Chapter 1: A Day in the Life of Jacob Borque

Jacob Bourque was, understandably, frustrated with his life. He was a senior in high school, somewhat athletic, relatively good-looking, intelligent, even talented, but had absolutely the worst luck with women. It was maddening, living with three gorgeous younger sisters who had exactly the opposite problem; they always had men swarming around them, but according to rumor, all were still virgins. Jake thought it bitterly ironic that he lived with three incredibly beautiful young women (four, if he included his mother; she was nearing forty, but still very attractive) who were completely unattainable to him.

Genny and Mickey were 15-year-old identical twins, with long, straight blond hair all the way down to their athletic derrieres. They both had blazing green eyes, which Jake (and a lot of other guys) found sexy as hell, and exquisitely curved bodies. The only problem was, both of them were insufferably arrogant bitches, convinced that beauty equaled superiority- and to date nobody had proven them wrong. As far back as Jake could remember, no one had even tried.

16-year old Courtney looked like the "mailman's kid." She was the only one in the family with wavy, reddish hair, although it was more auburn than red. Her body was even more curvaceous than the twins', something that all three of them were acutely aware of. While the twins looked athletic, Courtney looked like a porn star. Their competitive natures oftentimes made domestic tranquility a wistful pipe dream- Jake's parents often had to break up the three due to malice-laden insults, sexual innuendoes, and catty observations riddling the air- it never turned to blows, but it still reminded Jake of that old observation about "three cats in a burlap bag." Luckily, his parents could afford a house where they each had their own rooms.

Still, Courtney was relatively easy to get along with; she was always relaxed (except when making cuts at the twins), with a kind of lazy smouldering heat that she loved to use on men, even (or maybe especially) Jake. Easy to get along with, certainly, but hardly easy to deal with. She didn't think she was superior, but she did know that she could get just about anything from just about any man with one of her "come hither" gazes and a well-timed pout. Jake knew that a lot of people thought she was a slut because of her blatant sensuality, but to date nobody had admitted to getting anywhere beyond first base.

Jake, on the other hand, had made it all the way through high school without ever even having a quasi-serious girlfriend. He had no idea what he was doing wrong, but it frustrated him to no end. He had beautiful girls around him all day long, and most were friendly, even warm, and yet each one seemed to consider him either completely harmless or "just a friend". It was absolutely maddening. He sometimes felt like someone was casting some kind of magic field around him, instructing all available girls, "This is not the guy for you!"

He would not find out for a long time how close to the truth that was.

A large blond man with a body like Atlas lay supine in the center of a round room. Around his naked form traced a circular design channeling matrices of psychic energy directly into his body. A circle of robed men and women stood silently, surrounding him at a radius of exactly seven paces, watching...

Brent opened his eyes. The nimbus that had surrounded his body, visible only to the Adepts in the chamber, slowly faded away.

The Circle waited patiently for Brent to regain his bearings. He was the most powerful Seer in the world, perhaps the most powerful ever, and deserved the respect due his station. Still, several of the Circle had started to shift their feet impatiently as the minutes dragged on and no sound emerged from the blond man. Thus, several of them jumped when he abruptly broke his own silence with his announcement.

"The Spirit of Ykir said that he had chosen his vessel before the end of the Second Age. He will not be dissuaded from his course. Ykir said that it is not our place to criticize his judgement, but to obey as we have always done. He was rather irritated," Brent continued slowly, "that we even tried to change his plans. He left no doubt in me that he would be angry should we try to alter things any more."

As one, the Circle hissed its collective displeasure. This was not welcome news. Many of the Adepts had gained their power over centuries, and were not happy about the idea of a boy, barely whelped, suddenly invoking the Spirit of Ykir. It was undeserved. It was inappropriate. More so, it was unfair. But to deny Ykir was to deny the power he had given them, to betray him was to die an unimaginably horrible death. What choice did they have?

Brent sighed and stood up. "Let us prepare for his arrival. He will have enemies before he can protect himself." As he walked out the door, he missed the suddenly speculative looks on several faces, almost as if he had suggested a possibility they had not previously considered...

Jake was a pretty good student. He never failed to get straight A's and B's, he liked reading, and he normally got along with his teachers.

Not all of them, though.

Ms. Christina Hawson, for some inexplicable reason, had it out for Jake in a big way. The other students thought it was pretty funny, the way this normally nice teacher, only a few years older than Jake himself, and quite attractive in her own right, was an absolute bitch to exactly one person, without any apparent reason. Jake didn't think it was funny. Jake hated Calc class with her. She would pick him only for answers she was sure he did not know, and ridicule him for not giving it correctly. Almost daily, she exploded into a public tirade about teenage males and their immature behavior, always thinking with their "nether regions"... all the while looking with burning blue eyes straight at Jake.

If only she knew how little experience Jake had had with his "nether region."

He hated it, but there was nothing he could do about it- he needed the calculus class to get into Princeton. As far as he was concerned, she was just a neurotic woman that must have dated a guy that looked like him. Poor guy.

This afternoon, a sunny Friday in May, as he walked into class, he almost didn't see her malevolent stare as he headed to his seat. A headache that had that had been with him since he had woken up that morning was distracting him greatly. His whole head seemed filled with cotton, and it felt like there were hammers trying to escape the confines of his skull in all directions. Strangely enough, the pain managed to distract him from his dread of Ms. Hawson, which he considered a small but potent blessing.

The bell rang, and Ms. Hawson stood up from her desk, instructing the class to pass up their homework. So far, so good, Jake thought. She hasn't yet started in on me. He knew that some of his friends took bets as to how far they would get in the period before Ms. Hawson exploded. Jake supposed that if her ire wasn't directed towards him, he might be betting himself, but as it was, he tried to avoid any sort of confrontation with her whatsoever. Still, he had to admit she was good to look at. Her body was smooth, firm, with a nice "C" cup, long brown hair to the middle of her back, and a cute face.

Alas, peace was not to last. As soon as Ms. Hawson started her lesson, Jake, out of habit, looked at the clock on the wall to see how much longer he would have to endure. Ms. Hawson caught his glance and immediately stopped in midsentence. "Mr. Bourque, I see that I have already lost you. Or perhaps you think you already know today's lesson?" Jake sighed and settled down further into his seat as the other students suppressed giggles. Here we go again!

"I am tired of you always glancing at the clock. I'm sure you have some hot date with a girl and can't wait to have your way with her, but it will wait until I am finished my class! I never have to speak to anyone else in this class but you! Why are you always trying to start trouble? This is a learning environment, and at least some of the students in this room want to better themselves. I know all you want to do is go around sticking your cock into anything with breasts, but don't assume-" She cut off as several of the girls in the class gasped at this foul language spewing forth from Ms. Hawson's mouth and she tried to regain her composure.

Composure was not in it for Jake. He had had enough. Throughout her tirade, what was normally a building sense of humiliation, for whatever reason today felt like a growing, almost unbearable pressure. It was not until she stopped to take a breath that Jake realized what that pressure really was.

Rage.

The traditional misery at the endless humiliation was, through his aching head, somehow filtered into a towering fury. And yet, that anger only seemed to strengthen his self-control. One thought roared through his mind: This bitch is insolent, and she will learn to pay me respect. Staring at her, his face a mask of calculated contempt, he slowly stood up. The righteous spark flared in Ms. Hawson's eyes as she saw him for the first time overtly challenge her. "Mister Bourque, what is that you think you are doi-"

"Shut up." So quiet, so calm, yet inside he was an inferno. "I have endured your disrespect for the last time. From this point on, you will treat me with the reverence due me as your superior, or you will wish you had." The classroom went dead quiet as everyone stared in shock at Jake. Nobody even breathed as the students and Ms. Hawson looked at Jacob Borque and realized they had never seen him angry before. Smoothly, he glided up to her until she was looking directly up into his frowning visage. Looking down upon her, he realized, somewhat incidentally, that she was about three inches shorter than he was. She had always seemed so intimidating before, but now she was little more than an insect to be quashed as he saw fit... and he was tempted to quash her just to make that point. It seemed she had come to a similar realization herself, as the anger drained from her face and was replaced by fear and a peculiar dread.