In Perpetuum

By Emma Irvine

Fifteen year old Athena Jones is like every other teenage girl. She has friends, hates babysitting and goes to high school. But on the night her parents are murdered, she meets handsome, happy-go-lucky Jack, and everything changes.

She receives a letter from her Mom warning her not to contact friends, family or authorities.

Suddenly Jack and Athena are thrust into a dangerous game. Her parents murderers are hell-bent on capturing them, and will go to terrifying lengths to do it.

Chased into the wintery forest, they discover who they are and the risks theyre willing to take to protect each other.

A profound story about growing up, first love and finding yourself in a nightmarish world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499072778

Emma Irvine

Emma Irvine spends way too much time reading. Seriously, she spent her entire spring break hunched over a different book every other day. (And earned herself some gnarly reading pains, emotionally and physically) She started writing In Perpetuum when she was 11 and finished when she was 15. Her phone contains way more screenshoted fan-art than actual pictures and if you ask her friends about her it’s pretty well a 100% guarantee they’ll tell you she’s short. She’s currently residing in Vancouver, BC and stuck in that awkward place right before her 16th birthday. And she really, really hope this book makes you cry. Lots. This is her first novel but she plans to publish avidly. If you want to check out more of her work go to LFASbluedogpress.com and click on the little Parish Widget with her face on it. (And yes, she is dressed like a Shadowhunter in this picture.)

Book preview

Copyright © 2014 by Emma Irvine.

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.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 09/12/2014

Xlibris LLC

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

552142

FOR MY GRANDPA.

WHOSE LEGACY INSPIRES ME EVERY DAY.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Emma Irvine spends way too much time reading. Seriously, she spent her entire spring break hunched over a different book every other day. (And earned herself some gnarly reading pains, emotionally and physically) She started writing In Perpetuum when she was 11 and finished when she was 15. Her phone contains way more screenshoted fan-art than actual pictures and if you ask her friends about her it’s pretty well a 100% guarantee they’ll tell you she’s short.

She’s currently residing in Vancouver, BC and stuck in that awkward place right before her 16th birthday. And she really, really hope this book makes you cry. Lots.

This is her first novel but she plans to publish avidly. If you want to check out more of her work go to LFASbluedogpress.com and click on the little Parish Widget with her face on it. (And yes, she is dressed like a Shadowhunter in this picture.)

1.JPG

ATHENA

My feet hurt in my leather boots as I stand wearily in the elevator on the way up to my family’s apartment. The blister on my right foot is starting to ooze something gross and I can feel it soak into my oversized sock.

My bag is too heavy, I have a headache, and my hair is frizzy from the rain.

I’m pathetic.

I can still feel the black frustration from having to baby-sit broil in my stomach. I hate kids.

If anyone ever thrusts one upon me, be forewarned, I may end up hurling it out a window. I’d never verbalize my disgust towards children. That would put a stop to my only source of income.

The elevator is a box of mirrors, duplicating my horrendous reflection. My doppelgangers scrutinize each other between the gold adornments.

I closely analyze my twin, who glares back at me. Her big, dark eyes, smeared round with charcoal liner, glimmer angrily. Her nose slops smoothly and her lips are too uneven too be perfect. Her skin is clear, besides the pimple the size of Mount Everest on her temple.

The ding of the elevator jolts me from my reverie.

I walk down the hallway and unlock the mahogany door. Swinging myself inside by the knob, I drop my bag onto the floor, and bounce on my heels. It feels good to be home; comfortable. I close to door behind me and start to unlace my boots but there’s something wrong.

I can feel it in the air, a disturbance. Like an electric charge. Crouched on the ground, my muscles clench and my fists clamp the Oriental carpet.

Someone screams.

Bang!

Someone chokes.

I cover my mouth with my hand, gagging back the small sounds of terror escaping me.

I stand up and walk slowly, cringing when the floorboards creak under my feet, towards my living room. You killed her! You killed her. A man moans around sobs. I peer around the corner, my heart hammering.

Gore spatters the walls, a quivering man clings to limp, lank body. He gurgles and slams his fist into the floor, I hear the shot a second later.

I stumble back, crashing into a wall and knocking picture frames to the ground. The explosive sound curdles my brain but I try help them anyways.

I tumble into the living room, tripping forwards and colliding with the hardwood to my knees beside the lifeless bodies.

Oh my god. I cry.

I see the hollowed face of my mother, the tear streaked face of my father. Both still warm with remnants of life.

For a moment horror paralyzes me. A man flings himself into the halo of light from the archaic lamp and I’m scrambling back on my heels and hands, I crash into something.

Don’t touch me! I wail, leaping away. In the same instant the dark figure grabs for me.

Get up. A boy grunts from behind me, grabbing me by my armpits and hefting. Don’t touch me. I scream, wrenching away. Run! The boy urges, shoving me into the hall.

The man, ferocious eyes smoldering, shoots after me. The bullet imbeds itself in the wall beside my head. I yelp, knocking into a wooden abdomen. My parents! They could be alive! I scream, flinging myself back into the room.

Get out! The boy howls in frustration as the man fires again, the muzzle sparking as the bullet whizzes by my shoulder.

I flinch jerkily against the wall, drop to the floor and grovel towards my parents. Someone grabs me around the waste and drags me off the floor, I thrash in protest as the boy hurls me from the room. Run! He screams. A bullet explodes the dry wall behind me.

I squawk, my head reeling and my ears ringing. Someone grabs my hand and yanks me fiercely. C’mon!

No! I have to help my parents! I squeal. A flash of silver whizzes by, searing my ears. Tears burn my eyes as I abandon my parents. I reluctantly sprint from the room and storming footsteps pound after me. I fling the door open and dash to the elevator.

I attack the button, whipping my head over my shoulder every other second. The boy races down the hall. I push the button with a frantic fervor, the doors creaks open and I slither in. I punch the ‘door close’ button with a renewed urgency. But it’s no use, the boy hurls himself in, the gunman pounding a few steps behind him. The doors close with a hiss of the hydraulics.

I’m not going to hurt you. He wheezes, lifting his hands in a gesture of innocence. Who the hell was that? I demand, my voice water-logged and panicked. I don’t know. He pants, stretching out his left arm.

And then the elevator dings and the doors peal back revealing the lobby. The room has a surreal sheen that reminds me of a dream.

My lip quivers as I exit the building. I rub my eyes as I walk into the night. Why are you following me? My voice is breathy. "Because I can’t leave you out here alone after that!" He says it like it’s obvious.

Who are you? I ask wearily, waves of exhaustion drowning me. You don’t remember? I’m Jack, I ran errands for your family. He says, turning down an ally, where it’s dark and comfortable.

NORA

Towers of glass and steal eclipse the sky from view. Dawn hangs heavy in the air, early morning commuters’ move lethargically through the city.

I’m tired. I’m always tired though. Most days I’m convinced I have the most wearisome job on the planet.

Duncan Donuts coffee, tendrils of steam fogging the cold glass. My cravings for caffeine far outweigh the consequences of burning my tongue. The heat defrosts the fatigue in my stomach and awakens the butterflies. My blood starts to pump hot.

Come on. Nat moans, arching forwards in the driver’s seat as if the movement would propel the traffic forwards. We’re going to be late. He says, pounding his firsts against the wheel in frustration. He’s a very punctual man.

His hair is an upheaval from pulling at it in absent minded stress. Hazel eyes ringed in darkness, but shinning like outer space.

Today is a big day for us.

After forty five minutes the hospital materializes out of the concrete jungle. It squats in a sea of parked cars, painted bright colours with a cloud of death hovering over it.

But seeing it sparks excitement in me.

Nat’s stone-faced and I’m practically vibrating with anticipation. As soon as we’ve parked in our fancy-ass reserved parking spot beside the entrance I’ve jumped from the car and sprinted towards the automatic doors. Morning Jo! I holler at the receptionist Joanna. Someone’s bright eyed and bushy tailed today. Laughs the wrinkled, prune-like women.

I navigate the familiar, dreadfully hopeful halls of the cancer ward towards our lab. Nat marches behind me like a shadow, I can feel our shared excitement pulsing through the air between us like electricity. Decades of work could be about to pay off.

The sound of my shoes smacking the ground is so loud against the 6:00 AM silence. I press my palm flat against the scanner lock, it beeps and the bullet proof glass doors slide open. Nat slips in moments before it shuts.

He stands beside me, lacing his fingers through mine. His wedding ring gouging into my palm with a comforting familiarity. I remember putting that ring on his finger.

Age is evident on his face, laugh lines and greying hair, but looking at him I still see the rambunctious teenage boy I’d first encountered. Ready? He asks, his voice gruff, teetering on hope. He doesn’t allow himself to hope unless he’s almost certain it’ll work out. Disappointment devastates him.

I nod. This could change the world forever.

Please, please, don’t let us have to start over.

Hands clenching, we check the rats. I feel like screaming, dancing, belting out a Beyoncé power balled.

And then the apes, swinging off of branches with a shocking exuberance, as if they know they’ve been rid of the disease.

We did it.

We cured cancer.

ATHENA

I wake to the city anthem of morning traffic. My body smarts as I reach out for my phone to check the time. My fingers brush pavement. I’m not in my room. I’m curled up on the ground in an … alleyway?

How?

Then it hits me.

Oh my god. I moan, covering my face with my hands. Oh my god.

I’m parched and my stomach rumbles ravenously and my family is dead. Despite my hunger, the idea of eating is repulsive. I smear the tears from my eyes.

Athena,

I flinch away. Jack? I breathe, peering up between my fingers, smudged with black eye liner. Mhmm? He hums from across the ally. Why didn’t you go home? I grumble numbly, fending off a tsunami of emotion. He shrugs, fleetingly his features contort.

Uh, um. He shakes himself from his stupor. He pulls a crumpled envelop from his pocket. This for you. He say, tossing it to me with a fatigued flick of his wrist. You’re mom gave it to me, to give to you should something happen. It lands just out of my reach. I use my toe to nudge it closer.

The letter is damp with my name scribbled across it. I tear it open, dread flowers in my chest.

I’m sorry,

This is all our fault, your father’s and mine. We should have warned you, prepared you, but we couldn’t figure out how.

We know you’re strong though, that you can make it through this. Okay, Sweetie, We know this will be hard for you to hear but They Eyes are going to come for you, they came to execute us, and no matter what, don’t let them get to you. In the case that they do, you cannot tell them anything, no matter what they say they’ll do. Don’t go home, they’ll be looking for you there, instead get as far away from here as possible. Don’t go to the authorities, don’t go to family, I beg you not to involve anyone else. I’m sorry.

We left money in here for you, do whatever you have to do. Your father and I are watching over you.

Always.

The grief hits me in full actuality. My head lulls back against the brick wall and tears stream down my cheeks. Can I read it? Jack’s voice is tentative. Yeah sure, whatever. I snort flinging the letter into the air and letting it drift to the ground, where Jack snatches it.

I try to keep my calm. I can’t. I come to pieces.

Knees up to my chest, fingers twisting and tugging on my hair, tears scorching trails down my cheeks. My chest ripping open.

I uh, I’m sorry. About your parents. Jack mutters after he finishes reading the letter. "Yeah, yeah, we can skip