Author's Note:
Hey guys! Please, please, please make sure to comment loads and loads and follow and favourite and all that. Also, I got a new laptop, which is why I haven't updated in a bit, so I'm trying to get use to it, so sorry. Anyway, I have plans that after this fanfic I'm going to do one for Uriel and his soulfinder - I have the whole concept planned out - and then after him it's Victor. I'm doing Victor last because I need to.
Anyway, hope you enjoy! :)
Emerald
The minute I wake up, I know something is wrong. The floor I'm on is hard, not soft and squishy like my padded cell. And I'm on carpet. CARPET! My eyes shoot open and I jump to my feet, only to stumble and fall backwards because of a head rush. Except, instead of landing hard and on my ass on the carpet, I land on a bed.
I look around the dark room and, suddenly, I remember.
I was saved.
Saved by the Savant Net.
Yippdy frickin' doo.
I'm still dressed in Mrs. Benedict's dressing gown and because I went to sleep with wet hair my hair is all curly and knotty. I wonder why I slept on the ground, but then I remember that I wasn't used to the bed. My spine will need some training if I'm going to be able to sleep on a bed.
I look around the room. There are four light blue walls and when I flick the lights on I see baseball cards pinned to the walls along with photos of – what I can only assume – is the Benedict family. Most of the pictures center around one guy. In every photo he's either pulling a funny face or grinning like a mad man. He's surrounded by lots of guys and girls, as most photos seem to be of parties. I frown as I take in the boy. He's got a broad chest and shoulders, built like a rugby player. In one close-up of the boy I get to see his face properly.
Strong and chiseled jaw-line. Dark, tanned skin, with dark brows and a strong nose. Ink black, shaggy hair and a dimple in his chin when he smiles. His eyes are a deep, deep shade of blue.
I blink, waking up from my reverie and I look around the rest of the room. On a desk there are big, thick books about criminology and behavioral analysis with the name tag "Will Benedict" written in messy, loopy handwriting.
I frown.
I hope he's nothing like Xav. I think absentmindedly.
I wander away from the pictures of the good-looking, happy boy and away from his do-gooder books and sit back on the bed. I fiddle with a soft, white belt from my dressing gown.
I sigh as I look around the room.
How did I get here?
Memories of that day when I was taken rush in, horrible and unwelcome memories, flooding into my mind. I gasp as the breath is literally knocked out of me, and I blink back the tears.
I can't deal with this, not now.
I need to be strong. I need to be brave.
I need to be a Savage.
With that thought in mind I stand up, straighten the horrendously and ridiculously short dressing gown and I take a deep breath.
Once it's released I open the bathroom door and grab a toothbrush. I don't know – or care – who owns it. I put a huge heap of toothpaste on it and give my mouth a thorough and good scrub for several minutes until my teeth ache and my gums are bleeding. But I haven't brushed my teeth in five years, and they are yellow and in ridiculous shape. Once I gargle some mouthwash – okay, about three pints of it – I rinse my mouth out and inspect my teeth. They're only a little yellow, which is good, I scrubbed off most of the plaque and grime.
I'm going to need to drink a lot of milk to strengthen these babies up.
Next is my face. It's greasy since my shower last night and some spots are threatening to pop up. I've had bad acne for a while, but it's seemed to have cleared up in the last week or so. I predict it'll be back in a week or so, though. I grab some gloppy and sticky face scrub that I scrub and scrub and scrub into my face until I feel like I've scrubbed my skin off. Once that's rinsed off I put on some of Mrs. Benedict's facial creams. Her purifiers, her toners, her moisturiser. I don't really care that I'm using someone elses things. I need them, she's got them, so...
Once my face has been cleaned I grab her hair brush and yank it through my unruly and newly shortened hair. I brush and yank all the knots out of my hair until it's straight again. I run a hand through it and look at myself in the mirror.
I'm still a scary pale and sickeningly thin, but at least my hair is knot-free. I put the brush down, flash myself a newly white smile and head out of the bathroom. I bite my lip as I survey the room and I decide to make the bed. Best to not bite the hand that feeds you.
I square my shoulders and head out the bedroom door, lightly padding down the hall. The hallway has dark brown walls and wooden floors, and I glance out a large, bay window on the landing just at the stairs. I stand, shock-still, completely and stupidly enraptured.
It's the sun. It's. The. Sun. It's orange glow is high enough to make me expect it's a little after noon. It's so bright and such a deep yellowy orange. And oh! I haven't seen it in so long. So, so, so long. I stand in it's light, the warmth spilling all around me, and I wonder if it's summer like I think it is. There's no snow, so it's not winter, and it looks bright enough to be summer, but I don't know where I am.
Though I know I am no longer in Australia.
The thought makes me home sick for the white sandy beaches and the open sea that I want back. I used to go surfing all the time. Will I ever surf again? Can I even remember how to?
I shake myself out of my depressing thoughts and give one last look at the sun. Will I ever see it again? Will I be kidnapped again and taken away?
I turn around and walk down the stairs. I pass family photo after family photo and – if my calculations are correct – there are seven boys in this family. And in the newer photos there seems to be four girls as well. All looking very different and each hanging on the arm of one of the – I can only assume – sons.
Soulfinders. I think bitterly.
I'm wondering where the hell this incredibly large family is when I reach the bottom of the stairs. I turn a corner and bump into someone. I stumble back and blink, looking down and into the eyes of a petite, blonde haired, blue eyed girl.
She shakes her head and blinks. Then she looks at me and grins. Her whole face lighting up.
"You must be Emerald." She says, holding out a hand. Her accent is lilting and English. Gingerly I shake her hand, feeling how small and delicate her little palm is.
Who is this kid?
Then the answer comes.
One of the sons' soulfinders.
I can't help but feel jealous and completely envious of this small, pretty girl with her delicate face and body and her old-style beauty - reminding me of Marilyn Monroe, except with less sex appeal – and soulfinder. What did she do to deserve him? What could she have possibly done?
She slips her hand out of mine, a look of unease creasing her brow. My mind fuzzes with the tell-tale sign of someone using telepathy and, within seconds, a gigantic boy walks into the hallway. He's like a sky-scraper, easily passing six foot and he has that face that teachers want to hurt and makes fathers want to lock their daughters away from this bad boy.
Codeword: Hot.
He sees me and a scowl settles across his face. His voice is deep and gruff when he speaks.
"Sky baby, get behind me." The blonde girl – Sky – glares at him, but does what she's told. My mind goes fuzzy again and I know they're talking about me via telepathy.
In the next second the new boy is joined by two other very large men. One with grey eyes and a black ponytail, the other with hazel eyes and a clean cut hair cut, his black hair trimmed and neat.
Both look wary of me.
I frown and cross my arms over my chest.
"Where's Saul?" I ask, my voice cold and level. I settle my eyes on the ponytail dude, sensing he might be the leader. Well, I look between him and the other guy, as the one with hazel eyes seems a little older.
"I'm here, Emerald." I spin around and see Saul walking through the other doorway, his hands up in a placating gesture, as if I'll run or attack. A small woman bustles behind him, a thoughtful expression on her warm face. Two more boys – one that looks older than all the rest and another boy with glasses – walk in, two girls following them. Next in comes Xav and Crystal. Xav flashes me a grin and winks, while Crystal just rolls her eyes.
I realise I'm surrounded by the whole Benedict family. But when I count the boys, I only count six. I frown as I realise the boy whose bed I'm in is not here.
I shrug.
Doesn't matter to me.
"Why am I here?!" I demand. Better start with the big questions first.
"We've been assigned to look after you." Saul replies calmly.
"Look after me? I'm nineteen. I can look after myself, thanks." I sound so strange surrounded by all these Americans and that English girl. My letters sounding like "a"'s when they're supposed to be "o"'s.
"You've been gone along time, Emerald, a lot's changed."
I glare at him, jaw clenched as well as my fists. I know that. I know I've been gone a long time. Does this man think I'm stupid?
"I don't want to be looked after." I bite out.
"Yeah, well we don't really wanna look after you either." I spin around to see the tall boy with Sky behind him glare at me.
If looks could kill I'd be six feet under.
"Zed." Saul growls, and the boy – Zed – shuts up.
I turn back around to Saul.
"See? You don't want me here and I don't want to be here. So if you'd just let me-"
"Where would you go?" He interrupts me and I purse my lips to stop myself from cursing at him.
"I'll go to my friend's hous-"
"Your old friends who were told you were murdered along with your mother? Your old friends who are away at college or traveling the world?"
I inhale sharply.
They were told I was murdered?
"Along with your mother." What he just said echoes around my head.
My mother was murdered.
I move forward, to slap him or punch him or kill him, I don't know. But I don't get any further as I hear a new voice speak from the crowd.
"Oh. She's awake."
It's a new voice.
The last Benedict.
Will.
