Broken
The Immortal Coven
April Gutierrez
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, both known and unknown electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without express permission from the creator, with the exception of brief quotes used in connection with reviews written specially for any written, audio or visual media.
This is a fictional work. The names, characters, incidents, places, and locations are solely the concept and products of the author’s imagination or are used to create a fictitious story and should not be construed as real.
Author Website:
www.aprilgutierrez.com
Editing by: Karen Venancio of Brooksville, FL
Contact: [email protected]
Cover and Author Photograph:
Copyright © 2014 April Gutierrez
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 069229869X
ISBN-13: 978-0692298695
DEDICATION
To my lovely angel, Savannah.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to first thank Karen Venancio for all of your continued support and help in getting this novel ready. Every word of encouragement took me one step farther to completion.
Thank you Ailyn La Torre for taking such special photographs for the cover image. While we could only end up with one image for the cover, all the pictures and the entire shoot was mystical!
There is a special thank you to my readers that should come front and center in these acknowledgments…Every step of the way, every new book I put out, each new genre I try, you are there and ready for more words. Thank you for being so loyal, it means the world to me!
Preface
There was once a French politician who was beheaded, in a gruesome manner, for the sins he’d committed. Nothing that I was taught about his role in the French Revolution stuck more than a phrase he uttered in a final speech before his death.
He said, “Death is the beginning of immortality.”
I never dreamed that it would be a choice….a necessary evil, but then again, I grew up knowing Santa wasn’t real and Love was hard work.
Reality is a totally different realm; you just have to pay attention.
Chapter One
“10 seconds….That’s how long it took for my life to forever change. We were sitting at a red light, my mother and I, laughing at the silly radio commercial that had just come on. The afternoon fall weather had gotten nice, so our windows were down. The light had changed from red to green and mom let go of the brake pedal to put her foot on the gas.
Neither one of us noticed the dump truck barreling down the west end of the intersection, at least not until a couple seconds before the breath taking impact. I was looking at my mother’s face as the truck slammed into our Toyota Corolla. Her expression is burned into my soul. Terror, sadness, love, anguish.
Her body became part of the mangled up vehicle. Me… my body was ejected from the car. I couldn’t explain to you how it happened because I had my seatbelt on, but I was told the immense power of the impact forced me out and knocked me unconscious. Someone 911-ed the emergency vehicles to the disaster and I was rushed to the hospital. My mother was pronounced dead on the scene.”
“How have you gotten along since the accident, Celia?” the legal counselor, Anne, asked apologetically.
Immediately my eyes darted down to my hands. I’d been asked this very same question by my psychologist only hours earlier.
“To be honest with you, right now I feel broken. With the accident, it was like, I knew the moment she was gone. I have so many unanswered questions racing through my mind. I feel like I will struggle to find out who I am or who I’m meant to be. However, if the choice is to be broken or nothing at all, I will always chose to be broken.”
“Besides that, I mean, other than the occasional pain, I’m okay. I’m alive.” I sighed.
At seventeen years old, I should know better than to say to an adult that I’m okay. They never actually believe the underage generations.
“Celia, that is a normal feeling to have after such a terrible and life changing tragedy and I’m glad you are seeing a psychologist to help you with this.”
“How has it been staying with your Aunt Olivia?” she pried. While the questions they ask are basic, it is what is implied that tends to annoy me.
“She has just had a teenager dumped on her. She’s been a single, childless woman all her life. I suppose it’s been as to be expected…a little bumpy but we will figure it out.”
Aunt Olivia lost her sister, her best friend and was then made responsible for a teenaged orphan. Yeah, it’s been a little bumpy over the last few weeks.
“We have finalized all the details regarding your trust,” Anne began. “Basically, until you turn 18, your Aunt will be receiving a monthly installment to cover your costs. Once you become of age, we will arrange to have the trust transferred into an account of your choosing, so I would be thinking of which financial institution you are planning on becoming a part of. Other than that, legally, you are your Aunt’s ward for 5 more months.”
“How much is in the trust?” I inquired.
Anne tilted her head curiously, “Your mother never told you?”
“No, we never talked about anything that involved her passing. The idea never came to my mind that I would ever be going through a nightmare like this.”
She opened the folder in front of her and removed a sheet of paper, turned it around and laid it in front of me.
“At 18 years old, Celia, you will inherit twenty million dollars, the contents in her security box, and all the properties listed.”
With eyes widened just a bit more than usual, my shock was evidently clear to the legal counselor.
“You didn’t know.” Anne uttered again.
Shaking my head slightly, “I had no clue.” I replied looking up to her.
“Well, I wouldn’t broadcast the information to anyone you are unfamiliar with. You don’t need to fall victim to the greed of...”
“Does Olivia know?” I interjected.
“She does,” She answered quickly. “and she made it clear to me that all she wants is to preserve their shop. If you can make sure that happens, I’m sure your Aunt will be grateful to you.”
“My mother’s shop was her world. I would say it was the second most beloved thing in her life. They put all of their time and energy into making it a success. That is the one thing I will make sure is preserved.” I guaranteed.
“Well then. I suggest you take it easy for a while before getting back to the norm.” she offered politely.
“Nothing will ever be normal again, I’m afraid.”
“Celia, you’re right. Nothing will ever be the way it was. However, you still have your senior year in high school to complete and friends that care about you. Focus on that.”
I huffed, “School. Yeah, right. A new school where I have to make new friends and be a part of new surroundings.” I complained.
“Well, maybe it will help you make a fresh start.”
I conceded by nodding my head at her.
With our meeting over, I left the room feeling drained. Aunt Olivia was sitting in the waiting room of the law office reading a magazine. The moment I walked out over the tile floor, she looked up at me and smiled.
“Ready?” she asked.
Hesitating for a moment, I noticed her expression changed.
“She told you.” Olivia stated plainly, emotion vacant from the words.
“Yes.” I nodded.
“Well then, let’s get out of
here.” She offered, taking the lead out of the building and to her red Ford Mustang.
If you’ve ever been in an accident you will understand how difficult it is to sit in a car those first few months after. It’s been 4 weeks since my mother was killed. 28 long days that haven’t gotten any easier. Today marks the 10th time I’ve sat in a car since that frightful afternoon.
The first few attempts to take a car ride ended up in a panic attack. Finally, my doctor prescribed an anxiety pill to help. It did, but my logical brain understood that eventually I would have to figure this out without medicine. So by the 7th trip, I realized that I could breathe my way through a drive. Mind you, I had my eyes tightly shut.
Today however, I need to see the sunlight. Eyes wide open, I took in the sites of the ‘other side of town’. Aunt Olivia lives near the shop in Brooksville, Florida. It literally is on the other side of town from where I grew up. Mom and I lived in Spring Hill. Most people think that when you live in Florida, the weather, lifestyle, and everything in general is identical no matter where you call home, in the state. Those people couldn’t be more wrong.
Home in Spring Hill was quiet, generally secluded. My high school, Springstead, is filled with normal kids, nothing random or extreme. Nothing that makes you wonder about reality, but in Brooksville, in these past 4 weeks, I’ve come to realize I’d been living in a bubble all my life.
Reality here is filled with randomness, and I’m going to have to learn to blend with it because Aunt Olivia registered me to start my new high school, Hernando High, on Monday. I will have colder winters, stronger rainstorms, and nosy neighbors as the houses seem to have been built one on top of another.
“I need to stop by the shop for a few minutes to check on the shipment of oils that they just dropped off.” Aunt Olivia interrupted my thoughts.
I turned to face her and took in her pensive appearance.
“Did Alley say there was something wrong with it?” I asked.
When she didn’t answer, I placed my hand on her forearm. “I’m okay, Aunt Olivia. It just took me by surprise is all.” I assured her, assuming she was worried about what the counselor had disclosed.
“You’re not okay, Celia. Today is the first time I’ve seen you with your eyes open in this damn car. You are starting a new school on Monday where you know absolutely no one,” She hesitated, “and you haven’t gone to your mother’s grave since the funeral. You don’t talk about her and you need to or eventually when that lid you’ve placed over your heart explodes, you are going to hurt so much more than you need to.”
“I’m fine, Olivia. You need to just let me be for right now. I’m dealing with it. Even the psychologist says I’m going through all the normal mourning stages.” I snapped back at her.
The car became silent and I recalled my appointment with Dr. Kalmenski. Our 1 hour slot this morning was filled with unanswered questions I still have about mom’s death.
“I don’t get how I was ejected from the car while still wearing my seat belt. Even the police were scratching their heads. In the report, the police officer had originally made a notation that I hadn’t been wearing it but mom never turned on the car without all the passengers having their seatbelts buckled. It was a rule.” I argued.
“You’re reacting naturally to something inexplicable. I would be concerned if you didn’t have these typical questions.” She stated as she jotted something in her notebook.
“Tell me about your mother. What was she like?” she’d asked me.
The smile spread across my face merely thinking about mom, and then the sadness followed it. “I look a lot like she did. I got her hair and eye color. She was soft spoken but had a mean temper when you crossed her. She spent a lot of time at the shop.”
“What kind of shop is it again?” she interrupted.
“It’s an oils and essence shop on Main Street in downtown Brooksville. They sell a lot of alternative therapy stuff.”
Her poker face suggested that she was digesting my statement and waiting for her initial question to be answered.
“We pretty much did everything together. She used to say we were ‘two peas in a pod’. Once, I went through this phase worrying that I was her only friend, but then she took us to Europe. I got to see castles and incredible mountains, and had a chance to meet a bunch of her friends who traveled with us. After that, she just made it feel like I was her best friend, someone she would rather share her time with over everyone else.”
“Before school started in August, she sat me down and asked me what I had planned to do after high school. When I couldn’t give her a clear answer she asked me to think about it over the next few months and we would revisit the topic at Christmas. Now I have no clue about what I’m doing after graduation, because all I can think about is how she won’t be in the crowd to see me get my diploma,” a tear slid from the corner of my eye down my cheek. I swiped it with my hand, annoyed by the weakness.
“Do you have many friends at your old school?” she asked, quickly changing the subject back to me.
“I have a lot of acquaintances. There is one girl I grew up with, Jenna, that lived near my old house but she and I grew apart this past year. Aunt Olivia says that it’s probably for the best considering.”
“Do you have a hard time making new friends?” She asked- her tone alarmingly concerned.
“No, on the contrary, I can make friends easily. I just tend to keep a safe distance away from the drama.”
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
The question created a slight chuckle to elude my chest. “No, I broke up with my last boyfriend right before summer. I found out he had been hooking up with the said friend.
I was brought out of the earlier memory by a jolt from Aunt Olivia’s Mustang.
“I’m sorry.” She apologized, realizing how it had affected me. “I need to take it in for a service.”
Luckily, I didn’t have to contribute to the conversation as she had pulled into a street parking space.
“I will be just a little while. If you want I can meet you at the eatery down the street?” she offered.
She was referring to Main Street Eatery. The little café had been a golden nugget for the downtown atmosphere. If you ever came to visit the area, you knew it was there and always busy with business. It should be a national landmark considering the food is so amazing.
“That’s fine.” The quiet time away from her would do me a little good.
Across from mom’s shop is the downtown courthouse building. Out front, under one of the enormous Oak trees, there sits a lone wrought-iron bench. It’d been my seat of choice since mom started letting me wander around the downtown sidewalks near the shop.
I crossed the street and took a seat on my bench. Closing my eyes for just a moment, I let the sun warm my face. The fall shouldn’t be this warm, Thank You Global Warming.
I took in the street noise, the birds chirping and even the cars passing by. I was searching for my center, the one place within myself I was comfortable. I never got to reach it however. An abrupt noise startled me and forced my eyes to fly wide open.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” a cute boy noted apologetically. “These boxes were getting really heavy.” He added, pointing to the 2 boxes on the floor by his feet.
I took in the sight of him and felt the air taken from my lungs. I coughed a few times, watching as he rushed to my side to pat my back. Mortified, I shook my head, trying to get him to stop.
“Take a deep breath.” He ordered, obviously feeling guilty.
Following his order, I took in the air and coughed a few more times.
“That happen often?” he asked when the fit finally stopped.
“No, you just startled me is all.”
“That is some delayed reaction.” He countered.
“I didn’t say the boxes, I said you.” I admitted carelessly.
A catlike smile stretched across his face and my stomach took a turn in itself.
<
br /> Wow!
The wind darted through his dark brown hair forcing him to run his fingers through it to put it back the way it was.
“You from around here?” his inquiry came in a distracted fashion. He asked it as if looking around for someone I’d be waiting for.
“I just moved out this way. I start school on Monday. Why?”
My question brought him back. His dark brown eyes darted to mine and I stared awestruck.
“I just moved here about a month ago, myself. I go to the high school down the road; didn’t know if I’d see you around.” He’d said it as if knowing what my reply would be. At least, that’s how I took it.
“Probably will. Brooksville is just one of those towns where you keep bumping into the same people over and over again.”
“Sounds horrible if you’re planning on avoiding someone.” He laughed a delectable laugh.
“I’ve never found myself trying to avoid someone.” I laughed out loud; the idea absurd.
“Everyone has their moments I guess.” He finally said. His eyes darting to my hands that lay on my lap.
He was tall for a teenager, and I couldn’t place his accent but he did say he’d just moved here so I could only assume he was a foreigner.
“Well, have a nice afternoon.” he said as he picked up the boxes again.
“Do you need help with that? I have to meet my Aunt at the café but I don’t have to be over there for a bit.” The impulse to stay in his presence was new to me. Something, any reason would suffice to spend a few more minutes with him.
“Yeah, my car is parked around the corner.”
I walked over to him and took the top box. Our eyes locked again and I couldn’t hide the smile this time.
“Thanks” he whispered and smiled in return. “I’m Dmitri, by the way. Dmitri A’naus.”
Broken (The Immortal Coven Book 1) Page 1
