Mother of Darkwaters: Book one of the Vessel series

by Tony C. Skye

  Thy stone’s number begins when broken branches bleed.

  Thy stone’s number stands against the righteous and holy.

  Thy stone’s number thou hast taken as thy family.”

  Julianna taps her left blue painted nails on the metal surface of her desk. She sees a familiar expression forming upon her grandmother’s face.

  “Oh no you don’t,” Julianna points as though she were speaking to a three-year-old.

  Martha shrugs her shoulders and hands it back.

  Julianna throws her head back and lets out a frustrated sigh.

  “What do you think it means?”, Martha questions.

  “Okay Lilith.”

  “I’ll be taking that as a very, nice compliment from my beautiful and gracious granddaughter,” Martha counters Julianna’s light sarcasm. The older woman crosses her arms.

  “You’re impossible sometimes,” Julianna complains. She picks up the notepad and begins scanning the lines. She attempts to explain her observations.

  “It’s about foundation stones for my sanctuary. But it makes no sense. It talks about the stones being a refuge and a shield inside of my sanctuary. How can a foundation be inside of the same building in which it is holding it up? Or how can a stupid foundation be taken as my family? How lonely would a person have to be to befriend a rock?”

  Julianna tosses the notepad down, “It’s freakin’ stupid.”

  “May I?”, Martha motions towards the calligraphy pen Julianna used for her final draft of the sub-prophecy.

  Julianna grabs hold of the inkwell and slides it across the desk, “Be my guest.”

  Martha dips the pen and begins writing on the pad. Julianna’s eyes begin to widen as Martha finishes.

  “No freakin’ way.”

  Martha begins walking towards the hallway leading to the kitchen area, “You really need to expand on your vocabulary, dear. You’re starting to sound like one of those street people.”

  “You’re awesome, grams,” Julianna declares as she rips the piece of paper from the notepad and tacks it to the corkboard hanging above her desk.

  “Yes, Julia,” Martha says while entering into the hallway, “I am.”

  Julianna laughs and turns around. Martha is still walking. The teen decides to leave her grams alone and return to her new mission. She looks at the hanging note and re-reads the bottom of the paper:

  Stones = People

  Julianna shakes her head with a grin of admiration. She opens a drawer and retrieves a regular pen. Dipping her calligraphy pen in water, she caps off the inkwell. Julianna slides the notepad over and begins jotting down her ideas.

  “Mark of thy name and thee?

  Meanings of mark = Signature, birthmark, sun/moon cycles, mathematics, event, date.

  6-27-1994 and thee?

  Signature = thee = 1

  Birthmark = date = 6-27

  Sun/moon cycle = event = 6-27 = -16? 27-6 = 16?

  Math = 1+9+9+4+1 = 24?”

  Julianna places the backend of her black pen in her mouth. She begins nibbling as she reads her notepad, looks up at her corkboard, and back down again. Her brows narrow. She shakes her head, grabs her notepad, and stands. Julianna makes her way into the kitchen where she can hear the sizzling of summer sausage. She tosses the pen and pad down on the table and takes a seat.

  “It smells great. I’ll have to hire you to cook for me whenever I move out.”

  Martha turns around with a smile, “You can’t afford me, dear.”

  Julianna laughs, “I’m pretty sure I can.”

  Martha contemplates for a moment and then concedes with a single nod. She glances at the pad and paper, “Get it figured out?”

  “Nope.”

  Martha turns her attention back to breakfast, uses a fork to roll the sausage over in the pan, and then sits the fork on a plate next to the stove. She turns back around and walks over to the table. Picking up the notepad, she reviews Julianna’s work. Martha glances at her granddaughter with her right brow slightly lifted. She reaches down, picks up the pad, and writes. When she finishes, Martha sits the pen and pad down, turns, and walks back to her work at the stove.

  Julianna snatches up the pad soon as Martha turns her back to her. She reads her grandmother’s writing:

  Age you found the Collection = 16

  Number of your stones = 24

  “You’re on a freakin’ roll today.”

  “Vocabulary,” Martha chastises.

  “My bad. You’re intellectual insight is the standard in which all peoples of this world should be set to.”

  Martha laughs as she plucks the sausage from the pan and sits it in a plate.

  “Yes dear. That would have been great had you not started with ‘my bad’.

  Julianna grins as she watches her grams pour pancake batter mix into the hot pan.

  “How many stones do you have left before the broken branches bleed?”

  “I have no idea what broken branches bleeding even means,” Julianna answers, “But it says that the number begins when they bleed.”

  “Does it now? And how many times does it reference your stone’s number?”

  “Five.”

  Martha slightly lifts on the bottom of the pancake to check its consistency before turning to face her granddaughter.

  “Tell me,” Martha addresses the watchful teen, “How many adopted children do you have now?”

  Julianna’s eyes widen, “How did you know I did that?”

  Martha rolls her eyes and turns back to check on the pancake, “You don’t really believe that I’d leave you all by yourself in some hospital do you?”

  Julianna sits speechless as her grandmother flips the pancake over. When Martha turns back around, Julianna still isn’t sure what she should say.

  “Frank had a camera on your room. We can’t take the chance of something happening to you. Not everyone in this world will be what they wish us to believe they are.”

  Julianna looks down at the table. She doesn’t like the idea of being spied on. But on the other hand, she really doesn’t care for the idea of someone sneaking into a room and killing her out of some misguided religious crap belief system either. This world is full of insane people believing they are doing the will of a greater purpose. But in reality, they are fulfilling concepts and views from the very mind that is twisted in and of itself. Insane minds – making insane decisions – with the falsehood belief that they are saner than anyone else around them.

  Julianna looks up from the table. She concedes to her grandmother’s choice with a silent nod of appreciation. After all, she shouldn’t have been in the hospital to begin with. And it’s a subject she’d just soon avoid with her grandmother.

  “Five.”

  “You said that, dear.”

  Martha turns around and checks the pancake. She lifts it out of the pan, places it on a plate, and begins pouring more batter into the iron skillet. When she finishes, she turns back around to face Julianna. The teen is staring at the table.

  “I try very hard not to impose on your privacy,” Martha explains, “I want you to know that.”

  “I know,” Julianna answers. She takes a deep breath, exhales, and looks back up to view her grams. She grins within her unspoken sadness.

  “Some days will always be easier than others, dear. But you must remember to let those days go whenever they are over. If you don’t, memories will work overtime to destroy you from the inside out.”

  “I might not ever move away,” Julianna answers, “You’re like my own personal Mr. Miyagi.”

  Martha’s eyes go blank as she forces out a smile. She has no idea what her granddaughter just said, but reckons it must be a good thing.

  “You will move out,” Martha counters, “Frank and I need our playroom back.”

  “Eww! I’m getting ready to eat, grams. Did you really have to say that?”

  Martha winks. She nods towards the notepad.

  “There are five references to your stone’s nu
mber,” Martha returns to their original conversation, “How many adoptions, dear?”

  “Five.” Julianna answers, “I’m not going to sleep in that bed ever again.”

  Martha chuckles, “So that would mean...?”

  “It means that I want a new mattress.”

  “Stop being silly.”

  Julianna moves her mouth as though she has tasted something very nasty.

  “It means that I would have nineteen stones left. The next one begins whenever the branches bleed.”

  “That would be my guess, also. But you must remember to be careful about assumptions.”

  “And what do you think the broken bleeding branches are?”

  Martha shrugs her shoulders, “Honestly, I have no idea.” She turns and checks on the pancake in the pan, “Good luck with that one, dear.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” Julianna says while rolling her eyes.

  * * *

  After her oh so yummy-yum-yum breakfast of blueberry pancakes smothered in a righteous strawberry sauce and decorated with a side of summer sausage and orange juice, Julianna decides to relax from her studies. She changes clothes, takes the laziest of swims, and tops off her morning with a nice hot shower.

  With one question still left unanswered, Julianna realizes there is, but one person who might be able to help. She makes her way to her bedroom, pulls the covers back, and slips herself into bed. She lays her head on the pillow, pulls the covers up to her neck, and closes her eyes. A vision of a white sandy beach consumes her mind’s eye.

  * * *

  “Are you here to stay this time?”

  Julianna uses her left hand to shield her eyes from the bright intruding light. She sits up and squints towards the sound of the smoky voice emanating from her right. As her eyes adjust, she sees that the woman of many braids is watching her with curious eyes.

  “What do you mean?”, Julianna questions while standing to her feet.

  “You have been doing what you call - um...pulling a Lilith?”

  Julianna’s head retreats slightly as she begins walking towards the Lilith rock, “You mean fading?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Trouble falling asleep I guess – had some anxiety issues.”

  Lilith pats the rock to her right side, “Can you explain this anxiety to me?”

  Julianna nods before she turns and sits next to Lilith. She watches the sand beneath and around her feet change from white to black as she creates swirling designs with her toes.

  “Anxiety means that my mind is racing with thoughts.”

  “I see,” Lilith answers with her raspy voice, “And what is it that has your mind racing so?”

  Julianna stops moving her feet in the sand, but her eyes remain fixated in place.

  “I see you as a friend, Lilith. But I feel guilty for coming here.”

  “Why you feel guilty?”

  Julianna grins. She loves the sometimes subtle slip-ups Lilith makes whenever speaking the English language.

  “Did I say something funny?”

  Julianna looks from the sand to Lilith’s green eyes. She shakes her head.

  “No. I just enjoy our conversations together.”

  Lilith ponders the young woman’s words. Although she sees through Julianna’s half-truth, she decides to let the matter rest.

  “What has you feeling your guilt?”

  “It seems I only come when I have questions. I feel like I’m using you.”

  Lilith laughs, “Oh child, you cannot use me. I can choose not to answer your questions. I, too, enjoy our conversations together.”

  Julianna thinks back to all of the times Lilith has elected to not answering her questions. She grins, “Touché.”

  “Touché, what is this word?”

  “It means your words or actions are justified because what you say or do is in truth, but with a touch of irony.”

  Lilith nods, “Then my words and actions are always touché.”

  Julianna laughs “Yes, I suppose they are.”

  “Why do you laugh like this?”

  Julianna looks at Lilith with adoration, “We’ll work on it.”

  Lilith understands the young woman’s meaning. She concedes with a respectful nod.

  “So you have come with a question then?”

  “Yes, but I know how you feel about anything involving a sub-prophecy.”

  Lilith lifts her right brow, “Is this important to you?”

  “What?”

  Lilith lowers her brow, “How I feel about a question you have not even asked, is this important to you?”

  Julianna nods.

  “You worry over a possibility that might not be true. Trying to weed through those sub-prophecies can cause this. They can cause madness. I have seen this many times. This is why I choose not to concern myself with things that might not ever come true.”

  Julianna remains silent.

  “Ask your question, child.”

  “You ever heard of broken bleeding branches?”

  Lilith covers her gaping mouth with her right hand. Her eyes animate with amusement as she stands up. She lowers her hand while staring at the curious watchful Julianna. Lilith rears her head back and laughs.

  Julianna’s brows narrow, “Why are you laughing at me?”

  Lilith bridles her voicetress outburst, reaches down with her left hand, and firmly takes hold of Julianna’s left wrist. With a swift motion, Lilith yanks the young woman’s arm to an outstretched position. Julianna grunts against the sudden forceful boundary break of her space.

  “Why do you not attempt to stop me?”, Lilith questions, “Why has your arm relaxed within my hand?”

  “I can’t stop you and you know it,” Julianna answers with a touch of bitterness to her tone.

  Lilith quickly uses her right hand to claw her fingernails from shoulder to wrist within Julianna’s soft white flesh. Julianna instinctively tries to pull her aching arm from Lilith’s grasp as she screams out.

  “Dammit Lilith! What was that for?!”

  “You gaze upon me as though you wish to do battle, but you have relaxed your arm again. Why?”

  “Because I can’t beat you.”

  Lilith releases Julianna’s wrist. She scrutinizes the young woman’s hateful stare. Julianna refuses to give in.

  “If you believe there is no hope in defeating me, then why do you still provoke me with your eyes?”

  “Because you can be a real bitch sometimes.”

  Lilith tilts her head back and laughs. Julianna removes her glare from the woman and checks her arm.

  “You scratch like a weak child.”

  Lilith pauses, glances down at Julianna curiously, and then laughs.

  Julianna sits in silence while Lilith regains her composure. The woman with gorgeous bronze skin points at Julianna’s arm.

  “Do you think your physical body will show this?”

  “You know it won’t,” Julianna answers with a quiet angry tone, “Why don’t you answer my question and stop torturing me?”

  Lilith’s amusement leaves as it is replaced with the seriousness of the moment. This time, it is Lilith who narrows her brows threateningly.

  “I have answered your question, child. You speak with the tongue of a venomous serpent, but yield your body in hopes that it will be devoured like prey. I cannot make your body in this world bleed. It is another – from your world – in whom you must let play, little anguisette.”

  Julianna’s expression reflects the churning thoughts of her racing mind. Shortly thereafter, Lilith’s words begin piecing themselves together. Julianna’s eyes widen with the surprise of a lifetime.

  “You mean..?”

  Lilith smiles, “I take it that you have looked up its meaning?”

  “Yes.” Julianna follows her answer with the covering of her open mouth with both hands.

  Lilith turns and walks towards the earth-line, “I take it this answer pleases you?”

  Julianna speaks too quietly for Lilith to
hear, “More like terrifies the crap out of me.”

  Lilith stops short of the earth-line and turns back to look upon Julianna. The younger woman has her lower lip tucked with her upper teeth as she contemplates the meaning of broken bleeding branches.

  “Are those nerves or excitement, child?”

  Julianna looks up at the woman. She staggers in a breath and exhales.

  “Both.”

  Lilith nods. The aggressive intent behind her pleasurable smile sends chill bumps down Julianna’s spine. A second later, Julianna feels a twitch within her thighs. Her eyes depict the sight of a deer caught within a hunter’s flashlight.

  “You better go home, child,” Lilith says while turning her back to the young woman, “I might not be able to refrain the next time the call of the anguisette plays within my ears. And you might consider moving into your own house. I am not so sure Martha will be able to handle her grandbaby enjoying herself in such a fashion. You are different than most. You will demand more than what others will feel acceptable.”

  “Are you sure about this?”

  Lilith stares off into the distance, “What does your heart tell you, child?” The older woman grins as she hears the quite word of dammit dance its way to her ears. It is followed by a bright flash of light as lightning cracks its way to the sand behind her. Lilith closes her eyes and steps across the earth-line.

  “Good journey, little anguisette. Good journey.”

  * * *

  “Just because you are eighteen, doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Martha complains with teary eyes, “Time moves too quickly.”

  Julianna’s green eyes drip their water as her grandmother’s hands squeeze tighter. She sniffles, “Stop it, grams. You’re making me cry. I can’t go through with it if you keep this up.”

  Julianna glances over at Frank walking towards the back of the mover’s truck, “And you need to let them do that.”

  Frank pats his granddaughter on the right shoulder as he passes by, “Don’t let these wrinkles fool you.”