Chapter One
Dalton Academy, Westerville, October 15th, 2010
Blaine straightened his tie and adjusted the cuffs of his blazer, feeling a tad nervous as he waited for the chamber doors to open. He'd been preparing for this day his entire life. This was the moment he claimed his legacy.
When the doors swung open, he drew a deep breath, straightened to his full five foot, eight inches, head held high, and stepped forward into the sanctuary. There were more than a dozen boys already inside, all wearing the same blue blazer and red and blue striped tie. Most of them smiled reassuringly at him as he proceeded to the long table at the back of the room, in front of the fireplace. There were five chairs at the table.
Wes stood behind one of the chairs, one off to the right of center. David stood behind the one just left of center. Blaine stood in front of the table, and lit one of five candles in front of the center seat. There was a moment of silence, before Wes spoke.
"In eighteen-seventeen, five men arrived in this territory from Europe, seeking a refuge upon which to build a new Circle. Henry Dalton, Tobias Thompson, Daniel Anderson, Salomon Hummel, and Victor Montgomery chose this land to settle, and created The Dalton Circle. Other Lines were welcomed into the coven over time, and as the founders married and produced heirs, the Circle grew and prospered.
"Sadly, Henry's only son, Jefferson Dalton perished in the Civil War, without producing an heir, ending the Dalton Line. Our forefathers vowed to honor his memory by keeping The Dalton Circle intact." He bowed respectfully to the empty seat at the center of the table. "The remaining four founding lines ruled the Circle wisely, and with compassion, until one of their own vanished."
He acknowledged the empty chair to his right. "Now, it is time for The Anderson Heir to take his rightful place among the council. Blaine Devon Anderson, do you swear to the best of your ability to uphold the rules of the Circle, and to protect its members, and those weaker than yourself?"
Blaine respectfully bowed his head. "I do," he said.
Wes drew his ceremonial dagger, and reached for Blaine's hand. "Do you seal your vow with the blood of your ancestors?"
"I do," Blaine repeated, offering his hand for Wes.
The older boy pricked the pad of Blaine's thumb with the tip of the knife, drawing a bead of blood. Blaine held his finger over the flame of the candle he had lit, letting the drop of blood fall, mixing with the melted wax. "The vow is accepted," Wes intoned. "Take your seat, and may the Goddess guide your judgement in all things."
Blaine moved around the table to the chair on David's left. As one, the three men sat down, and the rest of the circle let out a cheer.
David cleared his throat and stood from his seat and the excited chatter immediately died down. "On to our priority point," he started, looking towards Nick Duval and Jeff Sterling. "Any progress on locating the living Hummel heir, boys? The sacred scroll does still show that the Hummel line was active, so we know it has not died out like so many others."
Nick stood and cleared his throat. "There are currently two hundred and thirty six males with the surname Hummel. Of those, there are twenty seven under the age of thirty. Five of those live here in Ohio, two in Indiana, seven in Illinois, one in New York, and the others overseas."
Jeff stood and clasped his hands behind his back. "We have ruled out the Hummels overseas, as after much research and discussion, we do not believe that Ethan Hummel would have returned to where the danger was greatest. If his goal was to completely disappear, he wouldn't have gone somewhere he'd be easy to find."
Wes considered the two boys' words. "You speak like Ethan was traveling alone. Do you not believe Devon was with him, wherever he went? They disappeared at the same time."
"We think it's more likely that they started traveling together, but eventually separated for safety reasons," Nick said. "Also, there's no record of any Andersons other than Blaine's direct line in the surrounding areas of any of the Hummels."
"Plus," Jeff offered, "there was no mention of Devon in the only letter Ethan's father received months after their disappearance. It merely stated that he would not return, and that his father should not mourn him. Your grandfather tried using a tracking spell on the letter to try and find him," he nodded his head towards David, "But Ethan had used a blocking spell to make it untraceable."
"The only other hint, was that mysterious package Ethan's brother and sister-in-law received in the mail some years later," Nick concluded.
Wes sighed and scrubbed his face. "I really wish we knew what happened that night. Who killed Winston? Why did Ethan and Devon disappear? And what about Andrew Smythe?" He sighed again. "What about the five Hummels living here in Ohio?" he asked, feeling much older than his seventeen years.
Jeff perked up a bit. "The most promising of the five under thirty, is a sixteen year old boy who lives in Lima." He gave his head a bit of a shake. "Honestly, Nick and I were surprised to find so many in general with that surname. We didn't think it was all that common."
Blaine spoke for the first time since taking his seat. "What do you know about this boy in Lima?"
"Not much," Nick said. "We've been able to find out that his name is Kurt and he goes to McKinley High School. His dad owns a car garage. But that's about all we've been able to learn about him."
Wes looked contemplative for a moment. "I just realized that the heir apparent may not even have any idea that they are the heir or even that they're a witch. Unlike Johnathan Anderson, Ethan's brother decided not to take the vow and step up in his brother's place, so the Hummel chair has been empty ever since. I wouldn't put it past him to have wiped the knowledge of their magic since Ethan's brother turned his back on it."
"If I may?" Trent said, standing and addressing the council. "I volunteer to go to McKinley and see what I can learn about this Kurt Hummel. If he is the heir, he is the key to finding out the truth about my great great uncle's murder."
"That's not a bad idea," David said. "Bold move, Nixon."
Wes nodded his head. "Right, David, you can help Trent make those arrangements. The rest of you keep your eyes and ears peeled. I didn't want to say anything, but I heard a conversation my father was having on the phone a few weeks ago. The Smythes might be considering returning to Ohio."
"Didn't your great great grandfather banish them from the country?" Beatz asked.
"He was able to banish them from The Dalton Circle, and Dalton, but he didn't have the power or the authority to banish them from the country," Wes said with an indignant sigh. "My father says great great grandfather Ray spent a large portion of his adult life in law trying to get them banished from the country, but was unsuccessful."
"Why would they return now?" Thad asked. "The timing seems awfully suspicious."
"Not a clue. But it can't be anything good," Wes said.
…
"Yo, Kurt!" Mercedes called out, hurrying to catch up with her best friend Friday afternoon. "Tina and I were thinking of going to see the new Marvel movie after school. Wanna come with us?"
Kurt sighed, shutting his locker and turning to face her. "As fun as that sounds, Cedes, I can't. I promised my dad I'd clean out the attic today."
"Why? Planning a yard sale or something?" she asked.
He shrugged. "I don't know. He was kind of vague about it. Just saying it was something that was long overdue and that now was the best time to do it."
"Well, maybe you'll find some long forgotten family treasure up there. I gotta get to algebra. I'll see you in Glee later."
Kurt snorted. "Right, because my family is just so entertaining," he said, rolling his eyes. "See you in Glee. Sorry I can't come with you guys."
Neither of them noticed the new boy lingering a few lockers down as they parted ways.
…
Later that afternoon, Kurt was swearing softly under his breath as he brushed yet another cobweb out of his hair.
"I should have opted for that bandana," he muttered. At least he remembered to wear clothes he didn't mind getting dirty. He shifted another box down from the top of the pile, dragging the large garbage bag he'd been throwing away things they didn't really need behind him.
However, Kurt underestimated the weight of the box and he stumbled into a pile behind him, falling into the boxes and knocking the stack over. Several boxes scattered across the little open space he'd managed to clear so far and there was a heavy thud as something else seemed to clutter down after the boxes.
Kurt groaned, trying to ignore the sudden ache in his right shoulder from where it had slammed into one of the bottom boxes. He had little time to account for his injuries though because his eyes fell on a bit of stone peeking out from behind another stack of boxes.
Wincing as he shifted onto his knees to get a better look, he moved a couple of the smaller boxes out of his way. The alabaster white object was about the size of a football, and shaped like an urn, but there was no lid. Instead it appeared to be carved from a single piece of stone, which would account for the heavy weight of it as he reached out to pick it up.
Almost immediately, however, he jerked his hand back. Whatever the thing was, it was unusually warm to the touch. Kurt had never seen anything like it before and he wondered if his dad even knew about it.
Taking a deep breath, he reached his hand forward again, cringing slightly as the heat flooded his fingers, but pressing forward and picking the object up. He didn't have a clue what he was holding, but it looked as if it might be several years old, an antique of some kind, perhaps.
"Kurt?" he heard his dad call out. Kurt frowned. He hadn't realized it was that late, if his dad was home already.
"I'm still up in the attic," he shouted down the stairs, not looking away from the object in his hand. "I'll put dinner on in a few minutes."
He heard footsteps on the stairs and a few moments later, Burt Hummel appeared at the top of the attic stairway. "Kid, it looks like a tornado hit this attic. I thought I told you to clean it up," he chuckled.
"Sorry dad," Kurt said, still holding the object. "I kind of fell trying to get a heavier box down. And you shouldn't be up here. All this dust isn't good for your health."
Burt rolled his eyes. "What's that?" he asked, indicating the object in Kurt's hands.
"I don't know," Kurt admitted. "It fell when I knocked all the boxes over. I thought you might know what it was."
His dad shook his head. "Most of this junk has been up here since my grandad was your age."
Instead of looking impressed, Kurt looked appalled. "Dad! We're part of a family of hoarders!"
That brought a chuckle from the elder Hummel. "No, just lazy people who didn't want to bother cleaning out the attic. Come on, let's get dinner. You can work on this some more tomorrow."
Kurt wrinkled his nose as he stood up, staving off the wince from his aching shoulder. He didn't want his dad to start worrying over him. "Spending my Saturday cleaning the attic sounds like less fun than helping you in the garage, and I get paid for doing that."
For some reason he couldn't explain, Kurt refused to just put the stone object back and insisted on taking it downstairs with him. He kept thinking about the stone item as he was cooking dinner, and wasn't really paying attention to what he was doing. If he had, he probably would have freaked out when the box of rice he was blindly reaching for in the cupboard suddenly slid into his hand of its own volition.
He couldn't explain it, but he was drawn to the object, almost like there was an invisible thread that was connecting him to it. He was aware that such a feeling should frighten him, but he felt oddly comforted by it, like some unknown invisible protection.
"Kurt?" The teenager jumped, glad he wasn't holding anything or stirring the pot. He'd been so distracted by the stone object, he hadn't noticed his dad standing in the kitchen doorway. "Are you okay kid?" the man asked.
"Oh, guess I was just daydreaming. Dinner is almost ready. Can you set the table?"
"Sure kid," Burt said. "What are we having?"
"Rice, and uh…" It wasn't until then that Kurt realized he didn't remember cooking anything but the rice, but when he looked down at the pan, found a cheesy chicken and rice casserole with broccoli. He frowned. When had he made that?
"Smells great, whatever it is," Burt said, setting out the plates and silverware.
"Right, um, I hope you like it dad," Kurt said, trying to sound like he wasn't confused by his own cooking.
For the rest of the night, Kurt tried to block out the stone from his mind as he cleaned the kitchen and began his nightly moisturizing ritual, but he kept glancing over at it on his book shelf, where he had placed it after dinner. Every now and then he swore he heard noises coming from inside the object.
"I must be going out of my mind." Tomorrow, he'd take it to that antique shop on Franklin and see if they can tell him anything about it. He groaned when he remembered he still needed to finish the attic, but decided he could do that in the afternoon and go to the shop in the morning.
As he tried to sleep, he swore once more he heard a noise from the object. It almost sounded like a voice, but he couldn't understand any words. It just sounded like gibberish to him. He placed his spare pillow over his head, blocking out the noise.
…
The boys waited patiently for the arrival of the member that was the purpose of this meeting. As Trent had graciously volunteered to temporarily transfer to McKinley to gather information on Kurt Hummel, he was having to make a two hour drive just to attend the gathering.
"Do you think he's got anything yet?" Thad asked Wes as the boys sat in an uncommon, but comfortable silence.
Wes shook his head. "He's only been there a couple of days. Unless this Kurt blatantly uses magic in front of him, I doubt he will have much to report yet. We have to be patient."
Just then, the doors opened and Trent walked in. All of the boys sat up straighter in their seats and Wes regarded the younger boy with curious eyes. "Well? What have you garnered so far?" he asked.
Trent moved to the center of the floor, a tradition for when a non-founding line member was meant to have majority time on the speaking floor.
"No signs of magic yet," he started. "But after observing his personality, that doesn't surprise me. On the off-chance that he's aware of his magic, if he's the right Hummel, he doesn't strike me as the type who would publicly display his skills. In fact, he comes off as a private kind of person. However, the one thing that stood out to me right from the start was how closely he resembles Ethan Hummel. It's a match on the same level as the rest of you Founders Heirs."
Wes, David and Blaine exchanged a look. "It sounds as if this could be the one," David said. "Is there a way to bring him here to Dalton for the rest of us to observe?"
Before Wes could speak, Trent cleared his throat. "I may have a suggestion. In my few days there, I noticed that Hummel is a frequent target of the jocks' bullying. Perhaps a lure spell would trigger events to send him here, at least for a day? Use the idea of getting away from his tormentors for a while as the bait?"
Wes looked thoughtful for a moment. "Is he in any clubs, did you notice?" he asked.
"I overheard him talking to one of his friends this afternoon. They told each other they'd see each other in Glee, so I think it's safe to say he's in the Glee Club."
"Perfect," Wes said. "Isn't McKinley home to New Directions? I can pull a couple of fast strings or spells and get the Warblers into Sectionals with them and we can go from there."
Blaine was frowning, a sense of urgency filling him. "I don't think we can wait until Sectionals. I think we need to find out now if this is the fourth Heir or not."
"I'll get us on the Sectionals program," Wes said. "And David can couple it with the lure spell. Us being on the program will at least make him aware of us. We can use the lure spell to cause a chain of events that will make him want to come here."
Blaine's eyes flashed golden for a moment, and in his mind, he saw a gleaming white stone object sitting on a shelf, before he blinked his eyes, the vision fading.
"Blaine, what did you see?" David said, having caught the moment.
Blaine shook his head, trying to clear it. "Some sort of gleaming white stone object. I didn't recognize it, but I know it is very important."
"Well, there's a development," Thad said.
"When Kurt was talking to his friend, she invited him to a movie and he declined because he said he had to clean his attic," Trent said. "I don't know if that's relevant, but it sounds like something that could be mixed in with a bunch of old junk. Do you guys want me to remain at McKinley longer to see if I can pick up on anything else?"
The three Founding Heirs conversed privately for a moment, before Wes responded. "Stay for at least one more week. Perhaps you can find something we can use to narrow down the lure spell."
"As you wish," Trent replied with a nod of his head.
…
Saturday morning after Burt left for the garage, Kurt was debating with himself whether to follow through with his plan to take the stone object to the antique shop, but every time he went to pick up the item, he changed his mind.
They'll want to buy it off you. Kurt didn't know where the voice had come from or why it sounded echoey, and he wondered if it might have just been in his head. But the words struck a deep chord with him and he began believing that they were right. The antique shop would want the stone object for their store and the very thought of parting with it filled the teenager with a dread unlike he'd ever felt before.
Eventually he gave up on the idea, and left the object on his bedroom shelf as he went up into the attic to finish cleaning.
He stopped on the top step, jaw dropping when he glanced around in stunned confusion. The attic was bare of boxes, only a few items remaining, neatly organized in one corner. The cobwebs and dust were all vanquished, and even the small curtain on the tiny window looked as if it had been freshly laundered and pressed.
Kurt was stunned. He knew the attic had been far from being clean when he'd left the night before. He wondered momentarily if his dad had just decided to do it himself last night after they had separated for the evening. But one, he would have heard his dad lumbering around up there, and two, Burt was nowhere near this meticulous with his cleaning. And Kurt was certain he hadn't returned to do it, so what had happened? At least, he thought he was certain. It wasn't until this moment Kurt realized he'd had a dreamless sleep. Those were concerning because those were usually the nights he slept-walked. He realized that in all his distraction with the stone object the night before, he'd forgotten to take his Ambien.
He ran his hands over his face, scrubbing at his eyes. If he had done this in his sleep, it would be just another thing on the long list of unusual things that he'd done subconsciously.
Shaking his head once more, he turned and headed back downstairs, pausing outside the door to his room. He fought the urge to just go and listen to the noises from the object for the rest of the day, and instead forced himself to continue to the kitchen and begin prepping a roast for dinner.
It was as he was putting the roast into the oven that the doorbell rang and Kurt glanced towards the front door with a confused look on his face. He wasn't expecting anybody. Mercedes had a last-minute weekend trip to her grandparents so she was out of town, and Rachel...well, that girl seemed to think weekends were perfect for maximizing on her vocal exercises. Also, Kurt still wasn't sure he could stomach the idea of her alone in his house, which was why he always invited someone else whenever Rachel came along, to use as a buffer so to speak. And he wasn't really close enough with the other Glee girls for them to come, except for maybe Brittany, but she had weekend dates with Santana and AA meetings for Lord Tubbington.
Still perplexed, it took another ring of the doorbell before Kurt remembered he should probably answer it. He set the oven mitts on the counter and made for the door.
When he opened it, he was surprised to find the new kid standing on his doorstep and he wondered how he'd gotten his address.
"Apologies," the boy said. "But, I think this was delivered to my house by mistake. The post office is still sorting out address changes," he said. He held out an issue of Vogue magazine, with Kurt's name on it.
"Wow," Kurt said. "I don't think that's ever happened before. Um...thanks?" He wasn't entirely sure what to say to the kid. He didn't know him, after all.
"No thanks necessary," the boy replied. "I'm Trent by the way. I just moved here and started at McKinley last week."
Kurt nodded. "I think I saw you a couple of times. I'm Kurt. Where did you move from?" he asked just to be polite.
"Westerville," Trent replied. "My dad transferred offices. He wasn't getting on well with a couple of his co-workers back there."
"Oh, sorry to hear that. I hope the jocks at school haven't given you a hard time. Anyone not wearing a Letterman's jacket is considered fair game."
"I think I'm still fly-on-the-wall status," Trent said, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck. "So um...that kid in the wheelchair, do you know him?"
"Artie? Yeah, he's in Glee with me. Have you met him yet? He's a pretty good guy. He thinks he's gangsta, but he's more marshmallow."
Trent shook his head. "No, I haven't met him," he said. "I just...think he's cute, that's all."
Kurt raised an eyebrow at that. "Oh, well, I'm not sure what to tell you on that front. I mean, he's dating a girl, but she's sort of dating another girl behind his back, and sometimes he gives off Bi vibes, so…" Kurt realized he was babbling.
Trent looked at him for a moment that made Kurt feel like the boy was staring directly into his soul, before he smiled and took a step back. "Well, I just wanted to make sure that magazine got to its rightful owner. I won't bother you anymore."
"Oh, well, it hasn't been a bother," Kurt replied. "Thank you for bringing this by, though."
"You're welcome," Trent said. "It was nice to meet you. I better get back. I still have to finish unpacking."
"Good luck with that," Kurt said, and watched the boy walk away. He closed the door and turned towards the living room, but stopped as he glanced at the cover of the magazine. The published date couldn't be right. This was October. The magazine claimed to be the December issue.
"Must be a misprint," he muttered to himself.
As Kurt disappeared back into the kitchen, Trent was sitting out in his car and dialing Wes' number on his phone.
"Do you have any news?" Wes asked.
"I've just been at Kurt's house," Trent told him. "Well, on the doorstep. Wes, there's an unknown energy source in that house. I could feel its pulse all the way from outside the front door."
There was a moment of silence as the older boy considered the possibilities. "Could it be the object Blaine saw in his vision?"
"That's a possibility. But we won't know for sure unless we come up with a reason to get inside and check it out."
Wes let out a sigh. "Just keep an eye on him for now, see what you can find to help with the lure spell."
"You got it," Trent said. "I'll keep you posted if I find out anything else worth sharing right away."