Forever Stuck: The Diamond Saga: Book 1

Copyright © 2010 by Bethany Anne Miller.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2010918285

ISBN: Hardcover    978-1-4568-3167-7

ISBN: Softcover      978-1-4568-3166-0

ISBN: Ebook            978-1-4568-3168-4

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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Contents

Acknowledgements

Preface

One Month Ago

    1:    Realization Strikes Today

    2:    To Have Talents and Powers

    3:    Stuck with Your Opposites

    4:    To Look at a Topaz

    5:    Forever Truths Are Sometimes More Than They Seem

    6:    The Perfect Soulmate Set-up

    7:    Dark Visions

    8:    Finding Extensions

    9:    Intruders Are Really Unwelcome

    10:    First Battle of the Powers

    11:    Fixing Up a Soulmate

    12:    The Mover

    13:    Those Little Temptations

    14:    Cache Island

    15:    Immortal Limits

    16:    Realising the Reunion

. . . For a life where Diamonds really are forever . . .

Acknowledgements

When I came to writing this, I was confused on what to write. See, I had so many people I would love to thank for the support and confidence in me and my book. So here goes:

Thank you Lauren Sherry, your laugh and enthusiasm for my book is incredible; you were the first to read and my ‘biggest fan’, you made it special and held my excitement when it had not hit me. Thank you Frankii Waltho, I love your energy and contagious wit. Thank you Chelsea Clarke, Natasha Pierce, Joanna Xiourouppa, Monica Kumari, Grace Bastock, Olivia Nash, Courtney Hawkins, Isabella Fisher and Vassiliki Patsiogiannis.

Thanks to my Mum and brother Billy too. Massive thank you to my Dad, there would be no book without you and I cannot explain how much I love that you push me to go for my dream.

Thanks again everyone.

Bethany Anne Miller <3

Preface

It was all an odd experience, let me tell you. To find out the meaning of this quote was not exactly easy-going, but I learned when I was little, to never judge a book by its cover. I was taught to never underestimate and never to not take people seriously because one day, you never know when, that person may just be there for you. May save your life, may help you with work . . . anything.

That person does not just have to be one person either, it could be a group, it could be a community, it could be strangers, could be a coven, anybody. But either way, they were there for you that day.

Just like these were there for me. Held on to me even when it was tough, even when it was life-threatening. Helped me find the power, the power to save me, as well as themselves.

But these people were not strangers helping me do work; no, these were my friends, my loves, and my group. My coven that was strong and new to our world. As we stuck together, battling it out—literally—we made it; death, loss, fear, love, and all.

My group that will be forever together, and strangely, forever stuck.

See, before this all happened, I was the girl with everything—or so people may say.

I had the cars, the home, the family, the life . . . all the brand new gadgets, clothes, and accessories at my will because I was ‘rich’. But it was really because I was lucky. I had the family to back me up—that I found out later there was a reason why we had this kind of money—but I was not snobby. Or, I tried not to be. But people took me the wrong way sometimes. But that was such a minute part of my life that it was not even an issue.

So when used to the good life, parties every month, new clothes, never wearing the same thing to many times, a load of best friends, and top of the popularity chart at school . . . I never really thought that my life could change more. Whether it be for the best or the worst.

Everything was just right. I was overly happy. Nothing could ruin this . . .

But it did.

And this is my immortal secret story on how my perfect life could change in the most . . . strange and unlikely ways . . .

One Month Ago

‘Daniela!’ Fern’s voice cut through my dreams and snapped me back into the real world, which was not looking so attractive with Fern yelling so early in the morning.

My eyes flew open, and I regretted it straight away as I was blinding by the light that seeped into my room through the gap in my lilac curtains, that just so conveniently happened to be in my way.

Blinded by the light, I looked up at the ceiling and decided I needed to answer her back; I was the responsible one at the moment, so I would have to play mum for a while.

Still, I sighed and rubbed my eyes to get the sleep out of them, seeing that I was up now and not likely to get back to sleep after her not-so-pleasant wake-up call.

‘Yes, Fern, what is it?’ I yelled back to her, running a hand through my hair and tugging out the knots, combing it through my fingers and down to it dark ends that hung long around me as I began to process her call.

Her voice had sounded urgent, full of curiosity and tense.

I paused and frowned while waiting.

‘Um . . . Daniela, the police are here,’ she shouted back after a moment. I paused and went over her words again; then I lunged myself out of my warm purple bed at the sound of ‘police’.

It wasn’t like I had done anything wrong, but I felt guilty anyway. Like when you are in shops and security are walking around the doors, you eye them before walking through and try not to make eye contact in case you look guilty; still you cannot help yourself.

But this time was different. I was worried now, with Fern and I on our own in our home. It was strange having to deal with all our problems on my own, though I was normally good at sorting them all out.

This time though, police? I was not sure how to fix this one without my parents’ help. I did not even know why they were here in the first place.

I grabbed my dressing gown and pushed my arms into each hole, lifted it over my shoulders, and tied the pink silk tie around my waist. I grabbed my long brunette hair and pulled it through a tie and into a nice ponytail; then, tripping over my straighteners, my iPhone, laptop, and new clothes, I headed down the stairs.

I walked into the pale living room of mine and Fern’s eighteenth-century white manor house. I could see Fern sitting on our small cream sofa, wearing her cow pyjamas and holding tightly her favourite fluffy pillow. She looked very impatient. Her long brown hair scraped back into a messy bun, revealing her brand new diamond earrings that sparked, as I walked past them, like a lighthouse; my eyes trained to them for a moment before they shifted and saw Fern’s. Her own eyes, anxious and interested.

I felt my own curiosity build up as I sat down next to her and looked at the policeman and the policewoman that sat on the opposite cream sofa.

They wore smart, black uniforms. The man looked thoughtfully at me; his deep brown eyes burned sincerity. He had short, combed blond hair. The woman looked uneasy and strangely embarrassed; she ran her hand through her scruffy, short black hair, her eyes not meeting mine properly.

I watched the man look at the woman with a stern look. She nodded, obeying some unknown order before looking at Fern and me with a small smile that did not reach her eyes at all.

Real reassuring, thanks.

The man, meanwhile, nodded as if in approval and then smiled at me; I swallowed hard and nudged Fern.

‘What did you do?’ I whispered to her. She looked at me, offended to the heart by the look of annoyance and shock on her face.

‘Nothing, and Daniela, that is not fair for you to accuse me,’ she muttered back and rolled her green eyes away from me.

‘Just wondering, I mean, come on, Fern,’ I whispered back.

‘Maybe it was because of the chocolate bar wrapper I dropped last week! They are right hard on that stuff now!’ Fern gasped quietly. I huffed.

‘Yeah, you are one bad girl,’ I muttered. I felt Fern tense, ready for a battle of sarcasm and whatnot, but the policeman spoke up.

‘Miss Summing, I am PC Mark Dwayne and this is PC Sarah Port . . .’ The blond-haired officer introduced himself and his partner nicely, but I could see he was softening us up.

I still smiled.

‘Nice to meet you . . .’ I paused. ‘Is everything OK?’ I asked, concerned. I mean, who wouldn’t be concerned when two usually astute policemen sat in your house completely unexpected and uninvited? Not that I would kick them out, my Mum and Dad would be really angry with me if we did—they would consider it rude.

PC Port looked at PC Dwayne, who watched us slowly.

‘Not exactly,’ PC Port told us, her voice edgy. I frowned.

‘Define not exactly?’ I asked.

‘Well, it is complicated,’ she said after a moment.

‘We have not done anything wrong, right?’ Fern asked suddenly. I looked at her from the corner of my eyes and narrowed them as if to say ‘shut up’, but she was too focused on the police in our living room to notice.

‘No, I assure you, you have done nothing wrong,’ PC Dwayne informed us. A breath of relief fell as a sigh and I relaxed a little, but they were still here for a purpose . . .

‘What is going on then?’ I said after a moment.

‘Well . . . This morning, we received a call from the French police—’

‘France? Hey, that’s where mum and dad are, Dans!’ Fern, my little sister, cut PC Dwayne off and then called me the annoying pet name she has for me.

OK, really from Fern this was expected, annoying as usual; even though she is now sixteen (only three years younger than me), she still can be a real pain.

I spun to look at her, narrowing my eyes at my only little sister.

‘Yes, I know, Fern, now please stop cutting PC Dwayne off and let him talk’, and then under my breath, ‘God have some manners!’ She rolled her deep green eyes at me while I gave the policeman an apologetic smile.

‘Anyway . . .’ PC Dwayne prepared himself. He shuffled a bit, uncrossing his long legs, and sat up. He gazed at me and my sister long and hard. I frowned in confusion.

‘Well . . . this is really . . . difficult to say . . .’ The policeman struggled with words; before I could assure him it was OK, PC Sarah Port turned to us slowly.

‘The French police told us that there had been an accident. I am very sorry to say that your parents were in this accident,’ she said slowly. I watched her for a minute before exploding.

‘Are they OK? Where are they? What happened? Are they in the hospital?’ I exclaimed. Worried was definitely the right word for this moment. All I could think about was my mum and dad sat in hospital bed, unconscious and bloodied from an accident. Wires hooked up to them and then doctors and nurses running around the beds like in TV dramas . . .

I shuddered at the thought.

The officers looked at me silently for those moments, with a thousand words to say and searching for a way to tell. I knew something was very wrong.

‘Well,’ PC Dwayne paused. A shadow falling over his concerned eyes; for me the tension was now too much. Impatience—one of my many traits.

‘Tell me, please!’ I insisted, but who wouldn’t?

‘I am so very sorry,’ PC Port inched closer; I felt the words and their silent gestures begin to fall into place. ‘Your parents have unfortunately died.’

I stared at the officers with no comprehension.

Dead? My mum and dad . . . our mum and dad . . . Paul and Kiera Summing . . . dead?

No, I shook my head, and looking at them, giving them the opportunity to take back their words. But they did not, they just continued to watch me with sadness and uncertainty, muttering only a few words.

Yes, I am sorry, they are. PC Port said slowly.

It then didn’t take long for the word ‘dead’ to fall into my heart. I felt my breath turn from its normal pace to a fast, uneven tone. Tears began burning in my eyes like acid before tumbling and streaming down my face without my say, landing like stones on my pink silk dressing gown.

I turned my head quickly to Fern; she looked like me. Our eyes wide as if to take in the enormity of the situation and faces both drowned in tears; this could not be happening. We were the stereotypical family, minus the son or in our case, brother; we were the perfect Summing Family . . . and now . . .

Both Mark and Sarah got up very quickly and moved to our sides.

Before they could try to sooth us, I grabbed my sisters trembling hands and then looked at the two policemen.

‘Dead . . . ?’ I whispered. Mark and Sarah both nodded. I felt more tears running down my face.

‘You are lying!’ Fern accused; she was begging for another option, begging for the attacker who was hurting her to stop. PC Sarah Port shook her head slowly, her eyes full of unuseful sadness.

‘I am very sorry,’ she said quietly, repeating unneeded words. I longed to let out the hard agonised groan that was bubbling away inside my throat. It felt like loosing your life, loosing everything you loved to lose your parents. It also felt like I was being given responsibility, way too much for me to handle though.

I felt more tears give way that the thoughts of all the responsibility that death gave you . . .

Fern collapsed hard before me into a long cry, mumbling along with it. Even though I wanted to do the same, I held my posture. I stared through my tears at Mark’s now bewildered face.

I grind my teeth together to try and push words out.

‘How . . . ?’ I asked, though my voice was horse and cracking lightly at the end.

‘In a car crash. They were not the only people in the coach to die. There were more people who I think you might know in the crash.’ He had said the words to me only, while Sarah took Fern out to the kitchen.

My mind went back to my parents leaving on their annual ‘Parents Get Away’ trip; mine, Fern’s, and our friends’ folks made up when we, the older siblings, all got over the age of sixteen years old . . .

‘Danni dear, grab that bag, would you? Take it to your dad and tell him we need to be quick if we are ever going to pick up the Saunders and the Hales, Danes, Burrows, Kanes, Fanners, Lotts, and Raes. But also, this year the Williams, Quints, Rights, and the Felds are joining us too! It’s going to be so fun. We have never had such a big group before!’ My mum did a quick embarrassing dance in the hallway of our home.

Her long brunette hair dancing with her, her blue eyes bright with almost childish excitement. She so mum-like and yet, she was just the opposite too. I knew for a fact that if I ever went about being stupid or something, she would not hesitate to slap me to put me back in place.

I looked around her and outside the door to check for any watchers.

‘Yeah, sure, Mum. You lot are going to have such a good time. But stay safe, OK? Just because you are adults does not mean you don’t have your moments.’ She rolled her sparkling blue eyes at me; she grabbed my hand and then slipped over her own and on to my wrist, her beautiful, golden bracelet. It had a variety of small charms; I looked at each one individually, heart, feather, fire blaze, flower, an eye, an oval shape which looked like a water droplet, and a key.

I had seen this bracelet all of my childhood, known all the little parts to them, and envied my mum because I loved it. I had always loved it, dreamed about it in a magical fantasy, all the kind of dreams you have about the most beautiful types of jewellery.

Still, I was shocked to see it past on to me. This bracelet was like my mum’s trademark.

‘What is this?’ I asked slowly.

‘Just something I kept, get you anywhere these days. Even when you think you’re closed out, you never know, baby,’ she said vaguely before sending me off with the bags to my dad, giving me no moment to question. So I didn’t. But I did want to complain about the weight of the bags!

So I dragged the bags to my dad, who peeked out of the side of the coach door and hopped down to help me.

‘Thanks, Hun,’ my dad said as I gave him the bags one at a time and as he loaded them into the rented, black coach. He dropped them in with a clear thud, though he showed no difficulty carrying it, and I thought it was heavy!

‘Its fine, Dad, have a good time, OK?’ I replied. I stretched my pale arms towards my father and he hugged me in return.

‘Don’t mess up the house, please, and do not burn it to the ground.’ He sighed sarcastically. I gave him a playful punch on the back and then smiled at his excited expression as my mum and Fern walked out of the door.

‘Right then, let’s go, Paul! We need to go! People are waiting for us. We don’t want to be rude.’ My mum clapped her hands at the order, and my dad gave my sister a quick hug and then another to me, and he jogged around the coach to the door and then hopped in. My mum looked at me and my sister and went in for a ‘group hug’.

We all let go and my mum dashed to the coach. She turned down the window as they were pulling out into the English country lanes and yelled to us in her usual lively manner.

‘Love you two! Have a good time! Also don’t worry about us, Danni, we will be okay!’ She waved one last time before the black coach went out of sight with only one