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The Demon’s Rose
Prologue
Two cloaked figures ran through a thick, dark wood. The hanging branches slapped and scratched there faces, but they refused to stop, they kept on going. Hollers and screams could be heard as they ran. Finally, as the horrible chaos behind them could no longer be heard, they stopped. The figures finally tore off their hoods to reveal that they were both women. One was old and her face was wise and soft, the other one was middle-aged and holding something in her arms, it was bundled in a large, soft blue blanket.
It was a baby.
"Alright, give me the child!" said the old women in a hoarse voice. Her grey eyes were stern, and her voice, although hoarse, had great authority in it.
"Wait! I haven’t given her the Protection yet!" she yelped, hugging the baby girl closer.
"Why did you wait until now? So be it! Hurry though! The Guard cannot hold them off forever!" she croaked.
The women nodded and she took out a silver bracelet from under her cloak. It glittered in the moonlight. She took her daughters hand and clasped the too big bracelet around her daughter’s hand. It shrunk to perfect size. The baby had been asleep, she awoke suddenly, and she examined the bracelet, then looked up at her mother and laughed. It sounded like the tickling of bells.
"I am sorry my child, but it has to be this way" the women said, on the verge of tears. She handed the girl over to the older women and they ran deeper into the woods, into pure darkness, never to be seen again.
Chapter 1
Another Day
“And pick up some milk before you come home! We are running low!” my grandmother barked. I nodded stiffly, “Alright!” I yelled back and walked out the door. It was another sunny day in Santa Cruz, California. It was such a beautiful, cloudless day; I longed to go to the beach with my friends. It was finally summer and that meant 3 whole months without the snickers and rude remarks. That happens because I am the schools ‘weird girl’ physically and mentally. Mentally because I wasn’t into things everybody else was into, I couldn’t care less about guys and clothes and makeup didn’t matter to me. All I need are jeans and a t-shirt. I was physically weird because I am famously short, blood red hair, not orange, blood red, and purple eyes. You might be thinking that isn’t so bad, but they aren’t Elizabeth Taylor violet, they are pure dark purple. It was scary.
I lived with my grandmother, I never knew my parents. My father, not even my grandmother knows anything about him. My mother…it’s complicated. She left when I was only 3 days old. Well, that’s what my grandmother told me. I remember being 8 years old and asking my grandmother where my mother was.
“She’s gone Ava, and she’s never coming back” her cold voice spat.
I could swear I saw tears in the corners of her eyes, yearning to escape, but it was probably the blurriness of my vision that caused this, it was me that was crying. All I had left of her was a memory of soft violet eyes, just like mine, except warm, light, and inviting. That small, flashes of a memory and a small, silver bracelet. My grandmother told me my mother had it made for me, to keep my memory of her alive. I get a pang in my heart thinking about it. The bracelet glittered in the sunlight as I drove to work. It was 4 ‘o’ clock and I could feel sweat building up on the back of my neck. I wished my hair wasn’t so short and pixie-like, but for some reason it refused to grow past my shoulders, and whenever it grew, my grandmother dragged to me to the barber’s to get it cut. I of course never tried to argue with her. I loved my grandmother more than anything, she was the only person I had, but once she has her mind set on something, there’s no stopping her unless you want a head-slap and bone-chilling cold stare.
I knew today was going to be another boring day at work. I worked at Barnes & Noble as a cashier. Sometimes I would unpack boxes, re-stock, it was pretty easy. I pulled into the parking lot, got out of my car and into the store. The air conditioning blew all the sweat and heat away. I smiled, thankful for the cold air. My basking was cut short by Ashlyn, the manager and my boss. “Alright Princess, get to work! It’s summer, which means teenagers, which means more customers so get to the cash register!” she said sternly. I rolled my eyes and walked stiffly to my post. Ashlyn, only 18, 1 year older than me, was always like that, a complete jerk. I absolutely hated it when she called me ‘princess’ and she knew that. It’s like her mission in life was to make me miserable.
I got to the counter, made sure everything was in its place and started reading. The day went by pretty slow, only about 8 customers every hour. At around 9:00 I was pulled away from my book by the sound of keys dropping onto the counter. “Clean up the staffroom, take out the trash and lock up, I will expect those keys on my desk tomorrow morning as soon as you clock in, got it?” she said in her cold voice. I picked up the keys and clenched my fist, the keys dug into my skin, which was exactly what I was hoping to do so I wouldn’t go off on her right then and there. My mind was focused on the pain. I nodded and she gave me one last look and walked away. I had to suppress the urge to throw my very heavy, hard cover novel at her head. My hands had made their way to the book and were clutching the book. I realized what I was doing fast enough to stop myself. It wasn’t worth getting fired over.
I sighed and started walking towards the staffroom door. As soon as my hand touched the metal door knob, my body went cold and I was no longer in Barnes & Noble. It seemed I was lying down on a soft, furry blanket. The sky was dark with small twinkling stars. All of a sudden I felt confused, scared and like crying. I looked to my right but all I could see were tree tops. Tree tops and fire. The trees were becoming black, succumbing to nothing but ashes; I could smell the trees burning. I could hear voices, but they were fuzzy and muffled. Though one sounded scared and worried, the other sounded like it was full of authority and wisdom. Then I saw her. My mother’s eyes. I could see them clearer now, the same soft lavender eyes, but this time they filled me with warmth and comfort. Usually when I tried to remember her and her eyes came into view it was fuzzy and I felt nothing but odd reassurance that she loved me. This was clear as day and I wanted to hug her. Then I felt something cool and hard touch my hand. My bracelet. I saw her eyes one last time then it seemed like I was being sucked back to Barnes & Noble.
When I had processed what had just happened, I began hyperventilating.
“Holy crap…What just happened?!” I asked myself frantically.
“Did I just have a memory of my mother?”
I quickly got the staffroom clean and took out the garbage, and hurried to my car and on my way home. The memory of it had been seared into my mind. I even remembered the smell of the burning of the trees. I shuddered. Obviously, the trees burning were not a good thing. I felt as though something horrible was happening at that time. My mind stayed wrapped around this until I got home. My grandmother was waiting for me in the den, watching her soap opera. “Did you get the milk?” she asked. My heart skipped a beat. I didn’t answer her. “You didn’t? Ava Marie Rose! When I ask for something to be done, I expect it to be done! You need to get you head out of the clouds and into reality!” she said, getting ready for a huge lecture. She started rambling on.
“This is the only way you’ll survive in this world...AVA ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?!?!” She bellowed all of a sudden. I looked straight into her sterling grey eyes.
“Grandma, what color were my mother’s eyes?” I asked quietly.
“What kind of a question is that?!” she demanded to know.
“TELL ME. What. Color. Were. They” I growled, immediately surprised by my tone of voice. Fearless, confident and strong.
“Lavender, they were lavender. Why?” she said, her voice had a bit of fright on the edge of it.
My heart felt like it had stopped. I felt numb everywhere. All I could feel was a burning sensation on my wrist. I looked at it. My bracelet felt like it was on fire, all of a sudden words were on it, it seemed like they had been seared on. The words were glowing orange. I tried to scream, but nothing came out, I looked at my grandmother. Her face was white, snow white. That was the last thing I saw before I fainted.
I woke up suddenly as if I had just fallen asleep instead of fainted. I was lying on the big, black leather couch my grandmother bought at a swap-meet when I was 14. In the same seconds that I opened my eyes I could see someone else’s. They were sterling grey. I took me a while to recognize them as my grandmother’s eyes, only because they weren’t cold and scary. In fact, they seemed happy and over-joyed. That scared me more than anything; my grandmother was never happy or satisfied, especially with me.
“Grandma?! What’s going on?!” I asked her, sitting up.
“You had a vision, didn’t you child? About your mother” she whispered. Her words frightened me.
“A vision?! What are you talking about?” I asked frantically.
“It’s time you knew the truth my girl, about your mother and where you come from, I have been waiting for this day for almost 100 years” she said.
“Oh my god, my grandmother is crazy”
