Watcher

By Karianne Silva

Coda Irin is a typical sixteen-year-old sophomore at Stanton Valley High School. However, due to her mothers unexplained disappearance, she always feels different from the students surrounding her. With the arrival of the mysterious Jeremiah, Codas world is rocked by the knowledge of how unusual her family really is.

Waking every night from the nightmare that plagues her, Codas once glorious appearance fades along with her spirits. She begins taking solace in Jeremiahthe only person who didnt know her before. But how can she continue to trust him if he speaks in riddles, and will not give her the answers that she must know to her questions?

Confronted with the fact that angels exist, and that not one person in her life is who she thought they were, Coda needs answers. However, when her life is on the line, Coda learns that sometimes you have to blindly trust a person, even when all the necessary information is not shared. With reality changing from a human realm to an angelic realm, the problem is: in whom should she trust?

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Jun 30, 2014
• ISBN: 9781490838526

Karianne Silva

Growing up in southwest Michigan, Karianne Silva escaped to Miami for college. At Florida International University she earned a degree for doing what she loves: reading and writing. Along with her husband and three kids, she now serves as a missionary in Trujillo, Peru.

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Copyright © 2014 Karianne Silva.

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

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ISBN: 978-1-4908-3851-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-3852-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014909424

WestBow Press rev. date: 06/26/2014

Contents

Prologue

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

Special Thanks

To the ones who always believed in me.

How could I have done this without you?

For He will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways.

Psalm 91:11

English Standard Version

Prologue

Some people are able to live their lives helping others – feeding the poor, building orphanages, helping homeless people. Many have high ambitions to reach the world. I had never given much thought to it previously, but at that moment I realized how selfishly I had lived. At age 16, I assumed I had the rest of my life to do those things but instead there I was, forever trapped in that cave. A captive never amounting to anything. I couldn’t even save those I love.

The shaking in my leg was getting worse, so I attempted to mentally prepare myself for the fall. I counted to three, pushed off the wall, and tried to land in a crouch to a roll. Of course, life seldom happens like we plan. I could not even land correctly. Instead of the perfect landing I had envisioned in my overly-creative mind, I landed with my right foot on the leg of the table, managing to roll my ankle. Either my crouch saved my left ankle, or the throbbing pain from my right side outweighed any issues with my left side.

As I rolled on the floor failing to minimize the ache with pressure, I thought of my dad and Tim. They would not recover if I did not get out of this. It had been all of us together that had enabled us to make it through my mom leaving. I knew with every fiber of my being that being held captive for life was not an option if I wanted my dad and brother to go on with their lives. They would spend eternity chasing me, selling their souls to the devil if they believed it would get me out.

Millions of people live in pain daily. Around the world, people in agony are dying every minute. Children die with hunger pains. I had never known such excruciating suffering prior to that fall. My veins felt like a tangled mess of rattlesnake poison, spreading rapidly from my ankle until my whole body was a dull throb of misery. Above all was the emotional pain of failure. I could not move, therefore I could not rearrange the pile of furniture. Sariel would know I was trying to get higher and would search me for a tracker of some sort. Without a doubt, I knew he’d skin me alive to eliminate the threat to his happily ever after. It was over. I had just ruined my only chance at helping my dad find me.

After about five minutes, I could no longer even sulk due to the increasing anguish. Sariel would not be back yet for approximately another twenty minutes, so I was on my own. Feeling my bones rub together when trying to push myself up, I collapsed and finally – as the pain washed over me – I blacked out.

Chapter 1

When dealing with the insane, the best method is to pretend to be sane.

~Hermann Hesse~

Wake up. Wake up! WAKE UP! NOW, CODA, WAKE UP! I sat up stick straight in my bed, waiting for my heart to drop below the 200 beats per minute mark. Not that I could move even had I wanted to do something different, but it was still an uncomfortable sensation. While waiting, I glanced at the calendar above my desk. April 24th. Three months, one week, two days since it had begun. By this point, it was routine to wake up after a couple hours of sleep.

Growing up, I was never one to remember my dreams. Not as in, they’re hazy and brief glimpses; I just never remembered anything at all. I went to bed and then woke up. Nothing in between. That all changed on January 15th. I have no idea why or what happened, but after that date I woke up every night with the same nightmare. Sometimes multiple times if I tried to go back to sleep. I don’t think it’s the type of nightmare that other people have had either. At least, it’s not similar to any book or movie I’ve read or seen or even heard about for that matter.

My nightmare went as such: I’m walking in pitch-blackness. This light-defying darkness is the type where I can’t see my hand a centimeter in front of my face. I trip over something, but when I look back to see the obstacle, all I see are these big green eyes in the darkness. It’s like they are warning me to keep going. Never look back and never stop running, they seem to say to me. Those eyes fill me with such a dread I can’t even explain. They cause my heart to clench and my lungs become unable to fill with air. It’s at that point that I would hoist myself out of unconsciousness – if that were what you can call a dream-state. Night after night the same succession occurs.

4:35 a.m.

Another thing that had changed in the previous three-plus months was my appearance. I had grown constant plum bruises under my eyes and had lost fifteen pounds, which I did not have to spare to begin with, due to the fact that I no longer slept. Were I to fall back asleep, the nightmare would skip through my brain, over and over, like the broken record it was. I no longer tried to get back to bed and was content with the couple hours of sleep that I got.

I lay back and was immediately encaged in fresh lilac-scented goodness. Knowing I loved it, my dad made sure to use it every time he washed my sheets. Against my beloved feather pillow, I fruitlessly wondered again what had changed. My doctors – yes, my father had brought in trained medical help – thought that it was part stress and part remnants left from un-dealt-with childhood issues. Come on, everyone has childhood issues, and very few have dealt with them by their sophomore year of high school!

Nothing else had changed in my daily living. I hadn’t all of a sudden gone through puberty, nor had I met my soul mate. I had not changed towns or schools or anything since I was five years old! Knowing I would not fall back asleep, I decided to saunter to the bathroom and begin my day. There is nothing that a nice bubble bath and scented candles cannot fix. Well, ok, there are a lot of things that they can’t fix, but at five in the morning, nothing else could be better.

Quietly I walked across the hallway to the bathroom. Turning on the light, I instantaneously shied away from my reflection. I already knew I looked like a walking corpse. Sunken cheeks, gawking black eyes returning my stare where once vibrant blue shone bright. Even my wonderful hair looked dull, as if the lack of sleep had somehow stripped the sunshine from its golden strands. It was my only redeeming quality and, because of the horrible nightmares, even that was being taken from me. I no longer recognized my reflection.

By 6 a.m. I was bathed, dressed, had triple checked all of my homework (a benefit of going to bed at two and waking up only a mere two and a half hours later) and was eating a nice bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

TIM! If you are not up in three minutes, I will leave you to take the bus. Technically, since my brother was older, our 15-year old, well-loved Honda Accord was still his until he left for college, but I could always threaten.

Morning, Sunshine.

Morning, Dad.

The smile that met mine melted my heart. My father. Even though he was left by his wife, our mother, when I was five, he never let a day pass without flashing his award-winning smile. My father is over six feet tall and looks like a Greek god. This isn’t in the weird, Freudian sense either. He just is good-looking. I should know; I did not inherit any of it besides the hair. Tim took all of the looks and I got the leftovers – pouty lips, normal blue eyes, blonde hair, and a nose too big for my face.

Are you going to come in to work after school today? He used to ask me how I slept and all the other common, routine morning questions found at any breakfast table. Not anymore. We try to stay away from the sleep (or lack thereof) topic as much as possible since it only added stress to our otherwise completely stress-free relationship. The three of us had always been close. Tim and I went at it every once in a while, but we never had a fight that lasted more than a day.

Uhh, yeah. If that’s ok. I need the money.

Work was just through the front of our house, at the used bookstore that my dad owned. Typically it involved running the cash register or restocking and shelving books.

Another smile to make my troubles disappear followed my reply. It was as if I had made his day by wanting to join him in the bookstore. Of course, Coda. I love it when you’re there! Besides, we’re finally at the end of this season and I’m running out of almost everything. I could use the help with restocking. My dad never failed to provide for our family, often putting in long hours to do so. During childhood there were many nights we’d join him in his office to eat supper, enabling him to stay open a little longer. He wouldn’t have imagined us eating alone in the same way as he never dreamt of remarrying. Instead it was always the three of us. My dad always claimed he gave my brother and me all the love that was in his heart. I admired my dad for that and he knew it.

TIM! I knew that yelling wouldn’t make a difference, but it was still fun. Tim only did what he wanted to do, when he wanted to do it. In Tim’s book family came first, so I was ok with him doing what he wanted.

What? Geez, Coda, if you could make any more noise, you’d take out the town by an avalanche! What’s wrong with you?

Tim, for all his love and loyalty, had never been a morning person. Neither am I for that matter. The problem goes away quickly when one has been up for over two hours and has already had a bubble bath. Grabbing the Pop Tart that shot out of the toaster, Tim walked out the door. Apparently he had already put his shoes on in his room. With the days warming into the high 50’s and, every once in a while, even the low 60’s, he hadn’t even bothered with a jacket. He must be coming home after school because there’s no way he wouldn’t need a jacket later on this evening.

Well, I guess that’s my cue. Love you, dad!

Chapter 2

I live in my own little world. But its ok, they know me here.

~Lauren Myracle~

The brisk pine-scented breeze slapped me as soon as I left the bookstore and walked out on the front porch. In a month, we’d be able to put up our ever-so-comfortable Brazilian hammock. None of those uncomfortable netted hammocks for the Irin family! For now, at least we had the chairs back out. Even with winter coming to a close, I was glad I had taken the time to throw on my jacket. Tim must have frozen!

Encompassed by the Rocky Mountains, Stanton was just a narrow valley. Built in the late 1800s, it was originally a mining town. Like most other towns of this area, when the mines dried up, it switched to tourism. The updated redbrick road guides one down our main drag, (ever so cleverly named Main Street) which is the only one in town with stores. The couple of side roads that leave Main Street turn into dirt tracks beyond the first few feet. I guess they got tired of replacing cracked pavement after every winter. These side streets lead to a few charming houses and to our schools. Only Main Street actually remains paved all the way to civilization. The other end leaves town and becomes gravel on its way up Red Mountain.

I loved this place. Even when the skiing season is in its final stages, and the streets are crowded with gawking tourists, I still love it. There is nothing like living in the mountains. Some don’t like mountains because it makes them feel small and insignificant. That is exactly why I cannot live without them. Looking over my shoulder, I’m always speechless at the magnitude of what looks back at me. I liked knowing that there is something bigger than me out there. With how confused and scared I had been feeling, I ached to know that someone or something was looking down at me and had some sort of plan amidst the craziness that had become my life. Still, at other times, I am no longer sure I share the sentiment that the former me had.

Tucking my jacket in a little closer, I made a dash for the car. Dad splurged last Christmas and got Tim and me a remote starter, so the windows were already clear and the car was warmly waiting. A light dusting of snow had fallen over the night, but it would be gone as soon as the sun breached the eastern ridge.

Do we have to get Anthony? Because if we do, we’re going to be late you know. I shot Tim an accusatory glance that held no merit. I am in no way a perfect student. It was not that I was a bad student; I just didn’t care enough. I probably could pull a 4.0 if all I did was study, but really, who does that? I brought in A’s and B’s and did my homework, but I also took and still continue to take advantage of my sick days, which were usually spent on the slopes or in the back of the bookstore with a good new release.

Anthony drove himself. Tim looked strangely focused on the road while saying this. I understood that to mean it was a closed subject, so I left it. Anthony and Tim were best friends. The Johnsons live across the street from us, and seven year-old Anthony had made it a point to come over before we had even gotten out of the moving van. The two had been inseparable for the eleven years since. I wasn’t worried about it. Most likely, Anthony had been cheering for some team that Tim was against. They’d make up by lunch.

I noticed belatedly we had turned into school. Why we had to go to school was beyond me. Learning out of a book was simpler by far, and I learned more at home anyway. Besides, we had to go for five days of school and then only got two off. What kind of system is that? I’ve heard we have it easier here, as we have a month off for winter break and then another two weeks in the end of March (I guess other people only have a week break in the spring), but still we make up for it. We only have two months off in the summer!

Ow! Watch it! That was all I had caught of the artificially platinum blonde’s rebuke followed by some four-lettered words that a pretty mouth really had no right to be saying.

Oops. Sorry, I automatically replied.

Arguing for my rights within my head was dangerous! I had ended up walking face first into Breah Thomas. Breah was our Ms. Perfect. Perfect face, perfect body, perfect boyfriend, perfect friends, perfect family, pretty much perfect everything. She is a popular girl, though I would still dispute that no one could be unpopular in a class of only 48 students. Because of her popularity, she thinks it gives her the rights to treat the rest of us like scum. Her father owns half the town, so somehow because of this she is automatically the queen bee of the high school as well. I really didn’t care. It would take far too much work to be the queen bee.

She, however, is not as perfect as she’d like to think. And this is besides her obviously-fake hair color. I smiled a knowing smile to her as I walked quickly away. She knew better than to start anything with me. Last summer, while her perfect boyfriend was traveling in Europe, I saw her hooking up with a perfect stranger. Then, I saw her and the stranger continue on to steal some trinkets off Mrs. Jeffers’ art fair booth. She knows I saw her and that I happened to have a few nice pictures as evidence. I have them on my phone, computer, and on a disk drive which is hidden in an undisclosed location. Someday, I will need those pictures.

Finally! A vampire-white arm grabbed mine and dragged me into the nearest bathroom, her multi-colored claws barely refraining from drawing blood.

I didn’t realize I needed to go, I laughed as my best friend looked exasperatedly at me.

Not funny, Coda Irin! You know how important today is, and you can’t make it to school an extra five minutes early to calm my nerves? Her one hand was still clutching my arm, but her other fingers noisily drummed the sink. A pitter-patter of rain crashing again and again on a porcelain roof.

Ash, you’ll make the part. You always do. Today’s tryouts are not any different then the previous million that you’ve gone to. And may I remind you, that you landed the lead roles in all of them. Not half, not one, ALL. Pulling her hand away from the sink, I held on until the tension of her other dropped from my arm. The tardy bell had already rung, so I tugged her out the exit and towards our lockers.

Ashley was a drama queen. Literally. The girl could act like no other. I joined all the plays but only to be backstage and do the fun things like painting the set and running the lights. None of the front and center stuff for me. Besides, if I weren’t in the plays, I would never see Ashley.

I still could have used the hug and reassurance. I recognized her quick response for what it was – avoidance. Knowing it would push her away if I tried to address her nerves, I gave her what she wanted. Sarcasm.

"I had to ride with Tim to school. You know my brother.