by Lola StVil
THE NORU: BOOK I
BLUE ROSE
By-Lola StVil
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 12B
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
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©Lola Stvil 2014
BOOK I:
PRYOR REESE CANE
The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.—Mark Twain
CHAPTER ONE: IMPORTANT TO HUMANS
When someone knocks on the door of the principal’s office, I’m relieved for the interruption. I’m hoping it’s the fire department here to announce that there’s smoke in the building and everyone needs to evacuate. Or better yet maybe a HAZMAT team here to announce that the school is officially a hot zone and will be shut down for a few years.
Okay, okay, the chances of that are unlikely, but can’t a girl get a simple fire drill? I mean anything to end my visit to the principal’s office.
“Yes, come in,” Principal Walsh says, never once breaking eye contact with me.
It isn’t the fireman that enters the room. It isn’t a HAZMAT crew. Instead it’s someone nearly as bad as the principal: my academic advisor, Mrs. Greenblatt. Everyone calls her “The Face” because when she catches you doing something wrong, she scrunches her face up like she’s smelling something rotten, then her left eyebrow moves up as if to say “I know I did not just see you do what you did.”
Mrs. Greenblatt is a full-figured lady in her fifties, with sensible shoes and glasses. She can usually be found wearing pastels and pearls. Her hair is always pinned up in a well-managed bun, not a strand out of place.
Unlike other faculty members, she’s not mean. Make no mistake about it, she will punish you if she catches you breaking the rules, but she’s just as concerned as she is firm. She remembers your name and grade point average even if she’s only met you once. And when you start behaving better, she’s the first to point it out. Or so I hear. I’ve yet to make it to the behaving “better” category. I have had my fair share of detention thanks to her. It’s not to say I don’t like her, I just wish I could get one or two tricks past her.
“Good afternoon, Principal Walsh,” she says, smiling sweetly.
“Mrs. Greenblatt, how can I help you?” he asks.
I try to avoid eye contact with her, but I can feel her willing me to turn and face her.
“Here are the records you asked for,” she replies.
“Thank you.”
“And is that Pryor Cane you have there?” she asks.
As if she didn’t already know.
“Yes, Ms. Cane has taken it upon herself to get into a physical altercation with one of her classmates,” he informs her.
She sighs this long dramatic sigh and waits for me to make eye contact. I refuse to look at her. But like a pro, she waits me out. Finally, knowing it’s the only way to get this over with, I turn and look at her. She then turns and gives me “The Face.”
“I expect this will be the last time we see Ms. Cane here for such an offense. Isn’t that right?” she asks me.
I tilt my head and smile my best fake smile.
“I’m sure we can get her to make better decisions in the future. For example, I’m told by her US History teacher that she has yet to hand in her report on the Cold War.”
“Um...I...I was planning to hand it in this week,” I lie.
“Good. I’ll be happy to take a look at what you’ve done so far in detention tomorrow,” she says pleasantly.
“What?” I ask in disbelief.
“That would be a wonderful idea, Mrs. Greenblatt. Thank you.” The principal replies in a tone that suggests the matter is closed.
“The Face” smiles and leaves the room. Now I’m left with my high school principal—who is a demon. That being the case, it’s only fair that I kill him, right? Okay, he may not be a demon. Alright, alright, I know for certain he’s not a demon. But given the fact that he’s standing here, torturing me with his lame “I expect you to behave like a lady” speech, I think the rules about not harming humans should be bent; I should be allowed to kill him.
Here’s how it would go down: I hold out my hand and his soul would be violently ripped from his body and drawn to me by force. He would then fall lifelessly to the ground. My ability to “Pull” as they call it, has been with me since birth. In addition to Pulling, I can read the level of fear in any being I encounter.
I know. Sounds exciting right? But reading someone’s wave of fear is a power I wish I could turn off. As soon as I enter a room I can see wavy lines orbit each being. The lines are onyx colored, and the darker they are the more intense the fear.
But my power doesn’t end there. I can alter the wave to increase the level of fear. This is called Binding. I can Bind fear up or down with no more than the blink of an eye. I’ll be honest with you, Binding has gotten me into trouble—a lot.
That’s why I’m sitting here trying not to Bind his fear up and make him run screaming from the room. I’m trying to take my punishment like a good girl.
“Pryor Cane, your behavior will not be tolerated. You have been given many warnings, and I’m afraid there is only so much we will take from you,” he vows.
I should be paying attention to his words, but the quiver of his round belly distracts me. It quakes every time he speaks.
“Principal Walsh, I wasn’t the one who started the fight. Why am I the only one in here?”
“Everyone in your science lab said you started it,” he barks.
“You ever thought maybe they’re lying?”
“Why would everyone lie about you?”
“Because they all want to kiss Harper Kingsley’s ass. And she’s pissed that I’m not lining up to do the same. That’s why she knocked my project over.”
“She says she did that by accident and that she apologized.”
“She was smirking the whole time. I’m telling you, she did that shit on purpose.”
“Ms. Cane, we will not allow that language in here!”
“Sorry.” I pause. “But Harper and her minions are out to get me. They don’t...like me.”
“And why don’t they like you?”
“Because I don’t worship at the altar of Harper. She’s a snobby, plastic cliché and I hate her.”
I know, I know, I sound like every other girl to Principal Walsh, but it’s not like that. I mean not really.
“Pryor, you can’t behave like this. Why don’t you try to fit in? It will make things easier for you.”
“I have a better idea,” I reply.
I start to Bind his wave. His level of fear begins to increase. Mr. Walsh’s eyes begin to widen in terror. His lips start quivering and his hands begin to shake. He stands up, suddenly fearful that something harmful may be in the chair. I stand up too so that we are both eye level. I Bind his levels up another notch. Then suddenly, Mr. Walsh is frozen in place.
That can’t be me because Binding doesn’t cause time to stop. I look outside the window and see that everyone is frozen: the deliverymen across the street, a couple mid-kiss, and a dog with his leg over the
fire hydrant. They are all frozen.
“Hi, Mom,” I say before I turn around to face her.
She didn’t come alone. She brought my father. Great. Now the two of them stand there looking at me as if I’ve killed a puppy with my bare hands.
My mother, Emerson Baxter-Cane, stands before me looking radiant as usual. She takes the hood off her head and reveals her flowing raven hair and sparkling purple eyes. Her skin is nearly translucent. She has perfect bone structure and a slim figure. I bet humans would be shocked that Death looks so good.
Yes, my mom is the Angel of Death; meaning she oversees who lives and dies. She doesn’t have a long cane with a blade on the end of it. She doesn’t wander around howling or anything. But yes, she could kill you with little more than a thought.
She is part of a Council. The Council was formed by Omnis, who created, well...everything. But Omnis wanted a separate group to be in charge of maintaining the balance of good and evil. So, he came up with the Council: Time, Fate, and my mom, Death.
My father, Marcus, has been called among the most gorgeous of angels. He has been appointed the sexiest Guardian alive by angel gossip blogs all over the world. It’s so not right.
Okay, okay, to be fair, I guess he is kind of good looking. He has deep brown eyes with gold colored specks. He’s over six feet tall and in top shape due to his never ending battles with evil. My parents look no older than twenty-two. Angels hardly ever age. But while they may look like hot young models, trust me, they are very much “parents.”
And they are parents who have perfected the “I’m disappointed in you, young lady” head tilt. They both have a way of saying my name that makes me stop dead in my tracks. And they somehow always know when I’m up to something. Seriously, somehow they always know.
“What were you doing to Mr. Walsh?” my mom asks, nodding her now hoodless head in his direction.
“Nothing,” I reply, looking away.
“That didn’t look like nothing, Pryor. He’s terrified. You were Binding him,” my dad accuses.
“A little,” I admit, avoiding eye contact.
“You could have killed him,” she says.
“I wasn’t going to hurt Principal Walsh. I just wanted him to shut up. He was going on about conforming to the status quo, and frankly that’s unacceptable behavior for an educator. I was doing humanity a favor by rendering him silent.”
“Why were you in his office in the first place?” Mom asks.
I don’t reply. I just look out the window at the dog, frozen mid pee.
Man, I wonder if that hurts...
“Hey, don’t zone out on us. Why are you in the principal’s office yet again?” she asks.
“I had a fight,” I confess.
“Oh, Pryor, honey, this can’t keep happening,” Mom reminds me.
“You don’t understand. They started it,” I try to reason.
“That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook,” Dad says.
“I didn’t Pull her. I just punched her in the face a few times. She has a plastic surgeon on speed dial. She’ll be fine,” I assure them.
“That’s not the point. You have to stop resorting to violence,” my mom says.
“Says the woman who kills for a living,” I remark.
“Little girl, watch how you speak to me. I am your mother and I will pluck both your tongue and wings if you don’t change your tone. Do you hear me?”
“Yes,” I reply reluctantly.
“Yes, what?” she asks.
“Yes, I hear you, Mom.”
“You wanted to go to a human school. The new Human Incentive says that angels must live on earth for a portion of their lives. But it doesn’t say that you have to go to a human school. You wanted that, not us,” she reminds me.
“I don’t want to go to school in Daraquin; the city of angels is not the right place for me. Everyone there wanted to be my friend just because my mother is Death and my father is a First Guardian. Everyone there is so phony. I hate them all.”
“You hate all of them?” my mom pushes.
“Yeah,” I reply after a brief hesitation.
“What about Aaden?”
Please, please stop talking about Aaden.
“Aaden-Grey is just some guy. He doesn’t even matter. He’s like...whatever.”
“Honey, you two have a thing for each other,” my mom reminds me.
“YOU TWO HAVE A WHAT?” my dad says in full heart attack mode.
“Really Mom, right in front of him?” I shout.
“I’m sorry, honey, but he was going to find out,” she says gently.
“Emmy, you knew our fourteen-year-old child asked out a boy and you kept it from me?” dad accuses.
“Marcus, he is not just a boy; Aaden is the son of one of your best friends.”
“Yeah, he is Rage’s son. That also means he’s half demon and full of hormones. I don’t want our daughter...dating.”
“We’re not dating,” I protest.
“Don’t run from him because he’s half demon, Pryor. That’s not fair,” my mom says.
“That’s not the reason,” I reply.
Dear Omnis, you are the God of angels and all of humanity. Please, just kill me now.
“Why are you trying to push them together?” my father says.
“I’m not. I just know what happens when you try to keep two people apart. That’s what happened to us and it just made us closer,” she replies.
“So you want Aaden and our firstborn to be together?” he asks, dumbfounded.
“I don’t know. Maybe they should be together. They have been around each other since they were babies,” Mom replies.
“We are not gonna be together, okay?” I bark at them.
“Why? Did something happen?” my Mom asks.
“No.”
“C’mon, honey, talk to us. What happened with you and Aaden?” my mom pushes.
“Nothing.”
“There had to be something.”
“Nothing—”
“Carrot, what happened?” my Mom asks.
“Please, please stop calling me that,” I beg her.
“Okay, I’m sorry. Now, tell us what happened with you and Aaden—”
“I ASKED HIM OUT AND HE SAID NO.”
I open the door and storm out. I run though the hallway of frozen students and I hear my dad call after me. I keep going until I hear him call me by my full name.
“Pryor Reese Cane, I said stop,” my father orders.
A cold chill races down my body. When my dad takes his First Guardian voice, it scares me. There’s a certainty and firmness in his tone that could halt armies. In fact it has done just that, many, many times.
I stand still. He comes over to me and places a hand on my shoulder. I lower my head. I don’t like making eye contact when I feel like hell. I just want to crawl into a hole and be left alone. He lifts my head up gently and looks into my grey eyes.
When he looks at me, he sees his firstborn: his precious Pryor or ‘Reesie,’ as he likes to call me. To him, I’m the little girl who got his mother’s flaming red hair and his wife’s eyes.
He sees the little girl who killed demons from her crib but was still afraid of the flying monkeys in The Wizard of Oz. He sees the little girl who tampered with her uncle Tony’s mixtures and ended up with polka-dot wings for a week.
The thing is, I’m not a little girl. I’m a grown-up. Okay, okay, not all the way, but I’m close. I’m fourteen years old and unlike my dad, I don’t see anything cute or adorable about me. I’m slender, 5’6, and have fire red hair.
I have tried my whole life to change my hair color but it never works. No matter what hair dye I use, my hair always reverts back to the red. It’s like a super freaky curse. It’s one of the things that make it hard to blend in.
“Pryor, I want to talk to you,” Dad says.
“Okay,” I whisper.
“No, I want to talk to the real you. My child. Not the girl you’re pretending to be
.”
“Dad, no. C’mon,” I moan.
“You know I don’t like talking to you when you have them on,” he replies.
I sigh and pop out my grey contacts. Now I stand before him with my natural eyes: my mom’s eyes. It wouldn’t be so bad if it were a light, misty sort of purple. But no, my eyes are actually violet. I have stared at them in mirrors for years and I still can’t believe just how purple they really are. And just like my mom’s eyes, they get darker depending on my mood.
So, imagine trying to blend in when you have red hair and purple eyes. It’s a freaking nightmare; no one genuinely wants to be my friend. And my thoughts on that are as follows: they can suck it.
Contrary to popular belief, not all teens want to fit in. We all don’t want to belong and we all damn sure don’t give a damn what others think of us.
I handled the teasing pretty well but then they started attacking me. In the Angel world no one attacked me because they weren’t stupid. I mean if you go after the daughter of Death, you better know what you’re doing.
However, in the human world, they have no idea what powers I have. To them my wings are invisible. That is unless they know, in which case they will appear.
“I hate that you hide your eyes. Your eyes are as unique and precious as you are, Reesie” my Dad says studying my face.
My parents gave me the middle name “Reese” in honor of their departed friend and teammate who died on their very first mission.
“I don’t want to be unique, Dad. I want to be normal. I want to be...nothing special.”
“That’s never going to happen, honey, you know that,” he replies.
“You don’t know what it’s like to have you and Mom as parents. You can’t understand the pressure, Dad.”
“I’m a First Guardian: all I know is pressure,” he reminds me.
“Yes, but there have been other cycles of Guardians. But being a Noru...there’re only five of us in the world,” I reply.
Suddenly my dad’s face darkens; something I just said disturbs him greatly. In order to become a Guardian, you have to be a human who died trying to help someone you loved. The story of how a human died and became a Guardian is called a Core. And that story is always gruesome and tragic. That is to say it takes a lot to scare or frazzle my dad. So reading the alarm on his face is unsettling.