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Cruel Legacy
 Cruel Legacy
Heartless Heirs of Canyon Falls
Book 1
Dakota Lee
Copyright © 2023 Dakota Lee
ISBN:978-1-961378-00-1

Model Photographer: Micro

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under the copyright reserved above,
no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a
retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic,
mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written
permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents
are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any
resemblance or similarities to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is
entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various
products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without
permission. The publication/ use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated
with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

This book is licensed for your personal use. If you are reading this book and did
not purchase it, or it was not purchased by an individual or organization, for your
use, then you should return it and purchase your own copy.

Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

Created with Vellum
 Acknowledgments

I can’t believe it. This is my fourth book, and it feels like it’s the first
one all over again. I guess the nerves never really go away. First and
foremost, I’d like to thank my children, for putting up with all the
evenings when I ordered take-out, or made them find something
microwaveable to eat, because I was too exhausted to cook.
I’d also like to thank them for putting up with my non-stop
chatter about my writing process and story ideas, even when their
eyes were glazing over.
I promise to find some book friends, I can talk story concepts
and publishing goals with.
To the amazing BETA Readers who took time to read and provide
feedback for this story. Thank you times a million. I’m still nervous,
but your input helped me be a little less nervous. (Please see
above… anybody wanna be my sounding board moving forward, so I
can give my kids a break?)
And to the readers, thank you for picking up this book, and thank
you for giving me a chance. I hope you enjoy your visit to Canyon
Falls, and decide to stick around to see what happens next.
 Contents

CONTENT WARNING
Prologue
1. Theona LaReaux
2. Pax
3. Thea
4. Holden Sullivan
5. Thea
6. Thea
7. Pax
8. Finley Jefferson Rhodes, III
9. Thea
10. Pax
11. Deacon Wolfe
12. Pax
13. Thea
14. Holden
15. Thea
16. Pax
17. Holden
18. Finn
19. Deacon
20. Thea
21. Thea
22. Holden
23. Thea
24. Finn
25. Pax
26. Thea
27. Thea
28. Thea
29. Holden
30. Finn
31. Thea
32. Pax
33. Thea
34. Pax
35. Thea
36. Finn
37. Pax
38. Finn
39. Thea
40. Deacon
41. Thea
42. Thea
43. Holden
44. Thea
45. Holden
46. Deacon
47. Finn
48. Thea
49. Thea
50. Thea
51. Thea
52. Holden
53. Thea
54. Deacon
55. Thea
56. Holden
57. Thea
58. Pax
59. Thea
60. Thea
61. Thea
62. Pax
63. Thea
64. Holden
65. Thea
66. Pax
67. Thea
68. Thea
Epilogue

Afterword
About the Author
 CONTENT WARNING

T he following subject matter may be discussed in passing and/

or be described in detail on page:

Why Choose
Graphic Sexual Descriptions
Child Abandonment
Talk of Loss of Child
Student/ Teacher Relationship
Bullying (By Harem Members and Others)
Knife Play
Blood Play
Manipulation
Non-Con
Dub-Con
Somnophilia
Breath Play
Primal
Violence
Graphic Assault (Physical and Sexual)
Rape/ Attempted Rape
Your safety and well being is important to me. Please
carefully consider these warnings before reading this book.
Bow down and plead

Before those who lead

Leave your will and moral compass at the door
Bleed and cower. Our rival devoured.

The Triumvirate. Legacy Born.

Prologue
 Paxton Cox

“W hat do you think?”

I’m in the leadership room of my frat house with Garret
Marques the fraternity recruitment coordinator. We both
have stacks of papers in front of us with the names of potential
candidates for joining Rho Beta Psi, our fraternity. It’s a solid
selection pool, but none of the names stand out as being
exceptional.
We also have copies of the membership rosters and prospective
candidates for all the other fraternities on campus. Without question,
Rho Beta Psi is the best fraternity, yet our enrollment numbers have
been down over the last two years, and it’s not because we aren’t
accepting new members.
The Student Engagement Center sent out a campus wide survey,
asking students how they view school life and extra-curricular
activities. The results were less than flattering. Rho Beta Psi throws
the best parties, we have the best booze, and the sexiest women
shaking their asses; our philanthropic endeavors are widely reported,
and our charitable donations unmatched.
Our alumni are judges, professional athletes, and world leaders,
yet, the results showed less than ten percent of the guys who took
part in the survey want to join our fraternity. A follow up question
asked why, and those answers pretty much said the same thing.
Why bother pledging when they know they’ll get rejected, because
we’re too exclusive. Too elite.
 I think it’s a bunch of bullshit. Trash responses from people
bitching because they know they wouldn’t make the cut or we’ve
already rejected them during pledge season. How can you be too
elite? The more exclusive you are, the more prestige you get, the
more power you accumulate. We’d lose credibility if we accepted
everyone who pledges.
If it were up to me, I wouldn’t be wasting my time with this
batch of names or care that our numbers are down. We should only
want people joining who genuinely want to be here. But the
organization behind Rho Beta Psi doesn’t see it the same way. Fewer
prospects for our fraternity means fewer prospects for them.
The League of the Daggered Ravens. A secret society, so secret,
you’ve likely never even heard of them. You’ll never find their
membership list, or see anything printed in the newspaper or online
blogs about their existence. They’re ghosts, not even whispered
about, and yet they’ve influenced, erected, and decimated countries
and careers; with a single call or swipe of a pen generation after
generation.
I turn over another student profile and read the hobbies on the
back. World politics being decided twenty years from now could very
well be impacted by one of these names.
Garrett’s still waiting for an answer to my question. I give him an
answer he probably won’t like hearing. “I think this assignment they
gave you is a test. It’s not supposed to yield prospects. It’s the kind
of task we all get from time to time. Busy work.”
I’ve heard the rumors. Certain members of The League think it’s
time to expand our recruitment pool, but I don’t really believe it’ll
happen. It shouldn’t happen. The foundation by which the league
operates has worked for centuries. Why change it?
Garrett sighs. I hear the frustration in his voice. “I’ve been at it
all summer. Wouldn’t they have told me to stop looking by now?”
Would they? It’s hard to say. I’ve overheard a few conversations I
shouldn’t have and I know those old fucks have us doing a lot of
things just to amuse themselves. “Maybe. It’s possible whatever
committee is spearheading this recruitment drive will start the pre-
selection process, but something tells me no one you suggest will
make it to the final ceremony.”
I drop the profile I’m holding. “But by then, The League will have
already learned all the applicant’s secrets and taken advantage of
whatever usefulness they have.”
By the time the prospects are officially rejected, their families will
be so indebted to The League they won’t know how to untangle
themselves from their clutches. This is how the council builds power.
This is how members advance up the leadership ladder within the
league and stay in control, well past their prime.
A council position isn’t easy to win, and the governing term has
the longevity of a Supreme Court appointment. I’ve only heard of
two transfers of power over the last forty or fifty years. Those seats
came up for grabs when the council members “retired”.
In our world retire, is just another name for too cognitively
disoriented to make sound decisions or dead. Case in point, the
oldest councilman is eighty-three years old, and there’s no reason to
think he won’t be healthy enough to do the job for another ten
years, while he continues to cheat on his forty-two-year-old wife,
with his twenty-seven-year-old mistress.
I’m not judging. If his saggy old balls give those ladies thrills, I
say fuck their brains out until his heart quits. In our world, everyone
has their thing and with power comes opportunity. It’s been drilled in
my head from an early age, whatever I want in this world is mine for
the taking, and I. Want. It. All.
I look back down at the stack of folders in front of me. If helping
Garrett go over a list of names to help bolster our fraternity numbers
gets me in the council’s good graces, I’m happy to do it.
I see the intensity on his face as he pours over another
application. He wants to find that gold ticket prospect and is
desperate to please the council members. To be recognized. To
prove he’s an asset to the organization.
There are two phases to joining The League of the Daggered
Ravens. Pre-selection screening and initiation. If you make it through
pre-selection screening, you become a Prospect. An official member
of the initiation group. Similar to a pledge at a fraternity or sorority.
Prospects are called Wrens and it’s all most initiates really care
about. If you’re a Prospect, you’re on the council’s radar and a friend
for as long as you live. Friends get perks, although the relationship is
never on equal footing. Prospects will always do more for The
League of the Daggered Ravens than The League will ever do for
them.
The prospect period lasts as long or as short as the selection
committee decides. Anyone selected to initiate when the prospect
period ends, will write their ticket in this world.
Not every member in Rho Beta Psi is privy to the existence of
The League of the Daggered Ravens, and not every Prospect or
Initiate advances through the steps at the same level. I’m a legacy
born, which means the men in my family have been members of The
League of the Daggered Ravens since its inception. It also means
the hoops I have to jump through are multi-faceted.
One day, when I’ve done everything they require to prove myself,
I’ll embrace their oath, swear my allegiance to their ranks, and be
reborn a full-fledged member. On that day, the initiate pin I’ll wear
will turn into a brand signifying a bond that cannot be severed or
forsaken.
My life, my loyalty, will belong to The League, and theirs to me in
return. We’ll be an unshakeable, powerful force. I can’t imagine
anything better.
So even though I think this screening process is a waste of my
time, I dig back in. There’s a bigger picture here and I do my part to
support The League.
Chapter 1
 Theona LaReaux

I ’m on the side of the road, standing on a narrow stretch of

asphalt that’s supposed to be a safe pull-off by mile marker two
sixty-six. It’s so safe I’m staring over the side of the cliff. The
embankment is a steep drop of at least fifty feet and I’m hovering
over it like there’s a steel guard rail to protect me from falling. There
isn’t. In fact, there’s no sort of railing at all. Not even a hazard sign,
cone, or construction barricade to warn you about getting too close.
This is definitely not the road to speed along after having
anything to drink. In the daylight, it’s treacherous. At night bathed in
pitch black nothingness, it’s probably deadly. There’s nothing below
me but jagged rock, and yet I see the majestic beauty of this cliff
and feel as calm as I would be if I were sunbathing on a tropical
beach.
My heart rate spikes as I lean over a little further, a laugh falls
from my lips. There’s nothing better than the feeling of adrenaline
pumping through my veins. If this were any other day, and I had my
stuff, I’d scale down the side to see what’s at the bottom beyond my
line of sight.
Unfortunately, I don’t have my gear. I’m short on time, and I
have at least another hour of driving ahead of me. I need to get
moving if I want to reach my destination before it gets dark. I close
my eyes once more, inhaling deeply, committing this feeling to
memory before returning to my car.
 My shoulders deflate as soon as I’m settled in the driver’s seat. I
doubt there’s any room for fun and excitement where I’m heading. If
the stilted calls, texts and emails I’ve received from my aunt and
uncle are any clue, I’d say they don’t believe in fun.
I start the car, my gaze sliding over the envelope on the
passenger seat. It’s the letter from my social worker officially
discharging me from the Nags Creek Independent Living Program.
Independent Living is the post placement program for foster
children who have technically aged out of the system. As long as you
work, are attending school or some type of training program, or
have a medical disability that prevents you from being able to do
one of those things, the state continues providing medical coverage,
employment assistance, a small living stipend and subsidizes your
housing to help you transition to adulthood.
I was all set to start paying the rent on my own in eighteen
months, but my case worker threw me a curve ball and sprung this
aunt and uncle into the mix. After years of being on my own, here
come some people I don’t even know wanting to take me in. I roll
my eyes at their “generosity”. Now they wanna help, when the hard
part is done and I no longer need it.
I was planning to tell them to stuff their helpfulness up their
asses but Mrs. Sprout, my social worker, made it a point to tell me
over and over again how this move was a great opportunity I
couldn’t pass up. It provides me with a chance to graduate from an
Ivy League College without owing a mountain of debt.
For that reason and only that reason I packed up my two-
bedroom apartment and loaded everything I own into the back of
the moving van my aunt and uncle sent.
My things shipped last week, and I opted to drive instead of
using the airline ticket they wanted to buy. Flying would have been
faster, but I needed these endless hours on the road to convince
myself this move was a good idea. Spoiler alert… I still need
convincing. I’ve turned this rental car around at least three times
already, but I’ve never gotten more than a few miles down the road
before turning around again. My nine-hour drive is heading into
unlucky hour number thirteen. My favorite ring tone cuts in over the
music playing on the radio. I stab the button on my corded
microphone to answer. “Sup, girl?”
“Well, since you answered, I guess this means you’re still not
there yet. Are you still sitting outside the truck stop on the edge of
town?” My best friend Sasha knows me so well. Because I did spend
thirty minutes at the truck stop before getting on the road this
morning. I wait until the background noise on her end dies down
before answering. “I’ve got another thirty minutes or so before I
make it to the last rest stop, then the navigation system says it’s
another ten minutes to the turnoff from there.”
“And fifteen miles to town.” She says repeating the directions I
told her last night and this morning.
“Yup.”
“And you said you won’t have cell reception?”
“The map says this place is surrounded by mountains and dead
air. Shit, girl, I’m already out of range for my prepaid plan. I’m
shocked I’ve even got a signal right now. But I paid for two months
of service just in case. It might be spotty with hella roaming
charges, but you know there’s no way I was gonna risk not being
able to call you when this shit goes sideways.”
“Now Thea, don’t be like that. We’re expecting good things to
come from this.”
I roll my eyes at my bestie’s expectations. I appreciate her trying
to put a spin on it, but I’m less inclined to believe this move is the
answer to all my unspoken prayers. Shit, I don’t have prayers
because I stopped believing they’d come true long before I wound
up in the system.
When you have no clue who your father is, and your mom’s
known as the town drunk, you quickly learn there’s no such thing as
the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus and Happily Ever After.
My friendship with Sasha is the only thing that’s endured my
many moves and school changes. We met when we were seven, at
one of the first foster homes they sent me to. That was about six
months before her grandparents came and got her. I spent another
year in the home before my foster mother had a heart attack
requiring me to move to a new home.
 I went back to my mom a little bit after that and Sasha and I
wound up in the same school. Then the cycle started. Mom would be
sober. Things would be good. Then she'd meet some asshole and
the minute things didn’t work out, she’d spiral out of control. First,
she’d stop going to work, so there would be no money for paying
the bills and no food in the house to eat. Then she’d trash the place
the moment the landlord confronted her about the unpaid rent, and
let’s not forget my personal favorite… moving us in the middle of the
night like the hounds of hell were on our tail.
I guess I can consider myself lucky I’m an only child and learned
to make do with the situation. I rationed out food when it was in the
house, or swiped an extra lunch from school, but if there had been
another kid around there would’ve been way more days I’d have
gone hungry.
I zone out while Sasha yells at one of her cousins. She still lives
with her grandparents, who took in three of their other
grandchildren. It’s always a full house over there.
Sasha is happy and loved, but I know she’s waiting for the day
she has enough money to move out on her own. She’s crashed with
me plenty of times, but we never made it official since it was against
the rules for Independent Living to have anyone live with you. We
had plans to get a place together just as soon as I turned twenty-
one and finished the program. We still might, if this relocation
doesn’t work out.
When there’s a lull in the yelling, I say, “Still busy around there, I
see.”
“Girl, yes. My cousin Casey is here with her man and they’ve got
shit everywhere. It’s like I can’t even get a minute of peace. And
since they’re a couple, Alicia and I had to move into the room with
Ellie. We’re standing on top of each other.”
“I thought Ellie was moving out?”
“She is. Her departure date for basic training got pushed back
another month, but she’s going.”
There’s a scuffling sound, then Sasha groans. “See this is-”
Whatever else she says gets cut off when my phone signal drops.
I crank the radio up, letting the music keep me pumped during this
boring ass drive. I’m in the middle of my road trip concert, when the
Australian voice on the navigation system cuts through my
harmonies. In two miles, take a right at the fork.
I glance down at the screen and see I’m getting closer to the rest
stop. The sun dropped out of the sky when I was talking to Sasha,
but even with my headlights on to brighten up the ink black road, I
can’t make out any signs or landmarks.
A right, in two miles. Okay, I can do that. I scan the right side of
the road, looking for my turnoff.
In a quarter mile, take a right at the fork.
I squint into the darkness and still can’t see where the roads
diverge.
In one thousand feet, take a right at the fork.
I’m leaning forward over the steering wheel trying to make out
something in the dark, but all I see are the white highway lines in
front of me, and trees on my right. I turn down the volume on the
radio and slow my speed.
In five hundred feet, take a right at the fork
Take a right at the fork.
I almost miss it. I guess you could call the tiny sliver of road, a
fork. I cut the wheel sharply, giving the car’s shock absorbers a
workout as I bump along the road. I look down at the navigation
screen again to make sure I’m on the right path. The little line is as
steady as can be. With each bump, I get closer to my destination.
I’m glad the GPS system is confident I’m heading in the right
direction, because the poor excuse of the road in front of me has me
worried I’m about to run into one of these trees. They’re dense as
fuck, no moonlight coming through. I flick on my high beams. I still
can’t see more than a few feet in front of me.
I’m driving slower than a student driver, riding the brakes as if a
deer might dart out from the trees. I’m not usually this slow, but the
car’s a rental and I don’t have money to reimburse my uncle if I get
into an accident. I check to make sure the navigation system is still
getting a signal. It’s been quiet since I Tokyo drifted onto this road
and I’m pretty sure I should have seen the rest stop by now. Maybe
I took the wrong turn.
 Just as I’m about to turn around and head back the other way,
the electronic voice tells me to turn left in half a mile.
I drop my speed, preparing to find another non passable passage
through trees. I’m right. The left-hand turn is more like a dusting of
gravel thrown along a patch of dirt, in the middle of a forest of trees.
I spot a structure in my rear-view mirror. It’s a Rest Area sign with a
red “Closed” sticker slapped across it. Good thing I don’t have to
pee.
This road is a little better than the last one, and after another ten
minutes, I come across a weathered sign telling me Canyon Falls is
five miles away. I take another right when the navigation tells me to,
and cross an old wooden bridge. It creaks and groans with every
thump of the wheels.
I drive over a set of railroad tracks, and past the dilapidated sign
that reads Canyon Falls Township, established 1869. The streets are
quiet and eerily deserted for a Friday night, which only reinforces my
earlier prediction. This place is gonna be the opposite of fun.
I shake the tension out of my hands and shoulders, and crank
my radio back up now that I’m on an actual road. I glance down,
fiddling with the tuner to find a station, and look back up ten-
seconds before a thump hits the car. I slam on the brakes, my heart
in my throat, as I briefly lock eyes with the guy who just slid over
the hood of the car like some kind of action hero. Where the hell did
he come from?
He readjusts his backpack and pulls his hood lower before
running off into the trees on my right.
What the hell?
I’m still staring at the tree line, trying to make sense of what
happened, when my phone alarm goes off. It’s the alert I set for the
time I wanted to arrive at my final destination. The GPS says I’m
twelve minutes away from the house.
I’ll be staying on campus at Canyon Falls University. Move in day
was on Tuesday, and classes started yesterday, but my aunt and
uncle insisted I spend a few days with them so they can help me get
settled in my new town and dorm. I rolled my eyes so hard when
they said that. I’ve never needed help settling anywhere before.
 I can hear Mrs. Sprouts’ voice telling me to stop bringing my
negative past into my positive future. “Every day is a new day that
something amazing can happen.”
She’s genuinely one of those perennial sunshine types, but I’ve
heard her threaten to cut a bitch.
I turn onto the street the GPS has directed me to and slam on
my brakes for the second time tonight. This time, it’s because I’m
sitting at the bottom of a driveway. At the top of it, there’s a massive
gate blocking off a group of houses which can easily take up an
entire block in my old neighborhood.
You can’t always trust technology. The roads were deserted and
the navigation seemed suspect the last hour of my drive. I felt like
one of those penguins in that commercial, wondering if I should just
ignore the GPS and follow my instincts. I do a final route check to
make sure I’m in the right spot. A big red blinking dot marks the
spot, confirming I’m in the right place.
I ease off the brake and creep forward. Good thing there’s a call
box since nobody gave me instructions on how to access the gate.
The gate slides open before I even get my window down. I drive
the winding road, looking for the house number. Thankfully, it’s not
the third house on the left. I’ve seen the movie with that title and
don’t need that bad mojo around me.
Pulling to a stop, I gawk up at the mini-mansion in front of me.
There’s no other way to describe it. There’s this mansion you can
rent for parties in Vegas, that Sasha and I went to once. This house
is smaller than that mansion, but way fucking bigger than any
normal sized family home I’ve ever seen. I suspected these folks had
a few spare dollars in the bank, but to be confronted with this…
I only have to look to the house next door to know they get
fancier the further up the hill you go. My phone still doesn’t have a
signal. They’re probably on private towers out here.
I don’t care how many miles I just drove. I’m still toying with the
idea of fending for myself. This is not my scene. Yeah, fuck this. I’m
going back home. Before I can throw the car in reverse, the front
door to the house opens. Shit. So much for running. They obviously
know I’m here, and with the way they keep opening doors and
gates, they seem hella anxious to get me inside. I kill the ignition
and climb out of the car, taking my time to grab my duffle bag from
the back seat.
When I’ve stalled for as long as I can, I straighten up, sling my
bag over my shoulder, and close the car door with a hip bump. I
make a point of walking around the front of the car before crossing
the driveway to get to the stairs. I count four steps between the
ground and the top landing.
I’m greeted by a stern-looking woman with her bun pulled so
tight it’s pinching her eyes back and lifting her brows so she looks
like a surprised cat
“Finally,” she says before I’m halfway up the steps.
Whatever nerves, doubt, or awe I was feeling evaporates in the
face of her rudeness. “Excuse me?”
“We expected you four hours and seventeen minutes ago.”
“Uh, huh.” Who’s this bitch? I’ve seen a picture of my aunt. This
isn’t her. “Are um, Moira and Scott here?”
“They are not. They were called away unexpectedly for a
business meeting, but will return tomorrow to make sure you’re
ready to begin classes. In the meantime, I’ve been tasked with
getting you settled in for the evening, and as I said, we expected
you hours ago. As it is, everyone has retired for the evening.” She
frowns, “But I suppose I can get someone up to fix you dinner if you
haven’t eaten.”
“I ate a few hours ago.”
She gives me a curt nod and says, “Then you should be fine until
morning.” She turns and crosses the huge entry way, moving
towards the stairs. I guess she senses I’m still rooted in place,
because she says, “Come along. I’ll show you to your rooms. Please
pay attention, so you don’t get lost and wander into any off-limit
sections of the house.”
I close the door and follow after her. “Off limit?” I ask when I
catch up with her on the stairs.
“That’s what I said.” She doesn’t offer any further explanation
about it.
 I listen as she points out wings and quadrants, but none of it
makes any sense. Her pace quickens when we reach the third floor.
She leads me down the hall towards a set of white French paneled
doors which she unlocks with a silver key.
My mouth hinges open when I step across the threshold. I was
expecting another hallway, but we’re standing in the middle of a
large sitting room. I don’t have much time to take it all in, because
we’re still on the move.
She opens another door that leads to the bedroom. She gives me
a brief explanation about the individual temperature control for the
thermostat, tells me I have direct access to the servant’s wing by
dialing zero on the phone or tablet on the dresser, shoves the keys
at me, and leaves.
Minutes pass and I’m still standing in the same spot, trying to
figure out what the hell is actually happening. I’ve spent my whole
life struggling for basic comforts, but my aunt and uncle live like
this?
Mrs. Sprout never actually explained how these people found me,
or went into much detail about them. She assured me they were
properly investigated and their relationship to me has been
confirmed.
Scott is my mother’s cousin, but they grew up together like
siblings, hence the aunt and uncle title. He told Mrs. Sprout my
constant moves made it harder for them to track me down. If it
weren’t for me finally getting my own place with utilities in my
name, the PI would still be collecting a check.
I check my phone. Still no bars. Walking over to the sliding glass
door that leads to the balcony doesn’t help. The first order of
business is to find a new prepaid cell phone provider, because
there’s no way in hell I’m staying here without a way to send an SOS
to my best friend.
I built this day up in my head for weeks. Now that I’m here, I’m
not sure what to do with myself. The adrenaline from the drive and
my Red Bull is wearing off and my body is stiff from sitting for so
many hours. A nice, hot shower should fix that.
 I open the door to what old sour puss called a private en suite,
which I know is just a fancy name for bathroom. My mouth must
have a loose hinge joint because it’s open. Again. This thing looks
like a spa. A huge ass soaker tub sits in the middle of the floor.
The oil rubbed bronze fixtures match the faucets in the Jack and
Jill sinks, and the four shower nozzles protruding from the walls in
the walk-in shower which is big enough for three people. That’s in
addition to the rain shower head suspended from the top of the
ceiling. There’s a half frame tinted glass enclosure, a bench butts up
against the glass. I can’t wait to test the heating capacity and
endurance level of the hot water tank in this house.
I hurry back to the bedroom and fling open the door to the
biggest closet I’ve ever seen. It’s as wide and as deep as the
bedroom, with a sitting area in it, as well as a full-length mirror. It’s
giving off serious dressing room vibes. I walk forward and turn left.
Walk the length of the aisle, then turn right, like I would in a store.
Dresses hang on the middle racks and there’s an entire wall of shoes
on the farthest wall, a dresser on my right.
I open the top drawer and find it’s full of bras and panties. The
next drawer has t-shirts, and the one below it, socks and pjs.
Seeing this stuff reminds me I didn’t see the boxes with the
things I sent ahead. Whose room is this? From what I know, Scott
and Moira never had kids, but that doesn’t mean there’s not another
niece out there who uses this room when she comes to visit. I hear
Sash’s voice in my head telling me not to overreact. My stuff has to
be somewhere in this house, and they probably haven’t gotten
around to getting these things cleared out. I walk back into the
bedroom and fling my duffle bag onto the bed. I always carry two
extra sets of everything with me, so I have a change of clothes and
something to sleep in no matter where I go.
I grab my body wash and loofa and snag a towel from the
warming rack on my way to the shower. The water heats quickly. I’m
used to taking fast showers but tonight, I take advantage of not
having to jump out before the water gets ice cold, or skipping the
hair washing routine because there’s a line forming outside the
bathroom door. There’s no line, and nobody’s waiting, so I wash and
rinse everything twice, including my hair.
After I’m clean enough to be the guest of honor at a virgin
sacrifice, I wrap the fluffiest towel I’ve ever felt around me, and
stand in front of the bathroom mirror while I detangle my hair. I put
it in two French braids and grab another towel to lay across the
pillow to help soak up the last bit of water in my hair.
I slip on the basketball shorts and t-shirt I’m sleeping in, and
climb onto the bed with a notebook in my hand to make a list of
things I need to do before I move onto campus. I write the same
thing twice before finally admitting I’m too tired to focus. I climb
under the covers and close my eyes, my hand holding tight to the
object I never leave home without, and let exhaustion win.
Chapter 2
 Pax

I make my way through the trees and bushes to the meetup spot.
I’m early, but I know the guys are already on their way. We
never travel together for these things, to throw people off our
trail, making it harder for us to be followed. Other groups don’t have
the same philosophy. They think teamwork means doing everything
together, every step of the way, even though I think we’ve proven to
them ten times over it doesn’t.
As I approach the end of the shrub line, I spot a figure moving in
the shadows on the right. That’ll be Holden. Wherever we go, we
usually arrive within minutes of each other. Unless it’s the library.
He’s there hours before anyone else, including the head librarian. I
think she gave him a key and uses his early bird status to her
advantage.
He crouches down beside me, keeping hidden from the street as
we wait for our third. I scan the street. Movement halfway down the
block catches my eye. Finn is on the roof, flipping and jumping from
building to building, like it’s his personal parkour course. He’s not at
all stealthy about it either, like the last thing he’s worried about is
someone following him. I guess he has a right to be cavalier about
it. It’s hard as fuck keeping up with his free-running ass.
I check the time on my watch. We’re still ahead of schedule.
Tonight’s mission is simple. We should be in and out before anyone
notices, and back at the dorm laughing, while the other teams are
still trying to pull a plan out of their asses.
 We’ve all been given the same coordinates, but my boys and I
are sure to come out of this game on top. We’ve got the perfect
team. Finn with cat burglar type skills, Holden the puzzle solver
extraordinaire, and me… I take point on damage control and risk
assessment. I’m also usually the man with the plan. The other
team’s plans. They need to get better at guarding their secrets if
they ever want to beat us.
Finn’s almost to us, now. He’s hanging from the top rung of a fire
escape and then lets go, free falling five stories before grabbing the
next one, and swinging through the side of the ladder rung. I turn to
say something to Holden, when a squeal of brakes drags my
attention back across the street just in time to see Finn leap into the
air, tuck and roll off the hood of a car, then land on his feet, before
disappearing through the trees, like that shit didn’t just happen.
Holden and I share a look. We’re thinking the same thing. Who
the fuck is in the car? We creep through the trees to meet up with
Finn, my mind going over the possibilities of what just happened.
“What the hell is a car doing out here tonight?” Finn asks, glaring
in the direction of the car, which is long gone by now. Whoever it
was didn’t even stop or get out to see if the person they hit was
okay. That could be a good or bad thing.
Holden asks, “Are you hurt?”
I do a quick look to make sure Finn’s not bleeding. It’s not as if
that shit matters to him. But it would be a problem for our mission
because he’d be leaving DNA all over the scene.
“Fuck no.” He waves off Holden’s concern. “I’m pissed. Whoever
it was messed up a sweet ass aerial landing I’ve been working on all
week.”
I scoff at his answer. Of course he’s mad he didn’t stick his
landing. “Did you get a look at who was driving?” I ask, working
through this little hiccup.
“Nah. I didn’t bother to look.”
That’s smart, because we’re supposed to be sneaking around.
Making eye contact is a surefire way to be identified.
“What do you wanna do, Pax?”
 I turn, heading deeper into the foliage, and say, “There’s only
one thing we can do.”

We trudge into the dark bunker. The lights are on an automatic

switch. It flips on or off when the door is closed and the locks
engaged. This side of town was left to waste a long time ago. It’s
ignored and avoided, which makes it the perfect place to work out
of. The bunker looks like shit on the outside, but inside it’s a state-
of-the art, smart home. Our very own impenetrable fortress.
Last night’s job took longer than expected. After Finn’s run-in
with the car, we had to make sure we weren’t being followed. No
one drives across the railroad tracks to enter or leave town.
The road shut down when my dad was a kid, after they paved
the new highway on the Northeast end of town, and made it a major
artery between here and Palisade Shores.
So what the hell was someone in an Audi doing coming from that
direction? I’m sure it’s overrun with trees and dirt by now. Then,
there’s the mountain terrain you have to drive up. Nobody’s foolish
enough to drive up it in the dark. That makes the car being there
suspicious as fuck, and we had to lie low to make sure we weren’t
being set up.
Even with our delay, we still made out better than the other
teams and came in first. We’re always first. Years of living, playing,
and training together make my friends and I an efficient team. We
were first to complete our mission, but it wasn’t without its
challenges, and the second-place team was close behind us. So
close, I know I’m going to have to answer questions about it.
I put my gear on the shelf, lock the trinket we procured in the
safe, and grab my cellphone from the charging station. We never
take our cellphones, because these games call for no distractions.
The team in last place is still out there, running in circles. Someone
hacked their cells and sent them in the wrong direction.
Finn, Holden and I know this city inside and out. If there’s
anyplace we’re unfamiliar with, we use paper maps. You can’t hack
paper. I look over at our tech genius. “How much longer should we
leave them out there?”
Okay, so we’re the ones who sent them the wrong directions.
Holden shrugs. “We’re done. There’s no reason to let them
continue to wander around other than for the laughs.” I give a quick
nod and he taps a few keys on the computer. “Done.”
I don’t know the particulars, but what he’s done is send them the
correct instructions and coordinates to complete their challenge. We
finish gathering our stuff and head to our cars, powering up our
phones, when we’re clear of the bunker. We have jammers inside so
no one can track our signal, but you can never be too careful. The
first part of the challenge is to grab whatever thing we’re sent to
retrieve. The second part is hanging on to it.

DAD
Home

The one word text greets me as soon as my phone powers up. It’s
nearly one in the morning, and I’m dead on my feet, but my bed will
have to wait until after my debrief with my father. This is another
reason the guys and I take separate cars. I never know when I’m
gonna be called away on some bullshit.
On the drive to my parent’s place, I go over what happened last
night. My father will want a recap about everything we did, starting
from the moment we got the details for the challenge.
My body screams in protest as I drag myself toward the front
door, but I shake off the sore muscles and fatigue. I know better
than to show any signs of weakness in front of him. The house is
quiet when I walk inside, but I know where he’ll be. In his office, a
glass of bourbon in his hand, and a lit cigar in the crystal ashtray in
front of him.
I knock on the closed door and wait for him to invite me in. He’s
behind his desk, his sleeves rolled back and his tie undone. This is as
close to casual dress as I’ve ever seen him, outside of the golf
course.
 He points to the seat across from him. I take it and wait. It’s all a
game to him and I’ve learned no matter what I say, he’ll never start
the inquisition any faster than he wants to. It’s not just me, he does
this to. Making people wait in awkward silence is an effective tactic.
One I’ve adopted. People spill their secrets to fill the silence.
“You did well las night.” He says, immediately putting me on
edge. Dad’s done two things out of character. Spoken before the
ten-minute mark, and paid me his version of a compliment. “Even
with the delayed start, you and your team performed admirably.”
Of course, he knows we didn’t start at the same time as
everyone else. It’s hard to keep secrets from him, but that doesn’t
stop me from trying. “Thank you, sir.”
I’m ready for him to flip out and demand to know why we were
late getting to the final starting point. Instead, he continues to act
like he’s been body snatched. He smiles, pleased I haven’t left my
manners at the bunker. I watch as he sips his drink, takes a tote of
his cigar, and then sets the full weight of his stare on me. “It’s late,
and I know you have a full day of classes tomorrow, but there’s been
a development.”
“What kind of development?” It could be anything, but it’s
probably someone complaining the teams are unevenly matched.
There’s been talk about splitting me and my friends up, but so far
nothing’s come of it. If tonight is the night they pull that card, this
little visit’s gonna get real bad, real quick. I’m prepared to fight with
everything I have to keep us together. Consequences be damned.
“In the next few days, you’ll be getting a new resident at Vale
Tower.”
Not where I saw this going, but I prefer this to answering any
other questions he might have.
“This guy. You want me to guide him towards Rho Beta Psi?” If
dad’s interested, it’s the logical thing to do.
“It’s a female, and I want you to keep an eye on her. Report back
everything she does and says. No matter how small or unimportant
you think it is.”
A girl? He wants me to babysit and report back on a girl? “Who is
she?” I ask, trying to get more information. At the same time, I’m
thinking of who I can farm this job off to.
“We really don’t know yet. We were only just alerted she’s
starting in a few days and they’ve put her on your floor.”
My eyebrows shoot up and he smirks at me. It’s the first hint of
emotion I’ve shown. But he’s gotta cut me some slack. Vale Tower is
a legacy building. Priority goes to descendants of the Legacy Twelve.
The twelve families who initially donated money to have the school
built. Your room and floor assignment depends on the amount of the
initial donation, and how many generations of your family have
attended Canyon Falls University since the beginning. We live like
kings and queens in that building. It even has a small store on the
first floor. Someone popping up out of the blue and getting luxury
accommodations just doesn’t happen.
He continues, “It could be nothing. It probably is nothing. Just a
glitch in the dorm assignment, but I want you to handle this
personally and provide me weekly status updates.”
“Understood, sir.”
He doesn’t have much more use for me. After an obligatory
conversation about maintaining my GPA (which doesn’t really mean
shit in our world, but it's just one more thing for him to brag about),
he dismisses me.
I’m fuming on the drive back to campus. With everything else I
have going on, the last thing I need to be doing is stalking some
chick because some screw up put her on the wrong floor, in the
wrong dorm.
Chapter 3
 Thea

I ’ve lain in bed for as long as I can. I tossed and turned all night,
unfamiliar with the sounds of this house. I hate that I can’t get a
good night's sleep anywhere new, because foster care and group
homes have conditioned me to always be on high alert at bed time.
There’s always some idiot wanting to test the new girl in her sleep.
More often than not, their attempts to surprise me gave them a
personal introduction to Clint, the butterfly knife I’ve had since I was
ten.
Some kid was flashing it around one day at the playground,
bragging about all the cool knives his pop owned. I won it off of him
in a race and never thought twice about him having to explain to his
father where it went. If there was any fall out, I wasn’t around to
hear about it, because I used the knife to defend myself against one
of the bigger kids in the foster home, and got shipped off to a new
location that same night.
I strain my ears, listening for sounds of other people. The house
is just as quiet as it was last night. I roll out of bed and smooth the
comforter down before heading to the bathroom to wash my face
and brush my teeth, then put on my change of clothes and retrace
the path sourpuss and I walked last night. I get turned around a few
times, but eventually find my way back to the foyer.
She mentioned off limit areas of the house, but all I care about is
figuring out where my stuff is. I’m on a mission to find a garage. Do
rich people even store their stuff in garages?
 I walk outside and around the left side of the house. A set of
stairs lead down to a pool, and then continue down to a beach with
pristine white sand and the bluest water I’ve ever seen.
The map was misleading. It didn’t make it seem like the town
was this close to the water. I’m itching to go down there and get in,
but I’d have to swim in my clothes. Until I find my things, I need to
treat my outfits like they’re made of the finest silk.
Continuing around the path to the other side of the house, I find
the garage. I jiggle the handle on the door, and find it’s locked.
There’s some type of key pad on it. Sourpuss didn’t give me any
passwords or alarm codes, or keys to the house. Now that I’m
thinking about it, I’m pretty sure the front door had an electronic
lock too. Great. I’ve locked myself out.
I don’t want to be rude and wake the house by ringing the
doorbell, so I decide to wait it out. It’s a toss up between walking
the beach and lounging by the pool. I settle on the latter and head
back around the path, taking the stairs to the pool. I settle onto the
chair closest to the middle of the patio because it gives me the best
view of the beach. There are houses on both sides of us, but I can’t
see over the gates or hedges.
Something’s moving along the shoreline. At first I think it’s the
shadow from the sun creating a weird glare off of the water, but it’s
getting closer. The blob is two yards out from the bottom of the
stairs when I realize it’s a guy running on the beach, shirtless.
His body’s toned, with defined muscles. The guys from my old
neighborhood are trim and athletic because they spend their free
time playing basketball at the playground or flag football in the field
behind one of the churches or schools. Some spend time at the
boxing ring. They wouldn’t be caught dead running, unless it’s from
a Rottweiler they’ve antagonized or the cops.
A noise behind me draws my attention away from the hottie on
the beach. The glass door, which I hadn’t noticed next to a huge bay
window, slides open. I jump to my feet and hurry towards the door,
trying to make noise so I don’t spook the woman who just walked
out. “Hello.”
 She looks up from where she’s putting folded towels in the
cabinet and says, “Miss LaReaux, Good Morning. I didn’t realize you
were awake.” She finishes with the towels and closes the cabinet
doors, heading back into the house.
Miss LaReaux? Nobody, other than the judge at my court hearing
the day I got caught riding in a stolen car, has ever addressed me as
Miss LaReaux. I’ve been called miss thang, miscreant, and a
mistake, but never Miss LaReaux. I’m uncomfortable with the
formality and sound of it.
“Uh, you can call me Thea.” I say, following her into the house.
“I’m Cora.”
I give a cursory look at the room we’re traveling through. It’s
some kind of bedroom, but it doesn’t look like anyone slept here last
night. I follow her up a small flight of stairs and turn left down the
hall that empties into the kitchen. It’s a stunning combination of
white, black and chrome. Clean lines and angles and empty.
She’s starts pulling things from the pantry as I take a seat at the
huge island counter in the middle of the room. The scraping of the
stool must remind her I’m still here.
“Oh, Miss. You must be starving. I’m sorry I wasn’t up when you
arrived. You can wait in the dining room, and I’ll have your breakfast
brought out to you.”
I ignore the Miss part, and my stomach chooses this moment to
growl. “A bowl of cereal sounds great, but I can eat it here.”
A voice behind me snaps, “You most certainly cannot eat it here.”
I roll my eyes so hard, I literally feel them bouncing around in my
skull, before turning to look at Sourpuss. She looks just as dour and
unpleasant this morning as she did last night. “Oh, you’re here.”
“Of course I’m here. I’m your uncle’s assistant.” She says as if
she’s repeating it to me for the tenth time, when the truth is this is
the first I’m hearing about it. Last night, she never actually
introduced herself or told me what she does.
“Right.” I turn back to Cora. “Like I said, I’m fine eating cereal
here. No sense going through all the trouble of bringing it to the
dining room.”
 “It’s no trouble at all,” Cora says. “Your aunt and uncle prefer a
formal set-up.”
I arch my brow at her. “Well, they’re not here, and I prefer not to
sit at a ridiculously huge table alone, when this counter is just fine.”
I settle myself more comfortably on the stool.
Since Sourpuss is Uncle Scott’s assistant and seems to know so
much, maybe she knows where my stuff is. I turn to face her. “Um,
did my shipment arrive?”
Cora drops something on the counter when the stuffy witch says,
“It did.”
“Cool.” I wave my hands around, indicating the walls and
doorway she’s standing in. “Care to point out where in this big ole
house I would go to find it?”
“You won’t find it anywhere in here.”
“Okay. Then where is it?”
“Closest landfill most likely,” she says, walking over to the coffee
pot.
I rub my ear to make sure there’s no water in it. Nope, there
isn’t, so I heard her correctly. “Excuse me?”
My voice bounces around the cavernous kitchen, sending it out in
stereo. I fly off my chair and stalk towards her. “What the hell does
that mean?”
I don’t have much in this life to call my own, but what I do have
I packed up and sent here, trusting it would arrive and be waiting
for me. Now she’s telling me they threw it out like garbage?
“That was my stuff. What gave you the right to throw it out?”
“What in god’s name is going on in here?”
I spin around, coming face to face with my relatives for the first
time. They look more uptight in person than they do in their
pictures, but they’ve got impeccable timing. Today. The rest of their
timing was bullshit, since they were about ten years too late for
showing up to make a difference in my life.
“What’s going on is your assistant was just telling me she threw
my stuff in the trash.” I glare at her before turning back to them.
“You told me I was welcome here, and this move wasn’t meant to
disrupt my life. But somehow, I don’t have my clothes or any of the
things from my old life. Everything I owned was on the moving van
and now it’s just gone!”
My aunt looks at her husband, before taking a tentative step
towards me. She looks freaked out. I get it. You open your door to
someone and your first interaction is her going off. But they had no
right to trash my stuff.
“Theona, I’m sure it’s all a big misunderstanding.”
“I understood the words landfill just fine.”
She looks at her husband again, before saying, “Ms. Mercer has a
unique sense of humor. We had the crate with your things put in
storage and the unit sustained some water damage.”
I glance over my shoulder at the witch. That’s not at all what she
suggested, and if landfill was a joke, it wasn’t even remotely funny.
Redirecting my gaze to Moria, I ask, “So everything got wet?”
“I had our insurance adjuster go there. He’s still working on the
claim. If anything is salvageable, it will be brought here, and if not,
then you’ll be reimbursed for the cost of what was damaged.”
I feel my anger deflate. “Well, she could’ve explained that.”
“Yes, um, we meant to talk to you about it ourselves, last night
when you arrived, but we were called away on a business trip at the
last minute.”
“That part she explained.”
Aunt Moira’s gaze is fixated on a spot over my shoulder. “Is that
your breakfast?”
Oh shit. I don’t wanna get Cora in trouble for doing something I
asked. “Yup, and don’t be mad at Cora. I told her I’d feel more
comfortable eating here than at a big formal table alone.” I hurry to
retake my seat.
“Oh, yes, of course,” Moira says, as she grabs the seat beside
me. “I think we’ll join you. Right, Scott?”
Scott looks less enthused about the idea, but sits on the stool
next to my aunt, anyway. Cora puts a plate in front of me. It’s not
the cereal I asked for. Looking around the room, I’m guessing they
don’t have that in this house. It’s cool. The bacon, eggs, and
flapjacks will do.
 I’m enjoying my food, ignoring the awkwardness of our first
official meeting, waiting for someone to say something. Uncle Scott
breaks the silence first. “Your aunt and I apologize for not being
here when you arrived, but we expected you early afternoon.”
I stick a forkful of pancakes into my mouth and suck down some
coffee before answering. “Yeah, about that. I was on my way and
turned around a few times. I would’ve called, but my cell phone
stopped working.”
A worried expression crosses my aunt's face. “Oh dear. That’s
awful. We could send it to get serviced. Who’s your provider?”
I wave my fork dismissively. “Oh, it’s not that. The reception
dropped off. It’s prepaid, so I knew the service carrier probably
wouldn’t reach this far. I’ll just find another one around here and try
to keep the same number, that way-.”
My uncle cuts in, “A prepaid plan won’t be necessary. We’ll have
all of your new electronics delivered to you by this afternoon.”
My aunt nods, then says, “Oh, that reminds me. I can’t wait to
show you the car.”
The two of them lob things off their to-do list at each other while
I’m still processing the words electronics and car. I cut in when they
get to clothes and allowance. “I’m sorry. What’s happening right
now?”
They continue talking as if they didn’t hear me. I put my fingers
in my mouth and whistle the way Antonio Vega taught me the first
time we snuck into a high school football game.
The conversation stops, and I ignore the look on my uncle’s face
to address the seemingly more approachable person at the table. His
wife. “Can someone please explain what you mean by Theona’s car
and electronics?”
“There’s nothing to explain. We’ll be providing you with the latest
smartphone, laptop and tablet, and a car.” Scott says, as if it’s
already decided.
All of that sounds expensive. I have some money left in my bank
account, but until I get a job, I can’t afford to be paying for any
fancy new shit. No sense in pretending otherwise. “I appreciate you
making arrangements for me to have those things, but we’re gonna
have to put a pin in it until I find a job.”
“Why would you need a job?” He’s hard to read. I can’t tell if he’s
appalled or amused at the idea of me being employed.
“Because working is a sign of maturity and is the way I take care
of myself. Don’t you work?” I mean, I’m assuming he does. But
maybe he inherited all this and just sits home all day or plays golf.
“What your uncle meant was we don’t have any expectation for
you to get a job until you’ve finished school.”
And I don’t have any expectation of depending on anyone for my
basic needs. “I like working and I’d need to pay to use all those
things you mentioned.”
Moira cuts her eyes at Scott. Why does she keep doing that?
Does she need permission to talk or something?
“I see, but uh, these things are gifts, and we’re happy to provide
them to you. You don’t need to reimburse us.”
“Why not?” I squint my eyes, trying to get a read on her. Nothing
in life is free. Especially state-of-the-art technology and a car.
My uncle's voice is terse when he says, “Because we’re your
family and we’ve assumed responsibility for you.”
I lean forward to look at him. “That doesn’t mean you have to do
it. If those words meant anything, then the foster care system
wouldn’t have kids there who were cast off by family members who
are supposed to be responsible for them.”
Moira places a hand on mine. I look down at it and try not to
snatch mine out from under hers. I’m not used to people touching
me so softly unless they want something or are up to something.
She must feel the distrust rolling off me, because she quickly pulls it
away. She sounds sincere when she says, “You’re right. We don’t
have to, and I realize you’re used to taking care of yourself. But
you’re here, and we’d like to provide these things for you.”
“So I don’t have to take it.”
Scott’s voice is clipped when he says. “No, you don’t. But things
will be easier for you if you do.”
This dude is working my last nerve. I fold my arms against my
chest to keep from hurling my plate at him. “Easier how?”
 He lowers his fork, fixes his gaze on me, and says, “The high
schools in this town are very tech heavy. Canyon Falls University
won’t be any different. All the students use laptops to take notes,
and most of the teachers have gone paperless. You’ll need a device
to access and submit your work.”
“And the car?”
“I’m sure you’re used to walking and public transportation, but
there isn’t any way for you to get here from campus without us
sending a driver, you catching a ride, or having a car. We thought
you’d like your independence and a car would be a better fit.”
I like how he lays it out. It makes sense, but I still think it’s too
much of an investment in someone they don’t know, and I can’t help
but see strings and expectations. I can’t be owing anybody anything.
“Let me see if I got this straight. You bought me a car, so I’d
have a way to drive here from school?” I don’t add the other part
I’m thinking. What makes them think I want to come here and visit?
She ducks her head, but not before I see her face turning red. Is
she blushing? “No, I um. I had my old car spruced up a bit for you.”
Yup, she’s embarrassed, but her statement gets my attention. If
it’s not brand new, I’ll feel a little better about maybe using it.
Sometimes.
“Would you like to see?” I give a curt nod. She pulls up a picture
on her phone and passes it to me. “It’s in the shop getting some
minor repairs and then it’ll be cleaned and detailed. I hope you like
it.”
I look down at the picture and back up at her. “This was your
car?”
“Many, many, years ago. Scott wanted me to get rid of it, but I
couldn’t stand the idea of parting with it, even though it’s been
sitting in the garage untouched all this time. Then when we tracked
you down, I knew it had to be yours.”
I look at the picture again. The 2006 Pontiac Solstice is definitely
something I’d pick for myself. And I guess if I need a way to get
around, I can use it. For now. I need to make sure there are no
expectations about them owning me or me owing them a kidney.
Another Random Scribd Document
with Unrelated Content
instances—“A decrepit man under a heavy burden, five loaves and
two fishes among a multitude, and all unfitness and gross
disproportion; an instrument out of tune, a fly in ointment, snow in
May, Archimedes studying geometry in a siege, and all discordant
things; a wolf in sheep’s clothing, a breach of bargain, and falsehood
in general; the multitude taking the law in their own hands, and
everything of the nature of disorder; a corpse at a feast, parental
cruelty, filial ingratitude, and whatever is unnatural; the entire
catalogue of the vanities given by Solomon, are all incongruous, but
they cause feelings of pain, anger, sadness, loathing, rather than
mirth.” Now in these cases, where the totally unlike state of con­‐
scious­ness suddenly produced, is not inferior in mass to the
preceding one, the conditions to laughter are not fulfilled. As above
shown, laughter naturally results only when con­scious­ness is
unawares transferred from great things to small—only when there is
what we may call a descending incongruity.
And now observe, finally, the fact, alike inferable a priori {464} and
illustrated in experience, that an ascending incongruity not only fails
to cause laughter, but works on the muscular system an effect of the
reverse kind. When after something very insignificant there arises
without anticipation something very great, the emotion we call
wonder results; and this emotion is accompanied not by contraction
of the muscles, but by relaxation of them. In children and country
people, that falling of the jaw which occurs on witnessing an
imposing and unexpected change, exemplifies this effect. Persons
wonder-struck at the production of a striking result by a seem­ing­ly-
in­ad­e­quate cause, are frequently described as un­con­scious­ly
dropping the things they held in their hands. Such are just the
effects to be anticipated. After an average state of con­scious­ness,
absorbing but a small quantity of nervous energy, is aroused without
notice, a strong emotion of awe, terror, or admiration; joined with
the astonishment due to an apparent want of adequate causation.
This new state of con­scious­ness demands far more nervous energy
than that which it has suddenly replaced; and this increased
absorption of nervous energy in mental changes, involves a
temporary diminution of the outflow in other directions: whence the
pendent jaw and the relaxing grasp.
One further observation is worth making. Among the several sets
of channels into which surplus feeling might be discharged, was
named the nervous system of the viscera. The sudden overflow of
an arrested mental excitement, which, as we have seen, results from
a descending incongruity, must doubtless stimulate not only the
muscular system, as we see it does, but also the internal organs: the
heart and stomach must come in for a share of the discharge. And
thus there seems to be a good physiological basis for the popular
notion that mirth-creating excitement facilitates digestion.

Though, in doing so, I go beyond the boundaries of the {465}

immediate topic, I may fitly point out that the method of inquiry
here followed, opens the way to interpretation of various
phenomena besides those of laughter. To show the importance of
pursuing it, I will indicate the explanation it furnishes of another
familiar class of facts.
All know how generally a large amount of emotion disturbs the
action of the intellect, and interferes with the power of expression. A
speech delivered with great facility to tables and chairs, is by no
means so easily delivered to an audience. Every schoolboy can
testify that his trepidation, when standing before a master, has often
disabled him from repeating a lesson which he had duly learnt. In
explanation of this we commonly say that the attention is distracted
—that the proper train of ideas is broken by the intrusion of ideas
that are irrelevant. But the question is, in what manner does unusual
emotion produce this effect; and we are here supplied with a
tolerably obvious answer. The repetition of a lesson, or set speech
previously thought out, implies the flow of a very moderate amount
of nervous excitement through a comparatively narrow channel. The
thing to be done is simply to call up in succession certain pre­vi­ous­ly-
ar­ranged ideas—a process in which no great amount of mental
energy is expended. Hence, when there is a large quantity of
emotion, which must be discharged in some direction or other; and
when, as usually happens, the restricted series of intellectual actions
to be gone through, does not suffice to carry it off; there result
discharges along other channels besides the one prescribed: there
are aroused various ideas foreign to the train of thought to be
pursued; and these tend to exclude from con­scious­ness those which
should occupy it.
And now observe the meaning of those bodily actions
spontaneously set up under these circumstances. The schoolboy
saying his lesson, commonly has his fingers actively engaged—
perhaps in twisting about a broken pen, or perhaps in squeezing the
angle of his jacket; and if told to keep his {466} hands still, he soon
again falls into the same or a similar trick. Many anecdotes are
current of public speakers having incurable automatic actions of this
class: barristers who perpetually wound and unwound pieces of
tape; members of parliament ever putting on and taking off their
spectacles. So long as such movements are unconscious, they
facilitate the mental actions. At least this seems a fair inference from
the fact that confusion frequently results from putting a stop to
them: witness the case narrated by Sir Walter Scott of his school-
fellow, who became unable to say his lesson after the removal of the
waistcoat button which he habitually fingered while in class. But why
do they facilitate the mental actions? Clearly because they draw off a
portion of the surplus nervous excitement. If, as above explained,
the quantity of mental energy generated is greater than can find
vent along the narrow channel of thought that is open to it; and if, in
consequence, it is apt to produce confusion by rushing into other
channels of thought; then, by allowing it an exit through the motor
nerves into the muscular system, the pressure is diminished, and
irrelevant ideas are less likely to intrude on con­scious­ness.
This further illustration will, I think, justify the position that
something may be achieved by pursuing in other cases this kind of
psychological inquiry. A complete explanation of the phenomena,
requires us to trace out all the consequences of any given state of
con­scious­ness; and we cannot do this without studying the effects,
bodily and mental, as varying in quantity at one another’s expense.
We should probably learn much if in every case we asked—Where is
all the nervous energy gone?
 ENDNOTE TO THE PHYSIOLOGY OF LAUGHTER .

60 For numerous illustrations see essay on “The Origin and Function of

Music.”

END OF VOL. II.

 MR. HERBERT SPENCER’S WORKS.

A SYSTEM OF SYNTHETIC PHILOSOPHY.

8th Thousand.
(WITH AN APPENDIX DEALING WITH CRITICISMS.)
In one vol. 8vo, cloth, price 16s.,

FIRST PRINCIPLES.
CONTENTS.
P ART I.—T HE U NKNOWABLE.
1. Religion and Science. 2. Ultimate Religious Ideas. 3. Ultimate Scientific Ideas. 4.
The Relativity of All Knowledge. 5. The Reconciliation.
P ART II.—T HE K NOWABLE.
1. Philosophy Defined 2. The Data of Philosophy. 3. Space, Time, Matter, Motion,
and Force. 4. The In­de­struc­ti­bil­ity of Matter. 5. The Continuity of Motion. 6. The
Persistence of Force. 7. The Persistence of Relations among Forces. 8. The
Transformation and Equivalence of Forces. 9. The Direction of Motion. 10. The
Rhythm of Motion. 11. Recapitulation, Criticism, and Recommencement. 12.
Evolution and Dissolution. 13. Simple and Compound Evolution. 14. The Law of
Evolution. 15. The Law of Evolution, continued. 16. The Law of Evolution,
continued. 17. The Law of Evolution, concluded. 18. The Interpretation of
Evolution. 19. The Instability of the Homogeneous. 20. The Multiplication of
Effects. 21. Segregation. 22. Equilibration. 23. Dissolution. 24. Summary and
Conclusion.
 4th Thousand.
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THE PRINCIPLES OF BIOLOGY.

CONTENTS OF VOL. I.
P ART I.—T HE D ATA OF B IOLOGY.
1. Organic Matter. 2. The Actions of Forces on Organic Matter. 3. The Re-actions of
Organic Matter on Forces. 4. Proximate Definition of Life. 5. The Correspondence
between Life and its Circumstances. 6. The Degree of Life varies as the Degree of
Correspondence. 7. The Scope of Biology.
P ART II.—T HE I NDUCTIONS OF B IOLOGY.
1. Growth. 2. Development. 3. Function. 4. Waste and Repair. 5. Adaptation. 6.
Individuality. 7. Genesis. 8. Heredity. 9. Variation. 10. Genesis, Heredity, and
Variation. 11. Classification. 12. Distribution.
P ART III.—T HE E VOLUTION OF L IFE.
1. Preliminary. 2. General Aspects of the Special-Creation-Hypothesis. 3. General
Aspects of the Evolution-Hypothesis. 4. The Arguments from Classification. 5. The
Arguments from Embryology. 6. The Arguments from Morphology. 7. The
Arguments from Distribution. 8. How is Organic Evolution caused? 9. External
Factors. 10. Internal Factors. 11. Direct Equilibration. 12. Indirect Equilibration. 13.
The Co-operation of the Factors. 14. The Convergence of the Evidences.
A PPENDIX.
The Spontaneous-Generation Question.

CONTENTS OF VOL. II.

P ART IV.—M ORPHOLOGICAL D EVELOPMENT.
1. The Problems of Morphology. 2. The Morphological Composition of Plants. 3.
The Morphological Composition of Plants, continued. 4. The Morphological
Composition of Animals. 5. The Morphological Composition of Animals, continued.
6. Morphological Dif­fer­en­ti­a­tion in Plants. 7. The General Shapes of Plants. 8. The
Shapes of Branches. 9. The Shapes of Leaves. 10. The Shapes of Flowers. 11. The
Shapes of Vegetal Cells. 12. Changes of Shape otherwise caused. 13.
Morphological Dif­fer­en­ti­a­tion in Animals. 14. The General Shapes of Animals. 15.
The Shapes of Vertebrate Skeletons. 16. The Shapes of Animal Cells. 17. Summary
of Morphological Development.
P ART V.—P HYSIOLOGICAL D EVELOPMENT.
1. The Problems of Physiology. 2. Dif­fer­en­ti­a­tions between the Outer and Inner
Tissues of Plants. 3. Dif­fer­en­ti­a­tions among the Outer Tissues of Plants. 4. Dif­fer­‐
en­ti­a­tions among the Inner Tissues of Plants. 5. Physiological Integration in Plants.
6. Dif­fer­en­ti­a­tions between the Outer and Inner Tissues of Animals. 7. Dif­fer­en­ti­a­‐
tions among the Outer Tissues of Animals. 8. Dif­fer­en­ti­a­tions among the Inner
Tissues of Animals. 9. Physiological Integration in Animals. 10. Summary of
Physiological Development.
P ART VI.—L AWS OF M ULTIPLICATION.
1. The Factors. 2. À Priori Principle. 3. Obverse à priori Principle. 4. Difficulties of
Inductive Verification. 5. Antagonism between Growth and Asexual Genesis. 6.
Antagonism between Growth and Sexual Genesis. 7. Antagonism between
Development and Genesis, Asexual and Sexual. 8. Antagonism between
Expenditure and Genesis. 9. Coincidence between high Nutrition and Genesis. 10.
Specialities of these Relations. 11. Interpretation and Qualification. 12.
Multiplication of the Human Race. 13. Human Evolution in the Future.
A PPENDIX.
A Criticism on Professor Owen’s Theory of the Vertebrate Skeleton. On Circulation
and the Formation of Wood in Plants.

5th Thousand.
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THE PRINCIPLES OF
PSYCHOLOGY.
CONTENTS OF VOL. I.
P ART I.—T HE D ATA OF P SYCHOLOGY.
1. The Nervous System. 2. The Structure of the Nervous System. 3. The Functions
of the Nervous System. 4. The Conditions essential to Nervous Action. 5. Nervous
Stimulation and Nervous Discharge. 6. Æstho-Physiology.
P ART II.—T HE I NDUCTIONS OF P SYCHOLOGY.
1. The Substance of Mind. 2. The Composition of Mind. 3. The Relativity of
Feelings. 4. The Relativity of Relations between Feelings. 5. The Revivability of
Feelings. 6. The Revivability of Relations between Feelings. 7. The Associability of
Feelings. 8. The Associability of Relations between Feelings. 9. Pleasures and
Pains.
P ART III.—G ENERAL S YNTHESIS.
1. Life and Mind as Correspondence. 2. The Correspondence as Direct and
Homogeneous. 3. The Correspondence as Direct but Heterogeneous. 4. The
Correspondence as extending in Space. 5. The Correspondence as extending in
Time. 6. The Correspondence as increasing in Speciality. 7. The Correspondence as
increasing in Generality. 8. The Correspondence as increasing in Complexity. 9.
The Co-ordination of Correspondences. 10. The Integration of Correspondences.
11. The Correspondences in their Totality.
P ART IV.—S PECIAL S YNTHESIS.
1. The Nature of Intelligence. 2. The Law of Intelligence. 3. The Growth of
Intelligence. 4. Reflex Action. 5. Instinct. 6. Memory. 7. Reason. 8. The Feelings. 9.
The Will.
P ART V.—P HYSICAL S YNTHESIS.
1. A Further Interpretation Needed. 2. The Genesis of Nerves. 3. The Genesis of
Simple Nervous Systems. 4. The Genesis of Compound Nervous Systems. 5. The
Genesis of Doubly-Compound Nervous Systems. 6. Functions as Related to these
Structures. 7. Psychical Laws as thus Interpreted. 8. Evidence from Normal
Variations. 9. Evidence from Abnormal Variations. 10. Results.
A PPENDIX.
On the Action of Anæsthetics and Narcotics.
CONTENTS OF VOL. II.
P ART VI.—S PECIAL A NALYSIS.
1. Limitation of the Subject. 2. Compound Quantitative Reasoning. 3. Compound
Quantitative Reasoning, continued. 4. Imperfect and Simple Quantitative
Reasoning. 5. Quantitative Reasoning in General. 6. Perfect Qualitative Reasoning.
7. Imperfect Qualitative Reasoning. 8. Reasoning in General. 9. Classification,
Naming, and Recognition. 10. The Perception of Special Objects. 11. The
Perception of Body as presenting Dynamical, Statico-Dynamical, and Statical
Attributes. 12. The Perception of Body as presenting Statico-Dynamical and
Statical Attributes. 13. The Perception of Body as presenting Statical Attributes.
14. The Perception of Space. 15. The Perception of Time. 16. The Perception of
Motion. 17. The Perception of Resistance. 18. Perception in General. 19. The
Relations of Similarity and Dissimilarity. 20. The Relations of Cointension and Non-
Cointension. 21. The Relations of Coextension and Non-Coextension. 22. The
Relations of Coexistence and Non-Coexistence. 23. The Relations of Connature and
Non-Connature. 24. The Relations of Likeness and Unlikeness. 25. The Relation of
Sequence. 26. Consciousness in General. 27. Results.
P ART VII.—G ENERAL A NALYSIS.
1. The Final Question. 2. The Assumption of Metaphysicians. 3. The Words of
Metaphysicians. 4. The Reasonings of Metaphysicians. 5. Negative Justification of
Realism. 6. Argument from Priority. 7. The Argument from Simplicity. 8. The
Argument from Distinctness. 9. A Criterion Wanted. 10. Propositions qualitatively
distinguished. 11. The Universal Postulate. 12. The test of Relative Validity. 13. Its
Corollaries. 14. Positive Justification of Realism. 15. The Dynamics of
Consciousness. 16. Partial Dif­fer­en­ti­a­tion of Subject and Object. 17. Completed
Dif­fer­en­ti­a­tion of Subject and Object. 18. Developed Conception of the Object. 19.
Transfigured Realism.
P ART VIII.—C ONGRUITIES.
1. Preliminary. 2. Co-ordination of Data and Inductions. 3. Co-ordination of
Syntheses. 4. Co-ordination of Special Analyses. 5. Co-ordination of General
Analyses. 6. Final Comparison.
P ART IX.—C OROLLARIES.
1. Special Psychology. 2. Classification. 3. Development of Conceptions. 4.
Language of the Emotions. 5. Sociality and Sympathy. 6. Egoistic Sentiments. 7.
Ego-Altruistic Sentiments. 8. Altruistic Sentiments. 9. Æsthetic Sentiments.

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THE PRINCIPLES OF SOCIOLOGY.

CONTENTS.
P ART I.—T HE D ATA OF S OCIOLOGY.
1. Super-Organic Evolution. 2. The Factors of Social Phenomena. 3. Original
External Factors. 4. Original Internal Factors. 5. The Primitive Man—Physical. 6.
The Primitive Man—Emotional. 7. The Primitive Man—Intellectual. 8. Primitive
Ideas. 9. The Ideas of the Animate and the Inanimate. 10. The Ideas of Sleep and
Dreams. 11. The Ideas of Swoon, Apoplexy, Catelepsy, Ecstacy, and other forms of
Insensibility. 12. The Ideas of Death and Resurrection. 13. The Ideas of Souls,
Ghosts, Spirits, Demons. 14. The Ideas of Another Life. 15. The Ideas of Another
World. 16. The Ideas of Supernatural Agents. 17. Supernatural Agents as causing
Epilepsy and Convulsive Actions, Delirium and Insanity, Disease and Death. 18.
Inspiration, Divination, Exorcism, and Sorcery. 19. Sacred Places, Temples, and
Altars; Sacrifice, Fasting, and Propitiation; Praise and Prayer. 20. Ancestor-Worship
in General. 21. Idol-Worship and Fetich-Worship. 22. Animal-Worship. 23. Plant-
Worship. 24. Nature-Worship. 25. Deities. 26. The Primitive Theory of Things. 27.
The Scope of Sociology.
P ART II.—T HE I NDUCTIONS OF S OCIOLOGY.
1. What is a Society? 2. A Society is an Organism. 3. Social Growth. 4. Social
Structures. 5. Social Functions. 6. Systems of Organs. 7. The Sustaining System. 8.
The Distributing System. 9. The Regulating System. 10. Social Types and
Constitutions. 11. Social Metamorphoses. 12. Qualifications and Summary.
P ART III.—T HE D OMESTIC R ELATIONS.
1. The Maintenance of Species. 2. The Diverse Interests of the Species, of the
Parents, and of the Offspring. 3. Primitive Relations of the Sexes. 4. Exogamy and
Endogamy. 5. Promiscuity. 6. Polyandry. 7. Polygyny. 8. Monogamy. 9. The Family.
10. The Status of Women. 11. The Status of Children. 12. Domestic Retrospect
and Prospect.

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6. The Rise of a Priesthood. 7. Polytheistic and Monotheistic Priesthoods. 8.
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Military Functions of Priests. 11. The Civil Functions of Priests. 12. Church and
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THE FACTORS OF ORGANIC

EVOLUTION.
 DESCRIPTIVE SOCIOLOGY;
OR GROUPS OF

SOCIOLOGICAL FACTS,
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HERBERT SPENCER,
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Something to introduce the work of which an instalment is annexed, seems needful, in anticipation of the
time when completion of a volume will give occasion for a Permanent Preface.
In preparation for The Principles of Sociology , requiring as bases of induction large accumulations of data,
fitly arranged for comparison, I, some twelve years ago, commenced, by proxy, the collection and organization
of facts presented by societies of different types, past and present; being fortunate enough to secure the
services of gentlemen competent to carry on the process in the way I wished. Though this classified
compilation of materials was entered upon solely to facilitate my own work; yet, after having brought the
mode of clas­si­fi­ca­tion to a satisfactory form, and after having had some of the Tables filled up, I decided to
have the undertaking executed with a view to publication; the facts collected and arranged for easy reference
and convenient study of their relations, being so presented, apart from hypothesis, as to aid all students of
Social Science in testing such conclusions as they have drawn and in drawing others.
The Work consists of three large Divisions. Each comprises a set of Tables exhibiting the facts as abstracted
and classified, and a mass of quotations and abridged abstracts otherwise classified, on which the statements
contained in the Tables are based. The condensed statements, arranged after a uniform manner, give, in each
Table or succession of Tables, the phenomena of all orders which each society presents—constitute an
account of its morphology, its physiology, and (if a society having a known history) its development. On the
other hand, the collected Extracts, serving as authorities for the statements in the Tables, are (or, rather will
be, when the Work is complete) classified primarily according to the kinds of phenomena to which they refer,
and secondarily according to the societies exhibiting these phenomena; so that each kind of phenomenon as it
is displayed in all societies, may be separately studied with convenience.
In further explanation I may say that the classified compilations and digests of materials to be thus brought
together under the title of Descriptive Sociology , are intended to supply the student of Social Science with
data, standing towards his conclusions in a relation like that in which accounts of the structures and functions
of different types of animals stand to the conclusions of the biologist. Until there had been such systematic
descriptions of different kinds of organisms, as made it possible to compare the connexions, and forms, and
actions, and modes of origin, of their parts, the Science of Life could make no progress. And in like manner,
before there can be reached in Sociology, gen­er­al­iz­ a­tions having a certainty making them worthy to be called
scientific, there must be definite accounts of the institutions and actions of societies of various types, and in
various stages of evolution, so arranged as to furnish the means of readily ascertaining what social
phenomena are habitually associated.
Respecting the tabulation, devised for the purpose of exhibiting social phenomena in a convenient way, I
may explain that the primary aim has been so to present them that their relations of simultaneity and
succession may be seen at one view. As used for delineating uncivilized societies, concerning which we have
no records, the tabular form serves only to display the various social traits as they are found to co-exist. But
as used for delineating societies having known histories, the tabular form is so employed as to exhibit not only
the connexions of phenomena existing at the same time, but also the connexions of phenomena that succeed
one another. By reading horizontally across a Table at any period, there may be gained a knowledge of the
traits of all orders displayed by the society at that period; while by reading down each column, there may be
gained a knowledge of the modifications which each trait, structural or functional, underwent during
successive periods.
Of course, the tabular form fulfils these purposes but approximately. To preserve complete simultaneity in
the statements of facts, as read from side to side of the Tables, has proved impracticable; here much had to
be inserted, and there little; so that complete correspondence in time could not be maintained. Moreover, it
has not been possible to carry out the mode of clas­si­fi­ca­tion in a the­oret­ic­ al­ly-com­plete man­ner, by increasing
the number of columns as the classes of facts multiply in the course of Civilization. To represent truly the
progress of things, each column should divide and sub-divide in successive ages, so as to indicate the
successive dif­fer­entia­tions of the phenomena. But typographical difficulties have negatived this: a great deal
has had to be left in a form which must be accepted simply as the least unsatisfactory.
The three Divisions constituting the entire work, comprehend three groups of societies:—(1) Uncivilized
Societies ; (2) Civilized Societies—Extinct or Decayed ; (3) Civilized Societies—Recent or Still Flourishing . These
divisions have at present reached the following stages:―
DIVISION I.—Uncivilized Societies. Commenced in 1867 by the gentleman I first engaged, Mr. DAVID
DUNCAN, M.A. (now Professor of Logic, &c., in the Presidency College, Madras), and continued by him since
he left England, this part of the work is complete. It contains four parts, including “Types of Lowest Races,”
the “Negrito Races,” the “Malayo-Polynesian Races,” the “African Races,” the “Asiatic Races,” and the
“American Races.”
DIVISION II.—Civilized Societies—Extinct or Decayed. On this part of the work Dr. RICHARD SCHEPPIG
has been engaged since January, 1872. The first instalment, including the four Ancient American Civilizations,
was issued in March, 1874. A second instalment, containing “Hebrews and Phœnicians,” will shortly be issued.
DIVISION III.—Civilized Societies—Recent or Still Flourishing. Of this Division the first instalment, prepared
by Mr. JAMES COLLIER, of St. Andrew’s and Edinburgh Universities, was issued in August, 1873. This
presents the English Civilization. It covers seven consecutive Tables; and the Extracts occupy seventy pages
folio. The next part, presenting in a still more extensive form the French Civilization, is now in the press.
The successive parts belonging to these several Divisions, issued at intervals, are composed of different
numbers of Tables and different numbers of Pages. The Uncivilized Societies occupy four parts, each
containing a dozen or more Tables, with their accompanying Extracts. Of the Division comprising Extinct
Civilized Societies, the first part contains four, and the second contains two. While of Existing Civilized
Societies, the records of which are so much more extensive, each occupies a single part.
H. S.
March, 1880.
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 TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE
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