Echoes in Eternity (The Pella Series Book 1) (19 page)

“Is... Sarah a Nephilim?” I ask reluctantly.

“Not one bit! She’s dull as ditch-water and possibly knew that you were special all along and...” continues Stella with relief in her voice but my uncle reprimands her. Hearing that Sarah and I aren’t the same makes me feel better just a little bit.

“Stella!” with a stern voice and a forbidding look.

“How about you?” I ask to change the topic from Sarah.

“We are...” Stella says her sentence hanging in the air looking at my Uncle to complete the rest since he scolded her. “...Watchers,” he finishes as Anthony parks the SUV in front of the house.

I test the word, “Watchers? What exactly is a Watcher?” I ask. Is this a piece of information they need to hide from Anthony?

“Grigori,” Stella responds.

“Okay, I’ve no clue what that is...” I toss my hands in the air, exasperated.

“You know I’m not related to your mother, to Sarah, I mean. I was adopted by her parents,” Uncle Gabe says and opens the door to the SUV. I follow him out of the vehicle. Then he turns to me and holds my arms over my elbows firmly and looks into my eyes grimly.

“Listen to me Ellie. You are in danger. In mortal danger!” he enunciates each word clearly so I have no doubt in the sense of his speech. “This is not to be taken lightly. So many are after you! We need to take you to a safe place until we can determine what can be done. Our home is no longer safe, although it may provide a limited amount of protection. Now they've known that you've come of age, they’ll find you! We’ve blown our covers. We are sentinels and we are seen in our own forms. This place is no longer safe for you.”

“You’re telling me this now? Who is looking for
me?
Who
 will find me?”

“The
Fallen Angels
, the bounty hunters, the Darklings... Anyone who wants a piece of heaven, anyone who can profit from it will come after you!”

“Why would they want me? I’ve got nothing. Less than nothing...”

“You have your soul. A priceless soul; a soul that can be a key to heaven. That’s not just nothing! There are people who are their minions, people who would sell their souls for a packet of cigarettes. Do you know the extents they would go to if they knew just how valuable you are?” My uncle replies sternly.

“I don’t want to be running! I’ve got a job. A great job! I’m moving tonight!” I reply.

“They tried to take you not more than half an hour ago, Ellie!” my uncle scolds me angrily.

“And somehow I manage to thwart it, him, her, whatever it was!” I respond with equal fervor.

 “It was only Phlegethon! Its powers are limited on the surface of the earth, yet strong enough to nearly rip Anthony’s soul! It’s only a minion of one your enemies!” My uncle says harshly. I reach to open the front door of the house. My uncle’s hand reaches to hold it in place. 

“Do you know Anthony? Is my job something you all cooked up?” I ask disappointed.

“I’ve only met him when we came to rescue you. But I know what he is. There aren't many of your kind. Ellie, please, I’m begging you. Don’t go! We need to protect you!”

“I can assure you
sir, Miss Duncan will be well protected!” interjects Anthony. My uncle turns his head to Anthony as if he’s just recognizing his presence.

“Like you
 
just
 managed to protect her? What if we didn't get there in time?” he says menacingly making Anthony wince.

“It’s my choice! My life!”

“Your life is 
NOT
 your own!” my uncle bellows to me and my hand falls back from the door. It would have been better if he just hit me.

“I’ve always lived my life how everyone in this house told me to live. I went to the schools
 you've chosen. I’ve made friends with people you deemed worthy. I went to the shrinks Sarah made me  go to even though she hasn't mothered me one single day, not to mention made me feel guilty for existing! The only person who didn't make me feel like I’m a burden is Stella, and she’s the nanny. So, I’m asking you then uncle, whose life is it I’m living?” I whisper.

“It’s all yours, baby!” Stella says, her gaze shooting daggers at my uncle. “Let’s get you packing.”

“Stella! I have an oath! You have an oath! She needs to be protected!”

“I intend to keep my oath! Let her live, Gabriel! Let her have a shot at life!” spews Stella as she pushes me into the house.

“I have a duty! We both do!” says my uncle, and Stella turns on her heels to speak to my uncle and orders Anthony:

“Don’t just stand there Anthony, guard her door while I have a word with Gabriel,” she says, and Anthony follows me upstairs. I take the winding stairs two at a time, anxious to get out of the house. I quickly make a mental inventory of the items I want to take with me: two suitcases should be enough. When I reach my door, Anthony halts, “I’ll wait for you here ma’am, to give you privacy,” he says and I nod as I close my door. I must have left the balcony door open; my room feels chilly, but I don’t care. I go to my closet immediately, and bring down the suitcases I take
on trips. I quickly collect the clothes I want to wear, and fold them as I place them into the suitcases. I should take a quick shower. My black dress is dusty having been laid on the ground. I quickly make my way into the bathroom and turn the shower on hot. I choose my clothes to wear, and prepare my cosmetics and personal items bag. When the steam starts covering the shower walls, I divest my dress and my undergarments and quickly walk into the shower. I want to clean and get out quickly but hot water relaxes my muscles, and gets rid of the ache I didn't know I had. I finally take my time under the hot water.

When I finish washing my hair and body, I walk out of the shower, and wrap a bath towel around my body, and another like a turban on my hair. After drying myself, I quickly put on my black lacy bra and boy shorts. I put on my hip hugger jeans and dressy black sleeveless blouse. My hair goes into a ponytail, and I finally put my socks and sneakers on. Taking my cosmetics bag, I make my way into my bedroom, and halt in my track
s. Sarah is standing in the middle of the room waiting for me. Why would Anthony let her in? Or was she in my room all along, hiding on the balcony perhaps? Seeing her looking at me unblinking falters my step.

“Going somewhere?” she asks nonchalantly.

“Yes. I got a job. I’m moving,” I reply as I move forward to my bed to place the last item, and zip the suitcases up. I check my watch. I’ve been in my room for thirty-seven minutes!

“I see... Do you think it’s wise for you to leave...” she says nonchalantly pursing her lips, “without completing your therapy with Dr. Newman?” she asks arching her perfectly plucked eyebrows.

“I don’t like him, and he sure as hell doesn’t like me. It’s best I don’t use his services,” I reply looking at her pointedly. I hear muffled noises down below. I walk towards the door to see what’s going on.

“Hold it!” Sarah shouts loudly fury emanating from her body, her eyes look glazed.

“I’ve had a long day, Sarah. Can we discuss this some other time?” I ask placating her.

She takes a step forward towards me freezing me in place with her gaze. “Do you think this chance will occur again?” she says with a mocking smile.

“ You've been a disturbed, abnormal, freakish girl since birth!” she states as if she’s explaining a simple fact to a dimwit. “Do you know what you did when you were born?” she asks me rhetorically. Without waiting for my answer she continues as she slowly steps towards me. “They may think I don’t remember it, because they put me to sleep. But I woke up, I was coherent enough. I saw it all!” she says in a gravely guttural voice. “They cleaned you up and tried to give you to me when they saw me semi coherent, and you shrieked like I was the devil! But the second that bitch nanny of yours walked in to the room, you beamed at her! You, a newborn baby extended your arms to her! I saw it! You held onto her! And when she held you tightly like you 
belonged
 to her, you spoke! What kind of a baby speaks? Only an abnormal one!” she spews.

“I spoke?” I ask unbelieving. “Pray tell,
 
mother
,” I say sarcastically, “what would a newborn say? I know that you hate me, but I can’t believe your hatred extends to make up shit like this!” I shout back at her.

“You said one word... one and only word, ‘
Alexander
’. I never put two and two together until your freakish dreams started. You are an abomination! You don’t belong, and I know just how to make my mistake right!” she says and moves behind me, puts me in a choke-hold and points a strange knife to my throat.

“What are you doing?” I shout.
Surprise, anger, disappointment, even rage courses through me, yet none of my defense mechanism kicks in. Finally, heartbreak wins over. Sarah might as well run the blade through my heart. My hand absently rushes to my chest to stop the proverbial bleeding of my decimated soul.
My own mother!
She gave birth to me! Why couldn’t she just love me like any other mother? My strength and natural will for self-preservation drains through me like water in a sieve. I have had enough mixed martial arts classes to disarm and even seriously hurt seriously hurt a man twice the size of Sarah. I’ve seen enough bar brawls in Mexico to understand dirty fights and respond in kind. But, my years of engrained training in respecting parental figures kick in just at the wrong time. I can’t move a finger to neutralize or hurt Sarah even if she truly intended to kill me. She’s the woman who gave birth to me; she’s my mother! How can I physically hurt her?

“Waiting for you to be collected! Don’t you dare move, or I swear to God I’ll cut you open like a sacrificial lamb!” she bellows as her right arm holds me tighter and the tip of the knife digs right into my jugular.
The tone of Sarah’s voice dripping with pure, undiluted hatred briefly brings me back to my senses. I can feel her breath on my neck. The momentary clarity gives me a small desire to escape. Escape far, far away. I try to struggle yet still trying not to hurt her but she leans into my ear and whispers, “If you wish to be careless with your life by attempting to escape me, please do. It will only make me happier and I will not hesitate to send you back to hell where you came from!”

My eyes slowly travel over her arm wrapped around my neck and when I gaze down at the knife, I vaguely realize that it’s a small, dull shade of silver glaive with carvings on it.
Where did she get this? I feel her shuffle behind me, and she moves her left arm, pressing something. Tears cloud my eyes, but I cannot cry to give her further satisfaction. I just want that boulder choking my esophagus to wash away. I hate myself for caring what she thinks of me! Yes, she is my mother, but I want to learn to expect nothing of her! Of anyone! When you get nothing, there’s no disappointment. I must have expected her to love me. How could I make that mistake? But, she gave birth to me! Surely it means something! My heart shatters more. How can one’s own mother hate her child? I tremble in her grasp, not of fear of dying but the hatred of her every word chips away at my strength, making me feel worthless. I want to scream. I want to hurt something with my bare hands. I want to bleed to feel
something
… Anything but this feeling of worthlessness! I’m wound up tighter than a drum; I feel my capillaries in my eyes strain and finally break. The smidgen of blood from the burst capillaries is enough to push the tears off the brim. I clench my teeth hard, but it won’t stop the silent tears from streaming.

“Is this your way of begging for my mercy? Am I to be merciful to an abomination?” she mocks me.
No! It’s the only outlet for my rage. I am not a weakling when it comes to defending myself. But this… Everything I’m taught screams in my head that I cannot hold a hand against my own mother even in my own defense. Aren’t mothers supposed to be sacred, revered, loved? I can’t hit her even if it is to get away from her. What if she’s under the influence of some meds or some temporary insanity? Can I live with myself if I harmed my own mother?

“
I want nothing from you, not even your mercy, Sarah!” My voice is steady despite the churning storms within me.

“Ahh! Then you
do
think you got everything you could possibly steal from me! Isn’t that why you’re taking off?”

“
Do I look like I have everything? I have nothing left to give you!” I ask holding my empty hands. “My inheritance… I don’t want it! Take it! My childhood… You poisoned it. Yet all I did was to try love and respect just so you would love me a little bit! But no longer…” I find no point in explaining. I’m exhausted of constantly giving and being pushed down.

“
All I have left is my life which you seem to think you gave me! Just do whatever the hell you intend to do quickly. I won’t try to hurt you,” I say and try to shut off my feelings.

“As if you could…”
she hisses savagely. My conscious knows that I have to get away from her, but as the last shred of hope I had of my mother to love me shatters, I feel my will to get away evaporate as if the weight of her hatred is a physical entity bearing down on me. The noises outside grow, and Sarah shuffles behind me once more.

“I can’t fucking believe it! Three men can’t do the job one single woman can accomplish!” she bellows, and presses something on her phone I think. Is she reading a text message while she’s holding me hostage?
The momentary distraction lifts that weight off and I struggle finding an opening to get away, twisting my body like a contortionist, and she surprises me with her inhuman strength and kicks me on my shin, delivering a sharp pain which travels through my lower leg. I’m buckling with pain. She grabs me by the hair and pulls me back up with her glaive ready to pierce me.