Atlantean: An Eternal Novel

By E.N. Watkins

Amadeus Angel knows there must be more to life than suffering at the hands of his so-called parents. He also knows there must be some explanation for the lines on his hands forming knots, his crystalline tears, and his lavender eyes. But he never expects that an invitation to attend Eden Prep will unravel these mysteries, providing the catalyst for a plan thousands of years in the making.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBookIt.com
• Release date: Apr 26, 2016
• ISBN: 9781456607203

Book preview

Browne

PROLOGUE

Do you ever wonder why we are born into certain families? Why, more often than not, it seems the most undeserving are born into a loving family while those of us who are worthy of such love are born into a cruel family?

Why is that?

If you’re a human looking for answers to this question, I can’t help you.

However if you’re like me, more than human, you have a decision to make. You can either A: read on, and find the answers you’ve been searching for all your life; B: close this book right now and walk away; or C: find a way to remove yourself from this world.

If you want my advice go with C—especially if your eyes are lavender and your palm lines form an intricate knot on your hand. Because chances are you are not with your soul mate, and are in the hands of beings that have every intention of making your life a living hell.

However, if suicide isn’t your particular cup of tea, go with A, because at least you will be somewhat prepared for what’s ahead. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.

My name is Amadeus. Well, actually it’s Amadeus Angel. But I don’t like to use my surname unless absolutely necessary.

Anyway, I’m fifteen years old, and several months ago I was like you: completely in the dark.

But all that changed when a mysterious man arrived at my house claiming to be a courier from Eden Prep, a prestigious high school in Pebble Beach California.

This man—whoever he was—presented my parents with a letter that instructed them to send me to this school straightaway.

You’d think my parents would be happy, right? Give me some sort of praise?

Wrong.

After the man had delivered his letter, my parents saw fit to punish me. As if it was my fault or something.

Okay, yeah, it was a little weird that I should get an invitation to a school to which I never even applied. But was that cause enough to beat me?

It was for my evil parents.

Truth-be-told, I was hardly surprised. I was always getting beaten for something or other. And sometimes, for no reason at all.

Between you and me, I think my parents enjoyed it.

So I was hardly surprised when my father knocked me to the floor upon seeing the letter. Nor was I much surprised when both my parents vented their frustration by kicking me while I was hunched over in pain.

From their disgruntled mutterings I was able to deduce that one couldn’t simply refuse an invitation to Eden Prep without suffering serious repercussions.

Now, I was in quite a bit of pain so I might have imagined it, but I was almost certain that there was fear in my parents’ voices: something about Eden Prep frightened my parents.

I could learn to like anything that caused my parents fear.

I had never prayed before. Suffering so much pain in the last fifteen years had made me question God’s existence. But I was praying now. I prayed that my parents would accept the invitation. And as luck or divine intervention would have it, my parents accepted!

But apparently there was more to the invitation than I realized, because the very next day my parents informed me that we were moving to Pebble Beach.

CHAPTER ONE

Moving wasn’t hard for me. I wasn’t really fond of New York City; it was much too cramped for my liking. Being homeschooled all my life made my social life nonexistent, so I didn’t have any friends and there were no sad goodbyes.

Though easy, my homeschooling was nothing more than a farce for me; it was just a way for my parents to show the world that we were a normal family—while in actuality we were anything but.

In only a few days, I was sitting in a limousine with my parents being driven to the airport. Packing takes little time when your family has several servants succumbent to your every desire.

While on the way, my mother thought it amusing to jab a knife completely through my hand. It wasn’t a large, just a simple pocket knife.

Of course that didn’t make it any less painful.

It was excruciating. So much so that I cried all the way to the airport. And as weird as it sounds, my crying was exactly what my parents were after.

You see, when I cry my eyes don’t shed normal tears. They shed crystals. And for reasons I cannot fathom my parents enjoy ingesting these crystals. It’s almost as if it gives them some weird sort of high.

But maybe that’s just my imagination.

When we arrived at the airport, my mother removed the knife. Causing me more pain and bringing about more tears. While my parents ate these tears, I watched my hand heal itself.

This was another phenomenon that I could not explain: whenever my parents would brutalize me, my body would rapidly heal itself. This is why I couldn’t tell anyone what my parents were doing to me.

My body removed all the evidence! And I do mean all the evidence; both physical and emotional. For all intents and purposes I was perfectly normal. Well . . . almost normal anyways.

Come along, Amadeus, called my mother in her annoyingly beautiful voice.

That was it.

There was no love in her voice, just command. All my parents ever gave me were commands. Short and simple. Like I was their pet or something. Even when we were in public, we never conversed. After all, it wasn’t my voice they wanted to hear—only my sobs.

Not wanting to give my parents an excuse to punish me some more I flexed my hand once and hurriedly joined them outside of the limousine.

We didn’t have to wait long before another one of our servants came to greet us. I knew, before he opened his mouth, that he was here to expedite our navigation through the airport. My parents hardly did anything without the aid of a servant or two.

Before walking inside, I caught a glimpse of our reflections in the glass doors of the airport. To the onlookers we probably looked more like siblings. For my parents were very youthful in appearance. In fact, both of my parents didn’t look a day over twenty one. Though I knew they were much older, I could not for the life of me figure out why they never aged. All three of us were dressed in the very latest designer fashion. The figure in front was a tall, inhumanly handsome man with dark hair and silver eyes; He was my father, William Angel. Standing next to him was my mother, Catherine Angel. She was a stunningly beautiful woman whose hair was golden blonde and eyes just as silver. But unlike the man standing next to her, this woman had pointed ears and slit pupils in her silver eyes, giving her an almost demonic appearance. Stranger still was the peculiar marking that covered the right side of her face. Then there was me.

There wasn’t anything significantly noticeable about me. Though I was constantly told how good looking I was, I didn’t think much of my appearance. I was tall and slender. I had long blonde hair that was pulled back with a ribbon at the nape of my neck. You couldn’t see the ribbon in the reflection but I knew it was there. My eyes were also silver. But it wasn’t my natural color. My natural color was lavender.

My parents never told me why they made me where contacts. I figured it was so people would think we were related.

Secretly I hoped we weren’t.

The door opened and the reflection disappeared.

It took us no time at all to pass through security. And soon we were on the plane—first class of course.

Six hours later our plane touched down on the tarmac in San Francisco, California. We could’ve flown to a closer city but my parents wanted to use the trip to extract more tears from me.

They didn’t tell me this, but I knew. I could always tell when my parents were about to pump me for tears because their harshness toward me would always increase.

So I wasn’t surprised when, after I had gotten into the limo, my parents pulled out their favorite torture tools. For my mom it was the pocket knife she pierced my hand with. For my dad it was a shock collar.

It was going to be a long trip.

A few painful hours later we arrived at Pebble Beach. My wounds were gone but the blood wasn’t.

My loving mom had gone a bit overboard with her knife.

There was no reason to hope that the limo driver would come to my aid. After all I learned long ago that the servants of this family did whatever my parents told them to do. And as none of these sniveling maggots had ever tried to assist me, I could only assume that they were told not to interfere. The effect my parents had on them was sickening. As soon as they laid eyes on my parents it was like love at first sight. Like they had been struck by Cupid’s arrow or something.

While we were waiting in the limousine for the driver to open the door—my parents being too proud to do it themselves—something very strange happened. My father actually spoke to me, rather than at me. His tone wasn’t even commanding. It sounded—worried.

Now, son . . .

Son?

That was a first. Never in the fifteen years of my existence did he ever acknowledge me as his son.

. . . I want you to stay close to your mother and I. Don’t wander off.

Wander off? When have I ever wandered off?

Yes, Father, I answered mechanically.

He smiled. Or at least tried to smile. Actually, it looked more like a grimace.

My mother took my hand and squeezed it. Not painfully, though. And that was a surprise, too. I looked into her eyes and was surprised to see fear radiating from them.

It was both weird and pleasing to see my parents in such a state of terror.

The door to the limousine opened and my mother was the first to exit. I wasn’t far behind, as she was still holding my hand. My father got out last.

We were standing in the driveway of a magnificent home. It dwarfed all the homes I had previously lived in, which were castles in their own right.

Was this going to be our home?

I didn’t think so, somehow.

My parents didn’t move; it was as if they were rooted to the spot. Then the front door of the home opened and out walked the most beautiful girl I have ever laid eyes upon. And I had seen a fair share of beautiful girls. But there was something about this girl that captured my attention. I couldn’t explain it. It wasn’t her looks—even though she was sight to behold. From what I could gather, she was about as tall as I was and had a kind of majestic beauty about her, like she was a princess or something. Her eyes were a stunning blue; her hair was raven’s-wing black, cropped short, and stuck out in every which way; her clothing was just as elegant as my own. But there was a sour expression on her face as though she had bit into a lemon. Of course this expression in no way dampened her good looks.

She pranced toward us and came to a halt a few yards from where we were standing. Our eyes met and her expression changed from sour to one of pity, as though she could see what my parents had been doing to me all these years.

I didn’t know how that was possible.

Then her gaze traveled to my parents and her expression changed to one of disgust and loathing.

It was my mother who spoke first.

Hello, Victoria.

Victoria? Was that this girl’s name?

I guess it had to be, because the only other woman present was my mother.

Catherine, replied Victoria coldly.

Her voice was much like my mother’s: angelic. But Victoria’s was so much more . . . alluring—seductive, almost.

Why have we been summoned here?

My father’s voice was respectful but wary.

Victoria stared stonily back at him.

We will no longer stand idly by while you and the rest of the Fallen do as you please.

The Fallen?

She took a menacing step toward my parents, causing mother to release my hand and stumble backwards.

Victoria snorted insolently.

My father didn’t move—and I wasn’t about to come to my parents’ aid. Besides, I was much too intrigued by the strange power this girl seemed to have over them. This girl didn’t look much older than I was and yet she spoke down to them as though they were the inferior ones.

"My father is waiting for you inside. Now are you going to come quietly or will I have to force you?" asked Victoria in a commanding voice.

A small smile passed over my face.

If I was certain about anything I was certain about this: my parents were not going to come quietly. I was absolutely certain that they were about to make a scene. And I wanted more than ever to watch them being dragged, kicking and screaming, into the mansion.

Unfortunately, things didn’t turn out that way.

The usually inflexible nature of my parents had been completely stripped away by Victoria. So it goes without saying that I was extremely disappointed at my father’s fearful response.

N-N-No need for that, Victoria. C-C-Come, Catherine.

He then extended a trembling hand to my mother, who grasped it fearfully. It looked as if she had forgotten how to breathe.

My father looked at me. There was sadness in his eyes, like he wouldn’t be seeing me again.

My face betrayed no such emotion; I wouldn’t be sorry if he or my mother happened to disappear from my life forever.

Go with Victoria, son.

Again with the son thing.

Yes, Father.

I hope you get what’s coming to you, you disgusting parasite.

My parents then walked hand-in-hand into the monstrous home, leaving me alone with Victoria.

She stared at me, meeting my gaze once more. Her expression was peculiar as though she was fighting to keep it pleasant. I wondered what it was about me that was so distasteful.

There was an awkward silence.

Had she been like the other girls I’d met before today I probably would’ve come right out and asked her what was wrong with me. But there was something about Victoria that was catching me off guard.

Are you ok? she asked.

Was I ok? What was that supposed to mean?

I settled on shrugging.

Shrugging was good. Very cool.

She giggled.

It sounded nice. Like wind chimes in a light breeze.

She then grabbed my hand and led me toward her house. At least I assumed it was her house. It seemed to fit, really: only a palace would befit a girl of such beauty.

I wondered where we were going, but then I realized that I didn’t care. As long as I was with her I didn’t care where we went. Besides, she was the one who had liberated me from my twisted parents.

They aren’t your parents, Amadeus.

I started.

It wasn’t so much the fact that she knew my name that’d taken me by surprise. I mean, if she knew who my parents were, she definitely knew who I was. No, what startled me was her knowing what I was thinking.

Had she been reading my mind?

What do you mean? I asked curiously.

Her pace slowed.

"I mean that you are not related to William and Catherine Angel in any sense of the word."

More relieved than surprised, I was overjoyed that I could finally hate William and Catherine without feeling guilty.

How do you know this? I asked curiously

Your—eyes.

Her slight pause made me think she wanted to say something else.

I know you’re wearing contacts, Amadeus.

You seem to know a lot.

Actually, you seem to be psychic.

She laughed.

Was it odd for me to enjoy her laughter?

We were now at the front door of her palace. But we didn’t go inside. She took me around the side of her house and into the backyard—and what a backyard it was! There was a huge lawn that stretched from one side of the house to the other. The lawn was surrounded by a white-picket fence. But that wasn’t what caught my attention—no—what caught my attention was the beach on the other side of the fence.

I knew at once that this is where she wanted to go. I didn’t know how I knew—she hadn’t said anything—but I was sure that she wanted to head to the beach.

She let go of my hand and bounded gracefully toward the fence and lightly jumped over it. She then turned ’round and eyed me expectantly.

Now, common sense would have dictated that I simply walk over to the fence and either climb over it or just go through the gate—especially with the effect Victoria was having on me. But common sense was the last thing on my mind. And besides, the fence wasn’t that high.

I sprinted toward the fence and tried to hurdle it as Victoria had done. But instead of leaping over it gracefully, my shoe caught on the fence and I did a sort of face-plant right in the sand.

It hurt—a lot.

The sand was a bit rockier than I’d expected.

I didn’t want to cry but the tears came anyway. Tears always welled up in my eyes at even the slightest bit of pain.

Sometimes it would save me from the long hours of torture. But right now it just made me seem weak.

Are you okay? I heard her ask in her velvet voice.

Thankfully there was concern in her voice instead of humor.

I’m fine, I mumbled getting to my feet.

I could feel the sand still on my face and I hurried to brush it off, causing a few more tears to escape from my eyes. I heard the thuds as they hit the ground. Victoria had apparently heard them too because she bent down to pick them up.

Crap! How on earth was I supposed to explain that I cried tears of crystal?

But if she was surprised she didn’t show it. Her sour expression was back, however. I wondered how many teenage boys she had seen cry.

Without another word, she flung the crystals into the sea. Of course, they flew a good hundred yards before landing in the surf.

She looked at me again, her expression pleasant once more.

Tears come easily for you, don’t they?

It’s a defense mechanism, I said defensively, You know—against the pain. The pain stops when the tears come.

Why was I telling her this?

It wasn’t like she had any idea what I was talking about.

I buried my hands in my pockets and strolled out into the surf, not even bothering to take off my shoes.

Now, I’d been expecting both my shoes and socks to be instantly saturated with sea water, but I was startled to find that they were, somehow, completely dry.

Curious, I waded farther into the water, allowing it to rise to my knees. When the water was at my waist I plunged my head beneath the waves. The sensation was far beyond anything I had ever experienced. The ocean felt warm, as though I had just plunged into a hot bath. I felt the ribbon holding my hair fall off, and that took me by surprise. I felt my clothes again: they were completely dry! I felt my hair: it was acting as hair normally does underwater, floating this way and that. But it, too, was completely dry. Stranger still was the fact that my eyes were penetrating the murk and gloom of the water and I could see everything around me quite clearly. But my vision was lavender as though I was staring through a colored lens. Weirdest of all was the fact that I was breathing.

I was actually breathing underwater!

I was baffled. This phenomenon never occurred when I took showers or swam in pools.

I stood up again, letting my hair drape over my shoulders. My lavender vision vanished. It seemed my sight was only colored underwater.

I put my hands back in my pockets and walked back onto the shore completely lost in thought.

I hadn’t realized before how windy it was. The wind ruffled my hair as it blew out behind me.

Victoria stared at me with a distasteful expression as though she knew my real reasons for entering the ocean.

I strode past her not meeting her gaze wondering how I was going to explain my being completely dry.

I continued walking and didn’t stop until I reached the white-picket fence. I then sat down and brought my knees to my chest. Wrapping my arms around them, I stared out at the ocean.

Victoria sat down on my right side. It was nice having her so close. She leaned her shoulder against mine and began to absentmindedly play with my hands as though she wanted to see them.

Once again even though she hadn’t said anything I somehow knew what she wanted—almost like we shared some sort of weird bond.

Victoria was curious about my palm lines, and truth be told, I was curious about them too. I mean, it was more than a little strange to have palm lines that were knotted together. And why were both my palms that way?

I sighed and showed Victoria the palms of my hands. I suppose I could’ve lied and told her that the knot was really a tattoo, but as much as this girl seemed to know about me, that was probably a bad idea.

After staring at the knot for a moment, Victoria interlaced her fingers in mine and held my hand. She looked as though she wanted to tell me something but was struggling to find the words.

Just as she was about to open

Reviews for Atlantean

[chickey1981 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I won this book from First Reads giveaways from Goodreads in exchange for an honest review.Atlantean is a book about Amadeus Angel and his journey to find out his true heritage. His parents are physically and emotionally abusive, but one day that all changes when he is invited to the Seraph mansion and takes his place at Eden Prep. From there, more mysteries pile up and he meets several fascinating girls who have strange powers that he cannot explain.There is a lot of material here, and a lot of it is interesting. The backstory of Amadeus Angel's true heritage is vast and imaginative. I loved the character Nyssa and was glad to see that she was given more of a role as I got further in the book. *MINOR SPOILER* We quickly discover that Amadeus is more than just human and that the Bible gives us a framework for what really happened in the past. I was impressed by how Watkins explains a lot of the people and events in the Bible in the world that is created. It will be interesting to see the reception of this novel; because it deals with rewriting the Bible in fantastical ways, I am sure people will find ways to ban it.However, that was not my issue with this book. My biggest issue was that while very creative and imaginative, it read like more of a history book that I had to study for school. The backstory was very dense and I had to reread passages to make sure I kept everything straight. I understand the necessity of explaining the history and background of the mythology of the overall book, but this was the entire book. The action could have been condensed to one small chapter. Furthermore, the only interesting character to me was Nyssa. Amadeus was not a very likeable character, which is unfortunate since the story is told from his point of view. I was ready to feel empathetic to him for his difficult past, but instead he, like most of the other characters, acts like an elite member of society who basically lives for pleasure and indulging himself. *MORE SPOILERS* Amadeus even gets 7 girls to himself. We are told that the reason this is okay is because everyone is "enlightened." But everyone else sticks to just one soulmate and Amadeus is the only one with multiple partners. The other characters in the book especially Eli and his soulmate, Diana, are very know it all, and I started to tire of the amount of times they "scoffed" at what another character did, or how many times the word "smug" was associated with one of them. They really enjoyed knowing more information than Amadeus and the other characters and made it a point to rub it in their and the readers' faces. Also, I felt very unsatisfied by his interactions from his "false parents." I felt like he learned nothing from his experiences and that this part of the story could have been integral to his characters growth. I instead felt like Amadeus pretty much stayed the same throughout the book. He learned about his past, but he didn't really evolve/grow from it; he was excited to know he could be with all the girls he loved and hated his false parents and were glad they were going to die. Finally, the book needs a good editor. Punctuation, mispellings, and mistakes such as "your" for "you're" or "their" for they're" are rampant. It distracts from the rest of the book.Overall, while many times creative, the mythological back story is dense and the story sinks from the weight. The characters are mostly flat and two dimensional. However, with more work, this story has potential.