Five

I wake to the mechanical beeps of my phone receiving a text message the morning after the swim meet.  I open one eye briefly, heavy with sleep to glance at my alarm clock.  The time read 6:05, several hours earlier than I would have liked to be woken up.  Grumpily wishing death upon whoever would disturb me at such an early hour, I fumbled with the contents of my nightstand for a minute before finally finding my phone. I open the text to discover it was completely blank, though someone had pressed the enter button many times and had ended the empty space with just three words.

It is time.

Frowning, I scroll up to find out who had sent it and found the number to be blocked.

"There has to be a way to find out who sent this," I think out loud to myself, and spend the next ten minutes trying any way I can think of to recover the blocked number. Finally, I throw my phone back onto my bed and concede defeat, rolling over to try to get back to sleep.   I toss around for another two hours before finally recognizing that I won’t be getting any more rest this morning.  Wondering if my mother is awake and making breakfast, I get out of bed and make my way downstairs.

I know something is off as I draw close to the kitchen and I don't smell anything. Normally on Sunday mornings, my mom cooks chocolate chip pancakes and bacon for my dad and I, but today all seems quiet. Sure enough, as I turn the corner the kitchen is spotless and empty, just the way we left it last night. I turn on my heel and head to my parents room down the hall. I see the door is ajar and push it in. To my surprise, they aren't there; the bed is made and my father’s laundry is put away, but they are nowhere to be found. Starting to worry, I hurry back to the kitchen to see if my mom had left me a note of some sort. I finally see a small square of paper sitting on the kitchen island and I grab it, breathing a sigh of relief. I knew it was highly unlikely for my parents to just up and leave without telling me.  I read aloud, even though I know nobody else is listening.

"Demons, Beats & Other Myths" page 546. Only ask for Mr. Werner's help in finding it. Do not let anyone else but him see this note.

I stare blankly at the words, turning the paper over and over to try and make more sense of them.  Obviously this note was not left by either one of my parents; I do not recognize the handwriting.   I scrutinize the tiny piece of paper, seeing if the mysterious person left a signature or something to give me a hint as to who it was.  I read it over again, not recognizing the name of the book.  I put my head in my hands and rub my temples, sighing loudly.  Suddenly, a thought comes to me and I stand up straight.  As if a light bulb turns on in my brain, I know what I must do. I run back upstairs and grab my phone, dialing the number as I hurry to get dressed.

"Serenity White, you better have a good reason for waking me up at this ungodly hour," Jax's voice answered, heavy with sleep after only two rings. I put him on speaker phone so I can get dressed more easily.

"I'm sorry Jax, but you know I wouldn't call you unless it was important," I say. I hear a slight shuffling sound and know he is getting out of bed.

"Alright Ren, what's up?" he asks.

"I need a ride to the library as soon as possible. You know how I can't drive for the next two weeks because of my injury," I tell him, grabbing a brush and running it through my hair quickly.

“Ren the library doesn’t even open up until nine, can’t it wait like another hour or two?” Jax whines, and I huff impatiently into the phone.

“No Jax, if it could wait I wouldn’t be waking you up right now,” I inform him impatiently.  I hear rustling on the other end of the phone and know Jax is becoming more alert and awake.

"What about your parents? Your mom's normally up by now isn't she?" Jax asks, and I hear him moving around his room and I know he is getting ready.

"I don't know where they are right now actually; they probably went out somewhere together and just forgot to leave a note," I say, even though the words sound foreign on my tongue.

"Well, alright, give me ten," Jax relents. I thank him and we hang up. I run into the bathroom to finish getting dressed so I wouldn't have to wait another moment when Jax gets to my house.

 

Ten minutes later, I'm in the car and on the way to the local Public Library. I spend most of the ride gazing out at the fall countryside. The ever changing seasons are one of my favorite things about where I live; the fall leaves of orange, red and yellow glimmering in the crisp sunlight. It is a picturesque place, and if I wasn't been so preoccupied with what had happened back at the meet, I would have just walked to the library.

Next to me in the driver's seat, Jax remains silent for most of the short drive, but as we near the road the library is on, he finally speaks.

"So, you going to tell me what is going on here Ren or what?" I remain silent for a minute. I had debated telling Jax what I had seen, but I didn't want him to think I was crazy.

"I just...I had a very vivid and strange dream the other night and there was something in it that I wanted to research," I say evasively. It wasn't as if I am really telling a lie anyway; the woman had been in my dreams. I just wasn't ready to tell him that I believed I had seen her in the pool. Thankfully, Jax seems to take this excuse as complete truth, and drops the subject. He pulls into the library parking lot and finds a space near the front entrance.  We sit in silence, counting down the minutes until the library opens.  He keeps looking over at me and opening his mouth as though he wants to say something, but decides against it last minute.  Finally, I see the lights come on within the building and open the car door to get out.

"Alright, do you want my help looking?" he asks as he locks his car behind us and I shake my head.

"No, I concentrate better solo, remember?" I say, and then grin, hoping he won't take too much offense to this.  Luckily, he just shrugs and we walk through the automatic doors together.

“Well, I'll be in the history section if you, you know, need me for anything," Jax calls as I make a bee-line for the front desk. I feel a pang of guilt but can't help the smile that slides across my face; Jax is such a history nut, especially when it came to the European Renaissance. I suppose it makes sense with his obsession for fashion and European culture, but I never understood the pull. Then again, I can't explain the pull to find what exactly is on page 546 of this mythology book.

Knowing Jax will be occupied for some time, I step up to the front desk, where I recognize Mr. Werner from his many years of service at the library.  It was rereading his name that jogged my memory and realized that perhaps the note left for me could lead me to a new branch of investigation after all.  I tap the bell twice, not able to stop my hands from shaking with nerves.

"Uh, excuse me, Mr. Werner?" I call out timidly. The older man turns around and shuffles towards me.

"How may I help you young lady?" he asks, his voice grave and shaky. Not really knowing how to explain, I wordlessly hand him the mysterious note. He reads it twice, then looks sharply at me.

"Who gave you this note?" he asks sharply. I shake my head and shrug my shoulders.

"I don't know sir, it was on my kitchen counter this morning after I woke up," I tell him. He merely grunts, and then makes a motion to follow him. As I fall in step, I hear him mumbling under his breath, though I am only able to catch bits and pieces of it.

"Don't fathom why you want this book...nasty business that's all it is, nasty business...what kids read these days is beyond me." His ramblings make me nervous; what exactly was I about to discover?

I follow him back to one of the much older parts of the library, one Jax had told me was part of the original pre-War building. The architecture is so well done and grandiose that the town had decided to build many expansions rather than tear it down and build it brand new. Secretly, I was glad they didn't tear it down; the carefully painted mural on the ceiling was breathtaking to look at.

We stop at a section on the left side, and he points to a book in a row second from the top. Without another word, he walks back towards the front desk. It is a large volume, old and heavy; I have trouble getting it down from its' high perch. When I do, I lug it over to the closest armchair and open it up. Coughing from the dust stirred up, I slowly turn the pages, reading about the different demons until finally I get to what I am looking for: page 546, which is titled "Water Demons."

"Mermaids would sing their sweet songs to sailors to distract them from their work, causing them to fall overboard or the ship to wreck," I read aloud under my breath. As I scan down the page, I find my breath taken away. It was an exact painting of the woman I had seen in my dream; the black fierce eyes, the wild dark hair, and the look of furious hatred etched upon her horrible face. I catch my breath and read the caption under the photo.

"This particularly fearsome woman is what modern mythology calls a Daughter of Darkness, or as more religious figures put it, the daughter of Lucifer himself.  Nerine, pictured above, was the eldest of the Daughters, who sought to rule the seas.  She was in a constant struggle with the eldest Son of Light and Guardian of the Seas, Arlen."

I pause at the name and a sense of familiarity registers inside of me. Arlen, it sounds so similar to a name I feel like I've heard before. I flip the page to see if there is a picture of him and to my surprise, I see a painting of an Adonis-esque muscular man battling the water demon and catch myself before I laugh out loud.  If these tales were actually real, I would have sworn on my grandmother’s grave that the man in the painting is Coach Alden, or at least his distant ancestor.  . I notice an asterisk near the bottom of the description of Arlen, whom the book called a 'Son of Light' and read the small print.

"See Watchtowers, mythological figures, page 610." Feeling a sense of anticipation, I eagerly flip the pages, receiving a paper cut in the process. Sucking on my forefinger, I read the passage.

"Watchtowers were powerful beings who could control one of the elements; Earth, Air, Fire & Water. They are known to help form a circle of protection from enemies such as the Daughters of Darkness and other mythological beasts who fight for the world of shadow and night."  A powerful feeling, something I can’t even begin to elaborate on, swells up and holds onto my heart for dear life.  I feel that I am so close to a break in finding out what’s happening to me, but I don’t know why.  I sit back and think of the passage  I’ve just read.

"What on earth is a Watchtower?" I think to myself. Closing the book with a thud, I carry it under my arm over to the computers. Setting it down gently next to me, I type 'watchtower' into the internet word search bar and click go. When the search results come up I click through to the first result and begin to read.

"Watchtower - type of fortification used in many parts of the world, usually for military zones." I scoff; I know that this was a logical explanation, but how did that relate to keeping out demons? I figure that the book was referencing a different type of watchtower; I highly doubt that even in mythology a simple building would be able to keep out something so powerful. I backtrack and scroll down a little, frowning slightly. Then suddenly I see it; Watchtower (magic), the exact sort of information I am looking for. Smiling in triumph, I click the page and lean in, eager to learn more.

"Watchtowers were the abodes of spirit guardians, or Watchers, that symbolized the four cardinal points of ceremonial magic in ancient times. Each watchtower symbolized the four elements: Earth, Air, Fire, and Water. "

The elated sensation in my gut is tugging me, urging me to carry on as fast as possible, and I try not to blink, my eyes scanning the screen hungrily as I read on.

"Each watchtower spirit could control one of the elements, and when combined together could stop even the most evil of creatures. The Watchers also have their own guardians, who are assigned to protect them during their duties in the Watchtowers. In most biblical based legends, each tower is assigned an archangel as their guardian. The North Watchtower, or Earth's Tower, is Uriel, the East or Air Tower is Raphael, the South or Fire Tower is Michael and finally, the West and Water Tower is Gabriel. In more modern versions, the arch angels are replaced by Admon, Anil, Azar and Arlen respectively, or the four eldest Sons of Light. These guardians would guide the Watchtowers in the right direction, and when the time came, they would gather the four Watchers together to thwart evil, once and for all."

I sit back in thought, my lips pursing slightly. The woman in my nightmares could very well be the type of water demon I saw pictured in the book, a Daughter of Darkness. She had also called me Aquaria; I didn't need to have a doctorate to realize that it meant water in another language, probably Latin. This would also explain my newfound ability to seemingly manipulate water at will, or accidentally when my emotions went out of control.  Could it be remotely possible that I was in fact one of these "watchers" that legend wrote about?

But this is madness, absolute crazy talk I think to myself. I shake my head and draw my hands to my face, breathing in and out deeply. I was allowing my imagination to take over reality, a silly legend taking over my rational thought process. There's no such thing as Watchtowers, at least in the sense of guardians, or magic. The woman I had seen must have been a recurring hallucination from lack of sleep due to the nightmares. I don't have a guardian named Gabriel or Arlen, just Jax and my parents. Sometimes Coach can act fatherly towards me, though I imagine it was just because I'm a swimmer.

"Find everything you were looking for?" Jax's voice makes me jump. I look over at him and give a weary smile.

"I-I did actually," I say, patting the book in front of me. Jax looks at the cover, then back at me quizzically.

"What's that-" he begins, but I interrupt, hastily throwing my jacket over the book so he would not see the title.  I am not sure why I feel the need to hide this discovery, but I am not quite ready to share my musings with anyone else yet, even Jax.

"Look at the time, it's getting late, I should get back to my house before my parents begin worry that I passed out in a ditch from my concussion or something," I joke. Jax hesitates, and I have a feeling I know what he is about to say.

"You know you can tell me anything Ren, I won't you know, make fun of you or anything," he tells me. I squeeze his arm gently.

"If and when there's something to tell, you will be the first one," I assure him, and then add "I just want to get all the facts straight first, that's all,"

Seemingly satisfied for now, Jax drops the conversation, but I have a hunch that this conversation would come up in the near future. I check out the book and he drives me back to my house. I can see my parents cars parked in the driveway, which means they had returned from wherever it is they were. Wondering how long they'd been back, I walk up the front steps and push open the door.

My parents were waiting for my in the living room. My father jumps up from the couch and hurries over to me. Like Coach the other day, he begins to check my vitals and my head for any visible signs of more injury.

"Dad, come on, I feel fine," I insist, but it falls upon deaf ears. He's a surgeon at the nearby Hospital's emergency room, and considers himself an expert on internal and external injuries. He seems be satisfied that I have not suffered any additional damage, and sits back down next to my mother.

"We were worried about you! You crash headlong into the pool wall after stopping for half a minute, then this morning we're gone for twenty minutes and you disappear to God knows where!" my mother scolds. I hang my head. I know I should not be worrying my parents like this - perhaps I should have left a note - but after the dreams and the adrenaline surrounding the weekend; the only thought in my head was finding some sort of answer.

“What about you guys?  I woke up expecting both of you down at breakfast, but you were both gone, no note or any inclination of letting me know where you were?” I retort, hands on my hips.  My mother gives me a warning look, but it is my father who answers.

“There was an emergency at the hospital early this morning, and your mother came to meet with a patient to discuss their legal matters,” he says smoothly, but his eyes betray him.  He’s lying, I just don’t understand why.  I realize trying to argue with them is a losing battle and look down at my feet.

"I'm sorry for worrying you,” I mumble. My parents exchange quick looks, bend their heads together for a moment, then look back at me.

"Well...don't do it again, Ren," my father says, getting up and leaving the room. I'm surprised I had gotten away with this so easily; usually my father grounds me for a weekend or two for worrying them so much. Why are they taking it so easy on me? Why are they lying about where they were this morning; what were they doing they felt they couldn’t be honest with me about?  The accusations bubble on the top of my tongue and I can't take it anymore.

"What did you see yesterday in the pool?" I ask, and I am greeted by dead silence from them; a pin could drop at the next door neighbor’s house and she would have heard it.

"I...I don't know what you mean Ren," my mother begins. I see my father slowly edge his way back into the room. They share a worried look with each other again, and I point at them accusingly.

"See? You know exactly what I'm talking about!  Don’t lie!" I shout. My father begins to speak, but I cut him off.

"No, don’t deny it, you saw what I saw in the bottom of the pool didn't you? You saw it - you saw that thing that tried to attack me!  Don’t lie to me!" I cry as I begin to shake from the collection of emotions washing over me.  The kitchen sink turns on suddenly, just like the bathtub on my birthday, and my mother hurries over to turn them back off.

"Please...Ren, you don't understand...you're not ready to understand," my mother pleads. She seems to realize instantly that she had said the wrong thing, for she clamps her hands over her mouth in fright.

"Not ready? Not ready for what? Tell me what's wrong with me!" I demand. My mother bursts into tears and turns away from me, hastily wiping her eyes with her sleeve.  My father hurries over and puts his arm around her.  He looks back at me with a pleading stare.

"Serenity, this isn't the time or the place for this right now," he says. I feel the rage coursing through my body, and the pitcher of water situated next to my mother shatters. She shrieks and I look on, shocked at what I had just done. Without another word, I run from the room, keeping the book I had borrowed from the library under my arm and lock myself in her room. I close my eyes and take several deep breaths to stop the painfully fast pounding in my chest. So they had seen what I had believed to be a hallucination; it isn't all in I head. I glance down at the cover of the book again. Watchtowers, water demons; was it possible that they really did exist?

Someone, either my mother or father knocks at my door, and then tries the doorknob only to find it locked.  I ignore their attempts to coax me from the room and bury my head under the pillow.  Images of the paintings in the book swim in front of me; the Daughter of Darkness, Nerine and Arlen, Son of Light in particular.  The image seems all too real to me.  The thoughts turn into dreams as I fall asleep fully clothed and head under the pillow.  I enter a dream all too familiar; I am a child lying in my cradle and a storm is brewing, but it cannot drown out the screams of someone I feel so strongly for.  I see the woman in black again, staring down at me with hatred, and I know her name is Nerine.  She reaches for me, but instead of waking up, my dream continues.  A flash of brilliant white light, and the scream of a man couples with the shrieks of this woman deprives me of all my senses, and when I finally come to, another man is standing above me.  I recognize him immediately; it is Coach Alden, but he is giving off a golden aura that makes him look more like an apparition than a real human.

“We must get the children to their safety spots.  I’ll take her,” he says to someone, and as he lifts me gently from my cradle I see three other figures lift other children from their resting spots.  “It’s all going to be okay Aquaria,” he whispers, and I put my hands on his face to show I trust him.

“Serenity!” my father is shaking me awake and I bolt up, chest heaving.  I glance at him quizzically, wondering how he got into my room when I see the door had been unlocked and a chest of tools by my door.  He looks at me apologetically. 

“I’m sorry Ren but I couldn’t just leave you in here after what you said downstairs,” he says. I put my hand up so I can speak.

“It’s alright, I just overreacted, I need sleep that’s all,” I tell him, keeping my voice flat and monotonous as to not give away any emotion.  He looks as though he’d like to say something else, but my mother is calling for him down the hall.  He gives me one last look before leaving, closing my door behind him.  I lie flat on my back, staring at the ceiling.  That dream had never continued beyond the woman, so what did this all mean?  I flip over and open the book to the page with the painting of Nerine and Arlen.  Their faces are identical to those from my dream, and I begin to wonder whether this is no ordinary dream, but instead, just maybe, a distant memory.