Watching Ember Read online

  Watching Ember

  The Monsters Series Book One

  J.B. Reding

  Copyright © 2020 J.B. Reding

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  I want to dedicate this book to my mother and grandmother, who have stuck by me in this long journey and have encouraged me to follow my passion.

  I love you both very much.

  P.S. Sorry for calling you grandmother :)

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Preface

  Prologue

  1. Old Friends

  2. The Reunion

  3. Nightmares

  4. The Key

  5. Questions

  6. Homecoming

  7. The Devil’s Hour

  8. Answers

  9. Monsters

  10. Recollections

  11. The Arrangement

  12. Dreams

  13. Teddy Bear

  14. Burn

  15. Firsts

  16. Caveman

  17. Revelations

  18. Heart-to-Heart

  19. New Friends

  20. Choices

  21. The End

  22. Family

  23. Wishes

  Epilogue

  Author's Note

  About The Author

  The Monsters Series

  Preface

  I would like to say that while this book is based on a crime family, it is not the typical mafia book that some may expect. This book has taken many forms, one of which was a traditional mafia family with Italian names and everything. But these characters had their path and I tried to stay true to it instead of trying to form it into something it wasn't. It took some time, but Ember and Nixon finally got their happy ending that I, and I hope you, are happy with.

  Prologue

  7 Years Old

  "Come on legs, move.” I quietly encourage them. I try to get out of the bed again, but it’s useless. My legs just won’t listen.

  I really need to use the bathroom, but I’m too scared to get up; scared that he’ll find me out of my room. I'm also terrified of the dark even though Mommy says that I don’t need to be, but I know that the dark is where the monsters hide. Mommy also says that there’s no such thing as monsters. But how can she say that when we live with one?

  I never understood why we lived here. Why I was forced to hurt. Mommy said that it was just for a little while, but it’s been six months already.

  I asked Mommy when Daddy was back coming to take us home, but she told me she didn’t know.

  I just want to get away from this monster.

  I don’t believe in the type of monsters other kids believe in. No, I believe in the real monsters. The monsters that look and pretend to be like us but are nothing like us. The type of people who have black empty eyes. The monsters that punish little girls for getting out of bed in the middle of the night.

  Last time I got out of bed, the monster punished me. He said I deserved it. That I'm not allowed to leave my room without permission. But if I don’t get up to use the bathroom, I’ll wet the bed. And that’s even worse.

  I take a deep breath and gather my courage.

  You got this.

  I smile when my legs finally swing over the side of the bed, my bare feet touching the rough carpet. I push myself to stand and stare at the door, waiting for it to burst open.

  Time feels non-existing as I stand there waiting. He’s not coming, I think to myself, but I just can't get it through my head. It sounds silly to be scared. But I really don’t wanna be locked in the closet again.

  It’s dark in there and the darkness plays tricks on me.

  I take another deep breath, letting it out as I take a step towards the door. I shuffle quietly, reaching for the doorknob. I begin to twist it when it makes a clicking sound.

  I stop and wait.

  Then I try again.

  Slowly, I crack the door open just enough to look out into the hallway. It’s dark apart from the light coming from the cracked office door. The bathroom is just across the hall from it. It’d be impossible to slip in there without being noticed.

  But I really need to pee.

  The hall seems to stretch on and on like it’s never ending as I tiptoe toward the bathroom.

  Maybe the monster fell asleep in his office and won’t notice. Or maybe he just forgot to turn off the light.

  As I get closer to the bathroom, I focus solely on the door as questions and fears travel through my brain. What if he catches me? What if he locks me up again? What if I never make it out of this nightmare?

  When I make it outside the doors, I hear a familiar voice. The same voice I’ve been wishing to hear for the past six months: my daddy’s! But why is he in the monster’s house? Maybe he’s here to save us and take us back home. But mommy says she doesn’t want to go back. She says I’m too young to understand. But I do understand. I understand she isn’t happy and I’m scared.

  I shuffle closer to the door and peek inside to see my daddy leaning back in the monster’s chair. Why is he in the monster’s chair? He shouldn’t be there, the monster is gonna punish him. He punished me when I got in the chair, but daddy doesn’t seem scared of the monster. I bet Daddy is strong and can beat the monster.

  “I told you, I didn’t touch her!” The monster yells in Daddy's face, leaning over the desk.

  The monster is so mad his face is almost purple. Mommy told me when he looks like that, I need to hide. I take a step to go back to my room, but the floor creaks.

  I freeze.

  My daddy’s eyes snap to the door. He looks back to the monster with a scary look in his eyes.

  It’s the same look the monster gets sometimes. But my daddy can’t be a monster. He loves me. And Mommy. He told me before he sent us here.

  I watch as my daddy slowly rises from the chair and makes his way to me. I look up when he swings the door all the way opened.

  My daddy has the same green eyes as me. Mommy says it’s the only thing that I have of his, but I know I have his heart, too. Daddy told me so.

  “Hey, baby girl. What are you doing out of bed?” He asks gently as he squats down in front of me.

  “I had to use the bathroom. I’m sorry I didn’t ask, but I really needed to go.” I cross my legs and bounce up and down to show him, then quickly look away, not wanting to see the anger on his face.

  “It’s okay. Go and I’ll come tuck you in after.” My daddy smiles and nods his head towards the bathroom. I nod back and do as he says.

  After using the bathroom, I climb back in bed and wait. What if he doesn’t come? What if the monster comes instead? What if he locks me in the closet again?

  The doorknob finally turns, and my daddy walks in with another smile on his face.

  “Hey baby, I know it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other which makes me sad, but I want you to know it doesn’t mean I don’t love you anymore. Because I do. I love you very much so and I always will.” He explains as he comes to sit on the edge of my bed. The light from the hallway spilling into the room and lighting up his face. He looks sad. “It’s just not safe for you to come home yet.”

  “Why not?” I ask. “I don’t wanna be here anymore. I don’t like it here. He’s mean to me, Daddy.” A tear falls down my cheek, but I wipe it away. Daddy always said to be strong. So, I c
an’t cry because crying makes you weak. That’s what the monster says when he yells at Mommy.

  “Oh, Ember. I talked to him. He won’t be mean anymore, I promise. I want you to come home, but you must stay strong, okay? Can you do that for me?” He smiles weakly.

  I nod.

  He stands and tucks me in, placing a kiss on my forehead. “I love you baby girl. I always will. Never forget that.” Then he walks out, closing the door softly behind him.

  That night I slept without interruption.

  My dad held true to his word.

  For the next two years, the monster pretended I didn’t exist. He didn’t come visit me at night nor did he lock me in the closet again. I would still be locked in my room from time to time, but never for more than a day. And that was more than I could have hoped for.

  Although my fear of the dark never left me, and I don’t think it ever will.

  1. Old Friends

  I brush on the finishing touches of my makeup and step back from the mirror to inspect my auburn hair and green eyes. My pale skin stands out against the black dress that swishes a few inches above my knee, almost but not quite indecent. The white pumps add an extra four inches to my five-foot-three frame. Although I’m a master in heels, I hate them with a passion; however, I’m in the mood to dress up a bit.

  Plus, it means Liz, my roommate and best friend, won’t get on my case about what I’m wearing. We met when she moved to our hometown the start of freshmen year when we were fourteen.

  I had moved back in with my dad after my mother died in a car accident when I was nine. I didn’t have many friends being the new kid in a school where everyone had grown up together. To be honest, I didn’t have any friends. Well, except one, but I try hard not to think about him. Anyway, everyone was pretty much too afraid of my dad. Rumors circulated the halls about his unsavory business and him being a crime lord. Back then I didn’t give it much thought, though. I didn’t really care. To me, he was just my dad. But I wasn’t naïve enough to think they were necessarily lies.

  The mansion I lived in had around the clock guards and cameras posted inside and along the perimeter of the house. I had a driver and bodyguard everywhere I went. School being the only place I was free from constant surveillance. I was still watched there due to it being an elite k-12 private school filled with high profile kids, so security was tight. But even then, the other kids’ eyes always seemed to follow me. Some looked away in fear and others looked down on me in disgust. I was never bullied though. They weren’t that stupid. And besides, their families weren’t much better than mine when it came to breaking laws. They were just more discrete about it. But my dad was a good man and what he did or didn’t do wouldn’t change my mind about that it.

  So, when Liz Simmons transferred to my school and noticed me sitting alone, ignoring all the other students, she decided that I was the perfect person to become her new best friend. Having her dad be an influential politician who eventually became Senator two years later, she knew all about how the social circles worked and she didn’t give a shit either.

  It was fate that the two people who didn’t care about social norms and therefore became pariahs, turned into best friends, despite our fathers being on opposite sides of the law. Although that didn’t really mean much. Her father was a dick, and mine was more of a dad to her than her own. I never got confirmation, but I got the impression that he was abusive.

  Now, eight years later we live together in our two-bedroom apartment, finishing up our senior year at Berkeley. However, I’m seriously beginning to regret that decision. If it wasn’t for her, I would be in bed reading a good book right now, instead of going to this end of the year party. But I can never deny her. I know she’s trying to get me out of this funk I’ve been in lately. And there’s a part of me that wants to go but, well, I just have a feeling.

  I grab my phone off the bed and walk out to the kitchen where I find Liz in a bright red Bodycon dress and nude heels, making her five-eight model like height even taller. She’s gorgeous, but she doesn’t even care. In our circle, beauty is taken advantage of. It's twisted into something ugly. Maybe in another life she would have become the model she resembles.

  She spins around holding two shot glasses and thrusts one towards me.

  “Here’s to having the best night ever!” She hollers, tossing her platinum blond hair over her shoulder before shooting her shot back.

  “Yay.” I laugh at her. God, she's something else. Always so bubbly and energetic. Unless you’re on her bad side, then you better run. She's known to throw things… and hit her target.

  “Oh, and you’re driving.” She informs me as she grabs her clutch off the counter. I dump the shot in the sink and head out the door behind her.

  “Of course, I am. You’re already drunk.” I say with an eye roll and a small smile as I lock the door behind us.

  Tonight is definitely going to be interesting.

  ~***~

  Walking into the house, I’m assaulted by the intense heat of too many bodies squeezed into one place. I can feel the bass through my feet and pulsing in my chest as a headache begins to form.

  Liz so owes me for this.

  “Come on!” Speak of the devil. She snatches my wrist and drags me behind her toward the back of the house.

  “Dammit! Slow down!” I shout, struggling to keep up with her as all the bodies cave in around us.

  “Sorry!” Her laugh a distant sound in all the noise.

  Finally making it into the kitchen, Liz begins pouring something into a red solo cup. “Do you want one?” She asks, still yelling. I give her a look. She knows I don’t drink out in public. It's why she loves when I come, so I can drive her drunk ass home.

  I reach around her and grab a cup to fill with water from the fridge. I’m taking a sip when Liz grabs my arm and drags me from the kitchen to where the music is loudest. My drink gets knocked out of my hand at some point as we begin to dance. It's taken me a while to not only be able to let go enough to dance in a room full of strangers but also be okay with so many bodies touching and knocking into me. But I’m at that point in life where I just don’t give a shit anymore.

  We dance for a little while, fighting off wandering hands and assholes, before I’ve reached my limit. “Alright, I’m taking a break!” I yell in Liz’s ear before I fight my way back through the crowd. I look for a corner to hide in, but the house is flooded with people taking up every inch of space. I spy a set of stairs and fight my way over to them, making my way up to the second floor.

  I know it’s a bit dangerous to separate from Liz and the crowd; but I have the small 9mm my dad gave me when we moved here, strapped to my thigh. I have become a little paranoid since I turned sixteen and he decided I was old enough to know the basics of his business. He told me just enough so that I was aware of the dangers and knew they were real. Turns out my dad is a highly known gunrunner. All those rumors back in high school were true, but I’m just happy it's not something worse, like drugs or sex trafficking.

  I've never been put in any real danger. Although there were a few close calls, I was always protected. Nevertheless, at an early age I learned to trust my instincts and to listen to that inner voice.

  Recently I’ve been getting a weird feeling, so I've been a little more diligent. Now, some may say that leaving a room full of people and venturing into the unknown isn't being diligent, but if they want me, they’ll have to drag me through all the people downstairs, kicking and screaming. First, they'd have to get me.

  Plus, I know from experience there are no exits up here unless you want to jump out the window. Which I doubt any sane person would do. Not saying that my father's enemies are sane, but that's beside the point. We don’t believe that I’m in danger here. Which is the only reason my dad let me move so far. If anything, he thought it would make me safer. Pretty sure he has one or two men here to keep an eye on me anyway.

  When I make it to the top, I find no one is up here, at least, that I can s
ee. I guess there's an unspoken rule that people aren’t supposed to venture upstairs. But like I said, I stopped giving a shit. The farther I walk down the hall, the more the noise from downstairs becomes muted and the hall darker. I walk to the end where the bathroom is and where the hallway juts off to the left. We’ve been to houses on this road before, and the layouts are the same. Don’t know if it's from smarts or just laziness. Makes it easier on me either way.

  I reach my hand inside and flip the light on before walking in. The dark still spooks me, but I try not to dwell on that fact.

  I use the bathroom and check how well my makeup is holding up as I wash my hands. I debate hiding in here till Liz is ready to leave, but I probably shouldn’t leave her alone for long. She's known not to make the best decisions when drunk.

  I’m drying my hands on a small towel when there's a knock on the door.

  I quickly check my gun and replace it in my thigh holster before opening the door. But no one is on the other side.

  Something's not right.

  I go to slam the door closed, but a hand reaches out and keeps it open. A skinny, semi-balding man appears, his creepy grin showcasing yellow teeth, at least the ones he has. He takes a step closer to me. Instead of taking a step back like he wants, I rush at him, knocking him off his footing and on his ass. I hurry past him, but he reaches out and snatches hold of my ankle, making me lose balance and fall into the wall to the left of me.

  I straighten and try to kick his hand loose, but obviously it doesn’t work. I reach under my dress and grab my gun, pointing it down at the man.

  “Let me go.” I demand. There's no way this is some random ass college student. He reeks of sketchy criminal.

  The man’s face breaks out into a filthy grin that's more grimace than anything and laughs, further proving my point and thoroughly pissing me off.

  “Don’t believe me?” I ask, arching my brow. Dumbass.