Unraveling Emily (Valla Series Book 1)

by Anna Rezes

  “You know he’s not right for you,” Patrick speaks in a soft voice.

  “Yeah, well, I’m not really right for anyone.” I laugh without humor.

  “You’re misguided if that’s what you believe.” He steps closer, spinning my chair to face him. He kneels down to eye level and gives me a comforting look. He’s trying to soothe me, but under the consoling I feel his heart longing for more, proving his feelings for me are more profound than he’s let on.

  Bringing two beautiful masculine men to their knees is a brutal reminder of the darkness I hold inside. It’s not a good feeling knowing it’s not me they are drawn to, it’s my Valla blood. The tender caress of a curse called love is destroying everyone closest to me. Ben happily jumped in front of the freight train I call my life and I shoved him aside. Now Patrick is standing on the tracks trying to stop me from going over the fast-approaching cliff.

  “Emily, you are wrong on both accounts. Ben loved you before your blood was awakened and me . . .” He gently captures my face between his palms. His voice is filled with tenderness as he says, “I don’t love you. I care about you, and I need you, so I’ll protect you until my dying breath, but I will never love anyone, especially you.”

  I can’t tell if he’s lying to himself or just me, but then the backs of his fingers caress the sides of my face, and I can barely breathe. His touch has me holding in a moan, and I lean into him, lured by his soft words and dazzling eyes. I bite my lower lip as I stare longingly at his perfect mouth, all the while attempting to judge the honesty of his statement. I place a hand on his sandpaper cheek, loving the scruff that has grown since the night before.

  A breath away from his lips, I say, “Then why are you trying to seduce me, Patrick?”

  “Mmm,” he moans. “I may not love you, but I do love when you say my name.”

  “You’re unbelievable,” I growl, pushing his face away.

  He winces and I remember it’s the same spot where Ben punched him earlier. I guess Patrick can’t heal himself. I feel pride in Ben, but soon enough that pride turns to heartache. I slump my head into my hands wishing I could be left alone to sulk in solitude.

  “You’re wallowing,” Patrick says with disgust.

  “So what! Leave me alone!”

  “You’re not ready.” Patrick hovers above me, ignoring my comment. “You have to get yourself together, otherwise nothing I do will make a difference and they’ll obliterate you. They will use whatever they can against you, Emily.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?”

  He straightens. “You certainly don’t seem to understand since this is how you’re spending your time.”

  “Go away!” I grab the desk and turn my chair away from him.

  “I’m preparing you. I’m going to keep pushing you,” he warns.

  “I just want to go home!” The words spill out of my mouth, making me cringe.

  He crosses his arms and leans against the door frame. “Emily, you know that’s not safe.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to be safe!” I say with anger, turning my chair back to him. “Maybe I just want to be eighteen without having to worry if I’m going to die today! Maybe I want to be normal! I don’t want to be a hunted, murderous creature! I am sick to my stomach worrying whether or not my dad is dead and who might be next!” I stand, letting the blanket fall from my shoulders, but I have nowhere to go. I have nowhere to hide.

  He’s glaring at me like I’m an insolent child.

  “I can’t do this,” I whisper in defeat. “I’m scared, Patrick. I’m scared, and I’m not supposed to be. I’m not strong, or brave, or anything. I’m nothing, I’m no one, but that sure as hell isn’t stopping them.”

  Stepping closer, his hard eyes find mine. “Allow me to impart wisdom I wish I had known sooner. You’re afraid, which means you might just be taking this seriously. You’re capable of greatness, Emily, demon blood and all. You have the inner strength of a martyr, which can be quite obnoxious at times. You think you’re broken, but with every new challenge, you bend and stretch, growing and proving you’re stronger than you believe. Your strength may whither, but you will not fail, because you can’t afford a failure and you know it. You’ll continue to mature and find strength in the growing pains.”

  “I’m no martyr, Patrick. I’m not a hero, and I don’t want to become the villain you think I am. I’m a coward who wants to run and hide, which is exactly what it feels like I’m doing!”

  “There is a time to fight. And there is a time to prepare,” he says in a gentle voice. “Don’t ever let me hear you call yourself a coward again. We both know that is not true. Stop being so hard on yourself. Learn to trust and love yourself through the fears and imperfections.”

  I stare at him surprised to hear encouragement. “Who are you, Dr. Phil?”

  A shadow of a grin plays on his lips. “You doubting yourself is a distraction that could get us both killed, and I don’t feel like dying today.”

  “Now, that sounds more like the Patrick I know.”

  It’s early on day three of my isolation. I move around the kitchen enjoying the quiet time before Patrick wakes up. Upon opening every cabinet, I find a lot of food, but the nauseating side effect of dread makes it hard to eat. I push a box of cereal to the side and spot a bag of coffee. It’s Dad’s favorite kind. I open it and inhale the rich aroma. I close the cabinet and go for the coffee maker.

  I’ve been underground in this confining space for too long with no new information or hope in finding Dad. Maggie, Patrick, and daily visits from Chris are my only company. Patrick is taking his vow to protect me very seriously. He took time away from his internship to stay with me and help me with my mind-reading skills. I try not to focus on his motivation for staying, but instead focus on his help. Apart from the two accidental trips into Patrick’s psyche, I’m finding Patrick’s mind is locked up tight, so it takes a lot of effort for me to break through. I’m getting better with practice and stronger at controlling my own thoughts. I’m building my mental fortress which Patrick believes is making strides in the right direction.

  I still haven’t been sleeping well despite the mental exercises with Patrick and the physical workouts I’ve maintained. In the downtime between physical and mental exhaustion, I watch TV rather than staring at the live security feed from Ben’s house.

  “Are you making coffee?” Patrick startles me, as he walks into the kitchen.

  “Yeah,” I say, scooping coffee into the filter.

  “You hate coffee.”

  “So,” I respond, pushing the brew button.

  “So? Why are you making it?”

  “Because I want to.” I circle around him to get out a bowl and spoon. I go back to the box of cereal I’d pushed aside and fill my bowl.

  “Are you going to drink it?”

  “Maybe,” I respond, pulling the milk from the fridge.

  “Maybe?”

  “Patrick, why does it matter if I drink the coffee or not? Why are you up so early anyway?”

  “Couldn’t sleep. I’m only asking because if you don’t drink it, I will.”

  “It’s all yours,” I say, placing the milk back in the fridge.

  “So why are you up already?” he asks.

  “Bad dreams.” I pick up my bowl and take it into the living room.

  “Still?”

  I sit down on the oversized couch. “Yep.”

  “Want to tell me about it? Maybe I can help.”

  “Nope,” I reply, before taking my first bite.

  “Do you want—”

  “Nope,” I repeat through a full mouth.

  “—me to leave you alone?” he finishes.

  I nod my head in agreement and continue eating, enjoying the scent of brewing coffee filling the air. It’s as if it’s just waiting for my dad. I look toward the stairs aware he won’t be coming down them but hoping anyway.

  Patrick pours himself a cup of coffee. “How many scoops did you put in this? It’s wa
y too strong!”

  I shrug, as a stealthy tear slides down my cheek.

  I’m pacing on day five in the underground hideout. Still no news. Nothing different at all, except now I’m making coffee every day which Patrick criticizes. He doesn’t know I’m not making it for him, and I don’t correct his assumption.

  “Would you please sit down?” Patrick requests from his spot on the couch.

  “I’m not in your way,” I point out. “You can still see the TV.”

  “Yes, but it’s hard to focus with you burning a hole in the carpet.”

  “I can’t help it. I can’t just sit around doing nothing. Aren’t you worried at all?”

  “Of course, I’m worried, but we’re hardly doing nothing. You’re learning how to control your gifts which is very important, but traipsing around in circles isn’t going to accomplish anything.”

  I throw my hands out. “How can you be so calm?”

  “Regardless of what you believe, I’m not heartless, love.”

  “You’re the one who said you’ll never love anyone,” I remind him.

  “I try not to form bonds of any kind. Don’t take it personally. I can’t afford—”

  “You already told me you’d protect me with your life. I’d say, that’s a bond.”

  “That’s different.”

  “Different how? You took time away from your life to stay with me. You may not love me. You may not even like me, but you can’t deny we have a bond.”

  “You’re cute when you get feisty.”

  “I get that you’re afraid to lose anyone else. You may not be able to justify our bond, but you’re protecting me because you can’t afford to lose me. You think saving me is the closest thing to—”

  “You’re a Valla!” he interrupts, sounding angry. “With Valla’s blood pumping through your veins, you’re unstoppable. If anyone can beat them, it’s you! I have my own motivations for wanting these people dead, so yeah, I care about you, but you’re also a formidable weapon.”

  “A weapon? That’s rich! You expect me to believe you did all of this to use me as a weapon? Geez, don’t you know how to make a girl feel special.”

  “When I attempt to make you feel special, you lash out.”

  I shrug. “I don’t need to feel special. Maybe I prefer someone else help me.”

  “What, you mean like Ben?”

  “I was thinking along the lines of a different Olvasho. Surely, there have to be other Olvasho aside from the ones who are hunting me.”

  “Good luck! You’ll be hard pressed finding a more competent teacher. Not to mention the only other Olvasho who know you exist want to see you dead.”

  “Aside from you not killing me, what makes you so qualified to help?”

  “I didn’t grow up in the world you know. I’m not accomplished with sports or video games like most young men. I don’t have much insight when it comes to cars or Kung fu like Ben. I’m not good with relationships or trusting others, but I am skilled in survival.”

  “Survival?” I question, crossing my arms. “That’s your secret weapon?”

  “Not so secret, love.” His smile shows a confidence his eyes contradict.

  “Really?” I ask more gently. “So, tell me. What was your childhood like?”

  With a bitter smile, he turns off the TV and leans back to stretch his arms on the back of the couch. “What would you like to know? You’re already aware of my dad’s disappearance and my mom’s death.”

  “When did she die?”

  “March the second marked five years.”

  I sit down on the far end of the couch while I count back the months. “Five months after my mom,” I whisper. “You were fifteen?”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened to you afterward?”

  “I was emancipated at sixteen. I moved around a lot from there, at least for the first few years.”

  “Emancipated at sixteen?”

  “My uncle was the only family I had left, but my mom and uncle were estranged. They hadn’t talked since before I was born. I was on my own.”

  “So, you didn’t know Morgan and her family at all?”

  “No, I met them for the first time this summer,” Patrick says, relaxing his arms down to his sides.

  “Do you know what happened between them, your mom and uncle?” I lean back into the sectional, getting comfortable.

  “My mom was a radical. She would get stuck on a cause, and I’m certain things were too intense for my uncle. He was married to a normal human with a little girl and a baby on the way. He couldn’t get caught up in my mom’s latest mess. My mom was in over her head with Olvasho friction, which as you know, can be deadly. I don’t blame my uncle for protecting his family. Mom burned a lot of bridges along the way. After my dad disappeared, it was just her and me for ten years. Losing her was . . . difficult.”

  I move closer to him and reach out. My hand touches his, offering him comfort. It takes him by surprise, but he wraps his hand around mine anyway.

  “Of course, telling you my depressing life story is what gets you to warm up.”

  “Stop talking while you’re ahead,” I warn, hoping he won’t hide himself, but it’s too late.

  “I should’ve opened up sooner.” He smirks, running a finger down my arm.

  I pull away, but he catches my wrist.

  He loses the smirk, returning to the genuine Patrick. “I know I’m not always easy to get along with, but I’m trying. I know what your dad means to you, perhaps better than anyone. I don’t want you to lose him, but I’m not going to give you false hope. Real life doesn’t usually end in happily-ever-after.”

  “You’re wrong,” I say. “You’re never easy to get along with.”

  On day seven in this hell hole, I’m running. In an effort to stop my pacing, Patrick felt it was necessary for me to have a treadmill, so Chris brought one down this morning. After my usual eight hours of grueling mental practice with Patrick, I’m excited to work on my physical exercise. The treadmill is not the same as running outside, but at least I’m moving. My tired legs go from sore to numb as my feet hit the belt one after the other. My lungs burn, struggling to keep up with my pace. By mile five, I’m a burned-out sweaty mess, but as exhausted as I feel, I also feel great. I feel alive.

  “Emily?” Chris interrupts.

  It doesn’t take special powers to see he’s bringing bad news. “Yeah?” I turn off the treadmill and straddle the belt as it slows to a stop. “What is it?” I pant, trying to catch my breath.

  “Your sister tried to file a missing persons report this morning. She’s freaking out because she hasn’t been able to contact you or your dad. She won’t believe anything I tell her. She usually talks to your dad every day or two. I’m not sure how else to calm her down, except to have you call.”

  I grab my water as I step off the machine. “What do I say?”

  “Tell her your dad is consulting on a government job and can’t speak to anyone until it’s over. Tell her you hitched a ride with him out to Colorado because you broke up with Ben and couldn’t handle seeing him. You’re putting yourself back together and will come back once you get it figured out. Tell her you disconnected your phone so you wouldn’t be tempted to call Ben.”

  “That makes me sound pathetic.”

  “It will keep your sister safe,” Chris says. “She needs to stop poking around in this.”

  “Do you think she’ll believe I ran away because of a boy?”

  “She’ll believe it,” Patrick intercedes, entering the room.

  “You think you know her better than I do?”

  “Probably, but that’s beside the point. She’s going to feel like it’s her fault because of the fight the two of you had the day before you disappeared,” he says, coming to my side.

  “How do you know about that?”

  “Please,” Patrick snickers.

  “So, you think she’ll believe it because of our fight?”

  “Guilt can blind
people of the truth. She will feel responsible and blame herself.”

  “You don’t know my sister.”

  “I’m guessing she feels pretty guilty about siding with Leah by now. Trust me; she’ll give you space.”

  “It doesn’t matter how she feels as long as she leaves it alone,” Chris interjects. “I’m sure you don’t want to see your sister dead.”

  As fear for my sister squeezes my heart, I hold out my hand. “Give me the phone. I’ll take care of it.”

  On day ten I don’t see the point in getting out of bed. The clock tells me it’s noon, but I have no reason to get up, so I stay bundled under the covers.

  Patrick taps at my door before entering.

  “I’m sleeping,” I grumble.

  “Actually, love, you’re not.”

  “I’m tired,” I complain, as he rounds the bed.

  “Yes, I bet you’re sore from all that running.”

  “No, I mean I’m tired of hiding!”

  “Emily, we’ve been through this,” he says with a sigh. “There is nothing you can do right now.”

  “I can’t stay down here forever.”

  He sits down next to me. “It’s only been a week.”

  “Time moves in slow motion down here. The fluorescent lights are sucking the life out of me, and at night I feel like I’m in a coffin.”

  “Are you afraid of the dark?”

  “Are monsters allowed to be afraid of the dark?”

  “Do you want me to pity you? Is that it?” He stretches out on his back, lying next to me.

  “No, but I’m going crazy down here,” I say, watching as he makes himself comfortable.

  “You do know I’m volunteering to be down here with you, right? I could leave any time.”

  “Then go!”

  “Emily, calm down.”

  I sit up and glare down at him. “Oh, calm down, geez, why didn’t I think of that? Calm down? It must be that easy, Patrick!” I throw my arms out in question. “Calm down?”

  “I understand you’re mad.”

  “Wow, Patrick, you must have used your sixth sense! I mean, what gave it away?”

  He shakes his head, exasperated with me. “Just come here,” he commands, pulling me into his arms.