Ava Rising: Book 2 of 3

Chapter 20

The next morning Greg volunteered to drive the three of them to the beach Owen had scouted out the day before. They had several hours of road trip ahead of them before they made it to the Great Ocean Road. After mumbling feverishly about how red Greg's hair was—"like rubies"—Lucas had promptly fallen asleep in the front seat. Owen and Ava were in the back—the middle seat a safe buffer from the forced proximity of the car. But still, Ava felt acutely the closeness of Owen and Lucas as they drove.

After reviewing shark information for several minutes, Owen said, "I have something I need to show you." He fished a small notebook out of his backpack.

Ava recognized it. "My grandmother's journal—did she give it to you?" There was more than a hint of envy in her tone.

"Yes," he said simply. She could always count on Owen not to sugarcoat the truth.

"She never let me read it," Ava said wistfully. "But as she flipped its pages I would sometimes sneak a glimpse of the illustrations—at once beautiful and terrifying. She was such an amazing artist. It was only in those drawings that I caught a hint of my grandmother's true self—the woman she transformed into when summoning the lava creature out of that crater."

"That wasn't her true self. Or, that wasn't any truer than the version of herself she shared with you, Ava. We all have our secrets." Ava thought she caught a hint of double meaning in Owen's words. What are your secrets, old friend?

"Anyway. She gave me the journal. But only so that I would be better prepared to help you." He shook his head, grinning. "All roads lead to Ava."

Ava shrugged off his explanation, still saddened that her grandmother had entrusted the journal to Owen but not to her.

"Lena is a woman unto herself. Just like you. And if Lena couldn't stop you from your rogue mission, she wanted you to have every possible advantage."

At Owen's words the smell of peppermint tea once again seemed to linger in the air. Ava remembered that afternoon in her grandmother's kitchen, warm sunlight dancing across the patterns of the room, as Lena had explained the true history of the Gaia and Ares—disobeying a direct order of the Elders. As if her grandmother had known Ava might end up here, in this car, far from her Order and her home, and in grave danger. She smiled. "Show me."

Owen opened the book carefully. Ava watched intently, trying to make out the pictures as he flipped through the pages quickly. She shivered, catching a glimpse of a picture of someone who looked like herself, eyes closed in eternal repose. Ella. Would she meet the same fate?

Owen stopped on a page with an image of the same woman, her great-aunt Ella. This time her great-aunt was clearly alive, but she looked...unwell. In the drawing, her hair was tousled and there were deep circles under her eyes—although the eyes themselves were lit with a manic glow.

November 11, 1942

Ella is still not herself. It's been five days now since she returned from whatever happened to her in the Pacific. I've been tasked with keeping an eye on her but nobody will tell me why or what I should be looking for. It's very frustrating—the Elders haven't treated me this way since I was very young. It's clear that Ella is more powerful than ever physically. But mentally—she seems slightly unwell? Nothing too obvious—you know Ella, she hates to seem anything but perfect. But sometimes I catch her when she thinks she's alone. Whispering to herself, she's always whispering to herself. And giggling.

I couldn't make out what she was saying until last night. I made dinner for the two of us. I even agreed to sneak some of mother and father's wine with her, hoping it might loosen her inhibitions and get her talking about her time in the ocean. Then I begged off with a headache and sat in wait upstairs, listening for the familiar jabbering. This time I caught snatches of her words. "I passed...I passed the test. Her test," Ella would repeat over and over, giggling to herself.