In case you weren't here for the last part, this is my failed attempt at NaNo this year, and I just kind of wanted to get some feedback, because even if I don't finish this story, I still want some general feedback on my writing. Here is the first chapter, hope you enjoy!
Note: You don't HAVE to read the prologue first, but it might kind of help.
“Oh, Irelyn, you’ve been looking gloomy all day,” Nita whines. “Please stop, you’re bringing me down.” She shakes her fork at me.
“Sorry. It’s just…” I frown at my salad. “I haven’t had a letter from my dad for two months.”
Nita sighs. In the nearly eleven years I’ve spent at the quarantine in Italy, Nita has become my best friend, and though she’s one of the most kindest people ever, she hates being around depressing people. And lately, I’ve been depressing a lot.
“He’s probably busy,” she rationalizes. “I mean, he is one of the three absolute powers now. People like that have things to do, you know.”
I sigh. She’s right. Maybe I shouldn’t be so worried about it. But you can’t blame me. After all, I haven’t seen my dad for ten years, and the letters he sends are all I hear from him. Or, rather, all I read from him.
Nita digs back into her mashed potatoes. She doesn’t understand. Her mother works here at the quarantine, and Nita’s been here ever since she can remember. Not to mention her supposed “love of her life” is here as well. Mr. Wellington, the overseer.
I take a look around the crowded lunchroom. It feels almost like school, being here. Like being at a boarding school. Only difference is, we stay here year-round.
“Why don’t you eat your salad?” Nita suggests. “Eating usually helps me feel better.”
I grimace.
Nita shrugs and takes a forkful of my salad.
Nita’s mother stands up at the front of the room and snaps her fingers. An unseen bell begins to ring, and the hum of voices diminishes.
“Mail time!” Nita’s mother announces.
Nita puts her fork down, wipes her hands on her napkin, and turns to the front.
“Cheer up, Irelyn. Maybe something will come today,” she says to me.
Names are called, and people hurry to the front to receive their mail. I slowly begin to lose hope, until I hear, “Irelyn Egelmann!” Nita beams at me, silently saying, “I told you so.” Shakily I make my way to the front and take the innocent envelope from Nita’s mother’s chubby hand. She grins at me before calling someone else’s name.
I don’t look at the envelope until I am seated again. I take a deep breath, and look down.
“Is it from him?” Nita asks?
“Yes.” I grin, ripping open the envelope.
“Read it!” Nita claps her hands.
“Dearest daughter: I hope you’ll forgive me for neglecting to write you for so long. My job has made me quite a busy man, though one should never be too busy to write his only daughter! I hope you are doing well, Angel. I’ve told the people here about you, and they all hope to meet you. Which brings me to my main point: I want you to come here. To stay. Now that the war has ended and things are calming down I think it will be okay for you to leave that place. Plus, there is someone who has been hanging out around here who would like to see you very much. I won’t tell you who that person is, though. You’ll have to wait until you get here. By the way, you can bring whoever you want. I would love to meet your friends. I’ll send Cook’s son to come get you in three days. I love you, darling, and cannot wait to be reunited with you. Love, Daddy.” I can’t stop smiling. Finally, I am going home.
“Well, look at that,” Nita says. “Not only did you get a letter, but now you’re going to go home. Good things come to those who wait.”
“Oh, Nita, this is so great! And did you hear what he said? You can come with me!” I squeal and clutch the letter to my chest, but Nita’s face falls. Then I remember.
Freaking Mr. Wellington. I’ll bet she’s going to say, “Oh, but I could never leave him!” Gosh, does she not realize that he is ten years older than her?
“But what about Mr. Wellington? I could never leave him!”
I smirk inwardly.
“Maybe Mr. Wellington can come, too?” I suggest.
Nita shakes her head, no. Of course. “Mr. Wellington is too dedicated to the quarantine to leave it!”
“Nita, you don’t have to stay forever. Just let my father meet you and stuff, and then you can come back here. Besides, don’t you want to see the outside world?”
Nita contemplates this for a long moment, while the chatter in the lunchroom starts up again, a sign that the mail is done. While she thinks, I fold up the letter and put it back in the envelope.
“Well, I guess it wouldn’t be so bad,” she answers finally. “If you really want me to come.”
“I do!”
“Well then.”
I have never been so happy to see Cook’s son before in my life. When Nita and I walk into the foyer and he is standing there in a navy suit with a navy tie with his brown hair slicked back in a gentlemanly fashion, I rush immediately up to him and throw my arms around him. He hugs me awkwardly for a moment while I press my face into his shoulder.
“I am so glad to see you!” I exclaim. “I’ve missed all of you!”
“Um, we’ve missed you too, Miss Irelyn,” he says, clearing his throat.
I let go of him and step back.
“Well, you look very nice, Miss Irelyn,” he comments. “Your father will be thrilled.”
He smiles then, and I notice age lines crinkling around his eyes. It makes me want to cry, realizing how long I’ve been gone for. Cook’s son was probably in his 30s the last time I saw him, and now he is becoming an old man. I briefly wonder how Daddy has aged.
I turn to Nita, who is standing near Mr. Wellington with a crestfallen face. I should feel bad for having her leave with me, but I am too selfish and happy to worry about that. Besides, it’s just an infatuation and she will get over it.
“Nita, this is our butler, Cook’s son,” I say.
Nita approaches him and shakes his hand. Cook’s son laughs.
“Still not calling me by my actual name, huh?” he says to me.
“Cook’s son, I will never call you by your actual name. It’s become habit now.”
He laughs again. Mr. Wellington steps forward.
“Well, Miss Egelmann, we hope you enjoy returning to your family. And Nita… enjoy your trip,” he says. I notice that his eyes linger longer on Nita.
“Thank you,” I say, taking Cook’s son’s arm. Nita’s thank you is quieter than mine and she looks off out the large window.
“Take care,” Mr. Wellington says.
Cook’s son bows to him and then escorts Nita and I out to the carriage.
“What happened to the car?” I ask as he helps us in.
“It’s in style to be old-fashioned nowadays,” he answers. “And you know your father.”
Though we’re riding in a horse-drawn vehicle, the trip is surprisingly short. I decide that either Cook’s son put a charm on the horses and the carriage or Daddy was never very far. When we reach the huge estate and Cook’s son says we are now in France, it’s apparent that he charmed the horses.
Nita and I look out the window excitedly as we drive up the driveway through the perfectly cut green grass. Daddy’s estate reminds me of something: the Palace of Versailles. For a second, I wonder if it actually is the historical building. But oh well, it’s not like it matters, and it would be exciting to know that I’m living in the same place Marie-Antoinette did.
Cook’s son stops in front of the entrance and opens the door, extending his hand to help me out. I hold my hat to my head as I look up, examining the mansion up close. Soon Nita stands next to me.
“This place is beautiful,” she gasps.
I grin. “I told you it would be nice to see the outside world.”
“Irelyn!’
I look to the door. Daddy is standing there, in a clean black suit and holding his arms out for me. He doesn’t look much older than he was, but I know he has to be around 35. His eyes are inviting and his smile is bright and I am brought back to when I was little and I would sit on his lap as he told me stories.
I rush over to him and he catches me in his arm, picking me up and spinning me around.
“Daddy! I missed you so much!”
“I missed you, too, Angel! Now come one, let me see how you look.”
He sets me down and I twirl for him.
“My, you are so pretty! How lucky you are you didn’t get my genes!” We both laugh. It’s known that
Daddy is not exactly attractive, and I know I’m certainly not much better but I suppose I do look more like my mother than him. Even though I don’t even know what my mother looks like. “And who is this?”
“Oh!” I remember Nita. “Daddy, this is my friend, Nita.”
“Hello, Nita!” Daddy shakes her hand.
“Hello, Mr. Egelmann,” Nita says before curtsying.
“Oh, there is no need for the formality. Honestly, people think I am some great person just because I got lucky and became an absolute ruler.” Daddy laughs again and then ushers us inside.
“Cook’s son, will you please take their hats?” Daddy asks. “By the way, very sensible hats, dears, I’m guessing you’ve caught on to the old-fashioned frenzy?”
“Yes,” I answer, even though I only wore the hat because I thought it was cute and only vaguely noticed that it was styled like the 1930s.
“Well, Irelyn, I did tell you there was someone who wanted to see you… oh, where is he?” Daddy spins around. “Danni!” he calls. A young human girl comes running in, out of breath.
“He’s on his way, sir,” she says.
“Ah. Good.” Daddy turns to us. “Well, we can go into the parlor, then.”
“Who do you think the person is?” Nita asks me quietly as Daddy leads us through the halls.
“I don’t know.” The truth is, I think I might know who, but I don’t want to believe it’s him. That would just be… awkward.
The parlor Daddy takes us into is huge, and very gold and red. The rug is a red and gold pattern, the furniture is red with gold pillows, and the curtains on the huge windows alternate red and gold. Daddy motions for us to take a seat on a sofa, and another human brings in a tray of tea. I feel so out of place here, like I should be in a corset and gown instead of a tank top and pink knee-length skirt. No one else seems to be bothered, though.
Nita sits quietly, sipping her tea with one pinky out like it’s supposed to be done and has her ankles crossed like a lady. Daddy relaxes in an armchair by the fireplace talking about something-or-other. However, conversation is stopped when someone, a boy about my age, walks into the room, flushed and slightly disheveled.
“Sorry. I was up on the roof and-“
“Oh, that’s quite alright,” Daddy says.
He gets up and puts an arm around the dark-haired boy.
“Irelyn, I’m sure you remember Adrian?”
Adrian.
I am frozen and I can’t move. After all these years… after he left me at the quarantine and never came back… And he just stands there, tall and handsome, as if expecting me to be happy or something. His face is almost the same as it was 10 years ago, just a bit more mature. His black hair, formerly shaved close to his head, is now grown out a bit and sweeps across his forehead. His eyes are still forest green and his nose is still small and his ears are still too big for his head. But… I find him attractive.
Freaking hormones.
“Hi, Irelyn,” Adrian says with a grin.
Still unable to speak, I nod my head. Adrian rocks back on his heels awkwardly with his hands behind his back. Nita clears her throat, obviously wanting to be introduced, and when I don’t say anything, Daddy takes care of that for me.
Adrian keeps his eyes on me the whole time, and once I gather myself, I turn my head and look away from him.
“Well,” Daddy says. “Dinner, then?”
I nod, grateful for the distraction. Nita and I walk behind Daddy and Adrian on our way to the dining room and I cling to her arm like a frightened child clings to their mother. Nita looks like she would like to ask me what’s wrong, but she’s a smart girl and decides against it.
The table is already set when we arrive in the room. The table is far too long for only four people, so Daddy gathers us up by the head of the table, saying he wanted to be formal just for today. He sits at the head and I sit to his right across from Adrian, and Nita sits next to me. I take great care to keep my gaze from meeting Adrian’s lest he take that as a sign that I would like to talk to him.
Human servants bring in the food, but I don’t pay much attention to what it is. I eat in silence mostly, nodding when Daddy asks a question that is posed regularly but is actually rhetorical.
“Daddy,” I say abruptly, after another human servant has come in to refill our drinks. “Since when do we have human servants?”
He raises a thick eyebrow. “Didn’t you know? After the war we enslaved the humans.” He grins and leans back in his chair. “Serves them right for how they treated us so long ago. Did you know that one of your ancestors very closely escaped getting executed during the trials?”
I shake my head, no. When I was little, Daddy very rarely spoke of the trials. He mostly told me that humans were evil and scoundrels and that one day we sorcerers would own the world, as it should be. That’s what the whole war was fought for. A fight for power, just like every other war was fought for.
“At first the humans were very resistant,” Daddy goes on. “I regret to say I had to take out the whip on them many times during the first years. Humans are very defiant and stubborn creatures. No wonder the world was falling apart under their rule.”
I take a sip of my sparkling grape juice to save myself from having to agree. I wonder if Daddy has forgotten that I am, in fact, half-human, and he is indirectly insulting my mother, whoever she is. It shouldn’t matter to me, though. Haven’t I been raised my whole life to hate humans?
“I’m sure you’ll get used to them being around, though,” Daddy says. “They’ve become quite well-behaved now, wouldn’t you agree, Adrian?”
“Yes, sir.” The Italian boy nods in agreement and then turns his head to me. I look down at my plate quickly.
“You must be really surprised to see him here, Irelyn, huh?” Daddy asks.
“Mhm,” I reply.
Nita nudges me but I ignore her.
“So was I. One day, I was just out riding my horse to inspect the grounds, and-“
“You ride horses?” I ask incredulously.
“Yes. A recent fetish I’ve acquired.” Daddy looks extremely proud that I seem impressed and puffs his chest out a bit. “Anyway, I was out on the grounds and who do I see approaching me but this young man here?” He smiles at Adrian. “And I thought he looked very familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on it who he was. Then he introduced himself and I immediately remembered him. He’s been popping up around here lately, along with his friend.”
“Oh,” I say, mildly interested.
“So you know Irelyn from before?” Nita asks Adrian.
“Yes,” he answers. “We were friends when we were little, in Italy.”
“Oh!” Nita points her fork at him. “You’re the one who dropped her off at the quarantine, aren’t you?”
“I am.” Adrian’s eyes are on me, I can feel it. They’re like magnets, trying to pull my eyes up to meet his. “Um, Irelyn. Your dad told me you’ve been studying in the medical field.”
I nod, still not looking at him. Everyone is quiet, probably waiting for me to say something else, but I don’t speak again. Father clears his throat a couple of time until finally he sighs impatiently.
“Well, Irelyn, there was something important I wanted to request of you,” he says.
“What is it, Daddy?” I watch a human servant as he walks in and takes away Daddy’s and Adrian’s empty plates, an unreadable look on his face.
“Recently, the-“
“Well, well, well, Miss Irelyn!”
I jerk my head up to see Cook standing in the doorway from this room to the kitchen, hands on her slim hips. She is smiling at me.
“Cook!” I exclaim.
I stand up when she walks to where I am and give her a hug.
“You look good, Miss Irelyn, but I see you’re not yet a lady,” she says.
“Oh, Cook,” I sigh. She said the same thing when I was little, and right now, in front of both Adrian and Nita, it’s embarrassing.
“It’s true. I told you, Mr. Egelmann, this girl will never be a classy lady. Mm-mm, much too rowdy and weird. But it’s alright.”
“Rowdy and weird? My precious daughter? Nonsense!” Daddy frowns. “Go back to the kitchen, Cook.”
Cook shrugs, but walks in her lazy way back into the kitchen.
“Crazy woman. She’s an excellent cook, but how dare she say those things about my sweet, innocent daughter,” he grumbles to no one in particular.
Both Nita and I contain our snorts. My dad has always thought of me as the perfect little angel. Little does he know that what he usually sees is only a performance. I’m not really this quiet and –dare I say it – poised in actuality.
“Anyway, as I was saying before we were interrupted-“
There is a shriek from the kitchen and then someone exclaiming, “Cook, she’s done it again!”
Daddy groans and gets up. Nita, Adrian and I look at each other before getting up to follow him. Everyone in the kitchen is crowded around a counter and sound pretty annoyed.
“Jenna, I have told you time and time again that-“
“What’s going on here?” Daddy demands.
The crowd splits to reveal a human girl a bit younger than me leaning weakly against the counter and clutching her forearm, which has blood on it.
“Mr. Egelmann, she’s cut herself again! On purpose!” someone says.
The bleeding girl turns away sharply and huffs. The side of her face is red, as if someone has slapped her, and that is the conclusion I come to.
“You foolish girl,” Daddy says in a low, intimidating voice. He’s only used that voice with me once, and it frightens me. The girl, however, doesn’t seem fazed. “Cutting yourself is only going to hurt you. It will not change anything. Do you think you’re being a hero? Do you?”
When she says nothing, Daddy slaps her hard on the same side that someone had slapped her on before. Nita and I gasp, but no one else says anything. Apparently this is the norm around here.
“Take her Upstairs and don’t let her out until I say so,” Daddy orders.
Three of the servants grab her by the arms and escort her up a small staircase in the far corner of the kitchen. Daddy sighs and though I can’t see his face I can tell he is probably rubbing his forehead exasperatedly.
“Cook,” he says. “Have the table cleaned up. We’re going to repair to the parlor again.”
“But I’m still hungry,” Nita says in my ear.
I shrug. What Daddy says goes.
Once in the parlor, Nita and I sit on the red sofa again, Daddy sits by the fireplace again, and Adrian decides to sit in the chair next to the arm of the sofa. Right next to me.
“Hopefully there will be no more interruptions,” Daddy mutters. “So Irelyn. I have a huge favor to ask of you.” I feel like he should be an old man wearing glasses right now, and taking of the glasses and staring intently at me. Like in the movies. “Recently the other absolute rulers and I decided we would like a way for us to check up on human activities. We’ll have it split up into our own domains, and have someone go through that domain and report. And well… who else would be better for the job than my responsible daughter?”
“Huh?” I feel like I’ve missed something.
“I want you, and a team, to go across Europe and just… well, check up on how people are getting on with the humans. Like I told you, humans are a stubborn race and we just want to make sure things are as they should be. We don’t want a rebellion, and we don’t want to have to slaughter the humans.” He grins wickedly to himself. “Killing them wouldn’t be revenge enough.”
The way he is looking is disturbing me, so I say quickly, “How long will this go on?”
“Oh, only a couple of months, at the most. It really depends on how long you stay at certain places.”
“And where would I be staying?”
“I will make arrangements with family and acquaintances so you will have a nice, comfortable home to be in while there.” Daddy smiles and sits back, obviously pleased with how well-thought-out the plan is.
I raise an eyebrow, skeptical. I’ve just gotten home, and I’m not too keen on leaving so soon after my return. But my dad does trust me, and I have been in that quarantine so long that it would probably be good for me to go see the world. But I have no earthly idea of what is considered good and bad for the handling of humans. Not to mention I don’t even want to be remotely involved in politics. Leave that to the people who care.
“Well, Daddy…” I trail off.
“Please agree, Irelyn, because I’ve already told the others that you would do it,” he says, saying the
last bit quietly.
“Daddy!” I stand up in astonishment.
“I’m sorry, Angel, I was just so sure you would agree, and I just…” His eyes grow big and his fat bottom lip sticks out. I sigh.
Freaking puppy-dog look.
“Fine, Dad.” I sit. “I’ll do it.”
“Excellent! I’ll give you full information later, okay?” He motions for me to come over to him. I obey. He reaches up to pull my head down to his level, which is not very difficult as I am a rather short person, and then he kisses my forehead. “Thank you, darling. I trust you will do a great job.”
I force a smile.
Not much later, a servant girl shows Nita and me to our rooms, which are right next to each other on
the second floor with windows that look out onto the courtyard. After I’ve showered and dressed in my white, spaghetti-strapped nightgown that always makes me feel like I’m in the 1800s, Daddy knocks on my door and enters after I say I’m decent.
“Irelyn,” he says, sitting on the edge of my bed. “I noticed you didn’t talk to Adrian much tonight.”
“Mm.” I pull my covers up to my chin.
“I would have thought you would be more enthusiastic to see him.”
“Mm.”
“Irelyn…”
“Yes, Daddy?”
“I want Adrian to be part of your group, when you go on your mission,” he tells me.
I stare at the ceiling for a long time, not replying to him. I can’t tell him I don’t want Adrian to come, because then he’ll ask me why, and I wouldn’t have an answer. But why don’t I want him to come? It was a long time ago when he left me, and I guess I was probably safer there in Italy than if I had stayed with Cook and her son. And it’s not like he was even hostile about it or anything anyway. Why am I so mad at him? Do I just feel like being mad at someone?
“We’re having a party here tomorrow night,” Daddy says, his voice seeming unusually loud after the pregnant pause. “Sort of a welcome home shindig.” Shindig? “I want you to ask Adrian about it then, alright? Please? For me?”
I sigh. I’m not a pushover, but I would hate to refuse my dad something and he gets shocked that I’m not so “sweet and innocent.”
“Sure, Daddy.”
He exhales. “Thank you, Irelyn.” He bends down and kisses my forehead. “Good night, Angel. It is good to have you back.”
I smile at him and then turn over to face the window, asking him to turn out the lights on his way out.
