Second Daughters
By Rebecca Patch
Chapter One
A Strange Stranger
Strange wasn't necessarily bad. Change wasn't necessarily bad. Strange changes, however, were something else altogether. Strange changes were almost never good. Example: moving from LA to this-town-in-the-middle-of-nowhere-where-the-nearest-mall-is-45-minutes-away. That had been a strange change. At the time, she had been three, and too young to question why. But that didn't mean that 11 years later, that she didn't.
It was just her, and her Dad. Dad was cool, different from the other dads. He let her do pretty much what she wanted—he knew that she could take care of herself. And she knew it, too. And there was always the fact that crime wasn't nearly as high in Grants Pass, Oregon, as it was in LA.
So why had they left LA. She still couldn't understand why. That had been right after Mom died, and she couldn't remember more than the terribly, overwhelming feeling of hopelessness after Mom had died. She couldn't really ask Dad, either, the subject, even 11 years later, was still too painful for him. She knew that Dad would have given his life, a million times over, for Mom to be with them.
There was only one photograph of her mother, besides the one that Dad had thought that she didn't know about—hidden in his sock drawer. The large, framed photo hung above their fireplace, depicting Mom and Dad, at their wedding. Mom, she knew, had been gorgeous. And it was easy to believe, looking at that photograph.
Her mother had been dressed in all white, shimmering and cascading around her, with flowers in her long, brown hair. Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, loosely flowing down her back, with small curls framing her face.
Her eyes were bright green, and seemed to know all of your secrets.
Sometimes, she wished that she looked more like her mother. It wasn't that taking after Dad was bad, or anything, but it would have given her more of a connection with her mother. But it also would have pained Dad, that much she knew.
She sighed. It was quite easy to feel lonely, sometimes. Dad was often away, and she had the nagging suspicion that he would be gone more and more frequently, since that visitor.
The man had been tall, with bleached blonde hair, showing dark roots, and piercing gray eyes. Dad had called him Tymmie, and had sighed when the man had said,
"We've found you, Stanton. You know that you can't hide out here forever. The Atrox needs you back in—
Tymmie had stopped talking abruptly as she had stepped into the room. His eyes had slid over her body, assessingly.
"Who is this?" Tymmie had asked, but she was sure he already knew..
"Tymmie, this is my daughter, Castrata. Castrata, this is Tymmie… we're old friends."
"Real old friends," Tymmie said, grinning at her.
"Right. Dad, do you want coffee in the lounge?"
"Sounds great." Dad had obviously been preoccupied, and had shooed her away when she had arrived with the coffee, saying that 'such matters were not for her ears'. This had amused Tymmie greatly.
That is, until she had glared at him. Something in her piercing blue eyes, so like her father's had scared him.
She had whipped from the room, head held high. That man bothered her. True, he appeared only a few years older than her, but he had to be older, if he and her father were old friends. And there was something creepy about his eyes. They were deep, and gray as the stormy seas, but there was something else. Something that had threatened to pull her under, as the sea pulls the unwary swimmer.
So here she was, alone, she was sure, on the first day of school. God, how she hated school. So boring.
She padded down the stairs, slippers making not a sound on the smooth flooring. Sure enough, there was a note on the breakfast table.
Dearest Castrata,
I am away, as you have probably realized by now. I am sorry to leave so unexpectedly, but something has come up. I hope that you have an excellent first day of school. I should be home by dinner. Lucy is making your favorite for breakfast—smoothies. Money for lunch—go wherever, I left plenty—is on the counter.
I want you to know how proud I am of you. You're growing up into a wonderful person, Castrata. Just like your mother.
Oh, and if you could do one thing for me? Wear your mother's necklace today. She'd want you to wear it.
I love you my dear. You are enrolled under 'Catundra', as previously requested.
Love,
Dad
She snorted. 'Wear your mother's necklace'? Like Dad even had to say that. She wore the moon charm, hanging on its silver chain, always. It made her feel as if Mom was with her. Comforting, forgiving, safe.
Catundra? No, she hadn't asked to be enrolled under the name Catundra. That, had been a joke. A joke from when she was six, and got her name, Castrata, mixed up with the name Catundra. She had been called Catundra then, and had asked to be called Catundra always.
So, last summer, when her father had insisted that she go to a public high school, instead of remaining at home with a private tutor, she had joked, "why don't you enroll me under the name Catundra, like I always wanted?"
Obviously, he had missed the joke.
She returned to her bedroom, and rifled through her clothes. There was absolutely nothing to wear. How could this happen? A closet full of clothes, and nothing to wear. Story of her life.
She finally settled on a pair of hip-huggers and a matching, light blue jean jacket.
She brushed out her long blonde hair, and picked it up into a ponytail. Her piercing blue eyes, mirror images of her father's, stared back at her in the mirror.
She grinned, slightly, and returned downstairs, eager for Lucy, their housekeeper, and her fantabulous smoothies.
She gulped down a strawberry smoothie, grabbed her denim purse, pulled on some tennis shoes, grabbed the keys to her car, and hit the road.
She loved her car. She had gotten her license only a month ago, having turned sixteen June 13. Her black, convertible was seriously hot.
She pulled into a lot outside of North Valley High School, and hopped out. Time to face the crowds. Who were going to think that her name was Catundra. Great. Of course, Catundra was a slight improvement on the 'you-will-never-meet-another-person-named-the-same-name-as-me' scale, over Castrata.
What she had to do was think of a nickname. Something nice, something normal, something boring. Like Brittany, because, seriously, there are sooo many 'Brittany's'.
Or, she could say that she went by her middle name. Well, she wouldn't go by her normal middle name, her mother's name, because Serena was sort of weird too.
What she needed was a nice, normal, boring name. Hmm… she listed names in her head. She didn't know very many people, and the only females she could think of where her mother, Lucy, and Mary, who did the house's landscaping. None of those names were going to work.
Suddenly, a memory returned to her. Her mother, speaking softly, telling her a story. "We were best friends, the five of us. Me, Jimena, Catty, Tianna, and Vanessa."
Vanessa! That was a good name! Not too exotic, but not too boring. Vanessa it would be.
"Killingsworth, Catundra." She told the lady in the office, who handed her a schedule.
The day passed in a blur, thank God. School here in Grants Pass seemed no different from school at home, with her tutor. Except that her tutor noticed when she grew bored and tuned out. These teachers didn't.
She drove home, thoroughly glad that school was over. Maybe Dad would be home.
Somebody was home, but it wasn't Dad. Quietly, she parked, and opened the door. A woman stood, with her back to Castrata. She had long, luscious black hair. From the back, she appeared to be around thirty.
Castrata shut the door, and waited.
The woman didn't move.
"May I help you?" Castrata asked, her tone like ice.
The woman nodded, without turning. "Come here," she said, in a voice that broke no argument. A voice that expected obedience, rather like her father's.
Castrata obeyed… very slowly. The woman had tattoos near her eyes, like teardrops. She had sad eyes. "Yes?" Castrata demanded. "Who are you?"
The woman smiled, a sad smile. "So like your mother." She whispered. "Serena had fire, too."
"Who are you?" Castrata hissed.
"Jimena… Jimena, Castillo." There was a small break in the woman's voice.
"What are you doing here?" Castrata whispered, she had recognized the woman's name. Her hand gripped on her moon charm. "Do you want Dad?"
Jimena's eyes narrowed. "What is your father's name?"
Castrata glared at her. "Why should I tell you? You won't even tell me what you're doing here."
"What is your father's name?" The woman's voice was chipped ice.
"Stanton…" Castrata trailed off, the woman was glaring into space, eyes full of more hatred than Castrata had thought possible in a human. "What do you want with him?" She asked, fearfully.
"Nothing." Jimena said forcefully, "I want nothing to do with Stanton!"
Castrata backed up. "Maybe you should go."
"No. I have to tell you something."
"What? That you hate my father? I already know that, it's obvious."
"No." Jimena whispered. "You must come back to LA."
"What?" Castrata almost laughed. "Come back to LA? Why?"
"The other Daughters need you."
"Daughters?"
"The other Daughters of the Moon."
"You aren't making sense." Castrata frowned. The phrase was somehow familiar, but somehow, it gave her a sense of foreboding, as well as comfort.
A car pulled into the drive. Dad was home.
"Dad's home, you can talk to him."
Jimena's eyes widened. "No. I'm leaving." Jimena slipped out the back door, and vanished. Castrata watched her start a car up, soundlessly, and the car drove away.
The front door opened. "How was your day, honey?" Dad asked.
"Oh… my day? Um… my day? Fine… it was fine." Castrata said, distractedly.
Dad frowned. "Are you okay, Castrata?"
"What? Me…? Fine… I'm fine." Castrata whispered.
"What are you thinking about?" Dad asked, his voice growing into a mixture of worry and anger. She stared at him.
He stared back. Those blue eyes, so like her own, drilled into her mind. She felt as though he knew everything she had ever done.
"Who was here?" Dad asked, his voice dangerously soft.
"Um… just a lady. I think she was selling something. She was definitely on something." Castrata laughed. There. She had told the truth… or at least part of it.
Her father just looked at her.
"Hey, Dad?"
"Yes?"
"What are the Daughters of the Moon?" Castrata asked.
Her father sat down on the couch, heavily. "Why do you want to know?" His voice was something she couldn't identify. He was… scared?
"I just… remembered the words, and they seemed comforting, yet scary. They were so familiar, and I… I wondered if you knew what they mean."
"Yes," Dad said, as if remembering something far into his past. "Yes, I know what that means."
"What?"
Dad sighed. "I guess its time to tell you, Castrata. You're old enough."
Castrata was silent. She could tell that this was going to be important.
"You've read mythology, Castrata?" Castrata nodded. Mythology was one of the only aspects of school that hadn't bored her. "Do you remember the myth of Pandora? Tell me what you remember."
"Pandora was beautiful, inside and out, but one of the gods—I don't remember which—wanted to tempt her. He gave her millions of things, but said, out of all of them, to be sure not to open one thing. A box.
"Now, Pandora was extremely curious. And instead of obeying, she opened the box, releasing countless evils into the world. Plague, wars, famine… uncountable evils. But the last thing out of the box was hope."
Dad nodded. "Here's the rest of the story, that very few people know. Something else, lurking hidden, near the box, was the Atrox."
Castrata stirred. Hadn't Tymmie mentioned an Atrox?
"Only Selene, goddess of the moon, saw the evil thing, the Atrox, lurking near the box. The Atrox devours hope, the one thing that keeps people alive through the bad times."
"Why?" Castrata said, "Why would anyone want to do that?"
"The Atrox wants to rule the world, I suppose you could say. But anyway, back to my story:
"Only Selene knew what the monster was, what it would do. She took pity on the Earth-dwellers, and gave them her Daughters, committed to fighting, to helping keep hope alive. They are powerful and beautiful, yet mortal.
"The Atrox has many servants, known as Followers. The Followers steal hope. They have none of their own, so they steal others, hoping to quench their terrible thirst. But nothing helps. The Followers can read and manipulate the minds of their prey. The Daughters job is to keep people from them. Or one of their jobs, anyways.
"Your mother was a Daughter. That's her amulet that you're wearing."
Castrata gripped her amulet.
"Serena could read minds—a telepath. Her power was similar to that of the Followers, so she was important. She was known as the Key. Whichever side had her had the advantage."
"Did Mom kill all the Followers?" Castrata asked, leaning against her father, and wishing she were six again.
Dad laughed softly. "And here I was, a Follower—
"You were a Follower?" Castrata asked, fearfully, jumping to her feet.
Her father laughed, humorlessly. "I was. I was what was known as an invitus—one who had been turned to the Atrox without a choice. I fell in love with Serena, and she with me. But our love was forbidden. We were in danger all the time.
"Serena saved me from the Atrox, but I was forced to return, in order to save her life. I was no longer an invitus. I became the Prince of the Night, the most powerful Follower, second only to the Atrox itself.
"Serena and I were allowed to be together. I promised myself that nothing would ever separate us."
"Then how did she die?" Castrata demanded, sitting down again.
"She was seventeen, and it was time for the metamorphosis. When a Daughter turns seventeen, they have a choice. They can forget everything about being a Daughter, or they can become some sort of guardian spirit.
"Serena, however, had a third choice. She could become a Goddess of Darkness, like Hekate. She had told her fellow Daughters this, but they thought of this as turning to the Atrox."
"But Hekate's good!" Castrata frowned.
"The Daughters didn't realize this. They thought that Serena was betraying them. They gave her no chance to explain."
"That was stupid of them."
Her father nodded. He had a tight, sad look on his face.
"It was the night before she turned seventeen. You were barely a month old—
"Hang on, I though Mom died when I was three."
He shook his head. "You were barely a month old. But anyways, she would turn seventeen the next day, and it was barely hours until morning.
"The Daughters knew that it was better to have a dead Daughter, than let her cross over. There was a huge attack of Followers that night. Serena was fighting against them. One was becoming too much for her.
"She called for her best friend, Jimena Castillo, to help her. Jimena didn't turn. Serena pleaded. Jimena and the other Daughters turned, and…" Her father broke off, his voice shaking.
"It's okay, Dad." Castrata said, wiping away her tears, so her father couldn't see.
"No, you have to know. The Daughter turned, and… and helped the Follower kill her! In essence, they killed her. That Follower didn't have the power to kill her—but they did. They killed their friend. Without giving her a chance to explain, they murdered her."
They sat like that for a couple of minutes.
Suddenly her father said, "That is why we left LA. But now, I have to go back."
"What?"
"We're moving, Castrata. Back to LA, where your mother died."
Castrata thought of Jimena. "No, we can't!"
Dad sighed. "I know. I don't want to, but the Atrox has ordered me back. There are new Daughters to destroy."
"Why do you listen, Dad? Why? Does it have that much power over you? And why haven't you turned me? You said its possible to make someone an invitus. Why didn't you do that to me?"
"The Atrox doesn't order me very much, it doesn't have enough power, since it was returned to shadow form. But when it does order me, it is very powerful. I have to obey. As for turning you… the Atrox doesn't know you exist. None of the Followers did, until Tymmie saw you last night. But I couldn't turn you… you don't deserve that kind of life—without hope. No one does. I couldn't. I can't."
"Thanks, Dad. But what about the Daughters? You're just going to destroy them?"
"Not me."
"Can't you stop it? They didn't kill Mom."
Her father set his jaw. "I can't do anything. If they're smart enough, they'll learn how to survive. In the meantime, promise me you won't talk to them. Don't associate with them."
"How will I know them?"
"They'll wear that amulet, the amulet of Selene." He gestured to her charm.
"Dad, I can't promise not to talk to them—you know that, right? After all, we share a common interest." She held up her amulet.
Her father stared at her. "You mean that you—
"I mean that I won't help you. I will not join the fight against hope. I will do anything I can to prevent it. You've known all along."
"You're a Daughter…" Dad whispered. "I hadn't thought of that."
Castrata waved his comment away. "You don't have to be a Daughter to fight for hope, Dad."
He smiled, thinly. "You're so like your mother. No, I'll keep you out of it. However, Followers like Tymmie will occasionally come around the house. You are to be polite, but firm. Don't talk to them unless they speak to you first. Most will be part of the Inner Circle. They're far more powerful than you."
"Duh. I don't have powers!" Castrata grinned.
Dad smiled, thinly. "Well, yes… but… well, never mind. Just behave like you did with Tymmie."
"Right. Glare at them. It freaks them out."
Her father smiled, for real this time.
"Right."
"Oh, and Dad?"
"Yes?"
"When you enroll me at my new school, my normal name will do."
He grinned, boyishly. "What? You didn't like being called Catundra?"
"Actually, no." Castrata decided against telling him that she had gone by 'Vanessa' all day long. "Oh, Dad?"
"Yes?"
"Am I actually sixteen? If I wasn't three when mom dies?"
"Er—no. You're fifteen."
"Am I still allowed to drive?"
Dad grinned. "I think we can manage that."
Chapter TwoASYETUNTITLED
The first day of school—again, Castrata thought, as she pulled into a space in the La Brea High parking lot. She allowed her purse to go through the metal detector. Today, she was wearing a white peasant skirt, a pale blue shirt, and her jean jacket. Her hair was pulled into its ponytail, and she wore no jewelry, but for her amulet. Her mother's amulet.
"Larhk, Castrata." She told the lady at the front desk. She no longer went by Serena's maiden name—Dad had thought up a new one. Although it was spelled strangely, it was pronounced 'Lark'.
The lady gave her a schedule. "Do you need help finding your way?" she asked.
"Yeah," Castrata admitted.
The lady looked around. "Janie can help you." She turned, and called to a girl with twinkling brown eyes, dark brown curls, and a mischievous smile. "Janie—over here!"
The girl—Janie—walked over. "Yes?" She asked, her dancing eyes taking in Castrata and the lady. She frowned slightly, but her smile returned almost immediately. "How can I be of service, Mrs. Delan?"
Mrs. Delan smiled. "We have another new student, Janie. She needs to know where to go."
Janie grinned. "Sure thing, Mrs. Delan." She took my schedule, and beckoned to me. Mrs. Delan returned to her office.
"Let's see… Castrata Larhk… interesting name… Castrata. I like it. You don't here many Castrata's."
"Most people call me Katherine." I said, naming the name that my father and I had agreed on. A nice, normal name.
"Sure thing. Katherine. Kitty. Kitty, I think. As you already know, I'm Janie. Actually, it's Jadyn, Jadyn Turner."
"You don't see many Jadyn's."
"Nope. So, remember, its Janie. Most people don't know my name is Jadyn."
"Right." Castrata smiled at her. Janie just seemed so friendly.
"Okay, your first class is Drama, with Canasil. She's okay, as long as you're on time, and pay attention. (fat chance, Castrata thought) It'll be fine, I have Canasil first period too."
Janie showed me my locker. As I twirled the combo—13-15-13—two more girls approached. They were both beautiful. One had dark hair and blue eyes, the other, red hair and blue eyes.
"Kitty, meet my two best friends: Ariana and Tanya. Ariana," she motioned towards the girl with dark hair, "Tanya", the girl with red hair, "meet my new friend, Katherine. Kitty, actually. She's new here at La Brea."
"Hey." Ariana said, grinning. "Welcome."
Tanya smiled, "Hope you," she wrinkled her nose, "like it here."
The three of them, Janie, Tanya, and Ariana burst into laughter.
"Don't pay attention to Tanya," Ariana said, between laughs, "she loves school. She's just a jokester."
Tanya grinned at Castrata. "A little laughter never hurt anyone."
This sent all of them, including Castrata, into peals of laughter. "Should we get to class?" Castrata asked, when she could catch her breath.
"Yep," Janie said, grinning.
By the end of the day, if someone had asked Janie to introduce her friends, she would have said, "These are my three best friends: Ariana, Tanya, and Kitty."
Castrata had never felt so good, never had so much fun at school. She had never had such good friends before. She had never had friends before. Plus, she had some really interesting classes: Drama (which had turned out to be fun), Band (apparently, she could play a flute—who knew?), and, her favorite: Mythology.
She had Drama with Janie, and Band with Ariana, and Mythology with all three of them. She had Trigonometry with Tanya, and English with Janie. History was with Tanya, and her last class, Science, was with Ariana.
She left school in an awesome mood.
"How was school?" Dad asked, as soon as Castrata walked through the front door.
"Great!" Castrata beamed, "I've never had so much fun!"
"Did you make some friends?"
"Yes! Three great, new friends. Ariana, Tanya, and Janie."
"Why don't you invite them over this weekend?" Her father suggested, and turned back to his paperwork. Wait… her father? Paperwork?
"What are you doing, Dad?" Castrata asked, leaning over her father's shoulder. He covered the papers before she could see.
"Nothing that concerns you." Dad answered, in a hard, brittle, angry voice.
Castrata drew back, stung. Her father had never spoken like that to her before.
"Okay," Castrata said, in a small voice. "I'm going to my room now."
Her father sighed. "I'm sorry, Castrata. I'm just stressed. There are some important people who are going to be here in ten minutes. Why don't you change, so you can serve them some teacakes, when they arrive?"
Castrata raised an eyebrow. "Teacakes?"
Her father nodded.
"What do you want me to wear?"
"Something showy," her father muttered, almost too softly for Castrata to hear.
"Right. Impressive. Whatever you say, Dad."
Her father smiled.
Castrata skipped upstairs. Visitors, huh? Teacakes, my foot, Castrata thought, I'd bet almost anything that what they want aren't teacakes. Hmm… an idea had suddenly occurred to her. I bet they aren't teacakes. They weren't.
Castrata pulled on a skirt that reached down to mid-thigh. One that was appropriate for school, but showy. She pulled on a black spaghetti strap shirt that was the same shade of midnight black as her skirt. She grabbed spiky black sandals and poked long, dangling hoops through her earring holes.
On impulse, she applied mascara, and dark eye shadow, something that she normally didn't bother with. She let her blonde hair hang, slightly in front of her eyes, giving her a mysterious look. Finally, on impulse, she removed her moon amulet. Something told her that it wasn't safe to wear it, not in front of Followers.
The doorbell rang, and Lucy opened the door. Judging by the sound of their footsteps, Castrata guessed that there were now five more people in their house. Five Followers.