Night of Liberation

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Chapter 8: Family Invasion

I do apologise in advanced for any misspelt Spanish words, I used google translate.

Enjoy. :)

...

~Evie’s POV~

If you could wish for something what would it be? Countless times I’ve wondered why my world holds so much pandemonium, especially for us humans. I always have placed the blame upon those abominations that reign over us all. Yet, this isn’t the answer sure they are monsters who love to dominate but it’s within their nature.

My wish? Well, there are many things, so many things I wanted for us all to have. A home, family, bring back those we’ve lost due to this new world order. Other humans have suffered worse than me, other people lost their entire family in one night. This cannot be the reality of it, instead, its a twisted world one ruled by fear and anarchy. What is my wish? To see my family again one last time, to know that they are blossoming and endure without those monsters lurking around every corner.

I thought these would be the last of my thoughts before I died, as my body began to shut down. Wishes are the hopes we have, and by the stars, I wished for loads like all humans.

My consciousness faded into peaceful oblivion, the darkness soothed my aching body. Now I could rest in peace.

...

Gods only know how long I’d spent in the darkness of oblivion, several muffled voices pierced the void of oblivion. Some felt familiar, warming my soul, other’s ones were apprehensive and nerve-racking.

It felt like an eternity until my eyes opened of their own accord, the voices had been silenced aeons ago. My eyes gradually came accustom to the dark-room bathed in bright moonlight from the diamond leaded glass pane on my bedside. A few moments passed before I recollected where I was, my old bedroom!

The years haven’t done it justice, from what I remember last the plasterwork was crumbling off the plain violet wallpaper. The state of it weathered with time, several faint cracks could be seen creeping off all four corners of the room. Showing minor movements of the old house.

My room still had the same decorations as an obsessed teenage girl ogling some privileged human upstarts, their posters began peeling off the high raised walls, my single wooden bed sat beside a small diamond-paned window which is open slightly ajar, with a bedside table alongside the silver headboard. A lone antique grey chair sat opposite my bed with a tall bookcase leaning into a crooked wall. I slowly brought myself up against the soft headboard. My throat is dry as a cats tongue, it felt like I had several shards of glass rammed down my throat.

My breathing wasn’t raspy anymore, my chest felt less heavy, but still, my ribs pinched my lungs with each intake of breath. I place a hand on my ribs to check them, my jaw clenches as my nerves are set ablaze in pain.

“Fuck.” I curse.

I don’t dare move until the dawning of the sun, a faint breeze comes through the window carrying the faint of roses and morning dew lingers in the air. A creak from the old oak door alerts me of a new presence, it opens fully to reveal to my worried aunt Ashley carrying a tray with some sort of hot beverage.

She’s in her own little world unaware of her surroundings, her face is fraught with worry and fatigue. Telltale signs of how much time has passed, I remember she used to keep a cheerful demeanour to help motivate me and my brothers. Her olive skin that once shined with a healthy glow now had an oily dullness to it. Aunt Ash’s long black curly locks thrown into a sloppy bun atop of her head, her normal flowing summer frocks is replaced by a long flowing black ankle-length gipsy skirt, a heavy cotton long-sleeved grey top and a makeshift apron of mismatched colours. A typical overworked parent is what she looked like.

She heads towards the chair in the corner still oblivious. “Aunt Ash.” I call out to her in a whisper, she gasps startled by my voice spilling the hot tea all over her front.

Ashley curses in Spanish. ”Mierda!” Brushing the front of her dress, she turns around to face me. Her dark brown eyes widen in shock at seeing me awake, I see her oval face with her wide granny glasses askew on her dainty nose.

I give her a weak little wave. She lets off a bunch of curses in her native tongue. Waving an accusing finger at me several times. I’m trying so hard not to laugh, Ash doesn’t like surprises in particular jump scares.

She adjusts her granny glasses, which magnify her beautiful brown eyes. Although she did look like a cartoon character, I use to call her Mrs Magoo when I was little because of her poor eyesight. Uncle Morgan loved to torment her, he was the one who started that nickname. In the end, Aunt Ash would bash him with her glasses and demands he buys her new set.

“Genevieve!” Her thick Spanish accent seeps through in a fiery tone, Ash waves her hands in all directions. “Are you crazy?! You don’t care about my delicate heart.”

I open my mouth. “NO!” She halts me. “No, silencio. The médico has ordered silencio for a week, your voice needs to rest.”

Ash glowers at me when I try to speak again.

“Silencio, my Bambina.”

I nod, unsure how to ask what’s happened and how long I’ve been out. First, though I wanted to drown in water, my throat is bloody killing me.

Ash gives me a warm smile, she wraps her small arms around my neck careful to avoid my bruises. “Welcome home Bambina, I’ll get you a drink, si?” She pulls away, “You stay in bed, I will be back in en un momento.”

She picks up the cup and tray, taking it with her. A few minutes later she returns with a feast of piping hot food, a big pot of steaming English Breakfast tea and jug of water. Placing it on my bedside table, Ash hands me a notepad and pen from her apron pocket.

Usted escribe.” (You write) She motions her hands, then hands them to me. “Tea or agua, Bambina?” (Water)

I scribble down quickly. ”Both please.”

My stomach grumbles at the aromas coming from the tray, in particular, the smell of freshly baked bread. Ash chuckles at me. Handing me a cup of water first.

“Slowly Bambina, I dont want no vómito. Si?”

I do as she orders, Ashley hated when I didn’t listen. She wouldn’t let me live it down for the next year or so if I vomited. She takes a seat in the chair and takes a cup of tea.

Slowly I sip at my water, putting it to one side on the table. I quickly write down some questions. I pass it over to her. However... “God damn it, woman! Wheres all the tea gone!” A commanding voice bellows from downstairs.

Ash sets my notebook aside on the tray and utters a quiet curse under her breath ′idiota’. ”Un momento." She unlatches the door and stomps downstairs like a bull. I hear a bit of commotion from the kitchen. She bursts into Spanish ”Idoita! Your dare take the lords good name in vain?! You are my husband, not a baby!”

“It’s a little early for your sexy talk this morning Mrs Mago-. Ow!” He wiggles his eyebrows mischievously while rubbing his head.

“You Bastardo ingrato. Make it yourself, I’m not your maid. I’m your wife!” Aunt Ash yells at him in a fiery tone. “You cook for the week!”

“But-.” Uncle Morgan cries, rubbing his head again when Ash hits him with something. “Damn it, woman, you’re giving me a concussion.”

"Tú deseas.” (You wish). Aunt Ash then storms away stomping up the stairs. She slams the door, some disturbed cries are heard from across the landing, Ash loudly bolts the door shut, walks to her seat and calmly takes a few sips of tea as if nothing happened. “Where were we?”

Picking up the notebook, Ash reads some of my questions. “It’s been a week Bambina, the médico has prescribed bed rest while you recover and silenco for a week. No talking Genevieve. What were you thinking of pushing yourself too far?! I almost had a heart attack when I found you collapsed on the driveway!” She lectures me worried, Ash takes in a breath and takes a seat on my bed. She tucks a piece of my messy hair and tucks it behind my ear. “You are crazy Bambina, don’t you ever scare me like that ever again, or else you’ll be dealing with me. No chocolate will be able to save you from my wrath.”

I nod and tap the paper impatiently. Ash huffs at me. “No patience these days.”

Erm... I’m not going to answer that. Ash will most likely whack me with something, she might be a little too firey. *cough* Crazy. *cough*. Aunt Ash gives me a knowing look. “You stay and rest Bambina, I’ll come back after I’ve finished waking up my rambunctious spawn. Their father cannot handle it.” She winks and gives me a quick peck on the forehead.

Suddenly, we both hear a crash coming from the kitchen loud enough to wake a sleeping dragon. Another fire soon appears in the form of my aunt, I swear even the devil would be afraid of this woman’s unknowing wrath. Ash storms downstairs swearing in Spanish.

...

A week passes by quickly, Aunt Ash is being an overbearing protective mother hen. She wouldn’t allow anyone to see me, no visitors, her excuses were that her children could be carrying some nasty virus. I wasn’t allowed to do any physical activity, I did do a few little walks around my room so I could feel my legs again. Aunt Ash almost caught me several times, luckily she didn’t catch me. She would’ve punished me for not heeding her orders.

Uncle Morgan had been forbidden from entering the house, he’s forced to sleep in the drafty barns with the animals because of his recent comments. Ash had given me a lot of books to read, no arty stuff allowed, it’s too much for me.

As the 8th day came to pass, I’m growing restless, thrashing around in my bed. In the next day or so I will be stir crazy and start talking to my walls. Aunt Ash would have my head for what I’m about to do, but I don’t care. Getting up quietly as I can, I grab some warm fluffy socks and my pink dolly shoe slippers. I tiptoe over to my door and open it very slowly to subside the creaking. The floorboards groan in protest with each step I took. The stairs would be my greatest challenge, it’s made out of old oak and an original feature of the home, so I’ve been told by Uncle Morgan.

It’s about 5:30 AM, I know from experience that Aunt Ash doesn’t get up for another 30 minutes. What I need most dire, a caffeine call! I need the elixir of life, which is glorious tea, not that abomination of coffee. The very thought of it makes me want to vomit, I couldn’t stand the smell or taste of it. Thankfully I eased down the stairs quickly.

Next to the kitchen! I crept slowly looking around at the slightest noise, this was a lot easier than sneaking around Lycans.

“Morning Evie.” Pipes up a masculine voice. I try not to shriek in surprise, thinking it was Aunt Ash ready with the broom to shoo me back upstairs into that prison.

I turn around, Uncle Morgan smiling at me in enjoyment sitting at the kitchen table drinking some coffee. He gets up and pushes a chair out for me, I scowl. “I’m not that injured.”

Morgan shushes me, “Don’t want to wake the Balrog. Plus she would kill me if you worked yourself too hard. I swear you’re her favourite person, not me.” He pouts.

Rolling my eyes, I grab the kettle to make a fresh brew. I gag at the stench of coffee. Uncle Morgan offers to make it. I glare at him. “To have your sludge? No, thank you, Uncle.”

He puts his hands up in defeat. “There’s fresh milk on the countertop, and your favourite cup is still hidden in its usual spot, Ash won’t let anyone touch it, she’s a mama bear that one. Don’t strain yourself too much.”

Once I make my tea I took a seat beside Uncle Morgan at the square kitchen table. We are both silent for a few minutes, Uncle Morgan twiddles his fingers around his black coffee cup. My Uncle hasn’t aged much in the time I haven’t seen him. He still looks like a 28-year-old man not someone in his early 40′s, my uncle has always prided himself on his youthful appearance.

Sometimes he admires himself in the mirror, I remember when Ash first moved in with Morgan, me and my three brothers. She had moved from Spain, Ash never told us wherefrom she wanted to forget her past and move on with someone. Morgan offered her a place to stay, at first she was a quiet mousey person until she saw Morgan trying to kiss himself in the mirror she exploded cursing at him in Spanish and tore him a new one. From then on if Ash was ever in the room Morgan wouldn’t even glance at the mirror unless he was alone with one of his nephews or me to watch out for Mrs Magoo.

Uncle Morgan is a handsome chap, he’s a bloody torment at times and likes to push Ash’s buttons a little too much. He still has his messy dark red hair tied back in a low ponytail, mischievous light green eyes, sunkissed farmer’s skin, and stands just shy under six foot in height, however, Ash loves to tease him on this calling him ‘Stump Pig’. He isn’t as built as a werewolf or ripped like a Lycan, Morgan has slight muscles and is saddened he couldn’t ever reach a six-pack.

“Uncle?” I ask, he looks at me humming in recognition. “I thought Aunt Ash said you weren’t allowed in the house.”

Uncle Morgan sighs, faking teary eyes. “That woman will be the death of me, she’s gotten worse since you left Evie. I’m so glad your back.”

I sip away at my tea. “Probably she’s had enough of you and your shenanigans, Uncle. Maybe because you still act like a teenager, rather than a grown man. What happened to Mr Army man? Ash loves that side of you.”

Morgan blushes at my words, he ponders for a moment. “She threatened to chop off my most valuable asset if I ever tried it on with her again.”

Shaking my head, while trying not to laugh. Aunt Ash always wore the trousers in their relationship. “I remember you being all commando when you had me and my brothers. You were always keeping us in line until you fell in love.”

Morgan sighs, the playfulness gone. “Ash has changed me, Evie, she took down the Great Commando.”

I want to slam my head into the table. Morgan is weird, drama queen one day next full army mode next. “Seriously, Uncle? The ‘Great Commando’, no wonder she doesn’t want you keeping her warm.” I give him a blatant look and drink more of my tea.

Morgan gives me a beaming smile. “Come here Kiddo. I’ve missed you.” He hugs me roughly over the side of the table. However, he touches my ribs and I squeal like a stuck pig, it still bloody hurts, alright?!!

“Morgan?!!” Ash says in a seething tone. “Why are you in my house? You go in barn now. A bad boy belongs with animals, shoo...shoo!” She motions with her hands. Ash pauses seeing me at the table, she’s about to explode. “Genevieve, go back to bed, you need to rest.”

Me and Morgan almost spill our drinks, Aunt Ash sacred us both. He pulls out of the hug, giving Ash his best puppy dog eyes. She glowers at him in rage.

“Aunt Ash.” I call to her softly. “I’m alright, I just don’t want to be sealed away in that room for the next few weeks. Please don’t keep me away from my family.”

She immediately calms down, rushing over to the table. Ash gently puts her arms around my head in a motherly hug. “Oh my darling Bambina, I’m so sorry. You can stay downstairs, but no heavy lifting or moving from that chair.”

Uncle Morgan is aghast, his wife has grown another head. He gives me a childish dirty look. Ash goes to prepare breakfast, I stick my tongue out at him. He just chuckles at me and rubs his dirty hand over my head. Turning my morning bed hair into a true birds nest.

“See ya later Kiddo.” Morgan smirks, walking over to his wife. I see him go behind Ash to give her a quick kiss on the cheek and whispers something low in her ear. She stops for a moment blushing like a schoolgirl. He winks at her and struts out the back door with confidence.

“Bye Babe.” He taunts ready to shut the back door, only something whooshes through the air landing on the wooden frame. There in the wall is a kitchen knife, Aunt Ash is ready to kill him again. “Damn it, woman. You almost sliced my hand off!”

“I was aiming for something else, marido.” Ash smiles ever so sweetly with another knife in hand.

Morgan rushes away full-on blown panic. Leaving nothing but a dusty trail in wake. Aunt Ash winks at me, I know full well she loves to give him some sort of payback. Uncle Morgan likes to ruffle one too many feathers after all.

...

Aunt Ash forces me to stay seated while she sorts out my cousins, Beatrice is having a lay-in. Agatha is too afraid to come down, she’s incredibly shy little thing, and her twins Miguel and Ismael have locked themselves up in their room in protest because their Mama is being mean to Daddy.

She’s banging on the twin’s door at the moment, they’ve done a blockade against their door so El Diablo doesn’t take them away. All of them are supposed to be getting ready for school.

With this morning drama out the way, Ash managed to get my cousins to school. Bea wanted to stay home, trying to fake being sick. Agatha stayed glued to her mum’s legs scared of me. I still don’t know how Aunt Ash got the twins out of there room.

Two weeks pass quickly, Aunt Ash and Uncle Morgan have made sure to keep me busy by doing button counting. It’s boring as F***.

Over that time, my little cousins warmed up to me, Bea being the eldest bossed them around a lot. She didn’t like it when her brothers entered her room and stole a picture of her biggest crush; a boy from her high school. Little Agatha hated Bea, she’s the baby of the family. Her thumb is glued to her mouth, constantly sucking her thumb. She’s only 3 at the moment. Her brothers are 8, they are Morgan’s doubles in trouble. They love pulling pranks, once they tried to cut my hair in the past week. Let’s just say I threatened them with a certain someone.

...

3 weeks had passed since I met Lord Foster, within the time I’ve spent with my family, it brought back the familiar warmth of my true home, ignorance is truly bliss. I missed Natalie and Kyle a lot too, they are apart of my family as well. It’s just they’ve got a life of their own. I didn’t want to risk their lives by contacting them. Lord Crazy might do something far worse than threaten their lives.

Aunt Ash and Uncle Morgan still haven’t asked me why I fled to them. I knew the time would come when Lord Foster would find me. My bliss wore off the other night when I started having nightmares again about Jared and that monster with the blood-red eyes. Other’s are of stuff I don’t want to go into, some things must be left forgotten.

The full moon would be in eight days, I know we will be all on lockdown for three days while the Lycans and werewolves will be forced to shift into their true terrifying forms. During this period we are forbidden to leave our homes, all werewolves are driven purely by instinct and are wild.

I laid in the three-seat sofa in the living room reading a book about werewolf mating rituals, Aunt Ash had hidden the tv remote. She hated TV thinking it rooted your brain. The living room reminded me much of my own, only it had better quality furniture.

Speaking of which, it’s a little odd they don’t watch TV. Why? I tried to focus on my book, only something poked underneath my buttocks. I grumble the kids must have wedged one of their toys in between the seats. I grab it and stop when I feel something which isn’t a toy. It’s a TV remote.

Oh goody, I can finally just zone out. Reading one too many books can hurt your brain. I toss my book away and turn on the TV...

It doesn’t have any sound, I turn the volume up and live to regret it.

“An Urgent news bulletin has just reached us! The Alpha of the Greystalker Pack has put out an arrest warrant for a human female, her name is Genevieve Wright, age 25, a picture of her is on screen. Please don’t approach this woman she’s classed as a danger to all. She’s a suspect in the murder of Jared Stevens, former Gamma of the Greystalker Pack. Who’s being put to rest is being held today at St.Luna Temple Church. Many mourn his passing.” The Anchorwoman states in a robotic tone.

The next few things I see make me want to murder those filthy dogs. His family, friends and co-workers lie about him! How good, sweet and caring he was. That fucker doesn’t deserve anything, he’s a fucking raping son of a bitch!

Suddenly, the remote is snatched out of my hand and the TV is turned off. Aunt Ash gives me a harsh look, Uncle Morgan stands behind her a look of concern on his face.

“No... TV!” Ash snaps.

“Care to explain what’s going on Evie?” Morgan sits at the end of the sofa. A sad expression on his worried and tired face.

Ash sits in a single leather armchair, with her arms crossed. “We don’t want to pressure you Bambina but we need to know what has happened.”

I sat up, drawing in my nerves. This isn’t something I’m not comfortable with. “Are my cousins here? This isn’t something for their young ears.”

Ash and Morgan say they are at a friends house for the night, so I explain everything. Including Lord Foster, Morgan was about to grab his old army gear to neuter Lord Foster and kill Jared. The only bit I left out was being mated to Lord Foster.

My aunt and uncle know theirs something else I’m hiding, I felt so ashamed that fate decided to screw me over and chose a Lycan as my potential lover. I shudder at those words. If there’s one thing I’ve never wanted it was this. My sanity has been tested over the years, from my traumatic experiences with what happened to my mother, to what happened to me 8 years ago when I was 17... the Blood Moon. I won’t say or think about that anymore, it’s something which will begin eating at me once again. My secret and biggest shame came during that time. It almost outweighs being mated to Lord Foster.

“Anything else sweetheart? We both know you’re missing out the biggest detail.” Morgan utters gently. “You know Ash and me won’t judge you, Evie.”

I looked down in shame, anger and anxiety. My emotions were running rampant again. “I’m mated to a Lycan.”

Ash and Morgan are silent, frozen in shock. Ash begins to cry, shaking her head in sadness. Morgan hugs me. “It’s going to be okay.”

That’s a big fat lie, nothing is okay when you’re mated to a monster. Ash joins us, still crying. “Aunty?” I ask.

“My darling Bambina you don’t deserve this.” She sobs, holding back some tears. “You mated to a Lycan.”

I sigh. “Worse than that, Aunty. He’s a Lycan Lord.”

Both of my family are pale, aghast by my words. “Like your mother?” Morgan growls through his teeth angrily. His eyes harden with rage.

Ashley breaks down, crying away. “My Bambina, I wish it wasn’t this way. Any human fated to be with those monsters don’t deserve such a terrible fate.”

“Did that mongrel claim you?” Morgan huffs, trying to reel in his anger.

I shake my head. “No, thankfully not. I passed out when he first realised I was his fated.”

Mate is their term for those mangy dogs, sorry Kyle. Fated is a human term for all mates whatever they are mated too, demon, vampire, witch/warlock, werewolf etc.

“We-.” Morgan is shut off by a loud pounding from the front door. All of us stare in the direction of the sound, Morgan grabs his pump-action shotgun from above the drinks cabinet. He looks at us both and pumps the gun ready. “Stay here.” He commands his voice firm. “I’ll deal with those beasts.”

...



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