Life - Life & Death Book 1

Chapter 8 - Part 1 - Zivena

✲✲✲✲✲

    I clutch at my stomach as I look at the clock. I'd slept well into the night.
    I get out of bed and shuffle across the hall to the bathroom. It feels like any movement will end in me being covered in my own vomit.
    After a long, cold shower, I shuffle down the hallway when I hear voices coming from Dad's study.
    "-possible, Lenia?" I hear Dad say. "How could she bring something back to life? No other reincarnation could do that."
    "I'm not sure," Mom says, sounding panicked. "What about the prophecy? You don't think...?"
    Dad pauses and I hear him take a deep breath before letting it out. "There was never a time specified, it could be possible." He sounds defeated.
    "It's going to be hard enough for her. How are people going to treat her if they think she's part of the prophecy?"
    "She'll just have to deal with it. So will Death – whoever they are." Dad sighs. "I just wish we could speed up the process. We need to catch that killer and we need both of them. More bodies could turn up–"
    "She needs to train first," Mom interrupts. "We can't just throw her into an investigation and expect her to find the killer. She'll have to get use to working with Death. There's so many variables, Lyov."
    "She'll have to train quickly. The Council is getting agitated. They have absolutely no idea who's doing this, and they could take it out on Zivena and Death."
    "I know, but we all need to be patient. Once the transition is done, we'll be able to tell her everything but until then, we're just going to have to wait," Mom sighs. "Can you turn the news on?"
    It's then I notice something isn't adding up. I sneak over to the study door, slowly turning the knob. No one's in there and it finally clicks. Dad doesn't have a TV in his study. The only TV in the house is in the lounge room – two floors below me.
    "Well, this storm in San Francisco screams Leucetius," I hear Dad say as I tiptoe back down the hall.
    So many questions rush through my mind as I walk back to my bedroom, confused as all hell. It takes me hours to drift into a restless sleep. I'm relieved when the nightmares finally stop and something else appears. Curious, pale blue eyes come into focus.

✲✲✲✲✲

    I wake to the sounds of clattering plates and the scrape of cutlery. The toaster pops. Urgh, this enhanced hearing is so weird.
    I bumble down the stairs in my pajamas and every step sounds like I'm an elephant. As I walk into the kitchen, everyone is laying claim to breakfast. Forks are hitting porcelain, and my family are definitely not using their inside voices.
    "Oh my god, would you all shut up?" I murmur. Even my own voice is too loud.
    Everyone looks at me, amusement beaming from them.
    "What?"
    "Someone's a little hung-over this morning," Ulfric teases.
    I glare at him and Ahren laughs.
    "It's part of the transition, Zivena," Evert says, not looking at me. "Deal with it."
    "Evert, chill. We're just teasing her," Ulfric shoots back. I send a grateful smile his way.
    "Yeah, you teased us when we were going through it. What's so different about Zi?" Ahren asks.
    Evert glares at them and then at me. I glare back and start to pile up my plate with breakfast.
    Within minutes all the noise is starting to wear me down. I know I'll get used to my enhanced hearing, but it's overwhelming.
    Once I get my share of food, I leave the kitchen for the quiet lounge room. Emphasize on the quiet. I flick the TV on and quickly turn down the volume. A 'ghost hunting' show is on and I try hard not to laugh while my mouth is full of food.
    "We're here on North Brother Island investigating claims that anyone who visits the island suffers from short term memory loss and forget why they ever came to the island in the first place. Could this be the work of an upset spirit or -"
    I change the channel and flick through until I find the news. Unsurprisingly, there's mention of the killings in Central Park. Overnight, a dog who can surf went viral, and the storm over San Francisco has worsened.
    My food is forgotten as I adjust the volume and watch the screen closely. News clips of hail stones as big as baseballs falling from the sky litter the report. Accounts of people running to the nearest shelters, lightning hitting the skyscrapers and debris flying through neighborhoods flash across the screen. And this was all because of some dude with a weird name?
    "Zivena?" I turn and spot Dad standing at the other end of the couch. "Is everything alright?"
    I inwardly shake myself. My parents don't know I'd heard them last night, so I don't say anything. "Yeah, everything's fine. Just this crazy storm in San Fran."
    Dad sits down beside me. Sometimes it's hard to come to terms with how old my father really is. To the human eye, he looks to be in his mid-late thirties, but to the trained Guardian eye he is in his eighties. My parents have been together for forty years. They'd met in Berlin for a case.
    "How are you feeling, sweetheart?" Dad wraps an arm around me. I relax as I breathe in his familiar scent of wood smoke and whiskey.
    "Tired," I mumble.
    "You won't feel like that for much longer. Once the transformation is complete you'll feel like a new person."
    "It's hard to remember that when I feel like a car is crushing me."
    Dad's chest rumbles as he laughs. "You've always had a flare for dramatics."
    I laugh with him as my eyelids grow heavy.
    "Come on, honey. You need all the rest you can get." Dad takes away my dishes and bundles me up in his arms.
    The last thing I glimpse is Dad slowly closing my bedroom door as darkness envelopes me.