Prologue: Their story
Many people cling to life like a precious gem, to be squandered, yet never truly valued. I am uninterested in these people. Some people welcome me with open arms; these people too, hold none of my fascination. And then, there are the rare, precious few who neither love nor hate. Yet they are intertwined with me whether they want it or not. Jessica Abel is one of these people and this is her story. I am Death, and in many ways it is also mine.
Chapter One: A call of duty
A single glassy tear rolled down Jessica Abel’s cheek. Hot, wet and salty, she let it flow. Soon another fell, followed by another, until she was crying into her silk sheets. She took a long, staggering breath from the tears she had been holding in all day. As she raised her head, she heard muffled gasps of mirth and footsteps from somewhere down the hallway. Her sisters, Georgina and Rhiannon, thought Jessica darkly. For as always, Jessica was the odd one out. Beautiful and bubbly, Georgina joined many people, in simply ignoring Jessica, but with her shimmering golden locks and sparkling aqua eyes, Jess could never do the same for her. Rhiannon, thoughtful, smart and as dark as her sister was fair, took the same approach as Georgia, only interacting with Jess if need be, preferring, like the model academic she was, to only write or think.
A sharp knock on the door awoke Jessica from her fitful slumber. “Yes”, she swallowed, “I will be ready in a minute”. She politely opened the door, grabbing a half-burnt wax- candle as she did so. Outside, stood a young man. Jess grasped around, trying to remember his name. Harold, she thought. And followed him down the hall. “Your father wishes to see you, mistress”, Harold croaked. His voice sounded like sand rubbing on glass, Jessica thought. But as unpleasant as he sounded, she knew better than to ignore a request from her father.
His study, like those of many of the wealthy men of Scotland, had an antechamber. It was covered, floor to ceiling with heavy drapes of magenta velvet. On one side, there was a massive glass window. Looking out of it, Jess could see the entire valley below, with heavy clouds rolling in from the east, just as the sun was setting in the west. She had only been called by her father twice before and neither time had been good, she thought feverishly. The first she only remembered as a fuzzy haze of words and colours, though she knew it had been to inform her of her mother, Esmeralda’s, disappearance. She had only been four when Esmeralda Abel had vanished, yet she remembered her mother quite clearly.
Esmeralda had been tall and fair, with long, flowing, golden curls. She could have been an angel, Jessica thought. It had been ten lonesome years ago in the middle of one black December night when her mother had vanished, never to be seen again. From that time on, the triplets had been looked after by their nanny, Natalie. In fact, she had hardly ever seen her father and when she did, he was stiff and formal.
The second had been when her beloved uncle Scott had died on a treacherous sea voyage. She had been eight years old, so remembered him well. He had been a wool merchant; therefore she hadn’t seen him terribly often, though on the rare occasions she did he was a kindly man. She used to sit on his lap and he would tell the most wonderful stories. Tales of wraiths and demons, of angels and ghosts and, thought Jess mournfully, he had done it incredibly well. All the best stories were told with a hug. His hugs had been warm and embracing, like he would always be there. Often he remembered nothing past crawling onto his lap, and she had the funny feeling it was because she had fallen asleep, most likely lulled by the flicker of the hearth-fire and the deep, glowing tones of his voice. He had been exceedingly pallid, just like her, and his hair had been dark. (Enough so, that when they had gone places together, he had often been mistaken for an older brother.)
The first impression she got when her father Edward opened the door was that he was grumpy. This was not unusual. Every other time she had seen him he had been distressed, exhausted or angry. “Good afternoon father.” She whispered, though the sound was barely audible above the rumble of the November thunder. If her greetings had been considered formal and stiff it was nothing compared to his reply. “Sit, Jessica. Now” she did as she was told. Though as she did so she remembered something, when her mother had been there, her father had called the triplets affectionate nicknames Georgie, Jess and Rhea. Now it was just their formal Christian names, or, “my daughters”. Natalie was the only one who called them anything nice now.
Whilst her father was talking to a servant, Jess looked around. Ornate furniture, silks and satins adorned the room, yet her eyes were glued to the mirror. Even in appearance, Jess was, odd. Her hair was thick ,tawny brown, she had pale skin and one of her eyes was auburn bronze whilst the other was a deep midnight blue. She was skinny, verging on scrawny with a long nose and pale lips. “All right Jessica” Edward stared at his daughter and she stared firmly back at him, perhaps not daring to blink an eye. Noting that the servant was still in the corner he dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “Jessica, I have been informed by Mr. O’ Halloran, your tutor, that for such a smart girl, your grades are rather low. So I have enrolled you in a ladies academy. You will be leaving for London near dawn tomorrow.” Jessica gasped. It was the only ladylike thing she could think of doing. London. Tomorrow. No, no she couldn’t go to London. She hated large crowds, other people, and new things. London would tick all of those boxes. But she stayed silent, nodded and stood. “Was there anything else I should know about, Father?” He shook his already bent head and looked back down at the stack of papers in front of him. How could he be so calm, Jess thought, while her whole life had been turned upside down? She couldn’t stand it, wanted so much to shout words of anger and despise at him for this, to thrash out and say no. But that was a child’s world. Be seen, never heard, listen, never thought of. And up until now, Jess didn’t mind that. No once noticed her, and she had the comfort of knowing that. But in London everything would be different. In London the people would look at her, think about her, remember her, and, even before she had reasons to stay in the shadows, before fate took hold. People would certainly remember Jessica Abel. And with a soundless wave of the hand, she too, was dismissed.
sorry i havent written much, ive had really hard music exams and chapter two of this will be poted tommorrow, hope u all enjoy, pls comment back
