Prologue
"You were the one that I couldn't find"
Lizzie Wechsler woke up, pain filling her entire being. Oh, dear God, what had happened? All she could think of was the agony of her spine. A boy about her age stood up over her. His hair was golden and cropped like Taylor Lautner's, his eyes a liquid brown, shifting from dark chocolate, to cinnamon, to the light shade of an autumn leaf.
He cupped Lizzie's face, his touch cool and chasing away the rampant fever for only a few seconds. "Shh, you're safe, now," he comforted. Lizzie whimpered, the fever coming back to her cheek.
So much pain . . .
"Go back to sleep, Lizzie. You're safe with us," the boy comforted. Lizzie's crust-embedded eyelids were struggling to stay open while billions of questions popped up in her head.
What had happened? How did she wind up in a bed? More importantly, how did he know her name? The boy smiled down at her. Really smiled. Lizzie felt her consciousness slipping as a voice soothed her in her head.
Yes, that's it. Go to sleep, try to remember. You're safe now, Lizzie.
Another damned question entered in her head. Was she crazy? Lizzie sighed through her nose as she finally crumbled and the darkness embraced her. The crusted eyelids fell shut.
Lizzie soon found herself dreaming.
The home phone rang while Lizzie was cleaning off the counter in her mother's restaurant. Lizzie's father had abandoned her mother when Lizzie was six, resulting in Amanda having to work her life off trying to support the family.
Right now, her mother was off interviewing a promising chef. Lizzie whistled to herself as she walked up the stairs, into their house part of the building, and went into the living room, mildly curious. Who would be calling her now? She didn't have any friends at her high school, no immediate seniors that would want to be calling.
Lizzie picked up the phone, holding it to her ear. "Hello?" Lizzie asked, not bothering to go with the business slogan because it was the home phone. No one said any slogans when their business had a private line of their own.
A voice whispered urgently. "This phone isn't safe, Lizzie Wechsler. But I can guarantee myself a few minutes. You have to get out of here. Now. Or you're going to die. They hate you, Lizzie. Your mom's not coming back from her interview."
"Excuse me?" Lizzie replied indignantly. No one told her that her mom was going to die, especially if this was a prank call. She wanted to take away the phone, to press the end button, and go back to cleaning counters. But even if she tried, something else told her to stay on the line, to not hang up.
The response was rushed, impatient, and . . . there was an ounce of concern there. "I said that your mom's not coming back. Lizzie, you have to get out of there. Because then, if you don't, you'll die and then there will be no one to get rid of Jaclyn, much less make peace between the Kopi and Vlansia. Please, Lizzie. You have to desert the building."
Lizzie frowned. What kind of prank call did this idiot think it was? "May I ask who is speaking?
"Goddamnit, Lizzie, that's not important! Go-!" The phone was abruptly cut off as the west side of the restaurant exploded and the east side [the side Lizzie was in] collapsed in on itself. Lizzie screamed as she felt a falling sensation.
The last thing she heard was "LIZZIE!" and then everything slowly, agonizingly, faded to black as Lizzie fainted with cruel slowness.
Asher McHale of the Vlansia branch paced the room, throwing occasional glances at Lizzie. Dear Eris, she looked terrible. Raw red and brown burn marks littered her arms and face, along with her eyelids almost naturally glued shut by a thick yellow-beige crust around both cracks of her eyelids, clustering in random groups in her eyelashes. Her naturally wavy black hair spread out like waves behind her head, giving her an almost serene look despite all the wounds.
Damn the Kopi and their KKK ways of getting rid of threats. It was just a good thing that he had been running to her house the whole time he'd been talking on someone's phone. That way they could track that person instead of him.
"How's she doing?" a soft voice said behind Asher. He turned around to see a fellow Vlansia girl standing in the doorway. He sighed.
"I don't know, Lauren," he said in defeat. "She might not make it."
Lauren's eyes twitched. "She's going to make it," she said after a short hesitation, finishing firmly. "She has to, or we'll utterly be destroyed."
Asher looked down at Lizzie and nodded. "You're right, Lauren. We will be destroyed," he murmured softly.
The war that was going on was one of the worst in vampire history. You see, there were two main branches: The Kopi and the Vlansia. They were the same, just like . . . the Kopi were Communists and the Vlansia were democracy, you could say. Something like that, except all their religious beliefs were on the same ground. Eris was the goddess of vampires, chaos, blood, and wisdom and created the human race and vampires alike. But no seers had seen her for over three thousand years, resulting in the fact that she would slumber until there were no vampires left. And then the world would end from Eris's revenge taken out on the humans for destroying her favorite creatures.
But then, three hundred years after this prophecy had been made, a bright young seer named Henry Watson had said the Great War that was inevitably come [and had already started, in Asher's time] could be stopped by a Eris chosen human, an Eris look-alike. Eris, in her prime before her slumber, had black hair blacker than ravens and dazzling green eyes. But she didn't have freckles. In the short time that Lizzie had been awake, Asher had seen all of these qualities of Eris plus the alarmingly cute freckles.
Lizzie stirred, silent tears leaking out of her crusty eyelids. Asher sat down on the feather-down bed [only the best for the Eris incarnate] and rubbed her face, trying to chase away the fever with his ice-cube touch. But to her, it probably only seemed like a nice wind in the heat of summer. That's how high her fever was. Asher turned to the watching Lauren. "Lauren, could you get an ice pack, please?" Asher asked.
Lauren nodded and disappeared at once.
Less than three minutes later, a fellow touch grabbed his hand and squeezed it, producing the ice pack. Asher kissed Lauren's temple. "I knew you were useful," he teased. Lauren rolled her currently milk chocolate eyes and wacked Asher above the head. Asher grinned at his sister, but his insides ached when he turned to Lizzie to place the ice pack on her forehead. Something inside of him didn't want to see the Eris incarnate in so much pain. As soon as the icy helper touched her skin, Lizzie trembled violently.
Asher sighed. Lauren laid her head on top of her brother's. "I'll be downstairs. Call us telepathically if she wakes up," Lauren murmured. Asher nodded.
"Will do." Lauren disappeared and Asher grabbed a washcloth, dabbing at Lizzie's forehead.
It was going to be a long war.
A/N: Hey everyone! I don't own the part in italicized underneath the chapter title, it belongs to Aly & A.J. because it's their song Collapsed. I'll also be using some lines from Evanescence's Missing. I don't own it, etc. So don't sue me, you crazy laywers stalking this site. Well, that was the prologue of The Eris Incarnate. I hope you guys review! ~Saving Rainbows