Luminosity (Escaping Demons Saga Book 1) Read online

  Copyright © 2015 Stacy McWilliams Luminosity

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be duplicated, transmitted, in any form or by any means– whether electronically, mechanically, by photocopying or any other means, without prior written consent. To do so would result in Legal proceedings.

  This novella is a work of fiction and any similarities to any party are coincidental.

  The ownership of this work is protected by Copyright and belongs to the author.

  Cover by Desi’s Art Designs

  Edited by Laura Cassels

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1 - Moving On

  Chapter 2 - Breaking Bread

  Chapter 3 - First Day Fun

  Chapter 4 - Nathan's Escort Service

  Chapter 5 - After School Chores

  Chapter 6 - Entering the Barn

  Chapter 7 - Demon High Day Two

  Chapter 8 - The Touch That Burned

  Chapter 9 - Dead Romance

  Chapter 10 - A Close Encounter

  Chapter 11 - The Ties That Bind

  Chapter 12 - Delusions of Longing

  Chapter 13 - Love Like This

  Chapter 14 - Night Time Pains

  Chapter 15 - The Sting of Betrayal

  Chapter 16 - Date Night

  Chapter 17 - Truth and Lies

  Chapter 18 - Power Play

  Chapter 19 - No Rest for the Wicked

  Chapter 20 - Candlelight Declaration

  Chapter 21 - Thrown Together

  Chapter 22 - Into the Lion’s Den

  Thank You’s

  I would like to dedicate this book to my Grandad Robert. He has taught me many things, like how to make apple turnovers and homemade soup. He makes me laugh with his dry humour and witty comebacks. He’s an old gem of a man and it is an honour and a privilege to listen to his stories and tales. So Boab, I dedicate this book to you, especially since you put up with my questionable cooking skills and being a wonderful great-grandad. My boys adore you and so do I.

  A true hero by Julie Mills says it in a way I can’t

  He had no need of medals

  Or glory this is true.

  That's why, dear Grandpa

  Our hero has to be you

  Source: http://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/a-true-hero-grandpa#ixzz3gnYPm8GQ

  Family Friend Poems

  Have you ever been so scared that you wish you had never been born? That all your life’s experiences are just your imagination? That we really were just puppets on a string being made to do things by stronger forces than our own initiative or imagination? Have you ever felt that you won’t survive the next day, hour or even minute?

  Or had all your life force draining from you as you give up the fight for life because life doesn’t feel worth living? Trusting someone only for them to betray you at a time when you need them the most?

  I have, and it was the most terrifying experience of my life.

  My name is Jasmine Johnstone and I was seventeen years old when this happened. I’ve been an orphan since the age of five when my parents died in a car accident that I mysteriously survived. I’ve always been a little bit odd because I have a sort of sixth sense and can read people pretty well. My mum called me her “little oracle.” My mum told me I was special and so sensitive that I picked up on imprints of souls of the dearly departed.

  My mum had been a nurse and my dad had worked as a surgeon at the same hospital as each other. I remember my mum telling me that my dad swept her off her feet and would send her a rose after every time he worked with her, or saw her at work. Then the accident happened and my happy little family was torn apart. I’ve always remembered the exact day they died, as it happened the day before my fifth birthday. The day of my birthday dawned and there was no cake, balloons or celebration, just a lonely hospital room with no visitors. I cried myself to sleep remembering how sweet my parents were and woke up to the familiar smell of roses surrounding me, but when I looked around the room, there were none.

  All I’ve ever remembered about the accident was the feeling of flying through the air. I remembered crying for my mum and dad to help me because I was stuck and couldn’t see anything. It was the sound of my crying that alerted those on the scene that there was life in the car. We never made it to my grandparents—they didn’t want me when the courts offered, neither did any of my extended family. I had no idea why nobody wanted me. I couldn’t have known that there were sinister forces at work, turning the intentions of family members against me and leaving me an unwanted outcast shunted into foster care.

  When I first went into care I was labelled a “special case.” Although I was placed near the area I had begun my childhood in, I had none of my own belongings, as my new foster family didn’t want me to have anything that would remind me of my parents. They were worried it would upset me and thought it was best for me, but it still hurt.

  In the end I felt like I was being passed about from house to house, from family to family. I never stayed with one for more than a few years. The experience was confusing and lonely, and eventually resulted in my refusing to speak to anyone for a long time. I found I was able to communicate my needs perfectly well with crude gestures and facial expressions. Even then, the interest in me was so minimal that this self imposed silence was only deemed as an attempt at drawing attention to myself. Didn’t they see I didn’t want attention—I just wanted to belong. Eventually my mutism passed and I finally made my first friend, Gwen, who became my lifeline at the home I had eventually been placed in. Although she was only ten years old, she was so much more mature than me.

  We were always in trouble with, not only the people who ran the home, but also with the other children who were in the home. They always got away with whatever they did to us because being very pretty with fair hair and innocent faces made them, in the eyes of the wardens, unaccountable. So even though we were picked on, had food thrown at us, were beaten and called names, we were happy because we had each other. We would play in the gardens till sundown, and then go in for dinner. We would sneak our food from the main cafeteria into the cupboard beside the drawing room at every meal.

  We generally managed to avoid the bullies most of the time, but there was one time when they attacked Gwen and I snapped. I went for the main bully and flew at her, knocking her down onto the grass. My fists flew as I punched her hard on the mouth, in the stomach and scratched at her arms as she had clawed at my hair. When she was crying on the floor, I got up and attacked another girl who had made my life hell. She ended up with a broken arm. I didn’t mean to be so vicious to those girls, but I just couldn’t take anymore. They left us alone after that.

  A few weeks after that incident we both were moved on. I went to stay with the Greene family while Gwen went to stay with her aunt. I was twelve at the time and completely devastated at the loss of my first friend. I was a “monster child” to the Greene’s at first, but the love and kindness they showed me broke down my mistrust and I grew to love living with them. Then, after almost five years of living with them, my world was shattered.

  I had just come home with a friend from school to find a familiar face standing at the living room window. My heart dropped to my shoes, and I knew without a shadow of a doubt I would be moving on soon. The Greene’s were sitting in tears as I walked into the room. They looked directly at me, misery etched into their lined faces. Julie, my social worker, stood there at the window and watched our silent exchange. When she spoke she couldn’t look me in the eye. She seemed frustrated and this came across in her tone and in the clipped words she spoke to me,

  “You’re moving again.”


  I nodded at her, and asked the obvious question,

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know, don’t ask stupid questions. Say your goodbyes and get ready.”

  “When am I moving?” Tears stung my eyes, but I had it ingrained in me that I wouldn’t cry. In care homes the first to cry was labelled the weakest and was always picked on, so I rarely cried in front of people. No matter how much they hurt me, I very rarely cried.

  “Next week,” she snapped. “I’ll be off now.” With that she picked up her bag and stormed from the room, slamming the door on her way out.

  As soon as the door closed, Mrs Greene walked over to me and pulled me into a hug. I reciprocated gratefully, but nothing could quieten the questions that rolled around inside my head.

  I thought they wanted me, I was finally safe here oh my god I was gonna miss everyone . . .

  “We did want you Jasmine,” Mrs Greene sobbed into my shoulder, “but they wouldn’t let us keep you. We fought so hard but the judge overruled us. We’ll keep fighting though, I promise.

  I stood there feeling more than numb. Anger started licking at me as I realised that they had known I was being moved on for a while but hadn’t said anything to me. I was gutted but I knew they meant well. As I disentangled myself from Dawn, Martin caught my eye and whispered,

  “We didn’t want to tell you until we had a definitive answer. We have one more chance but if it falls through, there will be nothing we can do. I’m so sorry honey.”

  I nodded at him and walked up to my room. As soon as the door closed I broke down. I would miss this house and their family who had adopted me as one of their own since I arrived.

  The Greene’s tried to appeal for the right for me to stay but they were refused. For the most part I was numb, completely destroyed to be leaving a family that loved me and my friends behind. There was no explanation given, just that it wasn’t possible for me to remain living there.

  The following weekend I was sitting in a car driving away from the only real home I’d ever known to God only knew where. I never thought for a moment that this drive would see my life put in danger, or see some of my worst nightmares come to life.

  As we arrived at my new home, my jaw dropped in surprise—the place was amazing! We drove down a long driveway towards an old fashioned farmhouse with trees lining an expansive garden. The barn was the most unusual part of the grounds, as there was a massive tree growing through the middle of the barn structure and towered out through the roof. A family, my new family, were standing at the bottom of the steps of the house, ready to greet us.

  “The Stevenson’s,” imparted my social worker.

  There was a man and a woman, who were obviously the mother and father, who stood at the front of the welcoming group. He was gorgeous, with light brown hair and a chiselled jaw line. The mother was beautiful, with long coal black hair and a stern mouth. Behind them were three teenagers close to my age group. The oldest looked close to twenty and looked just like his mother, with dark hair. He was very handsome, but his face was distorted with an ugly glaring frown. The girl standing next to him looked around my age or slightly older, with curly brown hair and a blank, bored expression on her face. The last boy was no older than seventeen. He had twinkling green eyes set in a gentle looking face, turned away from the car, looking across the lawn. Something about him was drawing me in, like electricity or magnetism. I tingled when I looked at him which surprised me as I wasn’t interested in boys, I just wanted a home of my own, somewhere I belonged.

  As we stepped out of the car, the family stared at us and Mr Stevenson spoke, “Julie, how nice to see you, please follow us!” The whole family turned as one, which was slightly creepy, and beckoned us into their home. As we walked up the steps Mr Stevenson indicated we should go into the large lounge area just inside the front door.

  As I walked I wondered what was going to happen to me and how I was going to survive another new family, new rules and another new life. Moving to a new home should have been normal for me by now, but each time a family rejected me still felt like a punch in the stomach. Each time I thought, this family will want me, they will want to keep me, but they never did. Only the Greene’s wanted me, and for some reason I was taken from them. Sometimes, most of the time, I felt unwanted and lonely.

  Instead of moping I looked around the room and took in my surroundings—the place seemed nice enough, the living room was cream with wooden flooring, and through the patio doors was a large garden. I noticed just how extensive the grounds were as I stared out of the window morosely. At least I would be able to have space while I was here, I thought to myself.

  As I glanced around the living room, the boy caught my eye again. I wasn’t sure what it was, instinct, intuition or whatever, but something made me want to trust him. As I sat trying to figure that out I realised he was looking at me as though he had seen me before or something and was trying to place where. I quickly looked away as a jolt of that same electricity zapped through me. I felt slightly overwhelmed and intimidated by his stare. I continued looking around the room, my eyes landing on a luminous red urn shaped vase and I stared at that for a few moments before abruptly swiping my head round to the middle of the room, suddenly aware that everyone in the room was looking at me, waiting on an answer to something someone had just said. There was a short, awkward pause, after which Mr Stevenson continued on with what he was saying,

  “When you’re living in this house, I expect you to uphold our standards. You will strive to succeed in school and achieve the grades we have come to expect from our children. Lateness will not be accepted, nor will untidiness.”

  I gazed impassively at him as my brain tried to digest what he was saying. He hadn’t said anything kind or welcoming, just barked out orders. When it was clear I had no response, he merely continued with his orders.

  “You will walk to school every day with Nathan,” and as he said this he nodded to the boy directly next to me, who watched me with an unwavering stare and half smiled at me, “and Jenny,” he concluded, nodding this time to the girl on my left. As I looked at her with a smile, I was shocked by the venomous look that consumed her face. Suddenly I felt quite upset, and realised that I was hoping my last foster home would be a nice one, but if the look on Jenny’s face was anything to go by, I had a suspicion that kind and loving wouldn’t be an option.

  The atmosphere in the room changed slightly as Mr Stevenson and his wife talked to the social worker responsible for dropping me off, Julie. She was small, with auburn hair and pretty brown eyes, the colour of tree bark. She was very cold at times, aloof almost and when she suddenly stood up to leave I felt a pang of fear. I couldn’t quite shake off the feeling of foreboding her leaving left me with. As she walked to the door terror raced through me because I didn’t really want her to go. In fact from the looks I had just received, I wanted to go with her.

  She smiled softly at me from the door and I felt a sad sense of farewell. I turned my head around and gazed back around the sitting room, where the new . . . my new family were gathered. As my gaze touched Mr Stevenson he stated,

  “Well Jasmine welcome to our home. I am Mr Lewis Stevenson; you may call me sir or Mr Stevenson. My wife is Emma but you may call her mam or Mrs Stevenson. Our children you can call by name, Nicholas who is twenty-one, Nathan who is seventeen next week and Jennifer who is sixteen.” He looked around at his children and pointed out each one, but they seemed completely uninterested in me, although Nathan kept glancing at me and away again. It was as though he was trying to figure something out but I had no idea what it was. Mr Stevenson continued speaking,

  “I expect you’d like to see your room? Nathan will show you where to go. You can unpack and settle in, and then come down for dinner at six.”

  He turned away from me in dismissal, so I took note of the looks on each person’s face at this point—the older boy, Nicholas, looked annoyed, Jenny had a look of disgust on her face, and the mother exuded unhappiness.
I was so confused, what had I missed? It’s almost like someone had died and I was intruding or something. Before I had a chance to figure it out, Nathan rose to his feet and, with a look of pure confusion on his face, picked up my bags and walked towards the stairs at the back of the entranceway. Rather than continue to deal with the hostility in the room, I quickly got to my feet and followed him up the stairs and into a cold dark panelled room.

  The room had two large windows, one smallish wardrobe, a chest of drawers and a double bed. He dropped my bag on the floor, turned around and walked out of the room without saying anything at all. I wondered if the family had some kind of custom I didn’t know about and I had offended them. Or if they just didn’t like strangers in their house. I didn’t miss when Mr Stevenson said, “welcome to our home . . .” Although his tone suggested anything but welcome, perhaps I wasn’t wanted here and had been foisted on this family. The thought depressed me and made me miss my home with the Greene’s. I made a mental note to try and question them later on but I decided to focus on unpacking since that was what I was up here to do. I couldn’t get the boy out of my head, what was that when I first saw him? I never do that, why now? Why him? As these thoughts circled around in my head I pulled out my iPod and turned Bon Jovi on full volume to drown out my thoughts while I took in my new surroundings.

  The room had a bit of a creepy vibe, with no pictures or mirrors, or any personal touches at all. I opened the wardrobe and emptied my clothes bag on the bed, but before I unpacked it I really needed to find a bathroom. I left the room and immediately spotted Nathan standing at the doorway of another room. I was about to go over to ask him where the nearest bathroom was when I heard a voice telling him that something was “evil” and “only a sacrifice.”

  “ . . . Jasmine’s trying to drag you in, make you feel, you have to fight it Nathan. Do not let her destroy you and everything you stand for. Conniving little cow” I felt stunned by the malice in the voice which was intense enough that I decided to forgo asking where the bathroom was and instead find it myself. I started searching along the hallway, randomly opening doors. Eventually, after two open doors, three bedrooms and two closed doors, I found a smallish bathroom. I had just walked in when Jenny stormed out of her own room yelling at me, “What are you doing in my bathroom? Get out NOW!”