by Toni Cox
Contents
Copyright
Books by Toni Cox
Acknowledgements
Dedication
Sacrifice
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 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
About The Author
Glossary of terms
Copyright © 2019 Toni Cox
Cover design by Poppet
Editing by Redwing Productions
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the written permission of the author constitutes unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are all used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events, locales or persons living or dead, are coincidental.
The Elemental Trilogy
Elemental Rising
Elemental Betrayal
Forbidden Elemental
The Elemental Short Stories
On Fire
Midnight Tales
Jasmine In Love
Luke
The Playing With Fire Box Set
A special thanks goes to Sian B. Claven, for allowing me to use her name and book titles in this book. My character reads them, and loves them, as much as I do.
As always, a big thanks to my editor, Elaina J. Davidson, not just for her great work in editing this book, but also for her enthusiasm for this particular work. This is so different from my fantasy series, I worried she wouldn’t like it. Well, Elaina didn’t like it - she loved it!
Poppet, thank you for being so very patient. I ordered this cover at the beginning of 2018, and then asked for changes, and a new blurb a month ago. Big loves.
Thank you, to my husband, Darren Cox, for without his constant supply of cappuccino this book would not have been ready in time. As it is with all my books. (You guys should really try his cappuccino - it is THAT good!)
And then, thanks to all the Indie authors who have supported me throughout this year. You guys are amazing!
This book is for my grandmother, Erika, whom I admire her for her courage and resilience
Sacrifice
Darkness creeps over the land
Covering it with sadness
When I look up
All I ever loved is gone
Loneliness envelopes me
Becomes me
I grow wings
Fighting the winds of change
The tempest rages around me
Altering everything I know
In the silence that follows the storm
My thoughts are the only things I hear
My strength is what is needed
It is what they must take
Sometimes
Only the ultimate sacrifice is enough
Chapter 1
I turn on the TV and switch the channel to BBC News. Since yesterday, two Gorillas in a Chinese zoo have been making headlines.
… their condition has worsened overnight, and the local veterinarians are doing everything in their power to save the gorillas. Initial blood samples have revealed little, except that the gorillas might be suffering from a common cold.
I sigh and lift the remote to switch the TV off again when the pretty, blond presenter’s next words catch my attention.
With these gorillas making headlines, other zoos in China have come forward, reporting several deaths among the ape population, with not merely gorillas, but also chimpanzees and orangutans affected. Scientists are left speculating as to what could be causing these deaths.
Leaving the TV on, I head to the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee.
Work had been a nightmare. One of the senior project managers threw a tantrum about a schematic not submitted on time. Luckily, it wasn’t one of the projects I was working on. I enjoy working at Murray & Roberts, but sometimes the people there can be real assholes. Five o’clock could have come earlier today.
Carrying my coffee, I make my way back to the lounge. The news has moved on to a subway bombing in France. I snort, cynical about the fact they reported about the gorillas before the deaths on the train. Bored with the news, I scroll through Facebook on my phone as I sip my brew. My feed is full of stories about the apes. I frown, wondering why everyone is going ape-shit about this.
Apparently, in some small village in China, an orangutan broke free of its enclosure and ran amok within the village, killing three people, before it was captured. It died a day later of the same mysterious illness the news reported on earlier.
I jump when the phone suddenly rings in my hands. It’s my mother, and I swipe to answer it.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hello, liefie,” Mom says, using the Afrikaans endearment. She hardly ever calls me anything else.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes, yes. Just want to hear how you are. Your father and I are going to East Rand Mall tomorrow. Do you want to come along?”
“Sure, Mom. What time? I have horse riding in the afternoon.”
“Oh, we can go early if you want. I need to go to Dischem to get my prescription and then I want to go to Edgars. They are having a Red Hangar Sale.”
I smile. “I’ll be over around nine. I want to get more olive leaf tablets anyway.”
“Alright, my liefie. See you in the morning.”
My mom hangs up, and I listen to the beep of the disconnect for a few seconds before placing my phone on the table next to me. Taking up the notepad with the little flowers printed on it, I make a list of items to get while at the mall. Besides needing olive leaf tablets, I am also out of pro-biotics. I don’t have money to spend at Edgars, but I do need to pop into CNA to get new stationery. Maybe I’m lucky, and Mom will buy me a nice top at Edgars. She usually does.
It’s too early to go to bed, so I snuggle under a blanket. It is early spring, but still cold in Jo’burg. Especially this house. It’s a semi-detached in an apartment complex in the quiet neighbourhood of Sunnyrock. Well, quiet except for the annoying dog next door.
I could live with my parents, who are not far from here in the posh neighbourhood of Bedfordview, but I like my independence. After studying project management, structural engineering, and then architecture, I found a job at Murray & Roberts, a large developing firm right here in Bedfordview. Although still a junior consultant, my salary is enough to afford this place and my little Polo, so I refuse to move back home. Still, that doesn’t mean I don’t like shopping with my mom and scoring a freebie now and then.
The news has come full circle and replays the insert about the gorillas. I do feel for the poor animals, but I wonder why this is big news. Shaking my head, I turn the TV off and pick up the book on the side table.
It’s a paranormal horror by Sian B. Claven called The Culling. She is a new author I discovered recently, and I really enjoyed her Butcher Books series. The Culling plays out in a dystopian world where demons have taken over and what is left of humanity is trying to survive. I love that kind of end-of-world stuff.
Too soon, it’s 11 p.m., and I only have two chapters to go. I consider finishing it but know I will be too tired in the morning, so I have a shower instead.
Being too cold to go to bed with wet h
air, I quickly dry my shoulder-length hair, put on my pyjamas and snuggle in.
The alarm wakes me at 7 a.m., and I hit snooze, craving the extra ten minutes it will give me. By 7:30, I finally get up and make peppermint tea. Coffee is my go-to drink at night after work, but in the mornings, I always have my tea. At the same time, I take my olive leaf tablets and one glass of elderberry juice.
My mother thinks this a strange ritual, but I drink the tea and elderberry juice simply because they are my favourite, and the olive leaf tablets and pro-biotics are the only form of medication I take. I used to suffer from IBS before I started taking them, so now I pop them regularly.
While I drink my tea, I switch on the news and check my phone. A message from Bronwyn asks if I am still coming to the stables later, and there are several Facebook notifications and an e-mail.
I answer Bronwyn, and then look up at the TV. A red banner at the bottom of the screen tells the viewers that what they are seeing is BREAKING NEWS. I turn up the volume.
… overnight. Almost all zoos within China are now affected, with over a hundred primates dead. The CDC has labelled the disease the Simian Flu, or S1 Virus, and classified it as an official outbreak of the disease. All trade and travel of primates in and out of China have been suspended.
Wearing my cargo pants and a black t-shirt, I get in my Polo and drive the three kilometres to my parents’ house. They live in Kloof Road, one of the larniest streets in the Bedfordview area, amid houses worth in the millions. My father, Pieter, is also an architect, running his firm from home. I could work there - he has offered often enough - but that would seriously hamper my independence.
I pull up to the grey block of a house and wait in the driveway for the guard in the guardhouse to recognise me.
“Miss Marais,” his static voice echoes through the buzzer.
“Morning,” I call back into the silver box.
The gate swings open and I drive through, angling right to park in front of the garages. There are three of them; one for each of my parents’ cars.
As I climb out, Jane, my parents’ domestic worker, opens the gunmetal grey door to the house. The guard will have informed her of my arrival.
“Sawubona, Miss Erika.”
“Hi, Jane. Ninjani?”
“Ngisaphila,” Jane replies to my question on how she is, indicating she is well.
Jane taught me to speak Zulu when she came to work for my parents when I was two.
“Your parents are in the kitchen. Coffee is ready.”
“Ngiyabonga,” I thank Jane.
I enter ahead of her. The house has large rooms with high ceilings. Everything is open and modern, but my mother has decorated with taste and, although the building is essentially a concrete block, the atmosphere is warm inside.
“Liefie,” my mother comes to hug me, “it is good to see you. Come have coffee with us. Your father is still watching the news.”
“Is it about those apes?”
“Yes,” my father replies from the lounge. “Have you been watching?”
“I saw some of it on TV this morning. Why is it such big news?”
Jane comes through with my coffee, and I accept it. My father waits for Jane to leave again before he answers.
“They won’t say so on the news, but if it can affect apes, there is a possibility it can affect humans. Those of us who are vaccinated have little to fear, but the poor who cannot afford proper health care might very well suffer along with the apes.”
“Geesh, Dad, that is a horrible thing to say. Who told you that?”
“It’s all over the Internet. Scientists are recommending that everyone get a flu vaccination. I am just glad ours are up to date.”
“If that is the case, I hope you are paying for Jane and her family to get vaccinated.”
I see my father’s jaw muscles clench. “Of course, Erika. I will give her the extra money tonight.”
I smile brightly. “Thanks, Dad.”
We leave Fort Knox in my father’s Range Rover. His steel-grey Jaguar F-Type is reserved for his own driving pleasure. I see Jane wave before the grey gate slams shut behind us.
East Rand Mall is a ten-minute drive away and, before I know it, my father is looking for parking. If it weren’t for my mother, he would not be seen dead in a place like this. Thousands of common people going about their shopping within the mall, with their bags, their snot-nosed children, their body odour, and loud voices; I giggle at the discomfort my father has to endure just to make my mother happy.
We head to the pharmacy first so my mother can fill her prescription. While she is in the queue, I search the shelves. They don’t always have olive leaf tablets, therefore, when they do, I buy everything they have in stock. It’s my lucky day. There are five bottles on the shelf, and I scoop them all into my basket. That’s enough for ten months. Bonus!
It seriously stretches my budget, however, so I bat my eyelids at my mother and drop two bottles of pro-biotics into her basket. I can’t afford to pay for those, too.
My luck does not end there. Mom is in a spending mood and pays for my stationery as well. Dad just rolls his eyes, and I hook my arm through his. He cannot resist my charms.
At Edgars, my mother is the reason why the clothing giant has Red Hanger Sales. My father eventually takes a seat next to the changing rooms, scrolling through the news on his phone. The assistant smiles bravely every time we come with another six items to try on. It takes hours, and only my mother can shop like this.
I am exhausted, and now pressed for time, but I don’t complain as we finally walk out of the shop. Dad is almost buried under the number of packets he has to carry for my mother, and I smile at the three that contain my haul. Caterpillar Ladies Midi Boots, two pairs of Levis 501 Jeans, An Echo Unltd Check Bodycon Dress, two Playtex Allure Mesh Bras, a Sissy Boy Diamante Jersey, and a Dow Jones & Co Men’s Buffer Jacket. Yes, I’m weird, but I like men’s jackets more than those flimsy ones they make for women.
Living my independent life, I don’t get to buy branded clothing on the kind of salary I make. These rare splurges with my mom are a treat. I grin all the way back to the house.
“You’re late,” Bronwyn complains when I finally show up at the stables.
When I show her my haul now securely stashed in the trunk of my Polo, she forgives me, swooning over the CAT boots.
“You are so lucky,” she says. “I wish I had rich parents like you.”
“Your parents own a stable yard,” I snort. “You don’t need to be rich; you have the best thing in the world. Horses.”
“True,” she grins. “Let’s ride.”
Oliver is filthy, as usual. I swear, the grey gelding knows when it’s my turn to ride him and rolls in the muddiest patch he can find on the farm just before I get there. It takes me half an hour to clean him before I can saddle him.
“He hates me,” I say as I guide Oliver alongside Bronwyn’s chestnut mare, Button.
She laughs, tossing her mop of curly brown hair back. She never wears a helmet, a fact I am incredibly jealous of. I think I look ridiculous with the black, bowl-shaped thing perched atop my head, the awkward chinstrap fastened under my jaw.
“You have dirt,” she points to her right cheek, “just there.”
Giggling, she urges Button to a trot and Oliver follows before I get a chance to wipe the dirt off my face. This is how it has been since we were kids. I started riding here when I was twelve, and we have been friends since. When I was still in school, I used to spend every afternoon at the yard. Once I started studying, it became more infrequent, but I never missed a Saturday afternoon. Now that I am working, the Saturday afternoons have become ritual. Bronwyn also works and, although she helps exercise the horses in the evening, it is the Saturday rides she looks forward to the most.
The stable yard is situated on a 50-hectare farm in Petit, east of Johannesburg, and we leave the yard’s gate behind us and head out into the fields. The last three Saturdays, we worked on our ju
mping in the yard, with her mother, Rosemary, giving us lessons. Today, we decide just to enjoy our freedom.
Giving Oliver his head, he soon takes the lead from Button. The big gelding opens his stride, galloping evenly along the veld road, and I revel in the air blowing in my face.
I hear Bronwyn shout with joy behind me and, for a moment, I forget about my day to day worries, living for just this moment, knowing I am alive.
Chapter 2
Sunday dawns, and my throat feels a bit scratchy. I’m thirsty, so I get up and take my tablets with a glass of water before jumping back into bed - it is Sunday, after all.
Feeling incredibly lazy, I don’t abandon my bed until noon. There is a horrid taste in my mouth, and I spend much longer brushing my teeth than I normally do. After making my tea, I grab a blanket and curl up on the sofa. Out of habit, I reach for the remote and switch on the TV. It plays in the background while I check my Facebook messages on my phone.
… worse than initially anticipated.
I turn up the volume.
All across mainland China, apes are dying in droves. What was first assumed to affect only animals in captivity has now spread to the wild. Officials say they are unable to determine how many apes have already succumbed to the disease.
Frowning at the nagging headache forming at my temples, I turn the sound off and lie down with the crochet pillow that decorates my sofa. I pull the blanket up high, feeling cold. Although I only just got out of bed, I am still tired.
I doze off, but then jerk awake when the dog next door starts barking. The huge German Shepherd has a bad temper, and he’ll bark at anyone or anything coming past his gate. Silently, I curse the animal as the pounding in my head intensifies.