The Evanescence Chronicles
Volume I
Copyright 2012 by Alexandra Pelaez
Table of Contents
Part I: Evanescence
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Part II: The Mirror
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Part III: Soul Cannibal
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
About the Author
Contact
Part I
Evanescence
Chapter 1
Hail the watcher who can see
The ones incapable of watching me
My duty starts under the eye
Of watchers mightier than I
Mercedes
I wouldn’t say I lead a double life. At least not like a superhero. A Superhero’s alter-ego is like a split personality. Like they have MPD or something. They always act differently when they’re in costume and out of costume. I don’t see any need to act any different than what I am. I hate being fake. All my life I was told I should be me and only me. Dad says there’s far too much fakeness in the world.
That’s another difference. I don’t wear a costume. At least not one that involves tights, underwear outside of my pants, or masks that you can barely see out of. My costume is far more subtle. So subtle, I would even go so far as to say that I’m all but invisible. You can’t see me when I’m in costume. You can only see the words I type.
So, I guess quite a few of you can figure out what my costume is by now. The word “type” pretty much gave it away. Yes. That’s right. My costume is the Internet. Not a computer. But the Internet. And at the moment, I was fully in costume.
Sitting at my desk, I watched a message flow urgently across my computer screen.
I know what you’re thinking. Why use text when there are virtual chat rooms? Well, I’ll be the first to admit that text isn’t the sexist form of communication in this day and age, but it takes very little bandwidth and a smaller pipe. A virtual chat room needs a far larger pipe to carry all that bandwidth, not to mention more security to protect it. A pipe that wide with that much security is a far more attractive target to an unwanted guest, and I definitely did not want any unwanted guests spying on my conversations.
HarmonyRabbit42: Countess, are you sure you can get it to me by next Saturday? If Ray finds me, no one will be able to protect me. Not even the police.
Countess isn’t my real name. Rather, it’s a metaphor for the costume that I don when I’m on the Net.
I responded quickly.
Countess776: Don’t worry about Ray, Janelle. He’s still out of town. I tracked his credit card numbers. He’s been getting drunk every day for the past week. Even if he tried to find you now, he’d probably end up crashing head first into a brick wall.
HarmonyRabbit42: I’ll keep my fingers crossed. Do you need some money to speed up the process? I’ve got some saved up.
I smiled at her offer.
Countess776: I don’t need money to hack into the Department of Motor Vehicles, I just need my computer. You know that.
There was a long pause.
HarmonyRabbit42: Will you at least accept some? I don’t think I could have ever escaped Ray without you. There must be something I can do for you.
My smile widened. She was so sweet. That jerk Ray could have had someone to love and cherish him forever. But I didn’t waste any pity on him. He didn’t deserve it.
Countess776: There is one thing you can do for me.
HarmonyRabbit42: Name it.
Countess776: Use the new identity I’m giving you to start over. Go to a nice place. You have a high school diploma now. Find a job. Find someone who loves you. Start a family. But most of all, just be happy. Do that and your debt will be paid forever.
Another long pause.
HarmonyRabbit42: Sometimes I wonder if you’re angel that God sent straight from heaven. Are you trying to earn your wings?
I blushed and looked away from the screen. I’ve been called an angel many times before. Sometimes it pleased me, but other times it embarrassed me to no end, especially if people insisted that I was.
Countess776: I’m not an angel, I’m just a pencil. A tool. I wouldn’t ever call myself an angel.
HarmonyRabbit42: You are an angel. Don’t let anyone tell you anything different.
My blush deepened, and I found myself grateful that I was talking to Janelle over the Internet.
Countess776: I’ll have the new card by next Saturday. You just hang in there, okay?
HarmonyRabbit42: Thank you so much, Countess. God bless.
I cut the link and leaned back, stretching my legs. Sitting at my laptop for hours on end can cause some serious cramps, even to people like me who are used to it. I closed my eyes in response to the sudden wave of fatigue that overcame me. I think I may have actually fallen asleep for at least a few minutes. I don’t know. I almost never look at my clock when I’m at my computer. Time had no meaning when I’m hacking.
Unfortunately, time had meaning to an alarm clock.
BRRRIIINNNNG! BRRRIIIIINNNNNNNNGGGGGG!
I sat bolt upright with a gasp that quickly turned into a groan. God, that was obnoxious. I kept telling myself to change the setting, but I get distracted easily by far more important things. With a sigh, I got up from my chair. I turned off my obnoxious alarm and looked at the clock. A small part of me hoped that I had misread the calendar and it was Saturday. But no. It was Friday. Which would be the next best thing, except for the small fact that I’d been up all night.
And I still had to go to school.
Rubbing my eyes, I padded toward the bathroom. If I at least showered and downed a mug of coffee, I could get through the day without much of a problem. I opened the door and stepped inside.
I wondered if it was weird that I liked my bathroom more than my bedroom. When I entered, I was immediately greeted by the sensation of cool, polished black marble beneath my bare feet, as well as the gentle light from the chandelier from above. The artist in me could stare at that chandelier for hours. It almost looked like an exotic plant with delicate, silver vines weaving around a gleaming, black pearl stem. The fake candles glowed with soft, white light that reflected off the many crystals dangling below like ethereal fruit from another world.
There was a tub made of the same black marble from the floor. If I wanted, I could fill it with steaming hot water, and then add bubbles that could saturated the air with a sweet, rosy odor within minutes. Beethoven could then lull my mind with his Moonlight Sonata while I just sat back and luxuriated.
But I only saved the tub for when I really wanted to relax. Right now, what I needed to do was wake up.
I pushed aside the lacy gray curtains, shrugged out of my nightgown and stepped into the shower. I let myself enjoy the hot water for only a minute before bathing quickly. Water was a precious resource, and when I thought of all the people in the world who couldn’t even take a shower, I made sure to clean up as fast as I could before turning it off.
I dried myself with a hot, fresh towel before proceeding to get dressed in a simple pair of jeans and white shirt. After brushing my hair and applying my make-up, I felt somewhat more awake. A mug of coffee would do the rest.
“Your shower is complete, Miss Mercedes,” an electronic, feminine voice announced. “Now that I am fully back online, I will instruct you in the dangers you are posing to your health.”
I
sighed and put a hand to my forehead. “Lulu, I appreciate your concern, but I had a lot of work to do. I’m sorry I had to turn you off.”
Lulu was an AI program that my parents had installed in my room after I turned five. They originally intended for her to serve as just a computerized guardian and servant for me, but I had made several modifications to her over the years. Now she was as sentient as any program could get. Though she looked after my health and made sure my shower was running at the right temperature, she also served as a trusted confident and friend.
“I understand what you do, Miss Mercedes, and I know how much it means to you. But how can you function properly if you don’t look after your own needs?”
“I know,” I said. “Will you spare me the lecture if I promise to eat all of my breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and get seven hours of sleep?”
“Make it eight and you have a deal.”
“Miss Mercedes! Breakfast!”
“Coming!” I called back. “See you later, Lulu!”
“Have a wonderful day, Miss Mercedes.”
I quickly packed everything into my backpack and went down the stairs. My parents were already sitting at the dining table eating while our housekeeper Natalie tended to the countless dishes that the cooks brought out.
“Honey, did you sleep well last night?” my mother asked. She stared at me with concerned brown eyes. Everything about her seemed to add to the professional aura she radiated even before she started work, from her dark hair, pulled back in a sleek bun, to her elegant heels. I couldn’t help but envy that about her. “Your eyes look very shadowed.”
“Are you sick?” My father asked. He looked more like me with his tanned fair skin and dark blonde hair. “Natalie can take you to the doctor if you need—”
“I’m fine, Dad,” I said as calmly as I could. I even tried to smile. “I’m not sick. I guess I just had a rough night. It happens.”
That mollified them, thankfully. Normally, I didn’t pull all-nighters except in the case of an emergency. Tiredness was a small price to pay when women like Janelle needed my help.
Natalie smiled at me as she approached with a fresh coffee thermos. “Good morning, Miss Mercedes.”
I smiled back before returning the greeting. I liked Natalie. She had been the family housekeeper since I was seven, and sometimes acted like a surrogate parent when my mother and father were away on long business trips.
My mug was filled to the brim and I inhaled the rich, French aroma. I loved the smell of coffee fresh from the thermos. I always made sure to savor the smell before I added cream and sugar.
“Thanks,” I said to Natalie.
“Eat up, dear,” she said, putting a plate in front of me. “You look like you could use the extra strength this morning.”
Tell me something I don’t know, I thought wearily. But I couldn’t deny that the breakfast in front of me made my mouth water; thick-sliced turkey bacon, fluffy scrambled eggs, fried potatoes, and buttered biscuits. Natalie put another plate topped with three large, golden pancakes on my side along with a crystal pitcher filled with syrup. Last was a bowl nearly overflowing with strawberries so fresh they gleamed in the candlelight.
“Mercedes, I want you to know ahead of time that I’ll be gone for a few weeks at least,” my father said. “I have a meeting with the Prime Minister of Switzerland, and you know how long business takes with him.”
“That’s because he’s a very cautious man, dear,” Mom said. “I thought that was a trait you appreciated.”
“Oh, it is,” my father assured her. He turned back to me. “I’m sorry you can’t go, honey. If it were spring break or something, I would take you with me.”
“It’s okay, Dad,” I said. “School’s more important. Besides, I’ve gone with you before during the holidays.”
My father’s eyes were proud. “Thank you for understanding.”
But my mother was staring at me. Almost frowning.
“Darling, why aren’t you wearing that red top I brought home for you last week?”
I looked down to hide my guilty expression. My mother had once been one of the most sought after fashion designers in the country before she decided to put her law degree to good use. She still had plenty of connections, however, and she delighted in taking advantage of them. Every week, a package always arrived for me stuffed with white boxes containing the latest designer clothes. At first, it was difficult for me to remember which red top she was talking about since this was far from the first time she bought me something red. But then I remembered. This particular top was a bright ruby red color, and made out of the finest cashmere. The material had felt incredibly soft in my hands, and I remembered telling my mother I couldn’t wait to wear it.
“Umm…it’s a little warm today, and the sleeves are long,” I said as casually as I could. “It’s difficult to concentrate on calculus when you feel over-heated. I think I’ll wear it in the fall when it gets cooler.”
It was a lie, but I didn’t want to tell my mother the truth. I told it before several years ago, and had been subjected to a three-hour long lecture. That was something I never wanted to go through again.
Thankfully, I managed to placate her.
Almost.
“Oh, of course,” my mother shook her head. “How silly of me. Spending practically every minute of every day in air-conditioned monorails and buildings…sometimes it’s so easy for me to forget what the weather is like! Don’t worry, dear. I’ll make sure to bring you something cooler in a couple of days.”
“Thanks,” I said. I wanted to protest, but the consequences for that would be almost as severe as telling her the truth.
I ate while listening to my parents chatter on about business, clients, and revenue. They asked me about my schoolwork and were pleased when I told them I got the highest grade in the class for the English test.
“Reading a lot pays off,” I told them. “I wouldn’t have done so well if I wasn’t such a bookworm.”
“Reading a lot is pointless if you don’t have a brilliant mind,” my father pointed out.
I blushed and he laughed. He knew how much compliments like that embarrassed me.
Thank God he doesn’t know how many people call me an angel, I thought.
And speaking of that…
“Dad?” I said. “Um…have you made that donation to Women’s Aid yet?”
He frowned slightly. “No, I’m sorry, dear. Forgive me, I know how much that means to you.” He immediately fished out a checkbook and pen from his pocket. “I’ll have Daniel mail this right away.”
“No, I can take it,” I said quickly. “I don’t have any after school activities planned for this evening. I can just stop on by and drop it off.”
“If you say so,” he shrugged. “Just make sure you don’t tell anyone about it. I can’t imagine what people would do to you if they found out you were carrying around this much money in your pocket.”
I laughed. “Come on, Dad, you know I’m not that dumb.”
“You’re the exact opposite of dumb,” he corrected with a smile and handed me the check. I carefully placed it in a safe compartment in my purse. “Is today one of your volunteer days?”
“Not officially,” I replied, carefully keeping my face neutral.
“Well, everyone’s always happy to see you there,” Mom said. “And I’ll bet they’ll be extra happy when they learn you’ll be giving them more than just a few hours of your time.”
I smiled at her.
“It’s really wonderful what you’re doing, Mercedes,” Mom continued. “There are very few girls your age who would give up so much of their time to help those in need.”
My smile widened to hide my growing uneasiness. It was common knowledge that I volunteered at Women’s Aid, but my parents were utterly unaware of how deeply my aid to the people there ran. They didn’t know of the costume I donned every night, or the double life I secretly led. I hated lying to my parents, but they wouldn’t understand. No
t even my father, who was Women’s Aid’s most prominent benefactor.
“I have to go now,” I said and gathered up my belongings. After bidding my parents good-bye, I headed out toward the door.
Once again, the artist in me paused for a second to glance over the door. It was incredibly tall, and made out of a crystal so clear, the sun shone effortlessly through, bathing the surrounding white marble in golden light. The dark gold lines woven into the crystal reminded me of some of the cathedral doors I witnessed while vacationing in London.
Daniel, one of our chauffeurs, was waiting for me in the driveway right beside the limousine. He smiled and waved at me. I smiled back, but with less enthusiasm than usual.
“Have a rough night, Miss?” he asked with concern when we were both seated inside.
“I’ll be all right, thanks,” I told him with enough firmness so that he wouldn’t inquire further. Daniel was nice, but sometimes he could be very nosy and if he pressed me right now, I was liable to say something I would later regret.
We rode down the street in silence. I kept the windows closed like I always did when I went to school. I made sure Daniel was occupied with traffic before I reached into my backpack and took out my comm. Holding it up to my face, I flicked the on switch. A thin beam of light entered my retina, enabling me to see my desktop. Comms were such nifty little gadgets. Over the past ten years, they had gotten cheaper so more and more people could afford them. While I never liked to flaunt my possessions, I have to admit, I was very proud of my personal comm. Not only was it state-of-the-art, but I had been adding new extensions and features to it since the day I bought it.
Activating my private email account, I quickly typed out a message.
Caroline,
I’m stopping by tonight. I probably won’t be able to stay long. Just wanted to give you a heads up.