Wrath of Hades

Wrath of Hades

Children of Atlantis

Book 2

Annie Rachel Cole

Kindle Edition

Copyright © 2012 Rachel Annie Cole writing as Annie Rachel Cole

All rights reserved.

Cover Design: Annie Rachel Cole

For more information:

annierachelcole.blogspot.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the Author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

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-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book
may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my family, specifically my husband and son. Thank guys for putting up with all the late nights and talk about my story and my writing in general.

I look up and see the stars

Twinkling against a black velvet sky

And all I can do is wonder why.

--Annie Rachel Cole

L
etter found in the back cover of Douglas Weir’s journal

Dear Raven,

If you’re reading this, then my worst fears have happened. Like any parent, I believed I would always be there when you needed me, but I also knew I had to be realistic. I knew I was the target, the shield they had to remove in order to get to you. I hoped the day wouldn’t come, but your mother and I prepared for it, just in case. And it’s also the reason you and Suzanne have moved around so much. If you didn’t stay in any one place too long, they wouldn’t be able to find you, at least that was the goal.

Raven, my beautiful daughter, your safety has always been the number one priority, and without me there, you’ve only had half the protection you needed. I hope you will forgive me. I never meant for that to have happened. I should have been more careful. I knew everyone was a potential enemy, but I wanted as much of a normal childhood for you as you could get. I knew it would abruptly end one day and you would take your place as the Guardian of Atlantis, the only person standing between them and a power that could destroy the world.

By now, you’ve probably figured out Suzanne and I
are not your biological parents. This may, or with some luck may not, come as a shock but your real mother is Medusa. Yes, the same Medusa you’ve read about in history and English—yes, the same one with the snakes instead of hair. From what I’ve been told, Medusa wasn’t happy about giving you up, but she knew there was no way she could keep you safe—not from her enemies and not from the enemies you would have because of the Oracle’s prophecy surrounding you since before you were born. As for your biological father, I don’t think Poseidon knows about you. How will he react when he finds out? I honestly don’t know. I hope if he does learn you are his daughter, he will try to help you. But if he does the opposite, do what you have to do to protect yourself. Don’t think of him as a father but as your enemy—an enemy out to destroy you.

But it doesn’t matter who your biological parents are!

From the day you came into our lives, you have been our daughter. You were a blessing. You arrived during a very dark time in our lives and brought us light and hope. I’m sure you’ve noticed how over-protective your mother is of you. There’s a very real reason for Suzanne’s behavior.

Six months before you arrived, we lost our infant son. Yes, you had a brother—not a biological brother, but your brother none the less. James was his name. He was a happy, cheerful baby, but one morning, he didn’t wake up. Sometime during the night, James died in his sleep. Sudden Infant Death Syndrome is what the coroner called it. There was nothing we could have done to save him, but Suzanne blamed herself more than she let on. I think some of it had to do with the fact she was the last person to see James alive. The what if’s were eating her alive. You gave Suzanne a second chance to be a mother. You gave her a reason to live.

No, you weren’t a replacement for James! Never, ever think that. Human infants are fragile, and I realize what happened to James was a sad, unfortunate event we didn’t have any control over. Yes, I still grieve for him, and I wish I could have a second chance with him. But, unfortunately, that’s not how life works. I don’t love you any less because I want James back. You are my daughter too. If Suzanne has acted strange over the years, forgive her. She loves you very much, and has lived with the fear of someone taking you away. I’m honestly not sure what she would do if she lost you. But I suspect she would probably go off the deep end. I pray it doesn’t happen.

I’m sure by now you have a lot of questions. And I’m sorry I’m not there to give you the advice you need and the answers to all your questions. I was afraid this would happen, so I came up with a plan—a way to give you what you seek. It’s not perfect, but it’s the best solution I could come up with given the constraints of the situation.

The book you have in your possession is the first of several journals that either you will find where I’ve hidden them for you, or they will find you. I realize that sounded really weird, but the journals will find you. I promise. It will happen. Don’t try to analyze it. Just trust.

They will find you.

I’ve tried putting everything into the journals I thought would help you, but only time will tell for sure. If nothing else, they will make for some very entertaining reading.

I wish I could be there with you, to watch you as you grow and fulfill your destiny. But, even if I’m not there in a physical form, I’m with you in spirit. Use your judgment to figure out who you can trust. Even as a child, you instinctively knew who to stay away from and who to trust. Tap into that instinct now. Use it. Trust in it. It is a powerful tool
that will serve you well if you let it.

If you don’t remember anything else about me, remember I love you. Be safe my precious daughter.

Love,

Douglas Weir

CHAPTER 1

My life has been turned so upside down and inside out, I don’t think there will ever be a way to straighten it out. Heck, I’m not even sure where to begin to straighten it out.

What if I make everything worse than it already is?

What if I let everyone down by doing the wrong thing?

What if I accidently harm someone?

That’s my biggest fear.

It’s been a month since mom went missing. I’m so far beyond worried, it’s unreal. The whole town’s been searched—three times, but only because I insisted. So far not one clue has been found. Even her car is missing. As for the police, they’ve been absolutely no help. The missing person paperwork was filed, but as far as I know, it’s still sitting in a basket if not the trashcan. Did mom go off the deep end like dad suggested she might do in his letter? I hope not. I hope she’s somewhere safe.

The whole thing is really weird. I don’t know where to look next and neither does anyone else. I think everyone’s tired of me asking if they’ve found anything. In fact, a
few people, who I like to think were well meaning, have suggested I move on with my life. You know, cut my losses and forget about mom.

But I can’t do it. If the roles were reversed, mom would be desperately looking for me. She wouldn’t give up. I just know she wouldn’t.

And I can’t give up either.

I have to know what happened to her. I have to know if she’s safe or not.

I’ve got fulltime bodyguards. Even at home, there’s someone watching me. Ethan’s the worse! I’m still not sure about this whole mate thing. I mean, it’s cool having a really cute boyfriend, but this “for life” thing I’m not so sure about?

Definitely
NOT sure about!

I’m sixteen.

I want to go on dates to the movies, the coffee shop, to dances, and other stuff like that. Let’s get real. Ethan and I haven’t even been out on one real date.

Not one!

Right now, I’m not looking for ‘a permanent; forever; I’m stuck with you whether I like it or not’ kind of relationship. And on top of all that, Ethan’s over-protective behavior is driving me crazy. I realize he means well, but I wish he’d give me some breathing room, because I’m to the point of doing something I will definitely not regret.

I need some space to think—to figure ou
t what everyone expects of me, to deal with everything that’s happened.

Let’s face facts.

I died.

My soul was forced back into my damaged body. That’s definitely a life changing moment.

And then there’s the fact I killed someone.

Yeah, I did it to protect Ethan, myself, and others, but it doesn’t change the fact. I turned Jay into a stone statue, and there’s no way I can reverse it.

He’s dead.

And I’m responsible.

I have to somehow come to terms with what I did. But how do you come to terms with the fact you’ve killed someone?

             
              --Raven Weir’s journal

“Vampires are way cooler than werewolves,” Bree’s voice bounced off the bookshelves making her sound louder than she really was.

“I don’t see how you can think they’re cooler. Vampires are so yesterday.” Ari rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re still buying those books. You really need to fin
d something else to fixate on, preferably something that doesn’t involve vampires in any form, shape, or fashion. That stack of vampire books is just too much. You have to put some of them back.”

“There’s nothing wrong with having a lot of books. Books are friends. You would know that if you would t
ake the time to pick one up and read it.”

“I’m not talking about the books. I’m talking about your unhealthy obsession with vampires.
There can’t be that many vampire books. You must have picked up every one of them.” Ari took a couple of books out of the stack Bree was holding and put them back on the shelf. “Besides, I read. I just don’t read about vampires.”

“What are you doing?”
Bree’s bottom jaw dropped. She watched Ari take several books out of her hands and put them back on the shelf.

“I’m helping you control your little problem
because it’s obvious you can’t help yourself. You’ve got way too many vampire books. I told you it is a bad obsession.” Ari reached for a book from the shelf behind her. “How about a book about a zombie? They’re the new rage. Everyone’s talking about them. They’re even in the news right now.”

“Zombies?
Gross! There’s nothing cute about them. They dead and—”

“Vampires are dead too.”

“Zombies have body parts that rot and fall off. Vampires don’t look like three day old walking road kill. Besides, zombies chase humans so they can eat the brains of the living.” Bree put the zombie book on the highest shelf she could reach.

“But vampires drink the blood of the living
. How do you think the vampires get the blood. They chase down humans and sink their fangs into the necks of people they capture. Vampires even kill humans,” said Ari.

“You’re just jealous because I’ve got a bigger vampire collection than you.”

“Me? Jealous?” Ari shook her head. “Why would I be jealous of your vampire collection? I don’t even like vampires.”

“You j
ust don’t want anyone to know that you really like vampires.” Bree raised her right eyebrow. “You know you like vampires. Just admit it.”

“I do not like vampires.”

“You like them. Just admit it.”

“I don’t have a thing for vampires. There’s nothing cool about them.
In fact, they’re nothing more than bloodsucking parasites that should be destroyed, just like mosquitoes.”

“Come on. Just admit it. You’re jealous because my collection of vampire books makes me way cooler than you.” Bree grabbed the books Ari had taken
from her and put them back in her stack. “I don’t have this one,” she said as she pulled another book off the shelf, turned it over, and read the back cover.

“Put that back.
You don’t need it. You’ve got more than enough already.” Ari shook her head.

“This sounds good,” said Bree, completely ignoring Ari. “It’s got to come home with me.”

“Would you two give it a rest? You’re giving me a headache.” Leslie put the book she was looking at back on the shelf. “I’m going to look at the new music. At least there are no vampires or werewolves there so I won’t have to listen to you two arguing about them.”

“She didn’t just do wh
at I think she did?” asked Bree as she pushed several strands of red hair out of her face.

“She did,” said Ari.

“Besides, there’s no such thing as vampires or werewolves. Hollywood made them up to sell movies.” Leslie shook her head.

“There are too vampires and werewolves. How can you say they’re not real?” Bree’s head bounced from side to side as she spoke. “That’s just—that’s just mean!
You need to take that back and admit that vampires and werewolves are real.”

“Give me a break!” groaned Leslie. “Raven, I’m going over to the music section.
There’s definitely no vampires or werewolves there.  And with a little luck, I’ll be able to avoid all the rappers too. I hear enough of that when Ari’s in the car. You want to go?”

Raven shook her head. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Leslie frowned slightly.

“Yeah.”

“Raven, what’s wrong?” asked Leslie.

“Nothing.
I’m fine.” Raven turned and pulled a book off the shelf and pretended to read the back cover.

Leslie shrugged her shoulders. “I’ll be over in the music section if you need anything.” She turned and walked away.

Raven glanced over her shoulder. She shook her head. How could she explain what was wrong when she wasn’t sure herself? She just knew she didn’t feel like she belonged with the living.

“Vampires have cool abilities,” said Bree.

“Yeah, like sucking a human dry in under five minutes. That’s a really cool ability.” Ari stuck out her tongue at the other girl.

“Sticking out your tongue at me is so childish, and it doesn’t change the fact you secretly
like vampires.”

“Get over it.
I don’t like vampires. Just put some of those books back on the shelf. You’re not going to read them any time soon.”

Raven shook her head. Ari and Bree were always talking—correction—they were almost always disagreeing about something. It was nonstop. It was like they had to get in a specific word count each day just in order to function. The two were so totally opposite, it was a miracle they were even friends.

Raven moved so she could look over at the music section of the store. She saw Leslie looking at a cd. Raven looked back at Ari and Bree. Their conversation was now extremely animated. Arms and hands flew in all directions. How Bree didn’t drop any of her books was a mystery, especially with the way she shifted them from one arm to the other as she talked.

Raven slipped around the corner of the bookshelf and walked out the front door of Books and Things.

No one yelled at her to stop.

No one followed.

Freedom!

Even if
it was only for a few minutes, it felt good to be away from everyone.

The afternoon sun was shining but it didn’t do anything to warm the air. It was definitely getting colder. Winter was making an early arrival. Raven pulled the wool cap down over her head until it almost covered her eyes. She tucked most of her blue-black hair into it. Hugging the wool-lined jacket a little tighter around herself, she glanced over her shoulder one more time
to make sure no one was following her then took off down the street.

With a little luck, she would get at least five minutes of quiet before the triple threat trio discovered she wasn’t in the store anymore. It was getting harder to slip away from them than it used to be. Maybe it was because they were getting better at paying attention to what she was doing, or maybe it was because Raven slipped away from them every chance she got, so they were expecting it. Either way, Leslie, Bree, and Ari were getting more
and more difficult to shake.

Raven sucked in a deep breath of the cold air and took off at a fast pace down the sidewalk.
Pinewood Lake was only ten blocks away. Five blocks if she cut through the cemetery. Walking through cemeteries wasn’t her favorite thing to do, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Or so she had read somewhere. Raven shrugged her shoulders.

It was daylight.

And cemeteries weren’t scary in the daylight.

In fact, they were kind of cool looking, especially the older ones with the ornate monuments. Besides, it was at night when all the bad things happened.

Decision made, Raven turned right as soon as she reached the end of the block. She smiled. Even with the traffic noise and the sounds of the people around her, it was quiet.

No one
was trying to watch her or stop her.

No one wanting her advice or whatever it was they seemed to
always want.

No G
uardian stuff to deal with.

Raven was alone.

Her smile grew bigger. Five minutes of freedom. It was the longest she’d been away from any of her bodyguards, and it felt great, like a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders, even if it was only for a few minutes. Raven knew it wouldn’t last, but she planned to make the most of the freedom while she had it.

Two blocks later, she was finally away from all the shops on Crystal Skull Alley. She took a right at the corner of Red Rock Road. About three blocks later, the black wrought iron fence surrounding the cemetery stood out against the cement side w
alk and white marble mausoleums. It looked like an eerie watchdog quietly waiting for someone to walk into its territory.

Even thou
gh it was over ten feet tall, the fence was elaborately decorated with all sorts of curly squiggles and strange looking medallions. Raven knew the iron fence was meant to keep people out of the cemetery, but sometimes she wondered if the fence was really designed to keep something in the cemetery.

Not exactly the thoughts to have while walking through a cemetery, even if it was in the middle of the day,
she told herself. Raven shook her head as she walked through a side gate that she knew was never locked.

She shivered.

It was colder in the cemetery, if that was even possible. She scratched her head through the wool cap. It was probably just her imagination, at least that’s what she kept telling herself.

Raven tried whistling the only tune she knew how to whistle, but it didn’t sound very good. Whistling wasn’t exactly something she did very well. And the only thing the off sounding tune did, was add a whole new layer of creepiness to the spooky mood the old cemetery exuded.

Huge mausoleums lined the path she was on. A few were new, but most were as old as the town. A few looked even older than that, leaving a mystery as to when they were built and by who because there was no family name on the outside and the entries were tightly sealed shut. Some were very plain but others were very ornate, even to the point of having statues in front of them.