Origins (A Black Novel, #1)

by Jessa L. Gilbert

  Origins

  A Black Novel

  Jessa L. Gilbert

  Copyright

  Origins is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, business establishments or locales is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. All rights reserved Copyright © 2012 Jessa L. Gilbert

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 1478106026

  ISBN-13: 1478106029

  Edited by Mitch C.

  Original Cover Art by Steven Askew

  www.redandblackwallpapers.com

  Dedication:

  This book is dedicated to Melissa “Team Luc” Vets

  “Peace will be banished, Muses will depart. The wicked

  will hurt the worthy.”

  ~ Hesiod, Theogony

  Part One

  Red

  “Verily wars and cruel bloodshed shall be unto men and grievous woe shall be laid upon them.” ~Aratus, Phaenomena

  Chapter One

  May 30, Present Day

  I wake gasping in bed, the sweat-laden sheets twined around my legs, holding me prisoner. I struggle, desperate to break free from their twisted embrace as breathless sobs rack my body.

  My mind is edged with sleep fuzz, and my arms are weighed down, useless against the sheets. The pale, citric yellow and soft lavender of my walls are gone, coated instead by the garish red of my nightmare. “Calm down. Breathe. It was only a dream,” I mutter, attempting to soothe myself as I squeeze my eyes shut. As soon as my eyelids drop down, I am once again assaulted by my dream.

  I am running, weaving through a sparse landscape of trees. The ground beneath my bare feet is damp and I can feel the moss gently squishing between my toes. My feet beat out a rhythmic slopping song as I run. Every few steps a red haze mars my vision, illuminating my surroundings with a hellish glow. Each flash of red brings with it an overwhelming mix of emotions- Red pain, Red desire, Red need, Red hunger.

  I catch sight of something- someone - scrambling over the earth in front of me. A girl close to my own age and build, blond hair streaming behind her like ribbons, scurries through the trees. I can see the sweat flowing from her, raining to the ground as her feet beat a rapid thump-thump-thump against the carpet of pine needles and dirt. A pleasant mixture of delicate floral soap, bitter sweat and the coppery tang of blood resides in her wake, igniting my hunger.

  It is then that I realize she is running from me - she is the prey and I am the predator.

  My eyes fly open, transporting me back to my still red-coated bedroom. I sit up in my bed, heart battering against my ribs, and take several deep breaths of air, refusing to close my eyes in case the nightmare that haunts me returns. Slowly, the red begins to dissipate and the sheets slacken, relinquishing their hold on my legs, allowing me to break free. I can hear my dad downstairs puttering around in the kitchen going through his usual morning routine of coffee and bagels before he leaves for work. Desperate for some sort of normalcy, I slip from bed and pad downstairs, pausing to gather my long dark hair into a loose ponytail. My bare feet sink into the plush burgundy carpet of the hallway, reminding me of the feel of the moss from my dream clinging between my toes. I am instantly grateful when my feet slap against the unyielding tile of the kitchen.

  Dad stands at the counter, his back to me, pouring a cup of coffee, his perpetually messy dark hair at odds with the sleek business suit he’s wearing. The smile freezes on his face as he turns and sees me, the corners of his mouth instantly turning downwards as his eyebrows crease together. He opens his mouth but I quickly cut him off before he can speak. “I’m fine, Dad, really. I’m just tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  “Bad dreams again?” He asks with concern.

  “It’s fine Dad. I’m fine.” Desperate to change the subject, I casually glance at the clock hanging over the cluttered kitchen table. “Aren’t you going to be late?”

  The reminder of work seems to do the trick. Dad looks at the clock, his eyes opening and mouth straightening as he notices the time. “I can take a hint,” he says, smiling lightly. “You know I worry about you. Okay, okay, I’m going. I love you. Don’t forget your appointment with Dr. Thorne.”

  “Love you too, Dad, and I won’t,” I call to him as he rushes out the door. Not like I could even if I wanted to.

  My mom died right after I was born. She had some rare disease no one knew about until it was too late. The doctor’s don’t even know if it’s genetic or not. All they know is that it’s deadly and it can appear at any time, with no warning signs. Ever since I was born, I’ve had to regularly visit a doctor to be tested. My dad chose Dr.

  Thorne, who also happens to be the doctor that pronounced my mother dead. His explanation was that she was the only doctor he could find who actually had experience with the disease. It would be an understatement to say I hate her.

  My mother, who I have never met, never even seen other than in almost twenty year old photographs, died under the care of Dr.

  Thorne. Even if I did have the disease, how does she expect to save me when she couldn’t save my mom? Resentful, I trudge back upstairs to shower, the warm water helping to relax the remaining tension of my nightmare away. I get dressed, and ready to face the day, head outside to my car- my one pride and joy- a black Mazda Miata, a graduation present from my dad. The air is thick with humidity, suffocating me as I climb in and roll down the windows so the car can breathe before I head off to work.

  After my shift in the overly sunny Hospital gift shop, I find myself surrounded by the all too familiar scents of Dr. Thorne's office. It is a smell somewhere between the pleasantness of vanilla and the reek of rubbing alcohol. As I lay back on the too cold hospital exam bed, I let my eyes close, hoping to find a few minutes of peaceful relaxation. Just as my thoughts are beginning to slow, a voice breaks through the haze, jolting me back into alertness.

  “How are you feeling today, Adelin?” a familiar voice asks.

  I sit up and open my eyes and am immediately assaulted by the familiar face of Dr. Thorne, or Marissa as my dad calls her. She takes a moment to pat her already perfect blond hair into place before throwing me a smile, making me scowl. “I'm fine, Dr. Thorne. Fine, fine, fine. Eating fine, sleeping fine. No lack of energy or will to live.

  Everything is fine.” Geesh, how many times more times today would I have to say I was fine?

  “A little on edge, are we?” Dr. Thorne jokes.

  “I don't know, I guess. I just wish I didn't have to have these stupid tests done anymore. I practically have scars from all the times I've had my blood drawn. Keep this up and people are going to start thinking I'm a junkie,” I half joke. I really am sick and tired of getting poked. It's not that I'm scared of needles, I'm not. You can only get stuck with them so many times before you start to despise them, fear or not.

  “I understand. How about, depending on what we find with today’s test- if it looks the same as all the others- I'll see if your dad and I can't come to some agreement about your appointments. Maybe we can spread them out to every six months instead of every three, okay?” she asks gently, her chestnut brown eyes softening.

  “I guess that's better than nothing. Okay, let's just get this over with already.”

  She wraps the band around my arm and ties it tightly into place before flicking the inside of my elbow a few times, her long blond hair falling over her shoulders as she bends down. “Ready? On three. One, two, three...”

  Still rubbing the spot wh
ere the needle penetrated my arm, I stumble out into the too bright parking lot. I refuse to let Dr. Thorne ruin any more of my day. Deep down I know it is not her fault my mom died. Mom was sick, no one could’ve helped her by the time they figured it out, but I’m still only human and as such I need someone to blame. It makes losing my mom a little easier to cope with if there is someone I can hate for it. Hate burns so much stronger than other emotions and, some days, I need that.

  My eyes squint together against the harsh brightness of the sun as I walk across the solid black river of pavement to reach my car. I pause halfway across the parking lot when I catch sight of a figure squatting on the hood of my car- a distant blur of shadows against the sun. My right hand instinctually comes up to shield my eyes, causing the soft edges to shift into a distinctive person. Bryn. A smile breaks the stern line of my mouth as I rush the rest of the way across the lot.

  When I reach my car, Bryn sits up straight, causing her long hair to ripple down her back in a cascade of waves. The two of us get mistaken for sisters a lot, both of us are tall with long, dark hair and pale skin, but those are the only similarities we share in my opinion.

  Bryn is poised and voluptuous with gleaming, pin straight hair almost the exact shade of dark chocolate and doe-eyed. I, on the other hand, am narrow and awkward with untamable dark brown waves woven with highlights of copper and bronze, and my eyes are a dark, stormy grey. She oozes sophistication, confidence and sex appeal. I just ooze.

  “So…..” she prompts as I stop in front of her.

  “So…?” I cue.

  “I thought maybe we could go to that new club in town….? I already called Juel- she’s going to meet us there. Whaddaya say? Can we go or should I call them back?” she rattles.

  “No, it’s fine, we can go,” I say with a smile. This is Bryn’s way of helping me relax and forget about my bad day. She knows

  “appointment days” are never good days for me, she also knows I don’t like talking about them and it’s best to help me try to let loose.

  “Great!” She beams as she slides from the hood of my car. “You can come get ready with me at my place. You know you have nothing to wear anyway….”

  “Right behind you,” I call, ignoring her comment about my clothes, grateful that she has given me an excuse to avoid my dad for a while longer.

  Pulling out my cell phone, I decide to call and leave a message for Dad. On the third ring the machine picks up and the sound of my dad's voice fills the phone. “Snow residence…. We’re not in right now, please leave a message after the......”

  -Beep. “Hey Dad. Everything's fine. Just calling to tell you that we’re going to Creston tonight so I won't be home until late. Don't wait up. Love ya.” As I climb behind the wheel, a small smile makes its way onto my face. Maybe today will end better than it had started.

  A couple of hours later finds me dancing, without a care in the world, with a cute guy named Tyler. Apparently, Tyler doesn’t like girls taller than he is, which ticks off Bryn since he is undeniably cute, but she quickly gets over it when she spots, and I quote, 'tall, dark, and handsome' at the bar. As another song ends I spin around, noticing for the first time how sparse the club has become. Where’d everyone go?

  “Crap,” I say aloud, checking my watch. “It's 1:30. I have go or my dad's going to kill me.”

  Tyler rakes a hand back through his thick dark hair. “Your dad? You live at home?”

  Ignoring his question, I grab his hand and fish a pen out of my purse to jot down the number to my cell phone. “Here's my number. Call me sometime. I gotta run.”

  I take off before he has a chance to respond, but not before noticing the look on his face that says he had been hoping for a little something extra from me. I shake my head in annoyance and then scan the club, searching the meager crowd for signs of Bryn and Juel.

  “Where’s Bryn?” I ask as I walk up to Juel, all the while attempting to straighten the ridiculous black halter dress Bryn made me wear tonight. All night long the dress has been sliding every which way, threatening to dislodge parts of me I would rather keep hidden.

  Now, after hours of dancing, the dress is even more slippery covered in sweat.

  “You know,” Juel says as she turns around to face me from her perch on a barstool, “if you keep pulling on it like that something will pop out.”

  Horrified, my hands freeze at the thought. “Where’s Bryn?” I repeat.

  “I’m ready to go.”

  “Oh, you know Bryn…” Juel trails off, waggling her eyebrows suggestively. “She probably got a ride.”

  I roll my eyes at her comment. Bryn has so many guys following her around wherever she goest that I can’t keep track of them. This is why we always take my car when we go out; that way, I wouldn’t be stuck without a ride home. “Of course, if you happen to see her, will you tell her I left?”

  “Sure thing,” Juel says before swiveling back around to face the bar.

  “Good-night, Addie.”

  “Night,” I call over my shoulder as I turn to leave.

  Pulling up in the driveway at home, I automatically flick off my headlights. I was hoping Dad would be asleep by the time I got home, but the house is still lit up like a beacon in the darkness.

  Obviously Dad has waited up for me tonight. And he has even felt the need to turn on every single light in the first floor of our house.

  Flicking down the visor mirror to give myself a once-over before going inside, I take a moment to run my fingers through my tangled mess of hair in an attempt to conceal what my dad would undoubtedly call the ‘too much fun’ look. As I climb out I recognize a familiar looking black sedan parked at the curb in front of our house. What is she doing here? Planning to stomp in and confront Dad and his ‘visitor’, I fling the side door of the house open but stop when I hear their voices coming from the living room.

  “I thought you said this wasn’t going to happen!” Dad says pointedly, his normally quiet voice raised.

  “I didn’t think it would. It should have happened by now if it was going to. I thought she was safe,” said the second voice- a distinctly feminine voice with a hint of control and false comfort. Dr. Thorne.

  It really is her. What is she doing here? What are they talking about?

  Sensing they are having a conversation they don’t want me to hear I edge the door shut behind me as quietly as possible. Pausing to take off the heels Bryn had loaned me, I begin to ease tip-toed down the brightly lit hallway.

  “If you thought it was too late for it to show up then what the hell was she doing still being tested?” Dad huffs in annoyance.

  “Like I said before, Paul, we can never be too sure—”

  “Obviously.”

  “I know this is upsetting, Paul, but we’ll get through this. She will get through this.”

  “What about Sera, Marissa? Did she ‘get through it’?” At the mention of my mom I lose all thoughts of being quiet and rush into the room, ambushing them both. “What about my mom?

  What is going on? Why is she here?!” I demand, pointing at Dr.

  Thorne accusingly.

  “Adelin,” Dad says, startled.

  “Why don’t you have a seat, Dear?” Dr. Thorne asks, patting the couch cushion beside her.

  “I’m not going to sit down- not until you tell me what’s going on!” I say in defiance as I cross my arms over my chest, willing my eyes to harden as I flick my gaze between the two of them.

  “She’s going to find out either way, Paul,” Dr. Thorne says calmly.

  Dad takes a moment to contemplate that before sighing and looks up at me. “Have a seat, Adelin. Please.” Huffing, I take a seat on the small couch, making a point to sit as far from Dr. Thorne as possible.

  The dark green cushions try to swallow me in their fluffy embrace and I struggle for a moment to maintain my rigid posture. “Marissa came over to tell me, in person, that your test results came back….” He pauses, uneasy, and glances at the floor before co
ntinuing.

  “Positive.”

  “Positive? But that’s good right?” I question, not wanting to believe what I knew he was trying to say.

  “No, it’s not good.” Dad mumbles, eyes still locked on the floor.

  “But— I don’t—” I stammer helplessly.

  “Adelin, honey, look at me,” Dr. Thorne commands soothingly, waiting until I lift my eyes to hers. “It’s going to be all right. Yes, your test was positive- you have the disease- but you’re going to be fine.”

  “Is that what you said to my mother before you killed her?!” I explode.

  Chapter Two

  June 6, 20 Years Ago

  Oh, no, we're going to be late...again, Sera thought.

  What in the world was so hard about being on time just once? What could he be doing up there? “Paul, come on or we’re going to be late!”

  “Sera, calm down or you'll go into labor,” Paul said, smirking as he began walking down the stairs.

  “Well, what took you so long?” Sera demanded.

  “No matter, I'm here and now you're the one holding us up so let's get going,” he said with a laugh.

  Together, the two walked out the door and to the green sedan parked outside. Gingerly, Paul helped a very pregnant Sera into the car and jogged around to the other side. Tonight was their four year anniversary and they were on their way to Sera's favorite restaurant to celebrate. Paul had called a month earlier to make the reservation, which they were now ten minutes late for.

  They pulled up a few minutes later to Angelina's and hurried inside.

  Once inside, the young girl behind the counter took their coats and led them near a back corner to a small table where she took their orders and whisked off. They sat joking and talking together, without a care in the world, until their food arrived. About halfway through their meals, Sera startled Paul by suddenly jumping up, a look of genuine concern on her face.