Keeper of the Sacred Scroll

By JR Swisher

The world is chaotic, especially if you’re unfortunate enough to be born a Nouban, a member of an alien race that faces constant persecution while living on Earth. For Sapphira Jacobine Pham, called Jake, life is unusually cruel—she’s tasked with finding the heir to her king’s throne, and the only clue of finding this important heir is the sacred scroll she’s supposed to guard.

Once upon a time, Jake herself was the heir, but now she must find a replacement. Although she find hints of another possible person to take the throne, Jake keeps running into problems—whether it’s her rivals or her brothers, she seems to be a trouble magnet. She’s distracted further when a handsome, well-meaning male of another alien race called Eurans lands in Jake’s lap in a situation that seems too good to be true. Of course, when things seem brightest, there’s always someone who demands the light be put out. Now only time will tell whether Jake escapes danger long enough to bring about peace.

In this fantasy novel, a young member of an alien race living among humans sets out on a mission to find the next heir to the throne of her people.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Sep 15, 2020
• ISBN: 9781532036569

JR Swisher

JR Swisher has lived overseas in Hanoi, Vietnam, which inspired the story. Swisher worked in drug and alcohol rehabilitation as a janitor, as well as various roles in hospitality, before deciding to follow the dream of becoming a published author. Swisher lives in Georgia with 4 cats and 2 dogs, pursuing the dream of becoming an engineer.

Book preview

KEEPER OF THE

SACRED SCROLL

JR Swisher

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KEEPER OF THE SACRED SCROLL

Copyright © 2017 JR Swisher.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means,

graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by

any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author

except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue

in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

iUniverse

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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.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-5320-3657-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-3656-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017917460

iUniverse rev. date:  09/15/2020

CONTENTS

Dedication

Prologue

PART ONE

The Girl With The Cocky Smile

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

PART TWO

Shadowfire And Cyclone

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Seven

Chapter Forty-Eight

Chapter Forty-Nine

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty-One

Chapter Fifty-Two

Chapter Fifty-Three

Chapter Fifty-Four

Chapter Fifty-Five

Chapter Fifty-Six

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Chapter Sixty

Epilogue

DEDICATION

To Oswald, who lives in spirit in this book. For you, my darling.

To Howard, who loves life like his brother.

To Summer, Chelsea, Simone and Sonya, who give me joy every day.

To Margaret, my only sister and source of feedback.

To my supportive and wonderful mother.

To the entire city of Hanoi, for inspiring me.

To my editor, Kathi for helping me make QUEST fantastic.

There are so many more to thank whom I can’t list

on this page, but they know who they are.

Thank you all. I love you.

Summary: A former gangster tells a narrative of the times she tries and fails to redeem herself and her family until she kills a deserving dictator.

PROLOGUE

I IMMEDIATELY, INTENSELY DISTRUSTED THE FBI guy as soon as he sat across from me, but if I was going to do this, I’d better do it right and completely. He seemed innocent, and reminded me of my younger brother. But he probably was a lot tougher and would kill me when he got the chance. I’d been burned once too often by people who’d stab you in the back if given the chance.

I hoped that this sordid mess would blow over. The poor guy was doing his job, but it wasn’t his business. It was a governmental matter, though I hoped he was more than necessary. This was my limit, but I’d cooperate. This guy’s supervisor threatened my family. All I wanted to do was get home to them. It’s true that I’m infamous for murders I’d witnessed and committed over the years. No, I don’t deny it, although I’m ashamed. It’s not something to be proud of, being a mercenary with a dark and dingy background. I had cards stacked against me. But did I have to suffer this humiliation? Hadn’t my family suffered enough? Wasn’t this true for especially sweet, lovely little Vespera, my shadow – where’d she be if I were gone?

An interview was the last thing I wanted, but my kids’ future was at stake. Besides, attention embarrassed me, even positive attention. I’d rather remain anonymous. Ironic. I gave that up when I had the chance to keep the sacred genealogy in a scroll. That’s why my book’s called Keeper of the Sacred Scroll.

Now, the interviewer said as he took up a notepad, I want to get to know you. The emphasis on the word you made my core shudder. I’d one shot at doing this right. I felt sorry for the nerd staring at me. I had to learn to trust people. I know that, but there’s only so much a person can change.

I knew what I had to do, but I also knew that I couldn’t look at him. It was a necessary evil, I’m afraid. With that in mind, I sighed, rose, and strolled to the window furthest from him, my back turned. It was the only way I’d have enough courage to say my story. I hope you can be patient with me, I said but I want to be clear. I want to go back all the way. That means delving into my childhood. Is that okay?

He said, Sure. Shoot.

I began from the beginning, that he’d get some idea of the life I’d led before I fled the country. I’d never wish my background on anyone, not even someone I despised. A silence passed and it was nice. I hate talking. I like my voice, but I hate the movements of my flapping jaw.

His curiosity seemed genuine. On the other hand, it could’ve been an attempt to butter me up so I’d confess something that I’d never done.

Either way, even though I knew it could’ve been a trap, I bit.

I tell you what I know, I said, watching the rain and remembering everything. I tell what I’ve observed, but it should still be informative. All I ask is that you don’t interrupt me, no matter how strange my narrative.

He agreed with a nod. And so I began my tale, which isn’t for the faint of heart. But, in my labyrinthine mind, it made sense that I start where it had always – in a neighborhood full of violence and comforting people.

Part One

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THE GIRL WITH

THE COCKY SMILE

CHAPTER ONE

I HID BEHIND CONCRETE BLEACHERS, hoping that the coast was clear. I was terrified to take the shortcut, but I was tardy and I’d no choice. I checked to see if the coast was clear. The bullies hung around here…and someone more terrifying. This morning I’d seen a human lynch my neighbor; I was terrified that I’d be lynched too.

It seemed clear enough. Then, without thinking, I ran! I, Sapphira Jacobine Pham, called Jake, was free for a while until someone spotted me. It was easy to spot hair so red that it looked like my head was on fire, especially when it flapped in the sun. I hoped no one saw me; the last thing I needed was someone to jump me, although I was prepared.

It was ecstasy running like a madman, tearing across the field. I felt like Jesse Owens, the wind blowing through my hair and howling through my sensitive, pointed ears that moved like a cat’s. I felt like I flew, except that my feet pounded on the ground. The air rushed through my lungs painfully, but it affirmed that I was alive. For a moment, things seemed too good to be true.

But there was something that beat the howling wind. In my fear-diseased brain, I was terrified that it was my sister – or worse, a human. Since I wore black all the time, I was an easy target. Sophia, my older sister, was captain of all the cheerleader bullies in our high school. She was a vicious bitch on the best of days. Having your sister turn on you is bad, but especially when it involved a rivalry that won’t end.

Then a hand fell on my shoulder – one that was too big to be female. I hadn’t realized that I’d screamed until I heard a familiar voice behind me. It was my brother Lynn. His hair was strawberry blond worn in a well-done mullet, he had mutated heterochromia eyes that were more brown than blue, and he was good-looking. He was my favorite brother. He never questioned me or ordered me around like many older brothers. In fact, if he weren’t my brother, I’ve no doubt that I would’ve fallen in love with him. Sadly, our strong bloodline won’t allow it – my siblings and I are a hybrid between humans and aliens called Noubans, who come from a distant, mostly water planet called Nouba. The Nouban DNA doesn’t allow for incest closer than two generations’ separation, and the stronger the blood, the stronger that repellent. It was the strongest in the noble bloodlines, since it encouraged the spread of DNA for potential heirs, most of which the people in my life are descended. Even if circumstances were ideal, he was gay and in a relationship.

My family is closely descended of our original ancestor, Lycia. In fact, our bloodline’s so concentrated that, if it were passed through a series of tests, it would say how many humans diluted the blood, the names of which were documented in our family tree. The story of the family tree is fascinating, especially the royal family tree, which had centuries-old rumors. It was well preserved for something that was written on ancient parchment and written with a type of ink that went obsolete. The family tree was encased in glass at a temple that exists in New York City. I went many times and looked at it, but interestingly, it looked like it wrote itself – another name appeared, although faded, on the parchment.

Coincidentally, it’s rumored that I looked the most like Lycia. There was once a debate about Lycia’s hair color – specifically, whether it was blonde or red. It changed the course of history when it was discovered that she was a redhead, which I believed for years before DNA testing confirmed such. The prejudice against redheads was forever vanished since.

It was an interesting thought. As I thought of this, I thought of Lynn. Lynn was probably my soul mate, if there ever was one, but the concentrated Nouban noble blood wouldn’t allow me to commit incest, no matter how much I might want to. Sadly I couldn’t love my brother in such a way, but that’s what manga’s for, anyway. Besides, the Noubans were persecuted by the humans for our so-called tainted blood, and the more Nouban descendants there were, the stronger our numbers, and therefore the influence. As many Nouban people as possible was better than a few with concentrated blood.

That was the theory, anyway. In reality, there was always a story of some human beating up a Nouban for existing – and law enforcement was no help whenever a human lynched one of us. The injustice was frustrating.

Want me to walk you, Lynn asked, offering me his arm. I nodded, readjusting my rucksack. Lynn held my shoulders, crooning My poor, pretty sister. I never considered myself pretty. My scarlet red hair was. The rest of it I could do without, thank you very much. I’ve always had pale skin, virtually no freckles, long skinny limbs, no curves, and my cheekbones stuck out. I was way too thin, and I’d no bust to speak of. My eyes, while striking, were the same shade of blue as sapphires, and they glinted like my namesake stone.

Lynn insisted that I was pretty, though. Maybe he’d strange tastes. Not that it mattered. I was tough, and that was priority. In our rough neighborhood, being tough was as important as living. Brains, toughness, and gifted at martial arts were the three things I felt made me a tool for justice for our kind. The cops were no help where we lived, as I mentioned. I might as well do it myself. This was what I thought throughout my P.E. class. We played soccer, and I was captain of the team. We won.

Oh, I knew how unjust the system was to my kind. The humans made it clear that they didn’t want us near them, but it wasn’t like we asked to be born, let alone on Earth. I’d prefer to be on Nouba where I belonged, but the humans kept us here to torture us. I could tell many stories about sadistic humans. I’d spent the night in jail once, and the horrors I witnessed were indescribable. The cops kicked my cell door and frightened me to the point where I thought I’d get kicked – and all they did was laugh and point at me. I’d been spared the worst, though. There was a young black Nouban girl in the cell right next to me, and a cop violently raped her until the screams haunted my nightmares. It wasn’t just the screaming that scraped at my dancing nerves; it was the heartbreaking crying.

And what did the other cops do? They cheered him on as he violated a minor of our origins. The hatred for every single ruddy, useless walking bag of meat with a badge was intense. For now I had a purpose. It was for that girl that I was dead-set on revamping the justice system from top to bottom. It was corrupt, and when people supported the police, bile rose in my throat. It took everything in me to ignore everybody who mocked and rejected the truth.

Finally P.E. was over, and I was covered in sweat and thoroughly exhausted. Foolishly I’d let my guard down. I walked to the bus when something familiar crawled up my back. Then I knew what it was – the cold eyes that attacked me daily. Hey Stringy, Sophia’s voice hissed. I froze where I stood. Sophia dragged me through the school and into a janitor’s closet near the gym. Sophia produced a big spider and threw it in my direction. Have fun, Sophia giggled. She locked the door.

I froze in terror. The room shrank. The spider made its way toward me as it crawled onto the wall. As it did, I backed away until I was in a corner. The spider pursued me, hell-bent for whatever purpose. When it touched my arm, I lost control of my bladder. The warm wet urine spread throughout my jeans and it was humiliating. I’d peed myself. This was a new low, even for Sophia. Sophia was pretty by human standards, with her blonde hair and brown eyes, but that didn’t make her intelligent. Sophia was as stupid as she was cruel, and I was so emotionally fired that I began to cry. The anger and humiliation found their way into bitter tears. Where was a hero when I needed one the most?

Then the door opened, and Lynn was my savior. He wasn’t alone, though; at his side was a girl, who I remembered as president of the drama club. Her name was Viola Li. She had brown hair in a pixie cut, a slender figure, and she had rich brown eyes. She was my dad’s young cousin, and we were friends. In fact, I had a crush on her. I was even more humiliated. I’d been locked in the closet for a while apparently. When Lynn noticed that I was gone he’d asked for help, which he told me as he pulled me to my feet and lent me his favorite pink turtleneck to tie around my waist. Viola squished the spider and threw the corpse in a trashcan. Thank you, Viola, I barely registered Lynn saying. All I knew was, I was finally going home.

CHAPTER TWO

L UCKILY, NO ONE ELSE BESIDES Lynn and I was home, so Lynn managed to eliminate as much humiliation as possible. I changed into some fresh dry clothes and put my dirty ones in the wash. Then I showered, hoping to get rid of some of that fear urine smell. As soon as I turned on the water, my anger somewhat dissipated, but it returned with a vengeance. Sophia wouldn’t get away with this. As soon as I was done, I sat by Lynn on one of the sofas. Lynn held me, rocked me, and sang softly to me. I’ll kill her, I said. I shook from the trauma. I won’t be able to control myself.

Yes, you can, Lynn said. You’re not an evil person, honey. I felt my blood boil. I realized that not only did Sophia hate me, but that I reciprocated the feeling. I got up from my seat. I knew that Lynn was right, but I didn’t care. It felt delicious. Perhaps this was what I was supposed to feel – nothing.

I ventured out that night, baseball bat in hand. I robbed cars in our neighborhood to support the family. It was I, not my bat-shit crazy single mother, who provided for my ungrateful sister and my weak brother. Lynn wasn’t weak. No, Elijah, my twin brother who was at least twice my size and half as intelligent was the weak one. He did nothing except complain and play football. I never saw him get a job or pay for anything, and I hated him for it. I hated him, period, ever since we hit puberty. He had a misogynistic view on life. He expected me to take care of them as well as make decent grades in school.

Yet the realization that the year was 2001 made me feel good. I looked forward to this year for a long time. A new era began. I felt it deep in my blood. 2001 was the year for change, and I’d start that change at home first. I found a red car – what model it was I neither knew nor cared – and picked the lock. There was little cash in the vehicle, and few valuables. Nevertheless, I considered any haul worthwhile. I was an expert at this; perhaps it was because I’d done it since I was a kid. I joined a chain gang not long after I moved to Brooklyn when I was seven, after I got badly hurt. Eventually I made my own gang. After a while it disbanded, not because we grew distant, but one of the members was in danger. Everyone agreed to break it up, thankfully.

A drunk driver hit me when I was seven and I got seriously hurt – you could say that I died. I had disturbing hallucinations. I gained incredible powers afterward that allowed me to manipulate the air around me, allowing me to do indescribable things. That’s not so hard to believe when you consider that I had an enchanted family tree that added people.

When the gang dissipated I could’ve sworn that I saw a name on it that I didn’t see before. I technically could’ve taken the throne, as I was a descendant of our King, but I flat-out refused. The rumor about the Heir was around for centuries, but if it turned out to be true, and if anyone was] the Heir, then there was no choice but to protect anyone with Suzaku’s blood. I counted the days until I found out the truth, but perspective was a hell of a thing.

We were lucky that the break was as smooth as it was. Most people who were in gangs were either in witness protection or killed. The gang I fled had no idea where I lived, partly because I moved in with Mother against my will. The courts ordered it because my bitchy mother decided to sue for sole custody of us kids. Mother tried to be vindictive to Dad, but in truth it’d been best for us at the time. Dad went through a bout of PTSD, and we all suffered for it. At least, that was the story that Mother told us. I tried to hate my father, but I couldn’t. I vaguely remembered him as a kind, though sad, man with one amber brown eye and sandy brown hair.

I pillaged that car and moved on to my next target. I’d a feeling that something would happen as I kept looting different cars, but silence screamed for a while and it got dark. I was gone for hours and I thought of going home. Suddenly a girl’s thin scream pierced the silent stillness of the night air. Instinct took over; I ran in the direction of the scream until I saw two silhouettes. I crouched behind a parked car and watched the incident until the time was right.

Come on, a man’s voice snarled. He held onto a girl by the wrist, almost as if he tried to break it. The girl put up a fight. No, let me go, the girl cried. She was the one who screamed, I thought. She had to be. The man dragged the girl into his car and pushing her, her breasts almost popping out of her tight tube top. I saw the girl’s thong. Or was there even a thong? It looked flesh-toned from a distance. I’d seen enough to intervene. I jumped up from behind the car and towards them.

HEY! What do you think you’re doing, I yelled. It echoed. I slumped over as I landed on my feet. The man dragging the girl stopped to look at me. I was aware of my small stature, especially my skinny limbs. I’d see it through, however; I never backed down from a fight. So I prowled up to a nearby streetlight and revealed myself, trying to appear as tough as I’d been trained, especially standing big. Narrowing my eyes helped, I thought. Yet the man’s guffaw brought me closer to reality. Yet I pressed on, not wanting to show any type of fear or nervousness. I lowered myself into a pouncing position. Suddenly the man, bigger than I’d estimated, lunged at me. I dodged and tripped him. Then I reached for my knife, found it, opened it, and pounced on him. With my knife close to his face, I hissed, Go home, and I won’t skin you alive.

I let go of his shirt, pushed his head down, and got off of him. He was at least smart enough to think that I’d kill him. He ran off into the distance without a look back. I caught my breath and checked on the girl. The girl had short brown hair, pale skin, and a slender figure. Apart from the whore makeup and revealing clothing, she looked familiar. Then the girl’s rich brown eyes met my gaze. My heart missed a beat. Now we’re even…Viola, I smiled, giving Viola my hand. Viola grabbed it and got to her high-heeled feet. She dusted herself off. She gave me a look that melted my hard heart. Your secret will never escape my lips, I said. Viola smiled and wrapped her arms around my skinny neck. Then she walked away, looking over her shoulder at me. I noticed that the streetlight illuminated her pale skin beautifully. Then she took off. I went home feeling better than usual; even though I came home with barely anything of value, I saved a girl from torture and humiliation.

If only I’d escaped that fate. Elijah, whom I called E, was awake and angry. He was a typical football player – big, blond, dumb, and ugly in comparison to us. I thought he looked like young Ryan Reynolds with a pixie haircut. The combination looked ridiculous. He happened to have the biggest mouth and the most horrible attitudes towards anything happy. When he was unhappy, everyone else suffered as well, which happened more often than I wanted to admit. Why were you out so late, he barked as soon as I walked through the door. He thought he was in charge of the family. He’d no control of me and that pissed him off. He was perpetually angry. There was no helping that.

Why’s it matter? I asked. I’m not going out anymore. Lynn opened his mouth from the stairs, but I shut his mouth with a glare.

It’s bad enough you rob cars and take other people’s hard-earned money, E said, but what if you get caught? Where are we then?

I broke the bat, I lied. I threw it out. No one’s going to know unless someone reports it, and who will in this neighborhood? Be honest. E gave me a look that angered me. I was so incensed that I stomped my way up the stairs to bed. Lynn joined me soon, and we fell asleep in each other’s arms that night.

CHAPTER THREE

I AWOKE WITH LYNN NEXT to me, his back facing me. So what happened the night before was real. I tried to get up to make breakfast, but Lynn stopped me. E will kill you if you go down there, Lynn whispered. He rose to meet my gaze. His eyes, that odd mixture of blue-brown, were so pretty and exotic. I shared a secret with him. I’ve never been kissed, I whispered.

Lynn’s eyebrows jumped up. The teacher who molested you didn’t kiss you, he asked. I shook my head. Wow, some lover, Lynn hissed. Who am I kidding? He was no lover, just a predator. And they took his side over yours. He referred to my human kindergarten teacher, Mr. Stockham, who preyed on me and molested me that whole year. He almost raped me when my dad, who was scheduled to pick me up that day, found the teacher in the act. He beat him up to the point where Mr. Stockham was hospitalized with several broken bones. While Dad never went to jail or pay a fine, Mr. Stockham tried to make the case to have him imprisoned. It never worked, but for a while it ruined Dad’s reputation. His dojo suffered some damage.

When Dad and I came forward about the reason for the attack against the teacher, Dad’s reputation was restored, but Mr. Stockham returned to the school. He was arrested and fired later, but that was after me. Dad took me out of that school and put me in a private school before Mother convinced him to give me back. That was in Northport, where I was born. That was also back when Mother was reasonable.

Lynn held me close and stroked my hair. I barely contained myself as it was, but when he was kind to me, I couldn’t stop the tears. They dampened Lynn’s black sleeveless shirt. Lynn rocked me and sang a lullaby that Dad sang to us when we were young, back when we saw him. Then my gaze met Lynn’s. I heard cello music in my brain playing as I gazed into his exotic eyes. The way they sparkled happily made my heart reciprocate. Then our lips met. It was while before we realized what happened. When we did, though, it hit Lynn like a brick. Oh. Oh my God, Lynn whispered, his hand over his mouth. The shock marred his usual luminosity like glass instead of diamonds. It took me a moment to realize what he meant, but I shook my head. Don’t apologize, I said. It felt nice. It was what I needed. Thanks.

Lynn couldn’t hear me; he’d left the room. Revulsion was etched across his face. I sat on my bed, lost in thought. I laid on it and fell asleep out of sheer boredom. My dream didn’t consist of the fragrances of the kitchen. Instead, a handsome and kind face with chestnut hair and green eyes kept waning in and out of my thoughts. Who was this person? It was familiar.

Lynn woke me up for breakfast, which surprised me because of his strange behavior earlier, but he was a great cook and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so I got up and ate. He made my favorite thing in the world – a pepperoni omelet with mozzarella cheese and pizza sauce on the side. I called it the Pizza Omelet. I made it for dinner once when we were out of pizza dough but plenty of eggs. It was a huge hit for everyone – including Mother, who hated pizza. I wrote down the recipe so that I’d remember what I did. I ate it heartily, knowing that I’d burn off the calories later.

The rest of the day was great. Lynn and I spent the day together, doing our favorite things. We loitered around wherever cops were absent, pissing off shop owners and making them chase us away. I freaked out a couple of girls when I wagged my tongue suggestively. One of them flicked her gum at my face, but I didn’t mind; no, I reveled in the idea that these girls were awful. In my fantasies I punished the girls by making them do things to me that no man wanted, and I did it back to make them squirm and cry. Oh, yes, being a bad girl felt so good, especially when I considered the alternative. Being a good girl sucked! No, sucking some nipples was more appealing to me.

That morning seemed like a blur. Lynn and I ventured to our favorite diner, a tiny no name, hole-in-the-wall place that served the best hot