House Of Legions (The Angel Descendants book 1)

Chapter 10 (Clare)

Clare groaned at the bright light filtering through the curtain. A quick flex of her shoulder blade confirmed her pain was almost non-existent. Guess Angel-boy had been spot on about it feeling better. Just to make sure she wasn't imagining it, she moved her bone around in circular motions. Her brain didn’t register much on the thought, Clare was just glad that she didn’t have to tell her mother, because that would be awkward.

After her teeth was brushed and bed made, she changed into her green knee-length skirt that sat snuggly on her waist, and a black blouse which she tucked in before slipping on her ‘home shoes’ which was a thick strapped slip on..

Clare looked at her phone, it was almost eleven. She practically ran to the dining area. Her mother couldn't be anywhere near her room, not with the bloody clothes still decorating the floor.

Surprise had her stop in her tracks, it was a table set with breakfast. Toasted bread, fresh fruit and honey with muesli, all Clare’s favourites and a glass pot filled with black coffee, which her mother equally enjoyed. She hoped this didn't mean they were moving to Timbuktu.

Noticing her mothers absence she checked around the apartment, finally spotting her standing outside on the phone. Clare stayed inside not wanting to seem inquisitive, especially now, with her guilt still intact. It was one thing to get away unscathed but this time things had gone sour. But with her fading bruises and almost fully healed shoulder her mother shouldn’t notice Clare was gone, which brought her instant relief.

Michelle Miller took overprotective mother to another level, so her morning encounters and occurrence she was keeping to herself, regardless of what almost happened.

Clare tried to eavesdrop on her mother’s conversation but all she managed to hear was, “… understand, I need more time. No, Wesley needs to keep his distance.”

Her mother looked concerned, and angry. Whoever she spoke to on the phone really got to her, but with her job Clare figured it was work.

Dismissing her mother's conversation as unimportant, Clare sat at the breakfast table and poured herself a cup of coffee.

The crazy morning she had came rushing back to her, and the people she met at the church. Having some shut eye Clare now thought with a clearer head. She figured the guy at the church who had her eyes, probably would’ve mentioned something if he knew her. Coffee paused to her lips, now that she thought about it, maybe he did know her, it was not her imagination, she had seen the recognition in his eyes. The question was not if but how did Nathan know her?.

She sipped her coffee, picturing the guy with the streak ginger and black hair, and his flaming eyes, she wondered how he had managed to jump from so high. He was an interesting character, though arrogant, he was better mannered than the church people, after all he did apologise. A secret smile played on her lips. The way he looked at her, while leaning casually against the gate, he was the epitome of goth God.

If she HADN’T known better, or if he hadn’t told her otherwise, she would have considered the possibility that he might’ve been interested in her. He was possibly genetically engineered, a guy so gorgeous and strong clearly couldn’t exist, and it did explain his ability to lift a car up and jump down from very high anonymous places. And then there was the looks, in honesty if it wasn’t for his broad built and ginger streaks in his black mane, he would have been annoyingly too perfect. Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

She didn’t get butterflies in her stomach or tumble when she saw him, she wasn’t scared of him either. Intimidated and maybe a little awed by his presence, yes, but she knew she hadn’t fallen head over heels for him, like it happened in the movies when a hot supernatural guy saves the female. There was nothing drawing her in, no pull, no sudden attraction, maybe something was wrong with her, because any woman in their right mind would fall flat at his feet.

Clare brushed the thoughts of Angel-boy away and focused on Nathan as she dunked the end of her toast in some honey, unable to shake that feeling she was overlooking an important piece in the puzzle.

Think Clare, just think, and that's exactly what she did, ending up so lost in thought she didn’t hear Michelle come in. Nor did she hear what her mother said.

“CLARE,” Michelle screamed in a wavering voice. She raised her eyebrows, no doubt at Clare’s complete lack of concern for her presence. When Clare arched her own brow, coffee cup tipping her bottom lip, her mother narrowed her eyes with a knowing smirk, “How was your midnight stroll?”

Clare flushed, she hadn’t expected her mother to have noticed that she went out, let alone confront her so early about it. Normally her mother worked up to what she wanted to know, never was she blunt and straightforward. That was Clare's route.

“Mom, I’m sorry I left, okay, but if I’d asked you..”

“I would’ve said NO, of course.” Her voice louder, “Clare the world is a cruel place, what if something happened to you.” Clare gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to throw the coffee cup on the wall. Instead, she sighed and sipped her drink.

Knowing Clare would say nothing further on the topic Michelle sat down next to her, “I’d never be able to get through life without you Clare. You are older now, yes. It's understandable for you to need space and feel that I'm smothering you, but I care for you, you know that honey.” She paused as if giving extra thought to her next words,

“I don’t know what goes on in that crazy head of yours.”

Clare felt like saying something but just thought better of it. She knew her mother ‘cared’ for her. But that wasn't what your daughter wanted to hear. Her mother never neglected her, far from it. Her motherly duties went far and beyond when it came to earthly needs. She was supportive as a parent

should be. Clare couldn't complain that she lacked for anything, it’d make her look ungrateful. But how she did lack that warmth and touch of a caring mother or anyone for that matter. She was like a starved pup seeking comfort, willing to take any scraps people were willing to give.

Clare never really minded her mother’s insecurities and domineering ways after the accident. She was a familiar face, and as a ten-year-old, you tend to attach yourself to that which you know. At first she mistook her mother’s hovering for love and nurturing, thinking that was her mother’s way. She wasn't observant enough to notice the obvious. That, unfortunately, changed the day she’d seen Philip with his mother, and the unmistakable love in her eyes as she dropped him off. It didn't take Clare long after to figure out her mother saw her as a task, a job, hence the overbearing obsessive mother.

As she got older, she thrived in the freedom and fun that came with friends. It made her life bearable, she went out with her friends on weekends. Parties were a rarity with her mother knowing, though nothing stopped her from having her fun, not even her mother. Phillip would wait for her by the gate outside her house. After she would change in his car to something more appealing, she lived for her nights out. But they were always better when her mother at least thought she knew where Clare was.

Ignoring her mother’s worried frown, Clare shrugged and grabbed a piece of fruit stuffing it into her mouth. “So mother dearest, what’re we doing today?”

Her mother smiled, though she could tell it was forced. Mother dearest looked awfully troubled by something, AND what her mother said next confirmed her suspicion, “A trip to the mall. Shopping; distress, the usual.” Clare laughed though hollow, she made it loud. Her mother loved to shop, especially on bad days. Michelle liked crowded places. Clare on the other hand only enjoyed it when it came with hot guys, loud music and kegs.

Clare grunted, “fine.” She got up taking her plate with her, striding slowly to the kitchen, “You know how to get around this place, or are we gonna get lost like we did in Bali, cause I heard the traffics shit

here.” Her mother never gave her grief on bad language, which was one upside. “GPS Clare, GPS, oh and I was thinking we should stop by the church nearby.”

Clare’s eyes went big, not wanting her mother to notice her expression, she yelled from the kitchen “Oh come on, It's Friday. Relax. If you need to confess I'm all ears.”

“I’m sure there’s a law somewhere against confessing one's sins to their children.”

And that was how the next two hours of conversation went between mother and daughter. Both unaware of how a few hours of an average day could change your whole life.

After replacing her shoes for black lace-up boats, Clare applied some mascara and a little pink lipstick, which matched her lips, and brushed her long hair, they finally headed out.