Mother of Darkwaters: Book one of the Vessel series (54 page)

   “I'm Amy.”

   “Oh my gawd. I love you,” Julianna panics. She shakes her head, “Wait. No I don't. I mean - yes I do.”

   “Ha-ha-ha. Don't worry about it,” Amy dismisses the young woman's incoherent ramblings. “Believe it or not, I've been there myself.”

   Amy releases Julianna's hand when she feels the girl's footing regain their confidence.

   “Why don't we get this party of yours kicked off?”, Amy declares her intentions.

   “Sure,” Julianna answers with blushing cheeks.

   “For the record,” Amy confesses, “I wouldn't normally do something like this. But your grandfather can be quite convincing. Like two and a half million is a little hard to turn down with the guarantee of privacy.”

   Julianna's eyes widen.

   “I wasn't supposed to say anything to you,” Amy admits. “Before I met you, you were like another business deal. But if you want to, maybe we can kick it together later. You never know, we might become friends or something. I like try not to start any of my friendships with secrets or lies.”

   “Oh-okay,” the star struck birthday girl stammers.

   Amy smiles as she looks at Frank standing behind his granddaughter. The verbal agreement they had together concerning her pay has been upheld by a single nod from the older gentleman. She looks at Julianna before turning to walk towards the stage.

   “Don't tell your grams,” Frank interrupts his granddaughter's woozy thoughts.

   Julianna turns with an awkward grin. Frank takes hold of both of her shoulders while staring into her emerald green eyes.

   “She was among your music when I loaded the cars,” Frank informs, “And for the most part, she's the only one capable of pulling this off. Your grams needed an orchestra and I found one. I looked her up and found that she is a classical pianist – quite impressive actually.”

   Julianna steps closer and wraps her arms around her grandfather. She hugs him tightly.

   “Thank you.”

   Frank places his large right hand on the back of Julianna' head.

   “Well now. A grandfather needs at least one special moment with his granddaughter. Happy birthday, Jules.”

   “I love you,” Julianna's grip tightens. The orchestra begins playing. Julianna releases her grandfather and looks towards the stage.

   “It'll be awhile before she plays the songs you are probably accustomed to,” Frank explains, “Martha's needs her orchestra. It will give me time to dismiss the older guests as well.”

   Julianna nods – her eyes unable to look away from the stage.

   “Maybe you could help speed things along by greeting everyone.”

   “Oh yeah, I almost forgot,” Julianna panics.

   Frank watches his granddaughter rush towards the closest person in whom she has not met. Her right hand extends outward. Frank smiles with amusement. But it is short-lived. In the distance, he notices a woman with red hair staring at him with narrowed brows.

   Martha waits for the double doors to the library to lock into place as they open inward. Once they click into their niches, Martha steps into the library from the hallway of candelabras. She closes her eyes and inhales deeply. A smile of satisfaction crosses over her lips. As far as she is concerned, there is nothing in comparison to the aroma of books to fill a room. And the older they are the better.

   Martha makes her way over to the staircase leading down into her granddaughter's area. She descends the stairs. The woman finds Julianna sprawled out on her bed as if she has been warring with her covers all night. Her granddaughter's head hangs off the side of the mattress. Martha's freckly nose flares from a familiar putrid odor. She glances at the trash can strategically positioned below Julianna's head. The older woman walks over to her granddaughter's desk and places a small shot glass filled with the hair of the dog upon its metal surface.

   “Stereo on,” Martha commands to the library's computer.

   “Steer-e-oh on,” the system reports.

   “Load Robby,” Martha orders while turning to look at her poor comatose granddaughter.   

   “Loh-ding Rah-bee,” the female computer voice confirms.

   Martha's left brow lifts slightly.

   “Maximize volume,” Martha orders with a devious grin.

  
Beep...beep-beep-beep-beep-beep.

   “Max-eh-mum Vahl-ume,” the library system informs.

   Martha crosses her arms over her chest.

   “Play Robby,” Martha orders.

   “Play-ing Rah-bee.”

   Julianna turns over and quickly sits up. Her hands, immediately, take hold of her pounding head.

   “Stereo off!”, Martha yells.

   “Steer-e-oh off,” the computer reports after the room falls into silence.

   “Hello dear,” Martha greets with a smile, “Did you enjoy yourself last night?”

   Julianna squints against the dim lighting of her bedroom.

   “What time is it?”

   “It's eight-thirty, dear.”

   Julianna glares briefly before lying back down.

   “You could have let me sleep in today,” the seventeen-year-old complains.

   “That's eight-thirty
p.m.
, Julia,” Martha reiterates.

   Julianna rubs her forehead.

   “My head hurts.”

   “I figured that would happen when I seen you with that band.”

   “It wasn't the band, grams. It was the Crown Royal
somebody
gave me.”

   “Well dear, I didn't get that so you could put away the whole bottle like an alcoholic.”

   “Don't worry. I didn't. I threw up first.”

   Martha chuckles.

   “Serves you right.”

   Martha walks towards the kitchen, “There's medicine to help with your hangover on the desk. I'm going to make you a BLT.”

   “Not hungry,” Julianna objects.

   “Too bad,” Martha closes the argument.

   Soon as Martha clears the room, Julianna forces herself back up and dizzily walks over to her desk. She picks up the shot glass and sniffs.

   “Oh hell no,” Julianna curses the thought of putting a mouth full of Crown Royal into her mouth. She takes the glass into the kitchen and defiantly dumps it into the sink in front of Martha. Her grandmother laughs.

   “Not funny,” Julianna sounds more innocent than threatening.

   “What's the matter, dear?”

   Julianna walks over in silence to the fridge and opens it. She grabs a bottle of water, twists the cap, and slams the cool liquid down her throat until half of the bottle is gone. Her belly grumbles. Slamming the refrigerator door closed, the seventeen-year-old dashes out of the kitchen. She vaguely notices her grams laughter as she rounds the corner leading into the hallway where the bathroom is.

   Frank lowers his newspaper enough to see over the top edge. Martha enters the room with a stern look.

   “How's she doing?”

   “Better than you.”

   Frank smiles.

   “It was only two and a half million, honey. Those diamonds the prince brought over from Russia are worth four times that. And that's just one of her gifts.”

   “That's not the point and you know it,” Martha warns. She points her right index finger at her husband, “Besides, you don't need to be fussing me right now. You have some serious making up to do.”

   Frank searches his wife's blue eyes for any change in demeanor. Remaining true within her stern gaze, Martha relaxes her pointing hand and offers it to her husband.

   “Come on, old man.”

   Frank places the newspaper on the stand to the right of his recliner – his brown eyes never wavering from the love of his life. He reaches out and tenderly takes hold of his wife's patient hand as he stands. Silently, Frank follows Martha.

   The following morning seems as mundane as any other for Martha. She gets up, showers, and cooks breakfast for Frank. By the time the coffee is ready, Frank is already seated at his normal spot at the kitchen table. Martha pours him a cup and glances at the clock on the stove.

  
6:30 A.M.

    She removes the two over-easy eggs from the pan and places them near the toast and bacon on the plate. Walking over to the table with plate and coffee in hand, Martha sits Frank’s breakfast down in front of him. Her husband looks with that adoring smile of his – the same smile that lured her in so many years ago. Martha leans down and kisses him on the left cheek. When she turns around to pour herself a cup of coffee, Frank glances at the empty setting where Martha usually sits.

   “No food this morning?”

   “I might eat with Julia,” Martha answers while pouring her coffee.

   “You think she’ll be up?”

    Martha turns around with both hands around her coffee mug. Her left brow lifts slightly.                

   “She got a reprieve yesterday,” Martha confesses, “But today, she will be explaining herself for embarrassing me like that.”

   “I thought the Mother…”

   “You can stop right there, Frank Dermott,” Martha sternly interrupts.

   The patient man waits for his wife to speak. She takes a sip of her coffee before continuing.

   “The Mother, no,” Martha explains, “My granddaughter, yes. She pre-planned the whole damn thing with that tee-shirt of hers. The least she could have done was to warn me. But she didn’t.”

   “And how would her grandmother have handled such a notion beforehand?”

   Martha’s brows narrow, “I don’t know. I was never given the chance.”

   “I have a pretty good idea.”

   “And just what is
that
supposed to mean?”

    Frank picks up a piece of toast, bites into it, and begins chewing.

    “Uh-huh,” Martha answers his silent response with a calmer tone, “That’s what I thought.”

   Frank, playfully, rolls his eyes upward and to the right.

   Martha’ ensuing grin reflects her frustration of not being able to remain mad at her husband. Frank takes the opportunity to push the conversation forward.

   “So what do you ladies have planned today?”

   “I want to hear about her progress,” Martha informs, “It’s been a while since she gave me an update. After that, I thought we might go shopping.”

   Martha walks over to Frank, leans down, and kisses him on the lips.

   “And what about you, old man?”

   “If I decide to go anywhere, I’ll let you know,” Frank confesses he hasn’t made any plans.

   Martha kisses him again, stands upright, and turns towards the entryway leading into the hall of candelabras. Frank watches her as she begins walking.

   “I’ll let you know when we’re leaving,” Martha explains.

   “I’ll be here.”

  
Click.

   Martha steps into the library as the double-doors lock into place. Fear and confusion washes over her face as the sounds of a man’s voice fills her ears.

   “Brochsléch xré yhcho,” the deep growling voice calls out, “Fhcxo trové érié.”

   “Leave me!”, Julianna screams out.

   Martha drops her coffee mug on the library’s carpeted floor as she quickly heads towards the left staircase. She hears more growling while she desperately ascends the stairs leading towards the neutralizing zone. When she reaches the top landing, Martha covers her mouth with both hands.

   “Oh, baby. What have you done?”, she whispers through shaky hands.

   Although Martha is quite certain her granddaughter couldn’t have heard her, Julianna’s head unnaturally snaps towards her direction. Martha’s heart pounds within her chest as she witnesses her granddaughter’s green eyes turn coal black and then back again. And as if Martha’s interruption were nothing but a brief inconvenience, her nude granddaughter turns and begins pacing once more. She prowls on all fours like a trapped tiger held prisoner within the bounding perimeter of the stone pillars. Tears streak down both cheeks while a deep voice laughs slowly.

   “Heh-heh-heh-heh,” the demon victoriously makes his presence known, “Shriavet Marthahhh.”

   Martha watches her granddaughter fight back by flopping onto her back. Julianna attempts to spread her arms and legs upon the drawn spell. The demon’s voice calls out from her lips with another laugh as she quickly assumes her pacing stance once more. Martha lowers her hands while she stares into the face of evil.

   “Heh-heh,” the demon mocks the young woman’s feeble attempt of assuming control, “Julieee-ahh-nahhh yhzo féio cié hnzéch.”

   Martha attempts to recall everything the demon has spoken so far. Whenever she first walked in, she believes she heard him say, ‘Masterful try human, but you lose.’ And just now, she’s rather confident he has said, ‘Julianna has been very naughty.’

   She understands the extreme danger her granddaughter is in. Demons are not to be taken lightly. They are extraordinarily powerful. The higher their rank, the more likely others will enter as well. And just like if it were on cue, Martha listens to Julianna’s voice change to that a female.

   “Éhcia oi jiéch féaié, tré?”, a seductive voice taunts through her granddaughter’s lips.

   Martha watches in horror as Julianna spreads her knees apart and sits back on her feet. She flips her long hair over her right shoulder and runs her left hand down the length of her body. Julianna licks her lips while staring at her grandmother.

    “Éhcia oi jiéch féaié, tré?”, the voice taunts again.

   Martha understands the words as meaning, ‘Such a pretty body, yes?’

   Martha narrows her red brows. She is fed up with all of this mocking within her house. She marches with purpose towards her granddaughter.

  
Grams, stop.

   Martha pauses. She cocks her head curiously to the left.