Awakening: Book 1 The Last Anakim Trilogy

by Janet V Forster

  ‘Wow …’ was all I could manage, disconcerted by the emotional connection I felt.

  ‘It was a commission. A long time ago. I was a child. Some famous sculptor did it,’ Nick explained.

  ‘The boy is lost,’ I said, ‘and she’s afraid …’

  He placed his hand on my shoulder, gently drawing me away. ‘It’s art … open to interpretation.’

  We continued to the stairs and then up them. He took my hand as I reached the top one, seeking to reassure me. I wondered where the army of staff hid, whether they were camouflaged so as to give the illusion of privacy. ‘There’s no-one here, Deb, it’s Sunday.’

  It felt good to have my hand in his. ‘I’ll have to take your word for it,’ I answered, shifting from foot to foot, waiting for an ancestor to pop out of the woodwork and demand to know what I was doing here, or a haughty butler to remind me that riff-raff should use the back entrance.

  Squeezing my hand he laughed. ‘We should be quite safe, Deb. It’s only me around. Not that that should reassure you.’ He winked mischievously, sending my heart into free-fall. Blood roared in my ears.

  Dropping my hand he held the door open for me and bowed as I walked in. It closed behind us with a deep thud. The interior wasn’t what I had expected, whatever that was – maybe something flashy and over the top.

  ‘It’s lovely,’ I mused, my fingers tracing the carvings along the back of an antique bench-seat in the entrance area.

  He watched me, amused. ‘You look amazed.’

  ‘Maybe,’ I agreed, ‘I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, something modern maybe.’ I was surprised by the tasteful, refined furnishings. The dark furniture looked heavy, antique. Rust and gold coloured Persian rugs warmed the glossy timber floors, family portraits and old oils in ornate frames hung on the walls. There was history here, it was almost tangible. The past embraced us like the walls had eyes, very old eyes which looked back into ours and measured everything. Or was it just me, measuring myself, failing as I doubted my own worth in this place where I was so uncertain of my welcome?

  Although he had said we were alone, the house felt occupied, watchful. Maybe it was the spirits of the past and the stories which attached themselves to everything in this home. Nothing was mass produced, characterless. It was all old … unique … infused with something intangible.

  ‘It’s an old house, and it’s old money,’ Nick explained, gesturing to what surrounded us. ‘Everything in here has been around for a while. The furniture, rugs, the paintings … everything in the house is inherited. My parents hold onto things, they’re very sentimental. The house has been in my father’s family a while.’

  I nodded, suddenly more curious about my own history, one I seemed to know so little about. ‘You’d see why they would, every piece has a history.’

  ‘Which is impossible to escape,’ he replied cynically.

  A strange longing came over me as I regarded the walls. ‘The paintings, all the photos, it’s very nice,’ I said, walking up to framed photos of other places, other times, and examining them. Handsome men, many with the same startling eyes, their builds strong, their jaws determined, dashing into the ocean to save a floundering swimmer, playing cricket and golf, receiving philanthropic and business awards, riding in hot-air balloons with their lovers or wives, champagne glasses raised. Good-looking and successful, wealth and power, an intoxicating combination.

  The women were a more varied group, but no less stunning. Some were fair-haired, others darker, but they were all remarkable. They gazed directly into the eye of the camera, with easy smiles and high foreheads and striking wide-set eyes.

  ‘The eye thing is very unusual.’

  He nodded. ‘We’re freaks, Deb. Haven’t I been trying to tell you that?’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t go that far,’ I answered with a smile.

  He shook his head. ‘That’s just because you don’t know us, believe me.’

  Turning to him I reached up to place my hands on his shoulders. ‘Your eyes are amazing, Nick.’

  His irises seemed to luminesce, the darker green becoming streaked with emerald and then merging with the gold which swirled around the pupil, becoming almost green-yellow in places for a moment, cat-like. And then streaks of olive appeared as the gold bled into the colour. As he turned slightly to the window, the colour changed to blue and green, and then only green when he looked back at me. Green with fire in the middle. And then the colours merged and marbled again, constantly picking up and reacting to each and every light variation around us. A branch moving against a window in the breeze, a cloud moving in front of the sun and dimming the light through the windows, minute shifts in my movement in front of him. The colour changed constantly. But strangely only if you stood this still and this close to examine them, was it that obvious.

  ‘They’re definitely not normal.’

  ‘Well it’s not just me so beware, we’re coming for you.’

  ‘They’re like a kaleidoscope ... filled with life from other galaxies.’

  He gestured back to the wall of photos. ‘Whatever they are, they are not unique, as you can see.’

  He was quite right, of course, a bizarre genetic anomaly which was probably best left to science to explain.

  One photo stood out from the others. The quality was a little grainy and so it was quite hidden by the vibrancy of the others. Taking a step closer I peered at it. The family were assembled, but it was unlike the rest.

  ‘Sofia,’ Nick murmured, noticing my interest as I examined a face which hadn’t appeared in the others, ‘my father’s sister.’

  ‘Sofia,’ I repeated. Something tugged at me. I reached out and touched her face. ‘She looks sad.’ The pain on her face was almost contagious. In fact the whole gathering looked formal and unhappy, the subjects dressed in dark clothes, with expressions to match. She was in the middle, an unusual beauty, even with her tortured green eyes and drawn mouth. I wondered how her face changed when she smiled and the pain left her eyes, whether that was even possible. The family leaned in slightly towards her, their sideways glances almost furtive. She seemed unaware of them. Her arms were slightly extended, her palms facing upwards, like she was imploring something higher, or God, something a photo could never capture. She seemed so fragile, like a touch might topple her, make her crumple or disintegrate in a puff of dust. It seemed strange that this photo had ever been taken and that other more appealing ones wouldn’t have replaced it.

  ‘She looks … troubled.’

  His brows met in a heavy line. ‘I don’t know why they keep it up.’

  A wall of conceit and then this, hidden in plain sight, something painful, excruciating even, some sort of reminder … or warning. I shrugged. ‘History, maybe. We want to forget the bad stuff, but it’s a part of life too.’

  He regarded me for a long while, and finally nodded.

  ‘She’s not like everyone else,’ I remarked. Her hair was dark, almost black and worn long and straight, the style quite different to the others.

  ‘No, she’s not,’ he agreed. There was something raw about the way he said it. Realising that I had noticed he tried to alter the tone of his voice, making it lighter. ‘Daniel is probably the most like her, looks-wise.’ Daniel’s hair was almost as dark as Sofia’s, but wavy like Nick’s. His eyes were impossibly bright, made even more vivid by his dark hair.

  ‘He’s very striking.’

  ‘Don’t go getting any ideas.’

  I raised my eyebrows and pretended to consider, finally stating boldly. ‘He’s a bit young for me. I prefer my men a little more mature.’

  He smiled. ‘I’m not mature.’

  ‘You’ll do,’ I laughed. I gestured to the photos. ‘I’ve never had this. My folks fell out with their families on both sides. It’s always just been the four of us, and now the three of us! We didn’t grow up knowing our cousins, didn’t have the sort of family connections you have. I always missed that, envied friends going away on holiday with their relati
ves. It must be fun.’

  He grimaced at my idealism. ‘Like anything there are pros and cons. My family congregate in this area, and that’s not just our immediate family, relatives too. No-one is ever too far away from here. Our lives revolve around this tiny place. Sometimes you wonder why? Why, in all this time, we never moved away?’

  I shrugged, not finding it at all hard to understand. ‘Why would you? It’s beautiful here, peaceful, plus your history is here. There are lots of reasons to stay before we even start with the weather and the ocean. People seek out places like this.’

  ‘Places like this,’ he mused, as though he knew a lot I didn’t, ‘places which remain perpetually small while the rest of the world is ever expanding, cluttered and crazy. That doesn’t happen by chance, Deb.’

  We moved away from the wall of photos to the stairs. I had noticed the security on our way, had even remarked on it. This was a strange community, a cluster, part of Three Kings, and yet, not really. Secluded, isolated by choice in this island suburb surrounded by hills and sea and bush.

  He ran his fingers through his hair, which was tousled and messy already and I longed to feel it against my own fingers, the soft thickness on top, the shorter roughness around the nape of his neck. ‘People here have secrets,’ he said interrupting my thoughts. ‘You can’t take them at face value, not like your world.’

  My snicker was louder than intended. ‘My world? Where do you think I live, Nick? It has nothing to do with my world, or your world. It has to do with human nature! There are more than enough secrets sneaking around in my world, don’t worry. One day the skeletons will burst out of closets all around the town, consume everyone, and take over and that’s all there will be. Skeletons … in shorts and tees and thongs!’

  ‘I guess so,’ he chuckled, quickly serious again. ‘But up on this hill, people are hiding something or hiding from something, it’s that simple.’

  ‘Well, yes, that seems obvious,’ I allowed. ‘Maybe the skeletons here are a little bigger.’

  ‘This house has layers of skeletons, and on top of the layers there are skeleton sprinkles. Sometimes they rattle so loud, you can’t hear yourself think!’

  ‘Mmm, a skeleton layer-cake,’ I said, following him up the stairs onto a wide landing.

  I moved to tall arched windows which let in the sun and the sea. The sea air was fresh and salty. It blew into my face, taking the wisps of hair off my face and neck and blowing them back. The view was stunning. Below I could see the umbrella-top of the angel’s wings, and the winding driveway meandering down the hill partly obscured by trees. Above it all was a wide blue ocean horizon, speckled with white horses. As I gazed at the view I sensed him behind me.

  ‘It’s stunning,’ I said, my breathing hitching a little as his body pressed up against mine.

  ‘It pales next to you, Deb,’ he whispered in my ear. My heart thudded.

  ‘Come.’ He took my hand and tugged me into a large room on the opposite side. It overlooked a rectangular swimming pool and a large flat expanse of perfect lawn with a tennis court in the far corner and a small pavilion next to it.

  ‘So, this is it, my lair.’

  His room was uncluttered and masculine, everything in its rightful position. ‘Your room looks skeleton free,’ I advised, pretending to look around the back of the door for one, ‘no cobwebs either, that’s good.’ After living with my brother I had come to the conclusion that males were slobs, but obviously this one wasn’t. The room didn’t seem lived in though. Unlike the common areas of the house, it was bland, clinical, without personality, disappointing.

  ‘I can’t really take the credit for the neatness,’ he smirked. ‘We have staff!’

  ‘That’s horrendous,’ I laughed. ‘So really you’re a pig, just in disguise!’

  ‘That’s harsh,’ he said, kicking the door shut and turning to me. The band of creatures in my belly started their wild cavorting again, the friction of their movements making parts of me very hot. Grabbing my hand he pulled me over to the large bed which sat in the middle of the room.

  He patted the dark doona cover. ‘I wanted to introduce you to my bed.’

  ‘Hello bed, how do you do?’ I answered cheekily, imitating his pat.

  ‘Do you want to know what happens to naughty girls in this house?’ he asked, with mock severity.

  ‘Do they get sent to your father’s study?’ My giggles threatened to become uncontrollable. Nerves, excitement, fear, desire, cartwheeling around in my gut. Tingling everywhere. ‘Do they get spanked?’

  ‘Tsk, tsk,’ he tutted, shaking his head. I tried to smack him playfully on the arm but in an instant I was pinned under him. His mouth consumed me with burning intensity.

  ‘Sorry,’ he grinned, as we fell apart. ‘I just couldn’t restrain myself.’

  Tiny pulses throbbed everywhere.

  ‘So soft,’ he whispered, pressing his lips to the pulse which throbbed in the nape of my neck. It tickled and I tried to stifle a giggle, not to squirm. For an instant he looked indignant. I burst into inappropriate laughter, but at the same time I inhaled the sweet apple cinnamon smell of his shampoo and then his mouth fell onto mine again and I was silenced.

  ‘Aah, Nick,’ I groaned, as he pushed up my top and his lips touched my nipple. Pleasure made my head buzz. His attention moved to the curve of my waist, his hands searing my skin as they arrived at the top of my hips and slipped under my shorts. As he found the pulsing core of me every cell burst into life.

  ‘Slowly Baby,’ he said, pulling my top over my head. He threw it into the far corner of the room. Pressing his ear to my chest he listened to my heart.

  ‘What are you doing to me?’ I groaned.

  Instead of replying he sat up and tugged off my shorts and then my panties, tossing them to a similar place of exile.

  ‘You’re exquisite, Deb.’ I sought to cover myself with my hands as he gazed down at me.

  ‘You shouldn’t be shy, you’re flawless, like a Botticelli Angel, only thinner.’ I smiled and stretched my arms up over my head. His gaze roamed down my body, his hands following, touching the places his eyes went.

  ‘Your skin is like silk,’ he said, dropping his mouth to my navel and kissing me there. I felt his smirk as I tried not to wriggle and then he moved and his body was against the length of mine. The building heat inside me overwhelmed me. I tugged his shorts down and he kicked them off.

  Flesh on flesh. My blood began to rush, like rapids building. As his mouth found mine again he thrust deep into me. And when he could go no deeper he withdrew slowly, only to thrust into me again. Slow and deep. And again … Until every nerve ending screamed for release. Suddenly the tempo changed. Faster and faster with feverish energy, our kiss broken, his head hovering over mine. Our eyes locked as tight as our bodies as I travelled to the magical land I’d only recently discovered. Gripping his back hard we rode along an impossibly thin edge until finally euphoria hit in spasms of ecstasy as we tumbled over it together.

  25

  KATE

  I slumped onto a bench beside a picnic table and Nick sat more gracefully across from me. His breath drew the leaves from trees, but then he began.

  ‘I don’t know what you believe about these sorts of things, but there have been some in my family who have had very unusual capabilities.’

  Here we go, I thought. ‘Like Superman?’

  ‘They don’t don capes and prance around, but they do transition into something supernatural.’

  I looked doubtful and then tried to rearrange my features so as to look as though I was genuinely considering this alternative, but it was a challenge. He noticed. ‘I have been a witness to that change,’ he stated emphatically, but I didn’t know him well enough to truly trust his certainty, or his sanity. I remained silent. ‘In our family they start off like any other human, born and raised like normal babies who grow into relatively normal children. It’s impossible to tell early on, especially since not all transition.’


  I couldn’t help the way my eyes narrowed.

  ‘It’s the word,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t help. It belongs to the realm of movies and make-believe. But this is not, believe me. Replace supernatural with something else, like ‘peculiar’ or ‘bizarre’ and that might help.’

  I scratched my head hoping to find a flea. That would make more sense. ‘Don’t mind me for now, just keep going,’ I urged, although with a flicker of reluctance.

  ‘They have had many different abilities over the years,’ he continued. I looked away so that he wouldn’t read my expression so clearly. ‘Some have been able to alter reality. Some have been super strong and agile. Others have been able to read minds or the true feelings of others. There have even been those who have been able to manipulate nature to suit their purposes. Most have enhanced senses.’ He stopped suddenly. I felt the pull of his gaze and turned to him.

  ‘It’s been a source of constant preoccupation in my family for many generations, as you can imagine.’

  ‘I can,’ I said, imagining coming home to Mum and Dad hoisting the house onto their shoulders because we were going on holiday. It would be good in some ways, but there would always be the downside. ‘Dad, where is Mum, and why is there a possum doing laps in the pool?’ ‘You know your mother, dear, dinner was late again, and she knows what happens then …’

  ‘There are rules to be followed, of course,’ he said.

  ‘Of course,’ I replied, my right eyebrow so high it was in danger of lifting off my face.

  He hesitated, and then blurted it out. ‘Regarding sexual relations with humans after the transition.’

  ‘Right.’ My eyebrow was now almost completely vertical.

  ‘Rules which need to be followed to ensure …’ He hesitated again, his earlier momentum lost.

  ‘Y-es?’ As I prompted him I wondered whether I truly wanted the details. Blood-lusting beasts with fangs did horrible things to fluffy critters in my mind.

  ‘Well, to ensure that order is maintained and that truly bad things don’t happen. We have a duty to be responsible and to ensure that those from our line are responsible. It’s why my parents tried to ensure that we only closely associated with those from other families … like ours.’