The Seven Devils (YA "New Adult" Romance)
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Authors: Sara Danvers
The Seven Devils
by Sara Danvers
The Seven Devils
by Sara Danvers
Copyright © Sara Danvers, 2011
The right of Sara Danvers to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000
This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part maybe reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book is dedicated to the two most wonderful men in the world; my husband Nathan and our son John.
Seven devils bring them on
I have left my weapons
'cause I think you're wrong
these devils of yours they need love
- “Body and Soul” by Tori Amos
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
In the end, it wasn’t my life that flashed before my eyes but the image of the drowned rat I had found in our pool just weeks before. The thing had been hideous and bloated, and all I could think was that I didn’t want to end up that way.
I could see my father screaming up above me. My hands pried helplessly at his, but he just tightened his grip around my neck. He was shaking me, pulling me out of the water just to be plunged back in a split second later. I knew I could grab a quick breath if only I could break his grip from my throat, but he was so much stronger than I was. I kicked with all my might but connected with nothing but water. I fought to stay conscious as the combination of fear and lack of oxygen weighed in on me. Suddenly, there was a splash and I saw my mother’s torso beside me in the water.
“George!” I heard her scream repeatedly. Her hands joined mine in a bid to break my father’s hold, but even together we couldn’t manage it. Her nails drew blood as she struggled to free me from his grips. My vision was spotty and I could tell I was about to fall unconscious. My mother’s hands disappeared, and a moment later my father released me and fell back into the water. My mother had swung the patio umbrella at him full force and it was enough of a shock for him to drop me.
I couldn’t help but take a deep breath the second his hands were removed and water quickly filled my lungs. My mother pulled me back up to the surface and struck me firmly on the back. The water flew from my mouth and I gasped and coughed, my throat feeling as if it were on fire.
I crawled out of the pool and lay on the rough concrete and listened to my mother scream obscenities at my father. I had hoped he would be so drunk that he would drown there in the pool, but I turned my head and saw him climb out, smack my mother, and stumble out of the back yard. A moment later his SUV squealed out of the driveway. I prayed to God that he wouldn’t kill anyone else if he happened to wreck his car. He’d ruined enough lives already.
I expected my mother to be upset when she came back to me, but her face looked stern. “What happened?” she asked as she squatted next to me. “I told you to stay away from him when he was drinking. What did you do?”
She didn’t say it in a particularly mean way, but it hurt just the same. Why must she assume everything is my fault?
I ignored her questions and forced myself to walk into the house, though I’d much rather have lain still for awhile longer. The walk up the stairs seemed a mile long and I didn’t bother changing out of my wet clothes once I reached my room. I let myself collapse on the bedroom floor in a heap. A second later I reached out and pulled a blanket from my bed and threw it over me. It seemed somewhat safer there, hidden.
I had provoked him.
My parents are constantly on my case about spending too much time indoors, so I grudgingly grabbed a book and hid under the huge patio umbrella by the pool a couple of hours earlier. It was only the middle of the afternoon, but my father was already “half gone” as my mother would say when he came outside. He had always been tense and malicious, but the combination of his promotion to head of the financial department at one of the largest software companies in America and the continuing paranoia that my mother may be once again cheating on him was too much for him. He had become completely unbearable. The only way he could leave his worries behind was to drink heavily. And drink heavily he did.
We were both in foul moods that afternoon; his stemming from an endless stream of tequila shots, and mine from being forced to spend my time squinting and swatting at mosquitoes when I could have been completely comfortable in my room. Add to that the incessant traffic sounds from the nearby highway and it was almost too much to bear.
My father had staggered towards me and knocked the umbrella into the pool with one unsteady swipe. “Ellen, you look like a little white maggot. You need all the sun you can get,” he said with a sneer. “I work all day so you can have the luxury of a pool and you don’t even use it, you ungrateful brat.”
I blame chick lit for what I did next. I must have been reading too many stories where the girl finally stands up for herself and then lives happily ever after, because I decided to finally talk back. I threw my book down (sorry Sarah Dessen!), stood up, and looked him up and down. “A little maggot? Well where do you think I got my looks from?”
I then made the awful mistake of putting my hand out to push past him as I walked towards the house. His face twisted in anger and he grabbed me by the arm and threw me into the pool.
Thinking back on it caused a shiver to travel down my spine. I decided to never leave my room again. It was quiet; it was safe. I was nearly dozing under the weight and warmth of my blanket when I heard my door open. I jumped in alarm, a scream in my throat, but it was just my mom.
“Pack,” she said simply, crossing her arms.
“What’s going on?” I asked hoarsely, my throat burning with every word.
“We’re leaving. Enough is enough,” she answered. “Where is your brother?”
I glanced at the clock and was shocked at what time it was. Had I fallen asleep? “Football,” I answered her.
She nodded and rubbed her forehead. “I’ll go pick him up. Be ready to leave within the hour. We’re just taking the car, so only pack essentials.” She was half out the door when she turned back and added, “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I know what happened wasn’t completely your fault,” before walking out the door.
Was she serious? Were we really leaving my father? Where in the world would we go? I fought against my exhaustion which urged me to return to my soft nest on the floor and got to work.
I was finished packing by the time my mother returned home twenty minutes later with my brother in tow. I had fit the majority of my clothes into the smallest of our suitcases and I had my laptop and favorite books packed away in my backpack. I had even rummaged around the house and packed the things I knew my mom would forget, such as her checkbook, some family pictures, and our birth certificates. My mother wasn’t very reliable the way it was; I’m sure she didn’t think everything through when she decided upon this move.
As Mom and Austin entered the house I could hear them arguing. I should have known Austin wouldn’t leave without a fight. He was Mr. Popularity at school and was finally made captain of the football team for his senior year. I knew it was going to get ugly, so I took my bags and my French horn case out to the car and just sat in the back to wait it out. My brother stormed out with several bags a half hour later, glaring at me furiously as if this was all my fault instead of my father’s. My mother joined him after a few moments and we were on the road. Neither said a word through the entire three or four hour car ride, so it was not until we pulled into Minster that I had any idea where I was going to be living.
***
We had only four days to adjust to our new home before school began for the year. My Aunt Dorothy, Mom’s sister, had a small house for rent in Minster and was always complaining that she couldn’t find any decent tenants, so she was thrilled to have us move in. I was just happy it was furnished.
My mom and brother continued to fight regularly and most of the blame was put on my shoulders, so I spent as much time as possible exploring the woods behind the house. I have to admit I may have been hiding out back there. I had become extremely anxious and my mom was getting sick of me jumping a mile high every time a door slammed or the phone rang.
The worst was when a man unexpectedly popped into my room to hook my computer up to the Internet on the second day we were there. I screamed bloody murder and threw my lamp at his head. Luckily sports are not my strong suit so the lamp whizzed by him harmlessly, but still. I decided I had to get out of the house. I tried to convince myself that it was normal to feel this jumpy in a new place, but deep down I knew that I had changed.
It was strange how much calmer I felt the moment I disappeared from view of the house. The first time I wandered into the woods, I could have sworn I was being watched, but I convinced myself it was just paranoia. Other than all of the birds and a couple of squirrels I seemed to be completely alone.
I thought a lot about my father. The pool incident was the first time I had been afraid he’d actually kill me. The abuse started out as mostly cursing and insults, and as I grew older it escalated to him slapping me now and again. He’d done worse to my mother, especially when her affair was first uncovered, but until that day the worst I had gotten was a few slaps and bruises and a sprained ankle—and that was really more my fault than his.
Instead of growing up I always seemed to grow in. Each year, each month, each day I seemed to grow smaller and smaller, taking up less room so no one would notice me, until finally I had succeeded in becoming almost entirely invisible. You can walk right by me and never notice. I can sit by you in class all year and you’ll not even know my name nor be able to say what I looked like. I took pride in my ability to walk without creating a single audible footstep. I felt safest when I wasn’t noticed. Not that it didn’t get lonely at times.
I had a few friends, but even with them I’d always been small. We really had nothing in common and they mostly just acted as filler in my life. Someone to go to a movie with. Someone to tell you about the broccoli between your teeth.
Someone is always better than no one.
My constant dream was of escape; of Prince Charming on his white horse (or hey, maybe a shiny black motorcycle?) coming to take me away. That this was all a big mistake, that they are not my real family. I often wondered if my friends had the same fantasy, but I never asked. We tended to keep it pretty impersonal.
In Minster my dreams changed. My first two nights in Minster I dreamt of my father and of being trapped underwater and would wake up screaming. Then the dreams stopped as quickly as they began. After that, my dreams most often took place in the woods behind my house. In these dreams there was always someone with me; a wolf. When I was very young, I had a dream about a huge wolf who was waiting for me across the street from my house. I went down to see him and we lay together in a field of high grass and I had felt immediately at ease. I could tell that he was there to be my friend and to protect me. I only dreamed this dream once, but it was so vivid and real that I remembered it clearly.
When the wolf visited me in my dreams that first time in Minster, I was so pleased to have him back. I lay with my head against his warm belly and told him about my dad and my thoughts about my new home. I was both terrified and excited about starting at a new school. The pressure of always doing/wearing/saying the right thing stressed me out, but the possibility of finding actual friends and (please God!) a boyfriend is what really made my stomach jittery. My wolf listened attentively and sometimes I would hear his deep voice in my head, asking questions or giving me comfort to soothe my worries.
The night before school started I was so worried that I could barely sleep. When I finally drifted off, he was there waiting for me and my fears melted away.
