The Conception (The Descendant Series Book 2)

by L. J. Amodeo

  “I don’t understand. How? Why does she have the same last name as I do? How can she be related to my dad when he—”

  Freddie glanced at Kali, then back at me. No one said a word for a moment. I tried to process all the ways we could be related. None made sense. My dad, like me, was an only child. Then it hit me all at once.

  “Did my father have another family? Was that the reason he left us—for her?” I pointed an accusing finger at Kali.

  “No, Bethy, it’s not like that. When Phil left, it was to protect you. He met Kali’s mom, Celia, before he knew your mom,” Freddie attempted to explain. But I only nodded my head in denial. I stopped listening. His voice faded, along with my emotions and appetite—learning that my father had loved others and not only me and my mom. I pushed away my plate in disgust and ran up to my room. I did not care to know her or speak with her. I detested her and her mother for intruding on our happy life. If my father had never met Celia, perhaps he would have never left us.

  I wept, yet again for my misfortune. Freddie reluctantly knocked before entering my room. He was without words to console my broken heart and streaming tears. He sat down beside me, stroking my hair.

  “Beth, you can’t blame the girl. She didn’t ask for any of this to happen to you and Grace any more than you did. She’s the only family you have left. Isn’t a sister what you’ve always wanted? Isn’t that what you thought you had with Sam? Give her a chance. Talk to her.” He lifted my chin with his finger and wiped the tears with his thumb.

  “Why did you bring her here? I thought you were going to find someone who can help me.”

  “I’ve spoken to the elders and they’ve instructed me on what should be done, when the time comes,” Freddie’s words became one big mumble. All that my mind kept thinking about was the girl sitting in the dining room.

  “Why is she here and what does she have to do with me?” I asked, biting my lip.

  “I think she should tell you. You need to talk to her. You need each other now, and she has something for you,” he continued stroking my cheek.

  “Not now. Maybe tomorrow. I’m not in the mood tonight,” I turned away from him, folding my arms over my chest.

  “OK, as long as you speak to her, Beth. Get to know her.”

  “Freddie?” I wiped away more tears. “Is she—my father’s daughter?” I asked completely dreading his answer.

  “Kali’s mom, Celia, was a young widow when she met your father. He was lonely and desperate for a companion as a newcomer in town. They found comfort in each other and eventually fell in love. When their marriage went in different directions, shortly after he moved to Caneadea, he met your mom—the love of his life. He was head over heels for Grace, Beth; you’ve got to believe me. But your dad tried his best to stay in touch with Celia and Kali. When the news of Mastema came, he couldn’t handle all the secrets in his life and what was coming. That’s why he left so abruptly,” he said compassionately.

  Drain and unable to focus, I directed my thoughts to a much bigger problem than my father or the skinny brunette downstairs. My fate. Upset and disgusted, I needed to ask Freddie one question that was most important for me. “Freddie?”

  “Please, no more interrogations about your dad’s past!” Freddie held up his hands.

  “I’m not interested in my father’s excuses for leaving. All I want to know is what the elders told you about the Watchers’ search for me?” I insisted on changing the course of our conversation.

  “Maybe now is not a good time, Beth. You’ve been through a great deal and already have a lot to process and . . .”

  I took a deep, impatient breath, waiting for his explanation as flashes of the inevitable moved about inside me. The stirring caused me to stare at my belly with mounting concerns. Freddie looked at my stomach as well.

  “Stop looking down at your stomach. There’s nothing there. I told you they’re only premonitions whose course can be changed,” his voice interjected distantly.

  “I can’t help but think of it,” I replied still looking down at my belly. “Freddie, do you believe that if it ever happened, if Luca ever found me, the baby would really be so vile—even if it carried my blood through its veins?” I stared curiously at Freddie as his face turned a lighter shade of pale.

  Drained of all color in his cheeks, he rose from the bed and nervously paced around the bedroom, gliding his hands every so often through his messy hair.

  “Beth, if Luca ever lays a hand on you, I swear I’ll carve his filthy, black heart out myself. And if by chance he succeeded in what he set out to do, his seed would make you believe that you love it. Beth, it would entice you, possess you—tempt you to do the work of its master,” his voice fumed with resentment and revulsion at the idea.

  “But how can a baby be evil, I . . .” I attempted to justify my idea of an infant being so vile, but instead was cut off by Freddie’s rage.

  “Don’t you get it? Lucifer deceives and lures people, good people, like you, purposely to take their souls only to get even with God. To be greater than him—and you are his key and last hope. He’s only using you because of the prophecy!” He shook my shoulders. I nodded denying the idea. If I am their last hope, I could just give up and end it. I had nothing left anyway. I shrugged his hands away.

  “Then what exactly are the elders’ plans for me? Or maybe I should just do the job for them and kill myself and end this once and for all!” I scolded.

  “Beth, have you lost your mind? Stop talking this crazy nonsense!” He gave me a hard look.

  “Isn’t that what the Trinity wants? Is that what needs to be done, Freddie?” I panted breathlessly. Freddie’s jaw dropped open, his eyes wild beyond recognition.

  “Beth, listen to yourself; you’re out of control! No one is going to kill you, especially not the Trinity. And being here, the dark ones cannot harm you.”

  “Oh, but of course, especially the deal you made with Luca! Do you honestly believe that a simple handshake with the devil will keep him and his monsters off the forbidden property? What about the trackers, huh? They can find their way to me, and you or anyone else protecting me would never know! So your plan is not so foolproof after all!” I snickered hopelessly dropping onto my knees.

  “I think it’s a little more than a simple handshake, Beth. And as far as the trackers, this place doesn’t exist on any map. I explained it to you. The Flame can’t be found. Not even by trackers. The only way they’d find this place is if one of us brought them in. That means they’d have to out slick me. We know that ain’t happening!” Freddie snorted.

  As Freddie lifted me off the floor, his face contorted with sudden signs of fear, tightening his grip around my upper arms with his incredible strength. The depths of his grey eyes seemed to become lost in a vision or premonition of his own. He was transcending beyond the here and now.

  “Freddie, let go, you’re hurting me.” I started to panic. His razor eyes turned to pools of metal, distant and glimmering.

  He slowly released me as his breathing grew shallow, placing his hand on his chest as if having trouble breathing. “Freddie, are you all right?” I asked with growing concern. Freddie swallowed deep and nodded his head.

  Once his breathing slowed, eventually relaxing his shoulders, he rested unsteadily, holding himself up against the wall. Freddie’s head hung low.

  “Beth, promise me you won’t do anything impulsive while I’m gone. I beg you, don’t sl . . .” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut and falling eerily silent.

  Reluctantly, I placed my hands on Freddie’s chest, wanting to know what he meant to say, but too scared to ask. A desire to hold him and touch him in a way I never expected stirred restlessly in my fingertips. I caressed his face but he flinched, like I was going to strike or as if he had been hurt by me. Carefully, I leaned my head against his chest and wrapped my arms around his waist, regardless. After a long while, Freddie slipped out of my hold and walked to the door.

  “Freddie?” I called to
him, a bit confused by his cold silence. He looked over his shoulder at me.

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  “I need to be alone. There are some things I need to sort out on my own. Just . . . don’t break my heart.”

  What had I said or done to hurt my closest friend? Was he going to leave again without saying goodbye? As the night sky fell dark, my tears did not impede until dawn. I sat grimly in the rocking chair, staring out of the window, humming dismal symphonies to myself and to the spirits around me.

  Faith knocked on my door at 8 a.m.

  “Elizabeth, breakfast is ready for you.”

  “I will be down in a bit, Faith. Thank you,” my stale voice muttered, refraining from song for a moment, yet, never turning to face her.

  “Faith?”

  “Yes?” I heard her voice crack from behind me.

  “Is Freddie on the terrace?”

  “No, Elizabeth, Mr. Freddie will not be joining you for breakfast this morning.”

  I wiped my tears with the back of my hand and waved her away. I knew my only friend in the world was upset with me for reasons he dared not say, but the compulsion to somehow convince him to remain here with me pestered my conscience. I knew what I felt for Freddie was real and perhaps this ever-growing feeling may lead our lifelong friendship to disaster, but the impulse to fight for Freddie’s affection was deeper than anything I’d ever felt before.

  I headed to the terrace for breakfast. I was famished. The first person I saw was the girl I hardly knew, but came to dislike immediately. Kali sat at the table, her head down, typing on her phone. Deborah and Freddie had said there was no cellphone reception anywhere on the property. Was it the truth, or perhaps a lie to keep me out of trouble? Kali could have been sifting through pictures or playing a game. Maybe I was jumping the gun on this one, but my mind lately, had a tendency of running wild.

  I politely waited for her to acknowledge me before I sat down. Her incandescent eyes looked up at me for the first time. She rose from her chair. “Good morning, I apologize; I did not see you there.”

  “Good morning, Kali.” I spoke coldly to her. “Where's Freddie?”

  “Not sure. He didn't say where he was going. He left very early this morning.”

  I eyed her suspiciously. How and why would she know when Freddie left the grounds? “Did you not sleep well?” I inquired maturely.

  “I slept like a lamb!” she replied with a slight smile on the corner of her lips.

  “Then how is it you know when Freddie left this morning?” I gave a questioning glance.

  “Do I have to spell-it-out for you?” Her face turned a deep shade of crimson. My body jerked upright at the idea of Freddie sharing more than a room with her. My lips parted with nothing to say. Her eyes, again, stared down at her lap, checking her phone. Is she texting Freddie?

  “No, no need to. You can spare me the details,” I grumbled, finally sitting back in my seat.

  Her eyes softened. “I'm sorry.”

  “About what?”

  “Everything. About what happened to your mom and Phil walking out on you.”

  “I hardly knew him,” I lied. “It doesn't matter anymore. It was so long ago.”

  “I know it hurts,” Kali murmured. I ignored her sympathy.

  “How old are you, if you don't mind me asking?”

  “Twenty.” She smiled.

  “Oh! Don’t they call girls like you cradle snatchers? Isn't Freddie a bit young for you?” I stated sarcastically. Her once gentle eyes turned cold.

  “Age is just a number, and you still have a lot to learn.” She smiled flatly.

  I smirked back at her. She was some years older than me, but her radiant skin and flimsy little dress made her appear a lot younger. A sudden image of a toddler rushed into my head—Kali as a child; teary-eyed and sad as Phil walked out on her mom. An image eerily similar to my own. I pushed away the thought that almost made me feel bad for the girl.

  “So, how old were you when my dad left your mom? He didn't waste any time, did he? I assume you were only a baby when he left, right? And your mom, Celia is it? How’d she react when he left her to start a new life for himself—with my mom?” I instigated.

  “It hurt us, but we didn't find out about you and Grace until years later. We hadn't seen him in years and then he came looking for us a few months before he died. He told us all about you and your mother,” she said a little reluctant and apologetic. With a long sigh, I looked out past the flowering bushes, consumed in thought and trying my hardest to dislike the girl sitting in front of me. Yet, I couldn’t help but think to myself that Freddie was right; Kali didn’t ask for this. The same way I didn’t.

  I ran my fingers through my hair in deep concentration, tormented by my mixed emotions for her. “It's not your fault. We can't choose our family, now, can we? It's all about destiny, Kali.” I continued to stare out into the plush gardens, feeling the soft breeze calming me as it brushed through my hair. The note of his death resurfaced in my mind. I wondered for a long time how he had died. I wondered if Kali knew. I gave it a shot. I had nothing to lose.

  “Kali, do you know how he died? Was he sick?” I mooned over her sodden face. Her eyes flickered, a strange stare.

  “Don't you know how they died?” Her voice pitched just a bit.

  “They?” I asked confused. Unwillingly, I sat up and leaned toward her, resting my elbows on the table.

  “My mother and Phil. They were bludgeoned.”

  Her words left me paralyzed, springing goose bumps on my skin. “What? I . . . I had no idea. The letter only mentioned his untimely death. What do you mean ‘bludgeoned?’ Who? How?” I stammered, cupping my mouth with my hands.

  “My mom was murdered with him,” she muttered, looking away.

  “Oh, Kali! How did this happen?”

  “They only meant to kill him, but Mom walked in on them when they were . . .” She squeezed her eyes shut, seemingly too traumatized and fighting to refrain from crying.

  “Them? There was more than one killer?” I stumbled my words, again. Kali’s eyes widened as if she had said something she shouldn’t have.

  “I think, that’s what the detectives said.” She shrugged her shoulders and hung her head low.

  “Kali! I didn’t mean to be so insensitive.” I immediately felt terrible about my brash behavior. I walked around the table and knelt beside her, reluctant to touch her hand.

  The familiar pity I felt for her beat faintly in my chest. I looked into her eyes and realized that she was alone, like I was.

  She wiped the tears from her eyes and removed a small cylinder-like object from her Prada bag.

  “Dad handed this to me the morning of his murder. He told me to never let it out of my sight and to give it to you, once we were together. That day he spoke as if he knew what was coming. He loved you so much, Elizabeth. Although I didn’t know you, I envied you for the love Dad . . . Phil had for you. As horrific as it may sound now, I was almost glad he died that day. I couldn’t bear the thought of him loving anyone else but me and my mom.” Kali stood up and walked over to the portico. I followed. We sat on the swing chair without uttering another word for some time. I waited while Kali gathered her emotions.

  “You don’t have to talk about it, Kali. I know how hard it is to lose someone you love.”

  “You don’t understand, that afternoon when I found them, I sat for hours in a pool of their blood before calling the police. I was in shock. I thought I had no one left in my life. Only my mom. It had always been me and my mom.” I watched her brush a strand of hair away from her face.

  “Kali—” I tried to find something to say, without success, to ease her sorrow.

  “I felt so incredibly selfish for ever wishing something so terrible to happen to Phil. I’m sorry the thought ever crossed my mind,” she sobbed.

  “Please, don’t apologize. I probably would have felt the same way. I did feel the same way when he left. I hated him. It’s taken
me a long time to get over it,” I confessed.

  “Did they ever find out who was responsible?” I mumbled the words, knowing in the back of my mind who was really responsible for their deaths.

  “No. They were never found. The investigation was eventually closed.”

  I listened as she spoke of the tragedy that took our father and her mother away. Her burden was just as heavy as mine, and our destinies somehow had intertwined both our wretched lives; fate, I presumed. We spoke for a long time on the porch swing; talked about our lives and the short time we both had spent with Dad. Sharing our intimate memories and how tragically our families were torn apart.

  “I guess this belongs to you—the first born,” Kali finally said, handing me a silver cylinder inscribed with the letters OHT.

  “This doesn’t belong to me, Kali; I’m not the first born. You’re older than I am.”

  Kali smiled sweetly and nodded her head, still holding the cylinder-shaped tube in her long fingers.

  “When Philip met my mother, she was already pregnant with me—full term. My father died soon after my mom became pregnant with me. When Phil and Mom got married, he legally adopted me. Therefore, I am not his first born, by blood, at least. So here, it belongs to you.”

  I remained paralyzed. In a small and very selfish way, I was relieved that Kali was not my father’s biological daughter. The news brought me to tears. I took the cask from her hand and held it tightly to my chest. I assumed it was the sacred scroll of my bloodline, the one my father had spoken about—my rite of passage.

  Yet my heart pounded heavily in my chest, knowing that the bloodline could ultimately end with me. Thousands of years spent protecting our ancestry would end with my blood on their hands—if Luca ever found me a new terror would reign with the birth of Luca’s spawn; the child of another kind of lord, which would become the beginning of a new bloodline. A bloodline that would possibly end the Trinity and open the portals to the Shadow Realm. Perhaps the passage to this dark realm was fast approaching. Maybe the book of Demonicus, the book the Trinity swore to protect, spoke some truth. But, it was not Satan himself that would be resurrected, but Lucas’ first born heir—the Prince of Hell.