Mother of Darkwaters: Book one of the Vessel series (5 page)

   “I vow to never utter a single word to any living soul.”

   “You’re good at this,” Martha says.

   “The key which opens this desk will open the center room's desk as well,” Martha explains, “And it will open every other desk in this lower library. But the keys to open the other doors within these halls are hidden. I can give you no hints about them. You must find them on your own.”

   The woman pauses for a moment in thought. She continues, “You can choose to make the library your domain or you can keep your room where you slept last night. It is your choice. If you keep your room upstairs, the only book you can take with you is the diary. No other book can leave the library. They must all remain here, always.”

   Julia's eyes light up, “You mean I can have the
whole
library?”

   Martha laughs, “Yes, my dear. The whole library, except for the room with the black solid door. You must promise me to never attempt to go in there. If you can make that promise, and promise me that you will take really good care of the library, then yes…the whole library.”

   “I don't deserve any of this.”

   “Don't say such things. You most definitely deserve these things. They are your birth rite, Julianna. I do not do this for charity or out of obligation because you are my granddaughter. I understand you have no idea what this place is, but if you want to, then it is your right to know.”

   Martha crosses her arms, “So, what will it be? The room upstairs or the
whole
library?”

   “Library,” Julia answers with a grin she is unable to hide.

   Martha kisses Julia on the forehead before making eye contact once more, “I do this because I love you, Julianna. Welcome home, child. Welcome to your family's library. As per tradition, it has fallen into your hands, daughter of my daughter.”

   Martha smiles, “Gariatu Estidium Merné.”

   The teen returns the smile, but does not understand the words. She questions Martha, “What do they mean? I saw them written above the circle and star upstairs.”

   “Ha-ha. You have the library, Julia. Use it.”

   Julianna watches her grams turn and enter the hallway. She stands up and walks her grams all the way to the set of double-doors which leads back into the hallway of candelabras. On their way, Martha points to an intercom button and explains how to use the system. She shows her granddaughter where the fire extinguishers are and explains what to do in cases of emergency.

   Martha tells Julia that she will bring all of her stuff down to her – including the bags of goodies from the department store and from the Lady Lanecia. Julia's old clothes, however, will find their way to a donation center. She watches in a haze as her grandmother exits the library. The two large doors close. She hears a key slip into a lock.

  
Click.

   Julianna turns around and takes a deep breath while her eyes behold the enormous library. She, suddenly, feels really small.

  
Where in the hell am I?

Chapter 3

   Connections

   “Humans. Such a prideful lot. Most of my colleagues hate them. However, I can find them humorous at times. They are so predictable. Yet, they never believe this to be true. The lot of them all secretly think they are completely unique from one another. Prideful, to say the least.”

   “They say, 'pride comes before a fall'. But the majority of those who are full of their pride cannot even see it within themselves. At this, I must grin to myself. It is hard not to. I can't begin to recount all of the times a so-called person of religious integrity has thought themselves above all sexual impurities. The longer they stand on that pedestal of theirs, the quicker they bust their head upon the floor; especially, whenever one of my colleagues places their heart’s desire within grasp. All we ever have to do is to watch, listen, and wait.”

   “Every single time the results are the same. Sooner or later, these religious perfectionists of their respective peers' eyes will spill their disgusting guts out whenever alone. We hear their pitiful words when they think no one is listening. They tell us what really attracts them. Nine times out of ten it is not their spouse. It is usually a fantasy of everything their spouse is not. Granted, those fantasies usually begin with the thoughts of their clueless spouse being placed within these roles of selfish indulgence. But soon as their brain calculates the actual odds of their spouse performing one of these weird and offbeat acts of lustful desire...let's just say, heh - they will always look outside of their marriage. It never fails. Quite amusing. Same scenario. Same results. But they always believe themselves to be unique.”

   “I will not bore you with the details of placing a potential candidate in front of these religious pretenders. But I will say, 'it is only a matter of drawing the two together into the scene'. After this, it is the humans that do all the work. They always refer to it as sexual chemistry. That is the excuse they give themselves in order to break those vows they made.”

   “Does sexual chemistry exist? It does. But it can be manipulated by us as well. What humans do not know will always become our playground. And if they never know we are around, then they will always believe their new exciting feeling is not the result of an outside kick start via a well-designed plan. Kudos to the supreme intellect of the human species, I say...kudos.”

   “Underestimating my kind has always been to the fault of the humans. Not ours. We do not hide. They are so boastful and proud of their supreme intellect. This is why they are truly ignorant. Their newborn intellect is not supreme. They are only babies with nukes. That is all. They have barely scratched the surface of their own existence. Their prideful nature leads them to proclaim they have figured out everything else in which they cannot see. I believe they say something to the effect of, 'if it can't be measured it doesn't exist'. Ha! Their own understanding of the quantum disproves this. But within their pride, they swear we are the creation of a man’s imagination and therefore cannot be real.”

   “I do not know what your take is on the human race. But as far as I am concerned, they are a species which consistently denies the realities of their own existence; while simultaneously, always hoping to improve that same existence. How can you ever improve on anything in which you deny? You cannot. I assure you.”

   “Take the human's concept of peace, for example. They are constantly declaring how they desire it. But soon as one group of people challenges the moral compass ratings of right versus wrong inside of another group, then the same formula always emerges. A simple disagreement leads to an intense argument. The argument leads to a separation of the two groups in some form of ostracizing. Then before long the two sides are at war – beating, torturing, and killing one another.”

   “Don't get me wrong. My kind finds this behavior very entertaining. Ring-side seats to the ultimate Hollywood-style action film. We, also, have been known to make a few nudges here and there. But it never takes much persuasion on our end. And it makes our version of playing the latest entertainment gaming hardware that much more relaxing. Maximum rewards for little to no work. Enjoyable indeed.”

   “I will note that the actual concept of peace is real. For humans, however, it is not an achievable goal. They are just too proud to admit it to themselves.”

   The mysterious man mockingly places his right hand over his chest followed by a salute. He turns and points at the young girl writing his words,

   “If one human points to a shiny rock and says, 'this rock holds value', and is able to convince others of the same belief; then, it is not long before the rest of the world swarms in for its own piece of the action.”

   The man waves his pointing hand as though he is swatting at an unseen fly. He turns and looks back out of the window. His brown eyes gaze upon the people walking on the streets below. He grins.

   “Those who are the strongest will become the richest. And the richer they become, the stronger they will get. It is ironic really.”

   He pauses while he turns to face the girl with long dark hair. He notices she is nervous, but she should be. She is human. Deciding to calm his demeanor, he softens his tone,

   “Those who cannot defend themselves will be abused and or murdered for this shiny new rock. Some made into slaves by those who have become stronger and richer. Entire families neglected for the big promises of fortune. And over what? Over a worthless rock. A rock that holds no value upon their physical death. At the end of the day, many will die so that others can have their new shiny rock. The greatest part of the madness is that we are the ones who have convinced the supreme intellect of the humans that the rock has its worth, when it does not. It is only a rock.”

   “Instead of coming together as a united people in order to make advancements where they could harvest entire planets, they flock to meaningless caves and piles of rubble in an attempt to horde themselves like the pigs do in a field of mud and garbage. Whenever, it actually comes to the concept of harvesting the planets around them, they do not come together at all. They call it a race if I am not mistaken. Peace as a concept, yes. Peace for humans, never. Not now. Not ever. It is only the illusion of peace in which humans can ever achieve. They are too busy quarreling over rocks.”

   The tall man cocks his head slightly to the right as he observes the young girl's reluctance with her writing. She is staring at the paper. Her pen is on its surface. But she does not write.

   “Is there something wrong, Recorder?”

   “Sssomething is above you,” the girl nervously answers without looking. The man glances upward and sees a swirling black mass.

   “Ah, yes,” the man amuses, “That would be one of my colleagues. Nothing to fear, Recorder.” He begins moving his mouth.

   The man speaks words of a language in which the teen does not understand. She hears sounds of hissing filling the room as the black mass dissipates.

   “Is that better?”, the man questions while triumphantly moving his boyish stare back towards the girl.

   The fear-stricken girl, slowly, raises her head to examine the space above him.

   “What was that?”, her words are barely audible, “W-why do they look like that?”

   The man's head retreats with subtlety. A small smile forms on his lips. He speaks calmly while pointing to himself, “It is as I have told you, dear Caroline. This look is for your benefit, earthly-one. My colleague meant you no harm. It is your earthly definition of beauty in which has created your fear.”

   The girl nods her understanding. But the man knows her response is a desperate agreement in hopes that he will not change from his current appearance – something in which he has no intention of doing. She, however, does not trust him like this yet. But she will. He will see to it.

   The handsome man looks to be in his twenties, but Caroline knows better. His age is only a deception, not unlike his gorgeous appearance. Not that she is complaining. In fact, this look is definitely working for him. His bod is absolutely scrumptious. Delicious, intriguing, and so...

   “Recorder!”, the man's voice deepens with a hint of rage and authority. The power within his words fills the room. Caroline's central nervous system responds with the slightest of jerks. She, quickly, subdues herself in order to not show the fear swelling up inside.

   The teenager approaching womanhood bows her head respectively, “I’m sorry. I wasn't prepared to meet your - um...colleagues. It kinda freaked me out.”   

   Even from his current distance, the man towers over the five-foot five-inch teen. He crosses his arms while raising his right brow in contemplation. He has been around for so long…so many years. It is easy to forget how the human mind has trouble with calculating the events Caroline's eyes have just witnessed.

   His voice softens, “I see.”

   Caroline's fear is begging her to become hysterical. It is coaxing her into a release in the form of an all-out slasher-style movie scream. But she understands this is not the time to fall apart. She, instead, concentrates on slowing her elevated heart rate. The pen held in her right hand tremors ever so slightly. Afraid of angering the man any further, Caroline stares at the paper in a readied writer's position. To her dismay, Caroline's heart races with an indescribable fear as a large hand with its long bony fingers reaches out to touch her writer's hand. Her begging scream swells up deep within her as the man lowers himself to eye level.

   “Shh...”, the man's voice soothes, “Calm yourself, earthly-one. No one will harm you. You have my word.”

   Caroline's wanting scream vanishes as the man's surprisingly warm hand brings her comfort. The sudden roundabout of emotions confuses her, but she would rather not revisit the former in place of the latter.

   The teen holds her breath while his other hand gently tucks away her long bangs behind her left ear. His fingers brush her cheek as they caress their way down to the underneath of her chin. With the slightest of nudges, the man's fingers urge Caroline's eyes to meet his own.

   His seducing voice speaks, “You are safe with me.”

   Caroline swallows. His boyish grin is so gorgeous. Her body responds with a rush of excitement. She feels overwhelmed with the electrical firings within her body. Maybe, she can trust him after all. It's not like he couldn't kill her on a whim anyway. But he's not trying to do that.

   The male – having the body of a god – slowly blinks both eyes with approval.

    “Very good, earthly-one.” His comforting acceptance surrounds her body. To her dismay, the being releases her and stands upright. When he turns to walk away, Caroline's mind begins flooding with counterproductive thoughts. She decides to lighten up the room a bit.