About this ebook
Magnhild, is a freak. From her name, right down to the naturally bizarre appearance she can't seem to get rid of - she's an odd duck.
Her life has taken a swirling plunge into the drain the past few months, but it's nothing compared to what's coming. All she wants is to finish school, and start over somewhere fun. Fate, has other plans.
Enter the Desi Pere underground organization, and three of it's loyal members: They've enlisted Magnhild's cooperation, whether she likes it or not. They mean to exploit her superhuman gifts, ones she didn't think anyone knew about. Overnight, she's dragged into a world, and a war, the normal world doesn't even know exist. The bait: reuniting her with her mother, who's supposed to be dead.
Danger, confusion, deception, and self-loathing fog each decision Magnhild faces. She desperately hopes to find her mother, and bring meaning to her past of abuse and isolation.
Will she see through the web society has spun around her, or fall captive to century-old lies? In her search for the truth, she discovers she cannot find what she seeks, without first becoming herself, accepting her inner strength, and embracing her bizarre life...
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Desi Pere - Rosie Zayne
Prologue
Smoke rose into the air, sparks lifting with it, floating in serene grace, making her wish she could float away with them. The flames breathed and moved, hypnotizing her with their dance. She ignored the world outside the flickering light her little fire had made. She sat in solitude, hedged in by acres of sheltering trees and wilderness, silently letting the flame dry her fallen tears, making way for fresh ones to carve new paths down her cheeks. She couldn't do it any more, not after what happened. That day had been the nail in the coffin of her hope, and as she quietly let the pain stream down her face, she wished for death's release.
A LOCKER DOOR SLAMMED shut, sending a loud metallic echo crashing through the hall, making Lesley jump two feet in the air, her high heels clacking on the worn tile floor. Good grief!
she shrieked, holding her chest as if she'd had a heart attack. Her eyes were wide with shock and anger, and her mouth made a perfect 'O' shape.
Jason cracked up, doubled over and holding his sides as he laughed at her reaction, his broad shoulders bouncing under his Letterman jacket. "Chill Les, it's just the Freak." He snorted, glaring at Magnhild as she past, smirking at her lowered head.
Students watched as the locker-slammer continued down the hall, eyes judging and voices hushing, breaking into whispers of gossip when she'd gone far enough away to be acceptable. Several teachers even gathered to exchange snickers and looks of disapproval. The odd student refused to acknowledge any of it.
Magnhild floated through the crowd in her normal daze, never looking at anyone, or acknowledging their behavior. She kept herself practically immune to the negativity, hiding behind the mental wall that surrounded and protected her. The bubble of her own creation, complete with music playing softly in her ear, allowed her to keep a grip on her sanity, however loose it may be.
She desperately tried to ignore the idiotic students surrounding her, mentally counting the weeks until school ended. She already felt overwhelmed by the number of days she had to survive without another...incident...forcing her and her father to move again. It was only September, after all.
Scenes like this one played out often, giving the students plenty to joke and giggle about. She was used to it, unfortunately, and rarely acknowledged it, no matter how much it bothered her. Lately though, she had noticed a few students in particular were getting more intense with their teasing, causing a few needles of worry to slowly grow inside her.
She hated dealing with bullies – they were one of the worst things about attending public school. She had hoped she wouldn't have to deal with it in this one, but the first few weeks of classes had shown her she would have her share of bullies. A perfect way to end her already miserable High School career, and she couldn’t wait to graduate in the Spring.
Lost in her thoughts, she numbly navigated her way through the halls. She made it to her first class without major incident, and fell into her assigned seat heavily. She changed the music on her iPod to a calmer playlist, and waited quietly for another dull lecture to begin.
When the bell rang few minutes later, the remaining students still socializing in the halls grudgingly made their way to various classrooms. The seats around her filled with bodies, and Mr. Fletcher began speaking in his normal droning, monotone voice. Within minutes, the energy in the room dropped considerably, causing the teens to bench press their eyelids, fighting the inevitable coma of boredom. This was her favorite part of class – when the other students were too focused on fighting sleep to notice her. She was just one of the group, instead of the odd-one-out.
The Loner.
The Freak.
Each class was usually the same, and while it seemed like a supreme waste of time, the monotony made it easier for her to survive. Sometimes, she felt like a spy – the only one functioning besides Mr. Fletcher, who was practically a zombie as well, lost in a life of regrets and loneliness. At least, that's what it seemed like to her, and appeared to be a common trait among the majority of the teachers, as she observed them in each class.
Magnhild loved pondering people - figuring them out, studying them. People-watching,
as she'd heard others call it. Every person seemed to have their own language, their own ticks, their own issues. Hers, for example, was chewing her lips - especially her bottom one. She tortured the poor thing, always biting at it, or pulling dry, dead skin from it with her chewed down fingernails.
She had at least ten tubes of chapstick in her bag, most of which hardly ever met her lips. She didn't pay much attention to it though, simply buying a new tube when she'd cause a part of her lip to bleed from over-biting. She'd vow to stop, and make a plan to use the moisturizer to heal the skin, and break her nervous habit. Of course, she never did.
Similarly, she never opened her text books during lectures, or took notes. Each class was simple enough to figure out, she didn't see the point in expelling more effort than it was worth to pass. A natural pro at test taking, she didn't need to study much. How anyone managed to fail school, she'd never understand.
Luckily, it gave her plenty of time to study the world around her, and the creatures inhabiting it. Magnhild thoroughly enjoyed nature and architecture, letting her bored mind notice minutiae details, picturing the layers it took to make everything. Such as the depressingly dingy, light gray walls of the building she was forced to spent half her time in. Illuminated with yellowish fluorescent lights, alive with the dull hum they all seemed to create. The well-worn tiled floors caused everything to echo - hard, cold and uncaring. Much like the rest of the building, and the people in it. She thought to herself, rolling her eyes.
As the day ticked by, Magnhild shuffled from class to class, filling desks like a good little girl. Secretly lost in her own head, she shamefully let herself be hid from the world, well concealed in the herds filling up each room, forced to conform to a stupid schedule of classes with lessons they’d never use after they graduated. It was mundane, suffocating, and maddening.
At least she was still alive, and hadn't hurt anyone else. Yet.
This was her normal routine for five days out of the week. She didn't talk to anyone, didn't look at anyone, and basically tried to disappear. Not that it was all that easy – she stood out like a sore thumb.
If being stuck inside skin permanently pale as a ghost wasn’t bad enough, she also had naturally white hair that bordered on silver. These traits made her electric green eyes and black eyebrows stand out even more. Most people simply assumed she dyed her hair and lived in a cave, was albino, or was obsessed with Cosplay. None of the theories were true. She was simply cursed.
Any time she tried to change her hair to a more socially acceptable color, every drop of dye washed out as soon as her hair got wet. She couldn’t get a tan - didn’t even burn or freckle. Tanning lotions came off completely in the first shower after application, increasing her frustration, and making it obvious she should stop wasting her money on products that didn’t work on her.
It was like Fate was determined to keep her different. Really different.
Forced to accept her oddities, she often hid her barely 5 foot short frame under hoodies and beanies, in a desperate attempt to mask her striking appearance. It never worked. Since students had to remove hats and hoods during class, her eccentric look always earned her stares from at least three people in the room, at any given time. She'd gotten used to the feel of eyes staring at her, but it still creeped her out when she thought about it.
She felt alone, watched and judged - like a clownfish in a bowl.
What made it even worse, was the fact her dad was completely normal. Average height, average appearance. Brown hair, brown eyes, and olive skin that wasn't quite dark but not quite light. He wasn't tall, wasn't short, wasn't fat, and wasn't skinny. He blended into any scenery and crowd - like toast, and just as interesting. She always wished she'd looked more like him, but had to assume her appearance came from her mother. Lillyana.
Not that she'd ever seen her mother – not even a picture. The mysterious woman died early in Magnhild's life, and her dad burned everything that had to do with his lost wife. The pain was too much for him, and anything that reminded him of his loss set his temper flaring - including Magnhild. They moved often after her mother's death, never settling anywhere, because something always reminded him of Lillyana.
Her dead mother wasn’t the only thing that disrupted their lives, and kept a dark cloud over their house. Once Magnhild hit her teen years, they moved more and more because of her, instead. The 'incidents' became more frequent, as well as her dad's anger and drinking.
Then came the beatings.
It was light, at first – just a slap here, or a shove there, mostly when he'd had too much to drink, and not enough sleep. After the fifth or sixth 'incident' – and subsequent move – the hits turned to punches, and the shoves became thrown-into-walls.
She’d put up with it for several years, knowing his pain was deeper than hers. In a way, it was her way of apologizing for something that wasn’t her fault, but also something she couldn’t fix. She held out hope that one day, he would be alright, and they could be a family.
That was all until two months ago, when everything changed. He wasn't just drunk and angry that night – he was murderous. He was completely out of his mind with rage, and while she'd probably never know what triggered it, Magnhild would never forget the look in his eyes, the venom in his voice...
Or the knife in his trembling hand.
He tried to kill her, and nearly succeeded.
Luckily, in his drunken stupor, his lunge was off just enough for her to get away with a simple slice to her shoulder. She ran out the door, and didn't come back for three days. When she did finally return, it was when she knew her would-be-murderer would be at work.
She found a note left for her, saying she could get her stuff as needed, but he never wanted to see her face again. She was only to come to the house if he wasn't there, and in return, he wouldn't tell anyone she was gone. He didn't care where she lived, or how she survived, he just didn't want to see her ever again.
That suited her fine, and while she figured her reaction to his note probably should have been pain or betrayal, it wasn't. The thin strand holding them together had been severed that night, and any hope she had for healing died, even if she hadn’t. She simply smirked, packed a small bag and a backpack with clothes, food and a blanket, and left.
She kept her key, so she could come back when her supplies needed replacing, but past that, she was happy to be free of him. She'd rather live in the woods on her own, than fear for her life every day.
So that's where Magnhild lived now, spending her nights falling asleep to a peaceful, flickering fire. She marveled in the simplicity of it, and the serene sight of sparks floating on the wind, disappearing without a care. Hidden away by trees and brush, next to a secluded lake she doubted many others could easily find, she sighed softly at her odd little life. For the first time in years, she felt safe, and the closest to content she'd ever come.
That is, until she got to school. It was still eight hours of hell, but at least now, she could escape to her hidden oasis.
If she'd known how her life would change, she may have prepared herself a little better. She couldn't know though, and it seemed Fate was ready to start her story.
~ Chapter 1 ~
Magnhild
Sunlight warmed my face, and slowly chased away the chill from the previous night. I love waking up to the sun – feeling the warmth on my skin, seeing the red glow of my eyelids, hearing the forest crackle to life. I might not wake up on a soft bed or under warm blankets any more, but this was by far a good trade.
I opened my eyes slowly, sleepily, content in my lazy morning routine. I breathed in the crisp morning air, smelling the dirt and trees around me, and sighed happily.
TGIF. Friday. Just get through today, then I can spend two whole days here, all alone. I thought, going through the list of things I needed to do that day. I'd spent the previous night skimming through the textbook pages for the classes I knew would have tests today, finished my essay for Economics, and made something ridiculous out of pine cones for Art
class. Today should be a good day.
I looked up through the trees, noticing that many had turned orange, and several had already dropped most of their leaves. The early-November days were slowly getting colder, as time flowed closer to Winter. I was excited for it, but also a little worried. My mind kept adding things to the list I'd need in order to survive the next few months in my new home.
I'd now been living in my forest abode for a little over a month and a half. We'd had our yearly end-of-October Fall Break
at school, giving me a whole week of solitude to build my camp a bit better, complete with a little fire pit. Going back to school was even harder, once I realized how much I loved my hand-made home. When I was secluded and peaceful, it was easy to live in denial that the outside world even existed.
I had spent most of Monday morning arguing with a squirrel about whether I should return to school, or if I could be happy living out the rest of my days with him, instead. He didn't have much to say, but still ended up winning, resulting in my stomping all the way to the odious building. I valued a decent future, more than my momentary happiness.
The rest of the week had been the same way, making each day feel as though it dragged on forever. I knew if I could just be content, it wouldn’t be so bad. Now that I didn’t want to escape my home, though, it was difficult to pull myself away, and go to boring classes. Still, no matter how much I hated classes, I was fed up with my constant sour mood after a couple of days. Deciding enough was enough, I got it all out of my system one night, yelling at the fire, which simply replied with crackles and snaps.
Feeling refreshed Friday morning, I simply sprawled among the leaves, and enjoyed the crisp sunrise. The faded greens mixed with oranges above me, making me smile. As I watched a couple of squirrels play, I momentarily pondered whether or not I could get away with skipping classes, and stay right where I was instead. Of course not. Daddy dearest would have to sign an absent slip. I scoffed, smirking at the thought of even asking.
Once I finally got my lazy butt up and stretched my groggy, stiff muscles, I prepared for my favorite, and at the same time, most hated part of the morning.
Bathing.
I loved being in the water, and I loved being clean. The only downfall to living in the forest, however, is the fact the river I now lived next to, is freezing cold! It's a fantastic way to wake up, but it also made me groan and complain to the trees every morning.
The seclusion of my make-shift home made it easy to feel comfortable, and not worry about prying eyes. Stripping down to my birthday-suit was quick, and with a deep breath, I cannon-balled into the river – only way to do it, really, when dealing with freezing water.
In record time, I was out of the river, dried and dressed. I put my long, wet hair into a bun, covering the obnoxious white color in a beanie, and wished for the hundredth time I could change it's color. Never...gonna...happen. I thought with a small sigh. Oh well.
Another plus to living in the woods – no mirrors. I didn't have to look at myself very often, and sometimes I could get away with pretending I looked normal. Brown hair, brown eyes, and olive skin. Nothing special, just an average girl.
My clothes were all dark colors at least, so not having a mirror didn't matter much in that department either. Everything matched. Not that I cared much – fashion had never been an interest of mine. Possibly because my father would call me selfish if I ever dared to ask for new clothes, or something he thought my mother would wear.
So, I settled for black and navy blue clothes from the thrift store, subscribing to the lifestyle of someone who doesn't care much about clothes or looks. Not that you're pretty enough to wear anything else. You're much better off hiding from the world. No one needs to see you, freak.
I went through my morning routine, throwing on the last clean outfit I had – dark blue jeans, a black tee shirt, and black hoodie. Time to go get new clothes from Larry-the-would-be-killer's house. Friday – he'll be drinking til two, and passed out with some bimbo til tomorrow afternoon. Awesome!
Maybe I could stay in my old room tonight...
The idea made me shiver, as I remembered the trembling knife. Nope!! Washing clothes, loading up on food, taking some money, then I'm gone!
I packed my backpack, covered and hid the things I had to leave behind (mainly because the squirrels were little butt-heads, and liked to steal my stuff), and made my way through the trees to the outskirts of town.
The walk to school usually took about forty-five minutes each way, but it was worth it. I woke with the sun, and always had plenty of time to relax before the first class started. I loved walking every morning, and watching the town wake up. Critters start coming out to greet the day, birds sing their happy hellos, and people begin bustling about.
That's what I loved most – people watching. Seeing how people start their days, oblivious to my curious eyes. Most people are happy in the morning, and their smiles are contagious. Starting my days off with smiles is refreshing – much better than starting off the day fighting tears, wishing I'd never been born.
It gave me hope that there is a point to life, watching happy families. Sure, there are the occasional angry, frustrated mornings for some people – we all have them. What I loved though, was experiencing those same people in the days following their grumpy mornings, and seeing the difference.
People are deep, diverse, interesting.
I would often imagine what it would be like to be a part of the different families I passed by, especially the older couples who still had love in their eyes when they looked at each other. I always smiled at the thought of one day having my own family, complete with the ups and downs of life. It sounded wonderful, and made me wish I had a normal family.
Those sorts of things filled my mind that morning, as I got closer to reaching my favorite family. They were perfect - a loving couple with three gorgeous kids, and a couple of goofy dogs. They weren't one of the families that looked like they could be in a magazine or on T.V. No, this family was real.
The husband and wife were beautiful, because they were so obviously in love. Soul mates. Everything in the world came second to the other person, and they didn't even think about apologizing for it. Their kids, all three, had incredible personalities, and were so happy all the time, it almost made my chest hurt to see them each morning.
I wished every day, that I would end up having kids like those three – funny, kind, innocent, and completely willing to love and help anyone and anything they meet. I had also made several vows to myself that I'll be a mom like theirs. I’d be there for them, I’d love them, I’d let them make mistakes, and I’d help them grow.
I usually made that vow when I thought about my dad, and wondered what my mother had been like. I am positive she would have been like that woman, and I often wished my parents' places had been switched.
What would my life be like, if Fate had left me with my mother, instead of him? What happened to her? How did she die? I kicked a rock, feeling the weight of my constant questions pulling my face down. It felt heavy with sorrow, nearly impossible to do anything but frown. Almost to my favorite family's house – I hope they're happy today.
I slowed down my pace like I did every day, eager to see them once more before the weekend. When I finally got close to their house, my frown deepened. I didn't get to see my dream family today.
See, they always load the kids into their minivan, preparing to take them to school, and drop the dad off at work. This morning though, the van was already gone.
They must have left early. Or I'm late. My mood darkened a little, and I felt myself frown, almost painfully hard, at the fact I wouldn't be able to see them until Monday.
As irrational as I knew I was being, little things like their family had become the source of my hope and reason for getting up in the morning.
Sad...
LOST IN MY NEGATIVE thoughts and selfish annoyance, I walked quietly down the street, kicking pebbles at the curb as I went.
Without warning, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and a chill went up my back. As I became more aware of my surroundings, pulling out of my introverted state, I felt eyes watching me, and quickly glanced around. No one else was on the street, and no one was around. In fact, there wasn't any noise at all. No birds, no pets, no cars. Nothing.
The heebie jeebie feeling in the pit of my stomach deepened, and spread through me like lava. My limbs felt numb, and at the same time, I felt my blood spike with adrenaline. Before I knew it, I was walking as fast as I could down the street, just under a jogging pace. I didn't want to attract attention, in case I was in fact simply being irrational and losing my mind. No matter how much I wanted to, frantically running down the street, screaming my head off, would probably be seen as a little erratic.
A few moments later, once I'd turned the corner and the school came into view, my panic slowly faded. With each step, the hairs on my neck and arms started to go down, and my stomach began to loosen up. While I couldn't hear much over the sound of my thumping heart, I knew there were normal noises again, and I let out the breath I'd been holding.
I got into the school building as quickly as my jellied legs would move, willing myself to appear as normal as possible. I headed straight to the girl's bathroom on the lower floor, and immediately fell against the soap-stained sink, gripping the square edges for support. I took a few deep breaths, forcing my mind to calm down, and my body to relax. Once my legs were a little stronger, and I wasn't white-knuckling the sink, I splashed cold water on my face, imagining my forest oasis. You're just being paranoid. Nothing ever happens when you get that feeling – it's all in your head. Chill.
Taking a few more steadying breaths, I was able to relax. My hands stopped trembling, and my nerves calmed down. I looked at myself in the mirror, noting that I still had on my beanie. I knew I'd have to take it off before class, and while I didn't feel like unleashing my silver mane, I also didn't want to have wild hair all day. I so do not need to give people more of a reason to think of me as a freak.
I reluctantly pulled my hood and beanie off, and gently combed my fingers through my hair. I always keep a brush in my bag, but most mornings, I just let it do what it wants. It normally waves and curls on it's own, and if I brush it out, it will go dead straight, which I can't stand. I prefer the my hair is clean and has volume
look, to the I sleep with a hair straightener
look.
This morning, it was a typical wavy I just got back from the beach,
kind of look. I felt the urge to be disappointed at the fact it wasn't magically black or brown, but let it go.
The rest of my face was, of course, incredibly pale. My eyes were bright green and noticeable as ever, and my lips were chapped as usual. I put on some lip balm with a tint that made them look a bit more neutral, and less of their natural deep pink. I kept them pursed as much as possible, in an attempt to hide them. They are too plump to hide well though, and for the umpteenth time, I wished I had thin lips, and boring, brown eyes.
You don't, and never will. I looked in the mirror at the eyes staring back at me, and gave myself the usual morning lecture. Unless you can magically afford color contacts, and be alright with sticking your finger in your eyes, the green is staying. So are the you've got a fat lip
lips – can't make them thinner, so get over it. Not gonna get any different, not gonna change. You may as well let it go and leave.
With a sigh, I left the restroom, and headed upstairs to the library, as I usually did in the mornings. I used the computer to charge my iPod for the day, and spent a few minutes checking emails and news until the bell rang. Once the obnoxious sound echoed into the library, I resist the urge to drop my head onto the table. I settled for rolling my eyes, pulling my bag onto my shoulder, and heading out. Time to start another fun-filled day of learning. Yeah right.
At my locker, I overheard some kids snickering and joking about me. As usual, I heard the terms freak
loser
and dork,
which is one that always makes me giggle. Who says dork
any more? Can't come up with anything better apparently. Dumb jocks and airheads.
I slammed my locker shut, a little harder than I meant to, causing one of the airheads to jump and shriek, nearly giving me a heart attack. The leader of the dumb jocks bust out laughing, and I had to resist the urge to kick him in the shin. Jerk. Laughing at your girlfriend for being startled. Yeah, what a catch. Real keeper there.
I rolled my eyes, and walked away. As usual, I got lost in the bubble I make around myself, focused on the music playing in my ear, while I walked to class. Until, for the first time, I heard something...odd.
Magnhild!
A girl's voice called from behind me. Wait, Magnhild.
I stopped and turned around, preparing for some snotty cheerleader’s teasing. It was the airhead I startled earlier. Great. I plastered on my best ‘go away’ face, hoping she'd just leave me alone.
Hi! Thanks for waiting – I wasn't sure if you heard me or not.
she said, giving me what looked like a genuine smile.
I heard you.
I replied quietly, preparing for the insult that was sure to come.
Well, good! I don't think we've properly met yet – I'm Lesley.
she exclaimed, holding out her hand to me. I felt my eyebrows raise in my surprise, and kicked myself for losing grip on my pissed-off poker face. I immediately put it back in place, leveled her with a bored look, and quickly shook her hand.
She looked a little more nervous then, and I was eager to get away. As I began to turn and leave, she placed a hand, with perfectly manicured fingernails, on my arm, and started talking again.
I'm sorry about my friend, Jason. He can be a real jerk sometimes, you know? He's harmless though, once you get to know him.
I don't want to get to know him.
I replied calmly.
Well, no, I didn't think - I mean-
"You mean, you don't want me getting pissed at