Hidden

By Jasmine Rawlins

Dina Alebon had only ever known bad luck in her life, but that seemed to change when she met Noah Iris. Amazingly, even with a guardian angel as a boyfriend, bad news still found a way to find her. Nowhere is safe for Dina when a group of dark angels keeps trying to capture her!

Passionate, mesmerizing, and intensely moving, Hidden combines romance, action, and suspense with a supernatural, angelic twist.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Jan 6, 2015
• ISBN: 9781504935241

Jasmine Rawlins

Jasmine Rawlins writes whimsical fiction for young adults. She was born and raised in Birmingham, United Kingdom. There, she lives her life as a student. She has always had an interest in the creative world. After studying to be a performer in university, she began developing new characters in her head to employ in her theatre work. Due to her love for playing new and unique characters, she began writing. The writing began as a simple hobby that later became a passion. Her intense interest in writing helped create and mould her novels.

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© 2015 Jasmine Rawlins. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 01/05/2015

ISBN: 978-1-5049-3522-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-3523-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-3524-1 (e)

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.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Preface

Chapter 1: Beginner Again

Chapter 2: The Escape

Chapter 3: Secret Revealed

Chapter 4: Something New

Chapter 5: New Knowledge

Chapter 6: The Fates

Chapter 7: The Search

Chapter 8: Tomb-volt Battle

Chapter 9: Punishment

There are dark shadows on Earth,

but its lights are stronger in the contrast

-Charles Dickens

Preface

Y ou know, it’s amazing how your life can suddenly change depending upon the choices you make. I suppose our choices are what make or break us in that instant—not that I’d ever thought that way before. It was only when I was sat in my uncle’s rusty, old van as I watched my old home vanish before my eyes that I began contemplating where my life taken me.

You see, my mother died when I was three, and my father had to bring me up by himself, which was extremely hard for a serving member of the army. He tried his best to juggle his jobs: protector of our country and my father. Ultimately, though, there was going to be one clear winner, the job he was better at doing. That was being a soldier.

Therefore, when I was eight years old, he brought in Nancy, my nanny. She fed me, clothed me, washed me, pampered me, helped me with my homework, and took me on wonderful days out where she spoilt me rotten. Basically, she did everything. She became the mother I never had, which was great. I loved every moment I spent with her until she was taken away from me. She was murdered before my very eyes. I was sixteen, and that’s when it was decided that I would live with Uncle Toby and his wife, Marie.

And that brings me back to being sat in my uncle’s rusty, old van, staring out the window and trying not to cry as I realized my life was about to change thanks to a choice that was made. It was a choice that was made for me. I just didn’t know whether it would change matters for the good or the bad. Either way, it was going to change, and all I could do was strap myself in and go for the ride.

Chapter 1

Beginner Again

U ncle Toby was the complete opposite to my father: his body was very tall and slender compared to my father’s muscular, bulky body. My father was fairly slim wherever the muscle hadn’t taken over, but he was nothing like Uncle Toby’s toothpick body. Uncle Toby was a very quiet man, which was another factor that separated him from my father. He was so quiet that he hardly said a word to me on the long drive from Tacoma International Airport to his house in Fircrest in the beautiful, green land of Pierce County, Washington. It was simultaneously very difficult and extremely easy to leave Reno. I knew I would miss what few friends I had there, and I would no longer be a walk away from my favourite shops. But unlike Reno, Fircrest was peaceful and quiet because it wasn’t overrun by busy adults rushing around in their noisy cars.

I remember that, as a kid, I would be lucky if I heard six or seven cars while staying there—most people walked everywhere unless they were going into the city. But Fircrest had its downfalls, too. First of all, I didn’t know anyone except Uncle Toby and his wife, Marie. And now that I was heading there as a teen, I would have to start at a new school. I also knew, I would have to walk everywhere; I couldn’t just hop in my car and disappear. My freedom had vanished.

It didn’t take too long from the airport to Uncle Toby’s house, and I enjoyed the silence of the drive. I hoped it would continue when I got into the house, but I knew that was never going to happen. Marie, Uncle Toby’s wife, was the complete opposite of him in every way: she was short and rather large. But it wasn’t her appearance that bothered me; what irked me was her enormous mouth that never stopped talking. As soon as I got out of the van, she bombarded me with her words. She drove me insane with her continuous questions, and she didn’t even wait for my response. Question after question was fired at me: How are you? Was the flight from Reno all right? How was the drive? Are you hungry? Have you grown? Do you want a drink? Finally, when I thought I had escaped, I dragged my suitcase up the stairs and sighed with relief.

And then I heard, Do you like your room? She asked before I had gotten to the top of the stairs. I groaned under my breath and nodded politely before running to my bedroom. I couldn’t bear another question. I assumed the assault of words came from the fact that Uncle Toby and she never had any children of their own. Me being there must have switched on her maternal mode that had been in hiding for so many years. I was annoyed because I knew she wouldn’t give me a chance to breathe and settle in. That was why I loved Uncle Toby so much: he left me alone once he showed me to my room and placed the last few bags of luggage on the floor next to the door.

At first glance, the room looked pretty much the same as when I used to visit when I was six years old. It had the same three walls painted red and one cream wall where I used to put all my stickers. There was a new, black carpet with a gorgeous, red rug situated in the middle of the room. Where my toddler bed used to be, there was a brand-new, king-sized, black bed. I immediately jumped on it, hugging my pillows as I checked out the rest of my room from the comforts of my mattress. I had a new, black, wooden chest of drawers and a wardrobe with silver, metal knobs. On my wardrobe hung a full-length mirror that helped make my room look slightly bigger than it actually was. My eyes then spied what looked like a brand new computer desk. I couldn’t help but chuckle as I noticed (resting on top of my new desk) the same computer I used to play games on when I was younger. My eyes then rose to the wooden shelves just above the computer desk. The room had definitely been transformed for the older me.

I hope you like the room. Marie insisted we spoil you, Uncle Toby said as he leaned against the door frame.

I smiled, nodded, and replied, Yes, thanks. It’s beautiful. I patted the bed next to me, and then I moved over so he could sit down. Awkwardly, he joined me on the bed before grinning at me. It was a forced grin, the kind you present when you are caught trying to work out what to do or say. Uncle Toby often did that—he found socializing awkward, even when he was among family. As for me, I wanted to be left alone most times instead of interacting with a group, so I knew what he was going through. He hadn’t seen me for eleven years, and I had grown a lot. How was he supposed to know what to say to a seventeen-year-old girl? So I sat silently and continued to gaze round my room as I waited for him to work out what it was he wanted to say. My eyes suddenly stopped on a silk, red pillow with a golden stitch pattern that created the image of my mother’s favourite flower, a gardenia. I picked up the pillow and hugged it tightly as I thought about the mother I never got to know.

Uncle Toby watched me as I held the pillow. He was so pleased that I liked it and said, Marie wrote to your father asking what you liked, and he said you loved red, so she went crazy buying red quilt covers and red pillows. Would’ve had read everything if I hadn’t stopped her. The gardenia was her idea. She knew how much your mother loved them, and she made me go to a seamstress to get that sewn on for you.

I placed the pillow back where I had found it carefully. It felt more like a fragile object than a pillow now.

Focusing on our conversation, I asked Wasn’t this room red before?

Uncle Toby nodded, brushing a strand of hair out of my face and tucking it behind my ear as he replied: It was. But then we painted it sky blue when Marie was pregnant with our son. He was silent for a moment as he reminisced over the baby they never got to meet. And then, abruptly, he continued, It was left that way until we found out you were coming. I watched as his eyes became teary.

Feeling bad for asking, I kissed his cheek and sighed, Oh. He then wiped his eyes and smiled at me before rubbing my arm and kissing the top of my head. After that, he got to his feet and wandered to the door.

Turning around, he said, I’ll leave you to unpack. Dinner will be ready around six. I nodded and opened my suitcase. Peering into it, I decided what to put away first. I picked up my toiletries, looked towards the door, and expected to see him there. But Uncle Toby had vanished already. I sat there for a moment, took everything in, and then shot up and went into my bathroom. Another great thing about living with Uncle Toby was that I got my own bathroom.

It didn’t take me long to unpack, even with Marie’s visits every ten minutes, which slowed me down. After that, I decided to relax. I made myself comfortable in my mother’s old rocking chair and read a chapter from Great Expectations. I loved the book and thought Charles Dickens was an amazing author. I loved all his books and owned them all, but Great Expectations was the best book he had ever written, in my estimation, and that made it my favourite. But that wasn’t the only reason I was reading it. It was also one of the books I would be studying at my new school when I started next week. Nancy had read the book to me once before, and I had started to study it at my old school, but I didn’t know how far into the book my new school would be. I preferred to be ahead of the class, waiting for them to catch up with me. Literature waits for no man or woman, I thought. I began to feel uneasy as I thought about starting school; I couldn’t bear to be the topic of any conversation. I hated being the centre of attention, good or bad—I just hated it. But I soon forgot about the worries that were ahead of me as I dove deeper into the world of Pip. I didn’t mind studying the book because I liked it. I enjoyed a good book, and Great Expectations was, without a doubt, a good book.

Dinner’s ready! Marie shouted up the stairs. I put my book face down on the rocking chair, rushed down the stairs, and shovelled down my dinner as fast as I could. It was delicious: Marie’s homemade Sunday roast. I hadn’t had a homemade meal in a long time; it was always pre-made meals at the foster home in Reno while they sorted out what seemed to be the endless paperwork.

As soon as I had finished, I got up and washed my plate and the cutlery I used before returning to my room. I sat on my bed and began reading again as I let my food digest. I began getting sleepier when I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, something flashing on my computer. I crawled across my bed to see a new message sign frantically blinking at me. I jumped off my bed and rushed to my desk to sit down on my chair and click on the envelope. I waited impatiently for it to open. It was from my dad; he wanted to know how I was feeling since losing Nancy and how I was enjoying my time at Uncle Toby’s.

I typed a response as fast as I could and clicked the send button. I stared at the screen, hoping to get another response, but nothing came straight away. I told myself he was probably eating—after all, it was 2:14 a.m. in Chiang Rai, Thailand, which was where he was based. Therefore, I sat on my bed and waited for him to reply. Kicking my trainers off, I lay under the covers and continued reading my book, occasionally glancing over the top to see whether I had received a reply. When I saw nothing, I returned to my book with a bit of sadness in my heart. Another hour passed, and I decided to get into my pyjamas. I took my vest top and shorts into my bathroom, and when I came back out a few minutes later, I noticed that he still hadn’t replied. Yawning, I jumped into bed and switched off my bedroom light. Suddenly, my fairy lights above my bed turned on, which startled me a little. Uncle Toby must have put them on a timer. Smiling at the lights, I snuggled down under my quilts and stared at my computer screen until I drifted off to sleep.

Wake up, sleepyhead! Rise and shine! Marie shrieked as she ripped open my curtains. I rubbed my eyes as they adjusted to the sudden change in lighting. I then glanced at the computer that must have also fallen asleep at some point last night because it was black. I rushed over to the mouse and swiped it twice; like me, it woke up slowly, against its will. And then I was met with what I feared: no reply. Admitting defeat, I decided to get dressed. And then I realised it was only six o’clock in the morning.

Auntie Marie, why am I getting up so early? I shouted from the landing as I rushed to the top of the stairs while holding a towel round my body to hide my underwear. Marie hadn’t quite made it all the way down the stairs, so she turned to look up at me and said, School, darling. She then continued down the stairs. I followed her down a few steps and noticed Uncle Toby reading his morning newspaper at the dining room table.

Embarrassed, I retreated up the stairs and shouted, But I’m not in until next Monday.

I waited silently