really? Never?

I guess I had more important things on my mind, Bree said.

Liz snorted. Nerd.

The door creaked open, and their mother’s face peeked through. Why are you girls still awake? We have a big day tomorrow.

I had a bad dream, Mami. Liz pouted.

Their mother walked in and knelt beside the bed. She grabbed both her daughters in a big bear hug. Everything will be fine. I promise.

Their father stepped in. Y’all have a cuddle pile going on without me?

Come over, Papi! Bree giggled and waved for him to join.

He sat on the end of the bed and lowered his body to embrace the rest of his family. A contented sigh rose and fell from his chest.

I can’t breathe, Liz said. Bree laughed and backed away like her parents to give her sister some space. Liz coughed and wheezed. Can’t. Breathe.

Bree’s laughter stopped. Her face shifted from bliss to panic.

Inhaler! their mother ordered.

Their father, flying out of the room already, responded, On it.

Their mother rubbed Liz’s back. Shhh. Slow breaths. Slow. Don’t rush it.

In a moment, their father was back, cupping an inhaler against Liz’s mouth. Her trembling hands grabbed it and squeezed its medicinal spray into her mouth. After a beat, she shook the inhaler and took another huff. The wheezing died down, and a weak smile lit up Liz’s face.

They had gotten through another asthma attack, each worse than the last. Liz’s sickle cell anemia only made them more deadly. Bree remembered when that had been the only thing to fear. Now, she had to watch where she held onto her little sister, making sure to avoid the young girl’s tender abdomen.

How about you sleep in our room tonight? their mother asked.

Liz shook her head. I want to stay with Bree.

Their mother’s eyebrows knitted together, and she bit her thumbnail. Are you sure?

Leave the inhaler on my bedstand, Bree said. If another attack comes, I’ll make sure she gets that before I get you.

Well… All right, then, their mother said. The sisters’ father took her hand and pulled her toward the door. Good night, girls.

Bree waved at them before wrapping her arms around Liz; not as tight this time. Night, Mom. Night, Dad.

Good night, Liz said, her voice small and frail.

Bree knew it would be hours before she could sleep now. Liz’s surgery has to work. It has to. One day, Bree would be a world-famous lawyer and she would make sure that kids like Liz didn’t have to wait through years of insurance negotiations to get life-saving surgeries. Tomorrow, she would start making that dream a reality.

Chapter 2

Pavlina leaned against the shed wall by the back fence. She watched the mechanics working at the auto repair shop next door and pulled a clove cigarette out of her pocketbook. Before putting it up to her lips, she turned to her companion, Mrs. Selkie, the swim instructor and health teacher.

Anyone out and about?

Mrs. Selkie, standing with her hands on her hips and her seal skin tied around her waist like a jacket, shook her head. Nah, the coast is clear. Everyone’s busy at the front of the school. Though, we’re still crazy coming out here, now of all times.

Fantastic, Pavlina said around the cigarette clamped between her lips. She pulled another one out of her pocketbook. Want one?

Mrs. Selkie lifted her hand to take the clove but stopped herself and shook her head. No, Mika would taste it on me, and then I’d be in the doghouse.

Pavlina nodded and put the offered clove back in its container. Gotcha. I remember how that used to be. She lit her cigarette and took a long drag. Her eyes rolled back in delight. Gods, I needed that.

What did this summer do to you? Last year, you never smoked one cigarette on campus. This is risky behavior for you.

Family, Pavlina answered, knowing that didn’t touch half the heartbreak she was trying to ignore. My sister gave birth early this morning. My mother wanted me to travel up to Savannah today. And the feeling of impending death is still ruffling my feathers.

Mrs. Selkie’s eyes widened. Can you imagine trying to run that past Principal Cailleach? 

A laugh escaped Pavlina’s lips, and she choked a little on her cigarette smoke. 

Mrs. Selkie continued, She’d freeze you on the spot with that icy stare of hers.

I don’t know who’s scarier, Principal Cailleach or my mother.

Mrs. Selkie chuckled in response. I get it. Mika and I have our family issues, too.

Like what?

Well, Mrs. Selkie said. With a sigh, she leaned against the chain-link fence to face away from the mechanics and focus on Pavlina’s face. A selkie and a rusalka fall in love at an international swim meet. They decide to get married. But one needs the ocean, and the other needs a river. Neither one likes the cold. So, it made so much sense to move to Jacksonville where my family lives. River, ocean, subtropical climate. Everything should be hunky-dory.

But…?

Mrs. Selkie nodded. ‘But’ is right. Every other day, her folks are calling from Hungary. ‘How could you move to America? When are you coming to visit? When are you going to adopt a child?’ And my family here? Well, they just stopped talking to me when I married a woman.

What a load of bullshit. You deserve better than that.

I know.

The school bell rang, and Pavlina glanced at her watch. Gods, it’s ten to seven already!

Several crows swooped down, landing on the fence beside Mrs. Selkie. She startled at their sudden presence. The biggest one cawed like an alarm at Pavlina.

I know. I know. I’m going, Corbin. Pavlina lifted her hands up in surrender, stubbed the cigarette out on the side of the chain-link fence, and tossed it into the auto shop trash can. She joined Mrs. Selkie on the walk back to the school’s interior, thinking that they must be the only two teachers not already waiting for students at their class doors.

To her left, she noticed a disheveled blond man running for his life from the staff parking lot. He dressed like a professor from the 80s, and his long, golden hair tousled around his face in a frantic halo. The attaché he carried fell open. Papers flew all over the street between the teacher parking lot and the school. He stooped to snatch them up and stuff them back into his briefcase. The cars behind him honked their horns. He didn’t even notice.

Who’s that? Pavlina pointed to the comedy of errors running by.

New teacher from New York. He just came in yesterday. So, no one but me and Principal Cailleach have met him yet. His name is Mr. Finn. He’s teaching Magical Application.

That man is a teacher? Pavlina couldn’t believe her ears. He looks like he’s been up all night on a bender.

Mrs. Selkie shrugged. Might have. He’s only teaching because he’s got one hundred years of community service from the Council of Pantheons. Sounds like he’s supposed to spend his last decade here.

Pavlina scrunched her nose up in disgust. Who’s getting punished? Him or us?

An invisible ice pick stabbed Finn repeatedly in the temples. Poison—that was the only way he would refer to Irish Car Bombs for the rest of eternity now—oozed from his pores. His skin, slick like cold, wet rubber, made him want to vomit what he hadn’t already thrown up that morning. 

Despite the ground swaying like a ship deck, Finn’s feet found their way to Annie Lytle High School’s entrance. His new boss greeted the students that filed in while monitoring the volunteers distributing schedules and school maps. Principal Cailleach’s pale, corpse-like eyes met his. She ignored the volunteers handing out papers and laced her fingers at her waist. Finn swallowed down a chill lump in his throat.

The ground no longer fluctuated. Instead, it pulled him down like a magnet. Finn lifted his leaden feet with cumbersome effort, his eyes never leaving the Principal’s icy stare. She waited for him, ignoring everyone else in the crowded hallway.

With significant struggle, Finn reached her. He gulped and dreamed up his best excuse. You wouldn’t believe the morning I’ve—

Oh, I would believe it. Principal Cailleach’s words slapped him across the face like a winter wind. "I can see your morning all over your face. It probably started with disorientation in your sweat-dampened sheets. Then, you moved on to hovering over your toilet while cursing yourself for all the liquor you drank the night before. Afterward, you remembered you’re a teacher with another ten years of community service to get through. Does that sound about right?

It was frightening how close to the mark she came.

My apologies.

I don’t want your apologies. Principal Cailleach crossed her arms over her chest. I want the teacher the Council of Pantheons promised me. Now, get to your classroom, Mr. MacCool.

Mr. Finn. I go by Mr. Finn with my students, he said. Principal Cailleach pursed her lips. But you can call me Mr. MacCool.

Go.

Finn nodded and walked down the western wing of the school where they housed all the magic-focused classes. He had only seen his classroom the day before.  He managed to place his boxes of lab supplies and paperwork inside. He also made sure to put his precious book into the locked file cabinet, knowing it would be safer on protected school grounds than in his cheap rental home. Other than that, he hadn’t prepared his room at all. Gods, I can’t even remember the room number they gave me. Finn could have better prepared if the Council of Pantheons cared to give him more than a week’s notice before flying him down here. A wave of bitterness rolled through him. Ninety years so far without Oisína or his full powers. For what? So, I broke some arbitrary rules about immortals not getting involved in wars. Mr. Finn held firm to the belief that had he not gotten involved in the Great War, Europe would have found itself in even bigger turmoil within a decade or two; perhaps even the entire world would have gotten involved.

As Finn walked down the hall, he glanced at the doors. Teachers stood at their class entrances, greeting their new students with smiles and syllabi. He couldn’t force affectionate behavior like other teachers did. The way he saw it, he needed to make sure the kids knew the science of magic and nothing more. He enjoyed that part of teaching and felt pride in his students’ achievements. Getting close to people he may only know for a few years, though, wasn’t something he cared to do. That never ended well.

The teachers at Annie Lytle seemed to have embraced Florida’s sunshine. Their effortless smiles brightened the hallways as they laughed and high-fived their new students. Some even went to musical lengths that first day. One teacher, dressed in purple from head to toe, sang to her class as if they were small children. Another wore clothes better suited for basketball right after the bell rang. He rapped his greeting. That one’s trying too hard. Finn felt certain he wouldn’t find anyone to relate to at this school—then he saw her.

Dressed in a black turtleneck with matching slacks, the darkest, most alluring woman leaned against the doorframe to her classroom. Her chin-length black waves had a Flapperesque feel. Black cat-eye glasses, straight out of the fifties, brought his attention to her big, brown eyes framed by long lashes. Her beautiful, serious face had so enthralled him, it took a moment before he noticed any other part of her.

Please tell me we’re neighbors, he whispered to himself.

She turned her eyes his way, and he wondered if she had heard him.

I hope you’re the person teaching across the hall from me, she called out.

Finn glanced at the door she pointed at. Its number matched the one on the key hanging on his lanyard. Yes. Nice to meet you. He walked to her, his hand outstretched to shake hers. 

In response, she crossed her arms over her chest. Your students are waiting for you in my room. I didn’t know when you were going to show up and I didn’t want them in the hallways getting into trouble.

Heat spread across Finn’s face, a blush burning bright on his pale skin. Ah, yes. So sorry about that. I’m usually more together than this.

She stepped closer to him, her face mere inches from his ear. She had a unique, herbal scent. It reminded Finn of something. Chrysanthemum and cloves? Like a bouquet in a funeral arrangement.

"Wash your mouth out