The Haret (The Haret Series)

by Denise Daisy

  “All you have given her is vindication for her behavior and a hoax of deception to hide behind.”

  Rosie had an uncanny way of always being able to tell when Sharon was lying or hiding the truth behind her eloquent vocabulary.

  “You honestly believe your daughter is lying to you?”

  Sharon looked out of the window delaying her answering. She knew all three of her daughters well despite accusations that she spent too much time away from home. She knew Lisette had lost her virginity some time ago and although regretted her actions was promiscuous and continued giving herself away. That is why she had her daughter on birth control and used the excuse that Lisette needed to be on it for her acne medication. That was the only way she could justify it to Melvin. She also knew Hayley was sneaky and manipulated her parents to get her way and Sharon knew when Hayley told them she was going to her friend’s house to study she was really going to the mall to pick up on guys. Even though her other two daughters were less than trustworthy she knew deep inside Felicitas was nothing like them. Felicitas was a good soul and had been her entire life. She loved others deeply always sacrificing so her sisters could have their way over hers. She was generous always giving to those in need. Unlike her sisters who spent lavishly on themselves, Felicitas gave most of her monthly allowance away regularly supporting orphans in other countries. Once at a high school assembly she saw a film about Invisible Children in Africa and was so moved by it she began personally sponsoring the organization. She had a wall in her room with pictures of the children she provided for and a single picture of mother Teresa which rubbed Melvin the wrong way every time he saw it. He told Felicitas her hero should not be catholic since they were Christian to which Felicitas only laughed, shook her head in disbelief, and walked away.

  If she made a commitment she kept it. She had the strongest will power of anyone Sharon had ever known. She set standards for herself and stuck to them without wavering. If Felicitas said she got pregnant in a dream then deep inside Sharon believed Felicitas sincerely thought it to be true.

  As if Rosie were reading her thoughts she walked over to the counter and stood beside her daughter.

  “You do believe her don’t you?”

  Sharon didn’t answer her; she continued to stare out of the window.

  “Why won’t you admit it?”

  A lump formed in Sharon’s throat as she held her tears at bay. She continued her deep inspection of the back yard swallowing hard before answering.

  “Because mother, I hate the book and I hate the story, it’s been a curse my whole life. It took daddy away from me and then Paul and all my friends. It separates you from those you love, believe me I know. If I admit she got pregnant in a dream and help her on this quest, then I am as much sending her away from me forever. We both know how the story ends, either the drakes kill her and the baby or the guardian escorts her and my grandchild safely home…. to Haret I lose them either way.”

  Rosie bowed her head in silence and Sheriff Edwards realizing he needed to give a mother and daughter some time alone slipped quietly from the kitchen.

  Rosie placed her scarred hand on Sharon’s shoulder and spoke softly.

  “I’m sorry honey. I’m sorry about your dad, and Paul and everything you have lost. It’s taken a lot away from me too, including you. But hating it doesn’t make it go away. The reason it brings us pain is we were never meant to be here in the first place. Our true home is in Haret and whether we like it or not we’re involved in the war to preserve it.”

  Sharon pulled her gaze away from the window and looked at her mother standing there wearing a sling, an obvious battle scar of the war which she had referred. Rosie was still beautiful even at sixty; she had no wrinkles only laugh lines at the corners of her eyes and a few pulling at the corner of her lips. Her chestnut hair still shined with less than half of the strands giving way to silver and her cornflower eyes continued to dance even when filled with tears. Sharon knew her mother had lost a lot in this life, yet she continued to believe and persevere and did it with such joy. Just like she did when Sharon was a child, no matter what the circumstance her mother always smiled, always hoped, always carried on, and always believed. Sharon’s soul ached for the lost years. She took her mother’s disfigured hand and kissed it gently.

  “I’m going to need a little more time.”

  Rosie cupped her free hand over her daughters grasp.

  “I know dear, just don’t make it too long.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Felicitas sat in the cab of the truck between her mother and Grant and despite her wishes she was headed home. They rode in silence, the tension thick between them.

  She got out of bed early not being able to go back to sleep after her nightmare and the argument with her mother. She dressed and went downstairs to get a bite to eat and surprisingly found her mother and grandmother locked in a loving embrace.

  Sharon shocked her by apologizing for the accusations she made and then told her if she came home she would do her best to back her story but said she needed to do a bit of detective work first. Felicitas knew she really meant she wanted to do a background check on Grant and really couldn’t blame her. After all they did barely know the man and still had no idea how he became acquainted with the whole story in the first place and why he considered himself to be the guardian. Sharon promised she would let Felicitas back in his company once the investigation was completed but until then she’d rather have Felicitas safe at home.

  Sharon didn’t apologize to Grant and even though she had relented some she extended none of her sympathies to him. Felicitas felt that the very fact he was driving them both home showed his pure intentions in their lives and in her mind proved him innocent of any ill intent and in spite of his sarcasm and rough exterior she thought him to be a decent soul.

  They were about twelve miles down the crooked narrow road when Felicitas began to feel the effects of her morning sickness combined with the sugary sweet waffles she consumed before leaving. The fact that she was crowded between her mother and Grant with the stifling air of the heater blowing directly into her face didn’t help matters any. She leaned her head against the back of the seat and moaned.

  “You’re gonna have to pull over. I think I’m gonna hurl.”

  Grant rolled down his window and pushed the air to cool but continued driving still taking the curves at an increased speed.

  Felicitas moaned again and covered her mouth with her hands. Sharon looked over at Grant who was focused on the road accelerating the speed with every turn.

  “I think you better stop.”

  He glanced in his rear view mirror but instead of stopping he pressed on the gas taking the curves at even a higher speed.

  Sharon steadied herself.

  “Are you crazy? What do you think you are doing?”

  Grant kept a tight control of the steering wheel and with his other hand opened the glove box and pulled out a gun.

  Sharon screamed.

  He glanced in the rearview.

  “Hold on tight girls, we’re being followed. I’m going to do a fast U-turn. When I do, you two duck down.”

  Felicitas and Sharon turned around to see two motorcycles closing in behind them.

  Felicitas nausea escalated and with every swerve of the truck she felt the syrupy waffles floating in her stomach but it was the rising dread that was forcing its way up her throat. Remembering the glow of flames coming from David’s burnt out truck caused her to wonder if this was how it went for him. Had been chased as well? Would she and her mother come to the same end? She swallowed hard holding the food in her stomach a little while longer.

  “What do you mean we’re being followed? Who’s following us?”

  Grant didn’t answer; instead he swung the truck around so forcefully that had it not been for her seat belt she feared she might have been thrown into his lap.

  “Get down now!” He yelled.

  Felicitas felt her mother’s hand push her
head down protecting her. Grant fired his gun; the deafening sound of the blast rang in her ears. Another shot, this time it came from a distant gun. Grant fired again. Another shot and the windshield shattered. Sharon screamed as glass rained down on them. Felicitas raised her head to see if her mother was okay but ducked quickly at Grants command to stay down. Amidst the gunfire and roar of motorcycles she heard her mother mumbling a desperate prayer; at least she was still alive. Another shot and the left front tire blew jerking the speeding truck from Grant’s control. Everything became a blur; Felicitas slammed hard into Grant as she felt her lap belt release sending her into the broken windshield. The truck tilted and flipped rolling over at least three times before coming to rest on its side at the bottom of a small ravine.

  Felicitas lay still feeling the prickle of rough dry grass poking at her face and scratching her arms and legs. She lifted her head and tried to focus on three figures descending the slope heading towards the wreckage. She looked for the truck spotting it behind her several yards away resting on its side. Dread engulfed her; had her mother survived the crash? She looked back to the incline and peered through the tall stalks of yellow grass. Her heart accelerated, the three figures were closing in.

  Grant didn’t waste a minute; he kicked out the remaining glass of the windshield, unhooked Sharon’s seatbelt and pulled her to safety. Wild eyed and panicked Sharon looked around the wreckage for her daughter and began calling out for Felicitas. Grant placed his hand on her mouth hushing her and pushing her to the ground. He spoke in a hoarse whisper.

  “She fell out. I’m going to find her.” He glanced at the line of trees only a few yards away. “Stay out of sight but try and make your way to the woods. Find a place to hide.”

  Before Sharon could protest, Grant hunched down snaking his way through the overgrowth and disappeared from her sight.

  Felicitas was thrown from the truck as soon as it went on its side and that more than likely saved her and the baby. She knew she wouldn’t have survived being thrashed about in the cab while the truck cart wheeled down the steep incline.

  Her elbows wobbled; the fear weakening her as she crawled through the grass toward the truck. She didn’t hear any noise and feared both her mother and Grant had perished in the accident. Tears stung at her eyes but she held them back refusing to cry. She would not give in to the thought. She crawled a few more feet, the dried twigs and sticks cut into her palms and knees.

  A shadow formed over her blocking the sun. Looking up she saw the menacing face of a man, a malevolent grin spread across his lips.

  He reached down into the grass and grabbed her by her hair and with incredible strength pulled her to her feet. She cried out in pain trying to pull away. He released his hold on her hair and clasped his hand around her forearm jerking her close.

  “I’ve got her.” His hostile voice called to his companions who were making their way to the truck.

  She tried to pull away but the force of his grip wouldn’t allow it. She would rely on the martial arts classes she took as a child and the self-defense course, her mind trying to recall the right technique to get out of the man’s grasp. The only thing she could remember was to go down to the ground. She buckled her legs and for a brief second the man lost his grasp but before she could make her escape he grabbed her by her hair again jerking her to her feet pulling her off balance. She lost her footing and fell back into the grass. She rolled onto her side and kicked.

  Out of nowhere Grant came into view pouncing on the man; like a mountain lion attacking its prey he knocked him to the ground then landing on top of him striking with his fist. With incredible strength the man pushed Grant off then landed a forceful kick in the side of his face. Felicitas watched Grant’s eyes explode in outrage as he absorbed the strike. With a blow of that magnitude she expected him to fall but instead with great prowess he executed a spinning kick this time landing his foot in the side of the man’s head. The drake stumbled backward disoriented unable to recover fast enough to block Grant’s next blow forcing him to the ground.

  Felicitas screamed a warning when a second man wielding a knife appeared lunging toward Grant and knocking him flat the blade striking only inches from his neck. Grant grabbed a thick branch and swung it hard hitting the Drake upside the head and sending him rolling. He leaped to his feet kicking the knife from the man’s grasp while placing another swift kick to the side of his head. Felicitas screamed again as the third man approached joining forces with the other two. She watched in horror as all three drakes ganged up on Grant attacking in full force.

  Grant whirled around swinging his makeshift club like a bow staff. The new arrival pulled a gun from his belt but Grant leaped into the air and kicked it from his hand sending the deadly weapon into the grass. He twirled the branch again swinging it hard and slamming it in the side of the man’s neck then he used the end to butt the other drake in the face.

  Then, it happened again. A flash of light, another vision, Grant was in a dark place poised with a knife in his hand. As suddenly as the vision appeared it dissolved leaving her more confused than ever. She had encountered Grant before but where? Could Ian and her dad be right? Did he have something to do with her disappearance last week? Were these visions suppressed memories trying to surface? Ian’s words that she was being drugged and duped, a victim of deceit, flooded over her. Her stomach dropped and her head began to swim.

  The first man recovered from the blow of the club and struck again this time grabbing hold of Grant from behind. Felicitas attention was forced back on the fight and she watched in horror as one of the men held Grant while the other two beat him. Grant took several blows to his face and gut; blood began to spew from his nose and mouth. She looked around panicked, fearing Grant’s strength would not hold out much longer. She glanced at the overturned truck several yards away and wondered if her mother was lying hurt or dead. She looked back at Grant who was fading fast losing consciousness with each blow. She couldn’t just sit there and watch him die; she had to do something, besides as soon as the men finished off Grant they were come after her. She searched the field for something she could use, maybe a large rock or a fallen limb like Grant had used for a weapon and then her eyes landed on the perfect object. The gun Grant knocked from the man’s hand was lying only a few feet away. She had to move fast, she stayed down so not to draw attention to herself and began crawling toward the weapon. Her heart pounded as she snaked along through the grass, she had never fired a gun and wasn’t sure she would be able too. At least she could wave it about and make threats pulling the men away from Grant long enough to give him the gun. Just as she reached for it she felt a strong grip on her ankle pulling her back. Looking over her shoulder she caught a glimpse of the drake that had hold of her. She rolled onto her back kicking as hard as she could, landing her foot in his groin. Fury boiled in his eyes and for an instant he let go recoiling in pain. She scrambled back on all fours and crawled toward the gun her heart pounding in her chest sucking the air from her lungs. Adrenaline exploded within her when her fingers touched the cold metal. She sensed the man coming up behind her; he grabbed both her legs. She rose up on both arms taking two steps with her hands. She grabbed the handle of the gun just as he began hauling her back. He drug her through the brittle grass unaware she had the gun firmly in her grasp.

  She held onto it trying to turn it in the right direction, terrified of what was coming next. She could still hear the strikes of the fight but couldn’t see Grant and at this point figured she was their only chance now that she had a weapon. She couldn’t act too fast and blow it either could she wait too long or Grant might die.

  The man stopped dragging her and with great strength flipped her on to her back. She raised the gun shouting for him to back away. His lips curled into a malevolent snarl as he reached for her only defense. She closed her eyes and pulled the trigger. The blast was deafening, the gun kicked back busting her in the nose. A look of realization spread across the man’s face while blo
od poured from this mouth. He pitched forward and fell on top of her. She screamed and pushed him off of her just as two more shots rang out nearby.

  She scrambled to her feet fearing the worst. Two dead drakes lay on the ground, both shot in the chest. Grant crumbled to the ground, beaten and bloody, a stunned but grateful expression covered his face. Felicitas followed his gaze and saw her mother holding a smoking gun.

  She sighed relieved and gave way to her tears then leaned over and emptied the sugary waffles into the grass.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Esther could barely keep her eyes open. She hated her fourth period Economics class and the teacher Mr. Foster bored her to tears. He was a kind and unassuming man who wore gray slacks, a white shirt, and a green neck tie every day of the week. He parted his hair slightly above his left ear and combed over a few brassy blonde strands to try and cover the top of his bald head. He always dimmed the lights in the class room and sat on a stool near his overhead projector reading economic charts, mumbling barely above a whisper, occasionally looking up and glancing at his students over the top of his reading glasses.

  Esther’s stomach rumbled, she looked at the clock hanging over the door and sighed. Another thirty minutes before she could escape. The only thing keeping her from falling asleep was the hunger pains gnawing inside her. She had gotten home late last night. She and Reed left the diner around eleven and by the time they took the hour and a half drive back to her house it was nearly one in the morning. Then to her dismay her mother was waiting up for her so by the time she answered all her mother’s questions she didn’t actually get into bed until two in the morning.

  Reed never voiced his opinion on the whole situation. The entire ride home was somewhat awkward and silent leaving Esther feeling sad and wondering if he thought she was as crazy as her friend and if he did she figured she would probably never hear from him again. He never said anything about Rosie’s book or Grant’s accounting of Chowilawu and when he dropped her at her house He had nothing to say except he hoped David would recover and then he left leaving her feeling as if her chances with him were gone. She overslept and skipped breakfast just to make it to school on time. She didn’t mind being a little late at least she didn’t have to answer all the questions everyone was throwing her way.