Treason's Grave: Mentor

By Sarah E. Nemcsok

A Galaxy away from her home, Abalan resides on a planet she created: Earth. Searching for her son, (while escaping her government in foreign territory) she trains her brothers motherless daughter, Brume, in the ways of their culture. She encounters an old friend; a doctor who has his own plans to manipulate her life. Wilk, a troublesome opponent that is much closer to her than she would think suddenly enters into her life. Soon she finds Wilk an asset to her escape. Wilks estranged father(a disturbing mass murderer) chases his son to complete a self-imposed mission to kill the two people in his life he loves most, creates a dangerous endeavour for all people involved in his life, including Abalan.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 24, 2011
• ISBN: 9781462854394

Book preview

Treason’s Grave

Mentor

Sarah E. Nemcsok

Copyright © 2011 by Sarah E. Nemcsok.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2011907737

ISBN: Hardcover    978-1-4628-5438-7

ISBN: Softcover      978-1-4628-5437-0

ISBN: Ebook            978-1-4628-5439-4

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 1

Abalan tapped her foot on the hardwood floor; it was seven o’clock on the stone clock above the staircase. Brume was due any moment, but by Abalan’s count she was late. She’s not going to come if you just wait for her, Abby, go do something other than waiting for my daughter, Nakia said. Brume’s father and brother to Abalan came from the kitchen with an apron on and flour all over his hands. Maybe you’re right, screw formalities of mentors, Abalan said and walked up to the dining table and looked through the pile of papers. Most of them were hers; one of the envelopes was Nakia’s. I didn’t mean that, you know how much Brume loves you as her mentor, but being a kid, she has grown to this century. I’m not even sure what’s wrong with it, peaceful if anything, Nakia noted, turning back into the kitchen and continuing to bake the bread he was working on. What century is it anyway? Abalan asked as she walked into the kitchen with the envelope for him. It’s 2010 I believe. Though I lost track last year, seems I keep seeing 2008 everywhere, he said as he pushed the bread into the oven. You keep seeing it because your workplace hasn’t changed its calendar. And 2010 is not 1486. Ah, those days were golden and exciting, Abalan said.

It’s my paycheck, Abby, Nakia said, taking the envelope and setting it on the kitchen counter near the window. The snow on the windowsill melted away in the middle of March, which was weird, and they could see pavement out one of the front windows. Suddenly over the loud opera music, the slam of the metal and wood door came from the coatroom. Abalan looked at Nakia, they both knew it was Brume; Nakia looked at Abalan as if tell her to sit down and look unconcerned.

I’m home! the voice was soft and whimsical, climbing up five steps to the hardwood floors. Brume walked into the kitchen where her father and aunt sat at the table enjoying a cup of tea. Nakia looked up at his daughter who was going to be seventeen in this world. That meant in the next two months, she could vote and drink in Quebec. Her dark brown hair with her dark skin made her look native to her country, although she wasn’t. She had a very thin frame and sharp features to her face. She took on the name Illy for her Earth classmates and Brume for her father and aunt. Brume skewed her face, Abalan, what’s wrong? I thought you would be standing at the door waiting for me, Brume asked.

Abalan smiled and beckoned her niece closer, I have a friend to visit tonight. I will give you some reading, and that will be all. Brume saw that she held the portable phone in her hand tightly; it must have been someone she had known a long time ago. Abalan, when is Cam coming home? she asked, putting her bag down on one of the many chairs near the round table. Cam was another one like them; he was a Tinn, as they started calling them. One of the first they knew; they now knew there were others like him in this world, so Abalan brought them back to a century that was full of political uprisings so that looking for them would be easier. Cam had gone out on a mission to track a girl down south of where they lived, in a small town in northern Canada named Kirkland Lake.

I expect he’ll be back soon, which reminds me, Nakia, can you set up the room beside mine for a guest? Abalan asked. Nakia nodded and looked at the clock, I hate to cut this short, but, Abby, he’ll be expecting you to be ready soon. And, Brume, I’ll choose your book for the night. Brume nodded, grabbing her shoulder bag and following her father down two flights of stairs, then after pushing his hand to a security lock down one more flight of stairs. They kept all equipment and aged books down here. They had entered the library, and to the right and left were training rooms, though often they didn’t use them for her practice, unless absolutely necessary. She had seen Cam and her father spar with each other many times, and her father and Abalan rarely. She had also learned at a very young age that she and everyone else in the household she lived in, they weren’t human. And home was so far away that they would be ripped in half if they tried to go. She was sworn on her life that she wouldn’t tell the human race who she was, so they made her a semi normal name—Illy, short for nothing, the name Brume meant the sister of Mercy, a healer among other things. Abalan was known as Mother Earth at home: Ab was the word for Mother, and Alan was for Earth. and her father never told her his true meaning. Humans through ages knew their race as gods, they could not die unless another of their own kind killed them. Abalan of course was an exception; she died traveling through the rift.

Brume sat in the corner of the library. It was quiet and lonely. She could hear her father talking to himself as he sang to the classical music he blasted. The book she read was about how to kill another of their kind if needed. It was not something she enjoyed much or thought about much. Brume had often asked both of them why they had stayed here. Abalan looked at her furiously on that day and didn’t talk to her for a week. Her father noted that it was probably best if they left that alone till she came of age to learn the whole story. Though she already knew there was another of their kind. Her mother died giving birth, so Abalan took Brume as a child of hers, breast-feeding her and taking care of her through her childhood.

Nakia turned off the music he played and sat down at the grand piano, gliding his fingers along the dusty keys. He hadn’t played in three months, and he wasn’t sure why. Work was busy though all he did was teach philosophy at the nearby college.

Brume sat up; the piano was being played; she looked at her watch; it was midnight. She should probably get up to her room and get to bed. Running, she sprinted upstairs and down the hallway turning into her bedroom. Nakia felt the rush of wind as his daughter sped past the open door on the gallery. Closing her door, she got dressed into PJ pants and an old T-shirt.

Nakia knocked on her door softly, Brume? Brume opened the door, her long dark brown hair fell on her shoulders, she looked so much like her mother, Nakia choked. Dad? Are you all right? she asked. Nakia coughed, I’m fine, you just looked like your mother too much for a second. I meant to say good night and possibly get a hug. Brume’s eyes softened from the cold icy blue, Of course, Dad. She embraced her father affectionately, and his arms took her tightly. Good night, princess, he whispered in her ear.

Abalan closed the front a door quietly as she walked in. It was quiet; she could hear the heavy breathing of Brume and the refrigerator running. Nakia sat on the staircase and looked at her as she left her keys on the bookshelf. You’re late, he whispered. Abalan nodded and walked up the stairs with him. Go to bed, Nakia, I’ll drive Brume to school in the morning, Nakia yawned, nodding as he closed his door.

Abalan woke up to Brume’s alarm and walked to the kitchen. She turned on the light; the light outside was brighter. She made some coffee and looked at the cereal; she decided on Cheerios and poured herself a bowl. She sat down at the table with her Cheerios and the Canadian Tire flyer. She could hear the shower running, and then it stopped. In a few more minutes, her coffee was done. Getting up, she poured herself a mug and took the sugar bowl, pouring some sugar in, she never measured, she poured milk in until it changed the coffee to the warmer brown color. Oh, good morning, Aunt Abalan, Brume’s voice sounded behind her. ’Morning, your dad was tired yesterday. I decided to take you to school. She sat down at the table and looked at Brume who was pouring herself a glass of orange juice and spreading jam on a piece of bread. You don’t have to, you know, said Brume, sitting down at the table and sipping on her juice. I know I don’t have to, but it’s been a time since I brought you anywhere, Abalan said.

Abalan brushed her teeth then walked up the stairs to pull on her boots and a trench coat. She lifted her long brown hair from her coat and grabbed her purse and the keys on the shelf. Brume, are you ready? she called out as Brume came down the steps and nodded as she slipped on these new shoes she bought that she called Ugs, carrying a shoulder bag and a sweater with her. Abalan stood in front of the door. Put your sweater on, even if we aren’t humans, we can still catch a cold. Brume frowned, But it’s practically spring out there. Abalan shook her head, Doesn’t matter, put it on. Once they were ready, Abalan unplugged the old Ford truck and stepped into the driver’s seat. Brume sat down and did her seat belt up as Abalan backed out of the driveway. As they drove, Brume turned on the radio and the communications device. So Nakia told me you were interested in seeing what I did while you’re at classes. It’s really quite easy—I search for an old friend, Abalan said. Brume looked at her. Who’s your old friend? The one you met last night? she asked. No, he’s just a good friend I met last night. The man I’m looking for knows where my son is. Brume fell silent, she knew Abalan had a son, and he was lost in a sense, but Abalan rarely talked about him. And this friend had to be the other one who was with Abalan and her father many years ago.

Abalan smiled when they reached the school. Brume opened the truck door, her hair was down for once, and she had a hint of makeup on. Hey, what’s with the makeup, and your hair is down! Abalan noted as Brume pulled her bag out of the truck. It’s picture day today . . . Brume said, slamming the door and running into the building. Abalan frowned, turning off the communication device and turning the radio down. Brume seemed to just leave the important parts of her teenage life out when she talked to her dad and aunt.

Pulling up in front of the house, Abalan jumped out of the truck and looked at Nakia who was shoveling the driveway of all of the leftover ice on to the road. Sick of the cold weather? Abalan said as she walked up the driveway. I’m always sick of it, what are you doing today? Nakia asked, leaning on his shovel. I’m gonna go out to get some groceries for the kids, and you’re coming with me. Nakia lifted up the shovel and walked with her up to the door. Why me? he complained. Abalan checked the mail and pulled out three envelopes. Cam’s not here, and I need a helping hand.

Abalan opened the door and revved up the truck, as Nakia kicked the snow off the runners of the pickup, he grumbled and groaned about having to help out with everything. It’s not your cup of tea, but it’s also your favorite activity here. Make up your mind. Abalan looked over the truck at him, as their neighbors walked past with a happy little dog that always tried to piss in their front yard. Nice day, the man said, and Abalan nodded, ignoring the fact that he had just spoken to his posh wife about their habits.

You look sour, Abby, Nakia said. You know I’m sour, Nakia, why note it? she backed up and caught two people in her vision—one was grinning and looked gangly familiar. Stopping in the middle of the street, she jumped out of the truck and threw an empty coffee cup at Cam. You’re late! she yelled, and he laughed, looking at the girl beside him. She was tall and was a curly redhead with far-off eyes. Abalan patted his back and looked at her, Abalan, and you are? she asked. The girl looked at her, fixing her gaze, Drew, pleasure to meet you, Cam says there is too much to say for him to describe you in one word, her voice was hard and cold, and had a German accent. She’s a sharpshooter, about twenty-three, and has already remembered her cycle. She is Rocha, Abalan nodded and turned to the truck, and Nakia. You’re off the hook, go back and fix up the house. I’m taking the kids out for hardworking fun, Sitting down in the driver’s seat she waited for Cam and Drew to close their doors. As the truck turned onto the main street, she looked back at Drew. You look tired, Drew. Cam looked at Abalan and shook his head slightly. We’re going grocery shopping?

Drew opened the large door and saw a coatroom made for a many people, a living room with many artifacts and pieces of art everywhere. Your home is beautiful, she said as she slipped off her jacket and hung it up. Abalan threw her coat on the chair near the french doors, and Cam took off his shoes, setting them on a shelf behind her. Abalan beckoned Cam, You’re tired. Go to sleep, I’ll make sure Brume doesn’t wake you up. Cam sighed, yawning, I’m not tired. What are you talking about? Nakia turned