Sea of Forgetfulness

By Lanie Mores

CAN CHOICE EXIST WITHIN THE CONSTRAINTS OF A PROPHECY?

Angelika Juris unexpectedly becomes legal guardian to her sister's rejected child, Dani... a child with the potential to develop supernatural abilities.

After witnessing a horrific event, Dani develops mental health issues, but is able to overcome her inner turmoil through treatment and her parents' love. Their lives fall into a comfortable routine filled with dance classes, sleepovers, and video game marathons.

Until the accident.

At the age of thirteen, Dani is involved in a tragic highway disaster, and as a result of her injuries, her powers manifest. Afraid to tell her parents about her newfound abilities, and even more afraid of harming, them, Dani is lured away to find her estranged mutant brothers, seeking answers about her origins and how to control her new power.

Guided by an amulet and map—a gift sent from her brother, Tomas Scholz—Dani embarks on an adventure where she meets a young boy, Jonathan. He is lost, with no memories of his identity, his family, or his home. With nowhere else to turn, Jonathan joins Dani on her quest, and together they battle pirates, the undead, and finally, her evil family—a family that is a far cry from what she expected.

Will Dani deny her destiny and resist the evil plans of her siblings, or will she succumb to her role in fulfilling the prophecy—being the path and the key—that ends in the fall of mankind?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Jul 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9780228828662

Book preview

PART I

Prologue

The path and the key.

Once so clear, now again a mystery.

It vexes me, plagues me, drives me to madness.

This puzzle with pieces of imperfect architecture.

Indeterminate. Indefinite. Undefined.

If not Anthony, who is this boy,

The one with black, shaggy hair

Who is to bring about the downfall of man?

The prophecy’s chosen one.

Mass destruction, the human spirit corrupted,

The smugness of His creation brought to their knees,

Into submission.

To me.

It’s there, constantly breathing its possibilities into my thoughts.

My dreams, my plans.

A puzzle I will solve…in time.

Meanwhile, I toil over other great works. Always in motion.

An army to rebuild.

Unborn to track, to observe,

To draw back into my flock.

And the new tantalizing revelation.

How to put it to swift use

To further our gains.

My attention aroused after witnessing the event.

The angel controlling the girl who shouldn’t be.

Only one explanation for this magnificent potential.

The manipulation of crystals,

The transference of power,

The loss of free will.

A joyous epiphany.

Complete control in the palm of my hands.

Oh, what great fun I shall have.

Free will…man’s most precious of gifts.

One he abuses time and time again,

Much to my malicious pleasure.

First Adam in the Garden of Eden,

Man’s fall from earth’s throne,

The position returned to its rightful owner.

Mine from the beginning,

And now ever shall be.

And the other realms shall surely follow.

My status once more elevated.

My disruptive propaganda finally heard,

Erasing all doubts from the witnesses in the clouds.

Reaching across to the unfallen worlds.

My support growing stronger,

And with the new revelation, will grow stronger still.

Gaining momentum with unstoppable force.

But for now…I build. I watch. I calculate.

And then…I strike.

—The Author of Sin

Chapter 1

July 2003

The Thunder Bay District Hospital was tight and clamorous, regardless of the midnight hour. Patients on gurneys lined both sides of the corridors, practically stacked on top of each other like users at an opium den. The fluorescent lighting glared fierce and offensive off the polished linoleum, periodically broken by shadows of nurses and doctors scuttling up and down the packed hall.

No room for them in the inn.

It was with perfect irony that Ronnie would go into labour on this the busiest of nights, chaos drawn to her like iron shavings to a magnet. The last nine months, no exception.

Angelika Juris sat rigid at her sister’s side—the tension thick, stifling, all-encompassing, heightening with each of Ronnie’s intermittent howls of pain. Anthony clutched Ang’s hand in support. Equally quiet, anxious. Witnessing this was a nightmare. But, even worse—the fear that gripped them on the inside of what was to come.

Would the baby be normal? Or one of them?

Ang leaned over, whispering into Anthony’s ear, throat bone-dry, This is too much for her. She can’t take it.

Anthony nodded, giving her hand a tight squeeze. He saw what the last nine months had done to Ronnie. The facial reconstructive surgeries, the denial, the deep despairing depression, the vacant stare, always looking inward to a place no one could reach. Attempts had been made, although fruitless. Countless unsuccessful psychological and medicinal therapies. No longer the fiery, bull-headed, attention-seeking, selfish Ronnie. She was a broken shell. Listless. Lifeless. Already damaged. And now this.

She never asked for this.

Another contraction gripped Ronnie, her voice at first small and distant, a siren fast approaching, escalating into a high-pitched wail. A labour and delivery nurse with a blond bob and biceps like hard apples approached the gurney, grabbing the chart that dangled off the side rails by a string. Veronica Juris?

Ronnie gave a brief nod.

Were you able to attend any Lamaze classes? Receiving no response, she acknowledged Ang for confirmation.

Yes, she did, Ang replied, remembering the struggle to get Ronnie to attend the classes.

Okay, Veronica. I’d like you to start doing your Lamaze breathing whenever you feel a contraction starting. It should help you work through the pain. Ronnie didn’t respond but rather held her breath, face squished, turning a freakish shade of purple. Once the contraction passed, Ronnie dropped her head back onto the pillow, a sickly pallor quickly returning.

The nurse remained unconcerned, checking the fetal monitor strapped to Ronnie’s bulged belly. The contractions are only a few minutes apart and becoming more regular. I’m going to do a quick check to see how far she is dilated. Under the covers, with at least a modicum of discretion, the nurse did a compulsory check and concluded, She’s already dilated nine centimetres. It shouldn’t be long now. This baby is determined to be born tonight. Let’s get her into the delivery room while I send an orderly to fetch the obstetrician on call this evening. Ronnie’s doctor was inconveniently out of town. At least they would be out of the hall and in a proper room for the delivery.

This friggin’ sucks. I feel like I’m going to puke, Ang moaned after the nurse left, tears plaguing her eyes.

It’ll be okay. She’s in good hands. And no matter what happens, we’ll be there to help Ronnie through this. She won’t be alone, Anthony reassured.

You’re my rock, you know that? I couldn’t imagine getting through this without you. Ang paused. It’s ironic when you think about it, but the same tragic events that have led Ronnie here, to this moment, are what ultimately brought us together. We wouldn’t have met otherwise.

It was last fall when the events leading up to Ronnie’s current predicament, and Ang and Anthony’s fateful meeting were put into motion. Ronnie got abducted. Spirited away to a hidden castle in the Rocky Mountains by monsters—that was the only way Ang could describe them. And then Ronnie was impregnated in an experiment, the results soon to be revealed. They barely escaped with their lives. The aftermath, a strange adjustment for them all. Ang suddenly responsible for more dependents, on top of the one she already had—Babka, her grandmother, who was in the advanced stages of Alzheimer’s. And now Anthony Scholz, the man who didn’t exist in the outside world, with no social insurance number, no savings, and nowhere else to go. Add to that, Ronnie, with the extensive rehabilitative process, who was likely to end up becoming a permanent resident in their home. It was another experience to test Ang’s inner strength and, at times, she thought she might break. But each time she edged toward the brink of a nervous breakdown, Anthony was there to pull her back up. He was more than her rock; he was her saviour. Over the past eight months, they had become an official couple, inseparable since the day they met in the castle secretly embedded in the Rocky Mountains.

You don’t give yourself enough credit, Angel. You’re a lot stronger than you think, Anthony reassured her, using his favourite nickname for her. He was always the humble one, always building her up.

But what…what if it’s a…

Shhhh. Don’t get ahead of yourself.

With brows furrowed, Ang glanced back at her sister writhing in agony. Helpless.

The nurse returned, grabbing the end of Ronnie’s gurney, and invited the young couple to follow her as she pushed it down the hall into the delivery ward.

Can’t you give her anything for the pain? Get her an epidural or something? Ang begged the nurse as she jogged to keep up. She’s in too much pain.

The nurse shook her head. I’m sorry. It’s too late for that. Her contractions are too far along.

Ronnie’s labour had come on quick and intense. Ang had been cooking lasagna when she heard her sister’s screams emanating from her basement bedroom. Rushing down the stairs and into her room, she found her sister standing in a puddle of amniotic fluid, clutching her belly. Wasn’t a first labour usually a slow progression, lasting several hours, even days? However, this was not a normal first pregnancy, making Ang all the more nervous as they rushed her sister to the hospital, wondering what to expect.

They had only been waiting for one hour, and as they entered the delivery room, and Ronnie was transferred to a proper bed, Ang braced herself for the outcome. Months of waiting and worrying about this moment. It would be over soon enough.

The obstetrician sauntered into the room without a care in the world, calm and self-assured. Good evening, he addressed Anthony and Ang before veering right, toward Ronnie’s hospital bed and the attending nurse. So, Blanch, what have we got here? He flashed a cocky smile, sparkling white teeth on display. Looking more like a Hollywood actor playing a doctor in a movie—perfectly coifed grey and white speckled hair, perfectly pressed dress shirt and pants worn beneath his scrubs, and brightly polished shoes—it gave Ang little confidence having him on site. Too showy and self-centred for her taste. Where the hell was a real doctor?

The nurse replied raspingly, This is Veronica Juris. First pregnancy. No time for an epidural. Already nine centimetres dilated as of five minutes ago.

The doctor finally acknowledged Ronnie, still in acute agony, contractions practically piling on top of each other.

Hello, Veronica. I’m Dr. Warwick. Sounds like you are almost ready to start pushing. Just relax. I’m going to do a quick examination to see how you are progressing. Alright?

Ronnie managed a brief nod.

The doctor slipped on a pair of vinyl gloves. Let’s take a look-y here. A quick examination ensued. The doctor seemed satisfied. Looks like everything is fine. You are ten centimetres dilated, so on the next contraction you can start pushing.

The nurse further instructed Ronnie to grab hold of her thighs and bare down when she was told it was time. Again, Ronnie nodded, but it was barely perceptible. She was mostly in her own world of hurt.

Ang buried her head into Anthony’s shoulder. I can’t watch this.

Ronnie was momentarily lying back on the white pillows, her sweat-damp hair clinging to the scar that permanently dissected her face. The silence was momentary. A strangled mewl suddenly erupted from her sister’s mouth, face twisting in anguish.

The nurse waited a moment and then instructed, Okay, Veronica. Now is the time to push. Bare down like we talked about.

Ronnie pulled her shoulders off the bed, curling up to grab onto her legs, and pushed with all her might. The mewls of pain swiftly transformed into a horrifying shriek. Face bloodless. Upper body slammed back on the bed, and she attempted to curl into a fetal position, crying and shrieking. Ang’s insides turned cold.

Something was wrong.

The doctor’s calm, cocky demeanour evaporated. The heart rate monitor measuring the baby’s cardiac rhythm became erratic. A warning alarm sounded.

Dr. Warwick performed another quick examination, this one rushed, urgent.

The baby’s in distress. We’re going to have to operate. Prep her for surgery, he barked at the nurse.

I thought you said everything was fine! Ang accused the flustered doctor.

It was, but sometimes things like this happen.

What’s wrong? Why is the baby in distress?

I’ll know more once we’re in surgery. We’re going to transport your sister to an operating room. You can head over to the waiting room outside the O.R. We’ll let you know as soon as we have more information.

The nurse wheeled Ronnie’s bed out of the room, assisted by two other nurses that had been paged to the scene. The doctor rapidly followed on their heels.

Oh, Anthony. This keeps getting worse. I was so worried about what the baby would look like, that I didn’t even think it might not make it. And now that it’s in danger, I want only for it to survive. Be healthy. And Ronnie…poor Ronnie.

They clung to each other; Ang’s face a ball of emotion, even Anthony’s eyes grew moist.

They retreated to the waiting area. Anthony retrieved steaming coffees from a vending machine at the end of the hall. They sipped halfheartedly. The caffeine combined with nervous tension only added to Ang’s jitteriness, but she kept slurping away. At least it filled the time. The time that stretched out impossibly long. Other chairs in the lounge were filled. Loved ones perched on the edge of their seats, hoping, praying for the best.

The wall clock ticked loudly, mocking them with each second that passed. Tick, tick, tick…

What was happening in the operating room? Why was it taking so bloody long? Was Ronnie okay? And the baby…what of the baby?

How are we going to help Ronnie through this? She was already lost in her own world, practically unresponsive. How can I help her get back to her old self? I almost miss the insults, the name-calling, the arrogance. It would be much better than this, Ang groaned.

We can try therapy again.

Yeah and look where that got us. It was the therapist who deemed Ronnie mentally incompetent, not in the right state of mind to make rational decisions. It was their fault Ronnie was denied an abortion. This can only make things worse for her. Another surgery. A baby she never wanted. A reminder of her abduction, her captors. Your father. And the baby…who knows what else she will be facing?

Anthony draped a consoling arm around his girlfriend’s shoulder. It’s out of our hands for now. We have to wait and see. And then we can deal with what we are given.

Ang looked up into Anthony’s sea-green eyes. I wish I could be as positive as you.

Well, you worry enough for the both of us, so it frees me from that burden, he smiled reassuringly, rubbing her arm. Ang leaned her head onto Anthony’s muscular shoulder that had become so familiar to her over the past several months. What would she have done without him? Her source of comfort and unconditional love. The only downfall of having him around was that Gavin was blocked. She was no longer able to see her guardian angel. She knew he was still there with her, watching over her, protecting her. But she missed talking with him, seeing his sweet little face, hearing his gentle voice, even when he was being intolerable.

The O.R. doors suddenly flew open, and the nurse with the blond bob exited with a flourish.

Ang exploded off her chair like a detonated grenade and flew over to the nurse. How are they? she asked, breathless.

Anthony joined Ang, waiting expectantly.

A smile curled up the edges of the nurse’s thin lips. They’re fine. The C-section was routine. Everything went smoothly. The baby was lodged in the birth canal, temporarily depriving it of oxygen, which is why it went into distress. But the doctor operated on time, and there is no harm done. Ronnie is resting comfortably at the moment.

And the baby? Anthony asked, muscles rigid. Is it…okay?

The baby is beautiful. Perfect and healthy. It scored a ten on the Apgar test.

The young couple looked at each other, incredulous. Not exactly what they were expecting. Ang let out a sigh of relief.

Congratulations on the new addition to your family, the nurse continued.

Are you sure he’s okay? Ang searched for reassurance, still a little doubtful after so many months of expecting the worst.

Yes, I promise you, the baby is perfect. But, it’s not a he. She paused. The baby is a girl.

Chapter 2

The baby was a girl.

A beautiful, sweet, healthy baby girl, and Ang fell in love with her the instant she held her in her arms. A soft, warm bundle that she clutched to her chest, all the while inhaling the baby smell from her blond, downy fuzz of hair. In those first few moments of their interaction, Ang vowed she would never let any harm come to this baby. Her niece. A little clone of her sister, with eyes blue as sapphires.

Ronnie refused to see the baby. Refused to hold it. Slipped back into a state of complete unresponsiveness. She was required to stay in the hospital a few more days as a result of the C-section, so Ang stayed there with her, sleeping on a cot in her room, urging her to see the baby, but her sister just stared blankly at the wall, ignoring Ang’s pleas.

Ronnie, what do you want to name her? Ang asked for the umpteenth time, a full two days after the baby was born. Ronnie usually ignored her, but this time she surprised Ang with a response.

I don’t give a shit. You name her. I want nothing to do with her.

Come on, Ronnie. I get it. You didn’t plan for this. But, look at her. She’s beautiful. She looks exactly like you.

"You mean she looks like I used to look. It’s her fault I’m like this now!" She let her fingers trace over the thick scar tissue on her face, her eye that had been damaged by the rock, now a fake one. Her career path, her dream to be a famous actress, ruined.

Ronnie, you can’t blame her. She’s innocent. She had no part in this.

Get her away from me! Ronnie hurled a filled tumbler of water at Ang, who instinctively turned away from the missile so that it glanced off her back without so much as a droplet touching the baby.

Enraged, Ang spun around to face her sister. But the turmoil in Ronnie’s eyes softened Ang’s intended response. Fine. For now. But I hope you change your mind. This little girl deserves better.

Ang carried the precious bundle out into the hospital hallway in the maternity ward. The nurse on duty—a fifty-year-old maternal woman who liked to hand out packaged cookies every chance she got—approached Ang after overhearing the sisters’ heated exchange.

Still refusing to see her?

Ang nodded regretfully, eyes filling with tears. Choking them back down she responded, She gave me permission to name her. I thought about it long and hard, and I want to give her a name that has meaning, that will make her feel proud one day. I’m going to name her Daniela, after my grandfather, Daniel. Daniela Juris. If Ronnie doesn’t want her, then Anthony and I will take her in, and accept full responsibility for raising her.

Just give it some time. She might change her mind, the middle-aged nurse encouraged.

Maybe.

But she never did.

* * *

Precisely three weeks and a day after bringing Dani home, Ang awoke to the baby’s starving cries at four in the morning. They had forged somewhat of a routine, and it was Ang’s turn to do the nighttime feeding. Slipping out of bed as stealthily as possible so as not to awaken Anthony snoring gently beside her, she padded upstairs to the nursery. Dani’s tiny face was scrunched up and pink with her howls, limbs angrily flailing and thrusting. Once in Ang’s arms, Dani’s sobbing immediately ceased. She stared intently at the only person she knew as her mother, connecting with her in that innate, knowing way. They had quickly bonded on a deep cosmic level, the attachment mutual and unbreakable. Ang rocked her as they made their way down to the kitchen to heat up a bottle of formula.

Hey, sweetie. Just a few more moments and it will be chow time.

Within a few minutes, with a warmed bottle in hand, she headed back to the nursery, which was Ang’s old bedroom transformed to suit the décor and needs of a baby. The walls in eggshell white surrounded a wooden crib pressed against the far corner. Framed portraits of birds and birdcages adorned the walls and hung eternally suspended in flight from a mural above the crib. Pale pink gossamer curtains fluttered down over the windows, tied back with satin sashes. Ang sat on a rocking chair in the middle of the room and buried her feet into the sheepskin rug. She adopted a slow mechanical rocking motion as Dani fed, humming a lullaby. Allowing herself to be completely absorbed in the moment, engaging all of her senses: the soft, sweet smell of baby powder, the way Dani’s cheeks were flushed pink and healthy, blond hair damp and warm to the touch, the sounds of suckling rhythmic and calming. The experience never got old; it filled Ang’s soul with love and contentment.

Ronnie doesn’t know what she’s missing, eh, little one? Ang whispered. But, don’t you worry. Anthony and I will always take care of you. We love you so much. We’ll keep you safe. No monsters will ever get near you.

What’s this talk of monsters? Anthony cut in, surprising Ang.

How long have you been standing there? she asked, a little embarrassed.

Not long.

I hope I didn’t wake you. Ang propped Dani up on her lap and gently padded her back, shortly rewarded by a loud burp.

That a girl, Anthony praised Dani, plodding into the room and plunking himself down on the floor beside the rocker. Nah, I was already up. Dani curled a chubby paw around the finger Anthony offered her to hold. Dani’s lips curled.

So, why are you talking about monsters? Are you trying to scare her or something?

No, but I can’t stop worrying about…them…coming back, you know? What if they come back to get her? How would we stop them?

Ang was referring to the mutant siblings that had kidnapped her sister almost a year ago so their deranged father, Renner Scholz, could use her as an incubator for his experiment. While Ang and Anthony were escaping with Ronnie in tow, a bloody battle ensued, killing Renner and many of the mutant offspring he created. But one of the most powerful, supernaturally gifted mutants survived, one who had telekinetic abilities allowing him to move through space at a moment’s notice. Tomas. He vanished from the carnage, taking along with him the castle, his mortally wounded siblings and father, and his one remaining triplet brother, Gregor, who barely clung to life.

It’s been nearly a year and nothing yet. Maybe they didn’t survive. Gregor was shot in the chest, unconscious when they left, not much chance he survived. And who knows if Tomas survived the transportation. They probably would have returned by now if they were alive.

Or maybe they’re healthy, stronger and more gifted than ever, and plotting revenge. That is what Tomas promised. Tomas’ parting words rang clear in her mind…a promise…a threat. I will be back to finish this! You will both pay!

Ang gazed down at Dani who had fallen into a gentle sleep. A little angel in her arms. Totally helpless against her evil siblings. Or was she? We still don’t know if she’s like one of them. Sure, she’s beautiful and perfect on the outside. But what if she has some sort of power or ability? What if she grows up to be cruel and vicious like her brothers?

Look at her. Do you really think that’s possible?

They both gazed lovingly at the tiny baby dressed in a flannel pink onesie, sleeping soundly in Ang’s arms. No. No, I don’t. She exhaled. Then another thought occurred to her, one she had been ignoring for weeks. How is it possible that she’s a girl when all the other experimental offspring were males? And why was she born without deformities? You said only the male experiments survived. Do you think…is it possible that Renner…you know…

I don’t know how it’s possible. Maybe Renner finally corrected the flaw in his experiment. But I guess it is a possibility that he didn’t artificially inseminate Ronnie at all. Maybe it was like with my mother…how she thought I came to be.

So not only was Ronnie kidnapped, injured, and forced to carry a child she never wanted, but she was possibly raped, too…that’s what we’re saying, isn’t it?

If that’s what happened, she would have been unconscious at the time, having no recollection of the act, just like my mother.

Anthony was Renner’s only normal child up until now. Unlike his brothers, he was conceived by natural means, although it was against the wishes of Milena, Anthony’s mother. While Anthony was free from physical deformities, he did have one extremely valuable ability, and that was nullifying the supernatural powers of his brothers whenever he was