by Susan Firtik
Evangelina Green
Book 1 - The Color Guard
By: Susan Firtik
Smashwords Edition
Copyright Susan Firtik - 2011
Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
INTRODUCTION
This book is the story of Evangelina...and her sisters. No blood relation, but sisters by choice.
Although the main focus of this story is Lina, there will also be quite a bit of information about and interaction with, her two sisters, Tatianna and Antoinetta.
There are other main characters to fall in love with, side characters to drool over, and some twists, turns, sex and love.
Susan
PROLOGUE
25 years ago
The dimly lit hallway was filled with shadows. The late shift had come on two hours earlier and the hospital staff were either asleep at their stations, watching television, or reading. The patients were left to rest until the morning shift arrived at 6:00 a.m. He’d be long gone by then. Arturius moved within the shadows, barely there. He was just a movement that caught your eye occasionally, making you look, but never able to see anything. Some of the humans felt a chill as he passed, but that couldn’t be helped. He had a job to do and cloaking all his gifts was draining. He had little strength left and even less time.
The soft lighting ahead indicated the nursery. His target lay in her clear, plastic bassinet, sleeping peacefully, wrapped in pink blankets, and wearing a pink cap over her tiny blond head. He stopped beside the sleeping infant. She was only hours old. As long as he lived, Arturius never ceased to be awed by the miracle of birth, the spirit and determination of humans to continue on. He was delaying what he knew he had to do, but wanted to gaze upon his tiny pink daughter just a while longer.
Her mother Susan was a real beauty, full of life with a dash of magic. She never knew that she was special in that way. Her parents wanted her to be normal so they never told her she was descended from Dragons. Arturius wouldn’t tell her now. It was a shame she’d never know her magic. She’d never remember him or the time they’d spent together. It had to be that way to protect her and the baby she had just given birth to. Although Arturius had never been an emotional vampire, once he’d met Susan he’d begun to feel and it changed the way he viewed his life.
Susan was pregnant after the first night Arturius came to her, yet he visited her nightly for another two months, neglecting his other duties. He’d felt love and didn’t want to leave it behind. Hundreds of years without emotion, to find love in his last year of life, was unfair punishment. To stay was heady temptation.
Demon master Urell promised the black witch Martiss immortality if she would submit to him and do his bidding. He asked for a difficult spell, something to undo a vampire. Martiss prepared for months, finally cursing Arturius to fully die within one year, twelve short months, after over nine hundred years on earth.
The white witch Benelda, sister-in-coven to Martiss, disgusted by what her sister she had become, had tried to undo the curse, but being unable to do so, she gave him the ability to procreate. That was the best she could offer.
She gave him the chance to leave heirs to carry on his mission, which was plain, but not so simple: fight and stop evil from entering this world.
Martiss was stronger than most witches, but her strength was given over to evil. She was promised rewards at the cost of her humanity and worse for those who opposed her, it meant death. Benelda placed a bulls-eye on her back when she spelled Arturius with the ability to procreate, thwarting Martiss’ plans. She became the target of Martiss, Urell, and his minions. She didn’t live to see Arturius’ first born.
The swish of electronic doors closing down the hall brought him back to the task at hand. Taking one last look at the sleeping baby girl and with a heavy sigh of longing, Arturius lightly placed his hand on the child’s head. Concentrating and shaking at the effort, a soft green glow flowed from his palm onto the baby’s soft curls. Arturius spoke her name:
“Evangelina Green Maddox.
This is all I have to leave you
Your true powers, shielded and protected
Until you reach the time they are needed.
You and your family—my family—will have to fight,
To save your world. I love you.”
The green glow surrounded the entire bassinet now and formed a protective bubble around them both. A shield against the evil she would face as she grew into adulthood when her power would reach full potential. Arturius moved away and watched as the glow subsided and was slowly absorbed into the infant girl. Evangelina awoke, and even with the unfocused eyes of a newborn, she stretched her arm up for his hand, and looked…actually looked at him! Her father. They touched briefly and emotions flooded his heart. He felt love for his daughter but also sadness and regret.
He had to hurry now. Leave before the temptation to stay with Evangelina and her mother Susan became too strong to resist. Once again he was within the shadows, unseen and silent, the hospital corridors deserted. He was headed to another daughter, somewhere in northern California.
She would be his “Blue”…
CHAPTER ONE
Driving up the long, tree shrouded lane, she felt that nagging feeling of dread again.
“What the hell was I thinking?” She mused out loud. She did that a lot and her thoughts often took form as verbal mumblings, and had caused her embarrassment and chiding from parents and teachers.
Looking down the lane, the ancient trees dripped with Spanish moss, blocking the initial view of the road ahead and the house at the end of the drive. It looked like rain was coming and that would slow everything down to a crawl in the sleepy southern town.
"Damnit, I hope this storm blows over." Sunshine bled through the thick leaves, only a thin strip of light, to be swallowed up by the gloom. It did not help her mood.
The closer she got, the worse the old house looked. She knew it was in bad shape but hadn’t seen the front from this angle until this morning. There was such a feeling of sadness about the stately structure. The windows appeared to be crying for their lost youth. What little paint remained was hanging by a thread—literally. The roof not only looked bare, it seemed to sag in shame.
"Yeah, don’t feel ashamed, old lady, it’s not your fault." Lina knew she’d be pronounced crazy by anyone who caught her talking to an old house but she’d been called worse. Witch. Cursed. She pushed back the memories.
"Get back to the present, Lina.” She admonished herself, opened the car door, grabbed her bag of tools, her purse, and the small bag of clothes and toiletries and took them up to the third step from the front door.
She ran her hand through her short blond hair trying to give it some body, or shape, or life. She’d always had long hair—to the curve of her lower back, for most of her 24 years—but the heat and humidity of southern Arkansas made it wilt. The shorter, fluffy cut was easier to maintain, hitting her chin with a flirty curl and it actually made her look younger. It actually accented her unusual green eyes, even with the dark circles underneath that had formed in the last few months.
/> Lina stood over 5 ft. 11 inches tall and usually had a curvier shape, as her friends called it; she called it fat. With the stress of travelling, hiring contractors, and the heat of the south, she’d lost a good 25 lbs. and now her clothes hung on her. The stress Lina felt was that she had taken on the responsibility to get the house, grounds, and clinic finished. In less than a month her two best friends were arriving. They called each other sisters after spending every summer together at the mansion since they were eight years old. Tatianna, now called Tashi, and Antoinetta, were coming home. The latter coming home to die. None of the doctors she’d seen—and there had been many—could identify the problem and then naturally, they had no treatment or cure for her. Lina liked things in her life to make sense. This mystery illness was out of order. Lina wanted order in her life, just for a while.
Antoinetta, affectionately called Netta, was dying as sure as the mansion seemed to be. Maybe by breathing life into the old house, the flurry of activity could revive Netta as well. They all had a connection to the mansion, as they called it, so maybe?
Also with a project as huge as this one, and all the different areas that needed attention, maybe Lina could distract Netta with some small tasks. Maybe the exercise and fresh air would help. Good home cooking and loved ones near, maybe Lina could find some peace for herself. It was up to her to make sure everything was ready. Ready? Was anyone ever ready to watch their sister die?
She parked out front near the cars and trucks of the workmen doing the demo of the back of the house. She could hear the generator starting up. The recent rains had partially flooded the local swamp, so she never approached the mansion from the front. She chose to use the shortcut from town, through the now flooded and impassable swamp, arriving at the back near the kitchen. That part of the house was being torn down and remodeled into a larger more modern kitchen. Connecting the kitchen to the clinic for the new veterinarian she'd hired, which allowed it to double as a clinic for Netta, should it come to that.
The vet was still practicing in Cypress Wood, the nearest town, but once she heard the practice was dissolving, she'd asked if any of the veterinarians would be staying in the area. She hired one after seeing his excellent resume, sight unseen.
The rainstorm looming overhead would stop all work on the house and with precious little time left before Netta came home, there was no spare time for delays. Workmen had been here off and on for the last eight weeks.
The foundation for the additions had been poured, but electrical, plumbing, framing, drywall, and painting hadn’t been started. Lina and Tashi would do a lot of the finish work inside, like painting the walls and even some tile or wood floor installations. They had ceramic tiles for the kitchen and either hardwood or laminates for the rest. They left the electric and plumbing to the professionals, but Lina could install a light fixture or hang cabinets, for heaven’s sake…she wasn’t helpless. She was the mother hen of the group. Sometimes by choice, although there were times when she would have gladly let someone else take that role.
“Shake it off, Lina.” There was so much to do and so little time. The mansion had fallen into disrepair, but the land and swamps around it were still valuable. There was obvious value in the ecology. There were acres of wetlands and the nature preserve, where countless birds, mammals, amphibians, rare species of plants and trees—even some people—flourished along the river. But long ago they’d discovered oil and natural gas deposits that could bring in huge fortunes for generations, if the family had approved it, which they hadn’t. They preferred Mother Nature to amassing fortune.
***
Lina longed for the mansion of her youth, those lazy summers spent with Grams and Gramps, daydreaming, laying about, and not having a care in the world. Gloomy misgivings had shadowed the comfort she should have felt upon returning the only home to which she felt a real connection. Why?
Their adopted grandparents weren’t actual relatives, but were more like caregivers. Now, thinking back, she couldn’t remember why they called them grandparents, other than at their request, and then also out of respect for two important people in their lives. And she wondered how three girls all with different families and backgrounds ended up together at the “School” for Young Ladies every summer after they turned eight years old. The three of them were the only young ladies ever in attendance. Even their birthdays were within a year of the each other’s. Odd, but that just made it more interesting to Lina. None of the girls knew for sure how they were connected, but they felt like sisters, and that bond was strong.
The three sisters had a real chance to know both grandparents before they passed away, even though the summer visits had dwindled when the girls were seniors in high school. Too many activities, clothes, makeup, and of course, boys, became more important to the young women. Both of their grandparents had lived into their 90's, Grams even achieving the very impressive age of ninety-nine years young.
Gramps had been gone nine years now. He died quietly. One Thanksgiving weekend, he went to take an after dinner nap and never woke up. He had been their rock, the one they knew they could always come to with teenage problems or childish worries.
Grams, however, was a firecracker and a bit of a troublemaker. She didn’t take much of anything seriously and was forever getting the girls to play in the rain, skinny-dip in the local watering hole, and the kitchen was never the same after all the food fights. Grams said it was a shame to waste your youth on being grown up, “You can always be old—for now, live like you want—remember to have a little fun!”
Gramps didn’t mind. He was always somewhere near, guarding them and loving each and every one of them. Lina always felt safe, happy—so carefree—and content here.
Grams had been a strong, opinionated, tightly wound bundle of life, right up to her death. She’d been dancing her special dance. Her hips swaying, arms in the air as she took her occasional spins, she walked the spring garden, pulling weeds, or placing vegetables into her collecting basket. Her iPod plugged in and the volume so loud it could be heard north of Kentucky. Tashi and Lina were the only two who had made down that summer, Netta was at some band camp or whatever, saying she’d try to meet up with them by mid-July. Grams, still dancing her way through the green of her garden, sat down softly said, “Oh my...” and just like that she was gone.
Tashi and Lina had been watching and giggled at Grams as she went down, thinking it was part of her odd dance. By the time they realized she was in trouble, she’d gone to meet Gramps. She went out like she’d lived—full of vinegar and spit. Gramps had been gone nine years and Grams had only been physically gone for eight years now. Lina still missed them both terribly, though their spirits were felt everywhere.
***
“Time to get to work,” she mumbled to herself. She talked to herself since childhood, but it helped her focus. She tended to daydream and when her mind wandered, it really went on long, long, long trips.
“Should probably try the new keys; make a list of what to tear down first, call for electricity, water, gas.” She mentally thumped her forehead for having just then remembered she hadn’t gotten any groceries. "Shoot, now I need to get food too!" She grabbed her pen and pad. "Oh well, I’ll get the house opened and aired out while I run into town,” she said to no one in particular, making a grocery list. She lived by her lists.
Cypress Wood consisted of a grouping of failing—or ailing—businesses. There was a dry-cleaner that also housed the “Wash-o-Matic” self-wash and dry. Then there was a drug store, a small grocery/hardware store, and the barber/beauty shop. That just about completed the small, sleepy town. It was just enough to keep a dying community from going completely under, but not enough to help it thrive. For anything special, the townsfolk had to travel over forty-five miles to the next city, across the border into Longsmith, Louisiana, which sported a Walmart and the hospital and physicians building.
Her idea of bringing the veterinarian in from Cypress Wood was a start at revitalizing the area. Everyo
ne around here had at least one coon dog, some horses, cows, or chickens. The larger farm animals were quite an investment for some folks. Buying a trailer to haul them to the vet was out of the question. So there would always be a need for a vet after Doc Martin retired. He made farm calls and traveled on a regular basis to check on his patients, friends, and neighbors. The new vet would be nearer the people who needed him the most, he would also need to travel but his trips were going to be much shorter. It would also get more people out to the mansion. She hoped bringing people out would also dispel the rumors of it being cursed, haunted, and just plain creepy. The new veterinary clinic was being constructed right off the new kitchen and the vet would live in the apartment built above. If they could finish in time.
Lina also hoped her family coming back, opening the old movie house and making it into an antiques and craft store, would help bring some life, or least hope, back into the small town. She knew there were some very talented people in the general area. They would gain from the promotion of their creations. Some were painters, others were sculptors, and a few wood workers had some impressive pieces that they had sold online for some impressive prices.
They had all agreed to help her out with some of their inventory to stock the shop on consignment. Almost all the women around small towns knew how to knit, crochet, and sew. This was old south and the menfolk were men. They didn’t do that sissy stuff. They drove pickup trucks and fished and hunted, like men.
She learned that the hard way, when she asked one of the men at the hardware store if he could recommend a seamstress nearby. He would have ruffled his rooster-feathers, if he’d had them.
"I don’t know nuthin' about that sewin' stuff, you’ll have to ask the womenfolk." Lina had smiled, wondering how he knew a seamstress was a person who sews. She not only found seamstresses, three of them, but also quilters, knitters, crocheters, scrap-bookers—all the sissy stuff she needed for her store to do well. Travelers came from all over, especially the East Coast, passing through on the interstate headed for New Orleans. Tourists were always looking for just the perfect trinket or gift to commemorate their trip to the south. Their small town was quaint and now-a-days homemade items were very popular. Since the county had paid for an exit for Cypress Wood to take some of the heavy traffic away from the major interstate, it might possibly get folks back to the scenic route. Since many of those visitors might exit for gasoline and sodas from the convenience store, she thought it would be perfect location for the antiques store and flea market.