Born Of Sin (Book 1) Read online

  “Children’s hospital? I assume taking my car is out of the question?” she smirked back at Arnold, then scurried along, a little put off by the rushed escort.

  “No, ma’am. Another officer will pick it up for you later and drop it off at the hospital. Please, this way,” he politely said with a cordial half-smile.

  Although Emily had been a history professor and was versed in several languages, she could not figure out why they needed her. Emily assumed they wanted her as a translator, but hospitals had interpreters. When translators were unavailable, many were equipped with translator phones in most languages. But now she was eager to meet the child so she didn’t bother to question them too much.

  After a ten-minute drive, they came to be swarmed by reporters in front of the hospital. This piqued her interest more than a little. Not too much happened in this town.

  They pulled around back, where she was escorted through the south entrance of the hospital by way of the kitchen, so the reporters would not try and piece together a story. They went up in the loading elevator and traversed a back corridor, leading to the pediatric unit that roomed the lost child.

  Emily was surprised by the chaos around the girl’s floor. There were two armed guards at the double doors leading into the unit. Past the door, the staff wore protective gear and it was clear from the huge glass window to her large room that the girl was scrubbed clean. Her skin was almost red. Her eyes were big, hazel, sad, circles. Her dark, curly hair fell well to her waist. She was so precious that she didn’t look real. She reminded Emily of a doll who had come to life.

  “Is all this necessary?” she inquired to one of the physicians in the hallway.

  “Yes,” was all she could get out of him. “We are having difficulty communicating with the child and the officer thought that your expertise would come in handy.” He quickly changed the topic.

  “My expertise?” Emily thought it odd that no one could help the child and felt more was going on here than he was letting on. “And that’s it, just translation?”

  “Yes, but you will need to suit up for protection’s sake,” Dr. Banks informed her. He was a short, skinny older man whose face seemed to have not held a smile in years. His down-turned mouth seemed permanent, as hinted by the wrinkles surrounding his lips. He was obviously someone of importance because the staff went to him for approvals and sign-offs.

  “And if I don’t?” she felt pity for the child. The sad expression on the child’s face touched her heart.

  “If you choose not to, then you will need to sign a waiver and stay inside until all her tests come back clear.”

  “I have to admit this seems like overkill. She’s just a child.”

  “We’re not sure where she’s from or what diseases she might carry,” Dr. Banks explained. What he didn’t tell her was what the police had stumbled upon, where the child had possibly walked from. That tidbit was their true reasoning for the isolation.

  Emily felt the child was being unnecessarily quarantined. She was an innocent surrounded by adults, lost in the center of a cold and invasive world.

  Like Officer McKenzie and Betty, Emily refused to wear a suit. “But still, it’s a bit much. The child must be so frightened.” Emily had never been blessed with a child. She had never remarried after her husband had died.

  One night, he complained of chest pain. They drove to the emergency room and three hours later he wound up dead. Supposedly he had a heart attack, but Emily suspected his death was due to medicine error. He never had heart issues before and the doctor’s seemed nervous after his passing. To this day, she felt it was hospital error that caused her husband’s sudden death, but could never prove it. Her work had become her baby, and after twenty years as a professor, she’d never had any regrets.

  She happily signed the waiver, then walked through the glass enclosure, passing a red-headed girl who stood up as she entered. Emily walked past the protective suits in the room to the uniformed man.

  “Officer McKenzie, I presume?” she asked as he held his hand out to shake hers.

  “Yes, I’m Officer McKenzie and this is Betty. The doctor is wrapping up some labs over there.” The doctor nodded in their direction as Betty shook her hand. “You’re Professor Vail?”

  She nodded, looking at the wide-eyed child. Emily’s heart broke. It was clear that the little thing was so afraid. No wonder. She had not a clue as to what was happening to her, nor could anyone communicate with her. “Any luck so far?”

  “Well, she finally said a word that sounded like ‘an moe’ when her ring fell, but with an accent. The doctor said it sounded Latin, and that’s why I called you,” the officer explained.

  “Really?” Emily watched the little girl closely as those big eyes followed her, most likely wondering how many strangers were going to poke and prod her today. “Is she hurt? Any head trauma?”

  “They don't believe there's head damage; her reaction time is fine they say, and her vitals are normal. You’re our last hope,” McKenzie explained.

  “I’m Doctor Naturi.” A small framed Asian woman with an intense stare walked over. She greeted Emily. “There seems to be no head trauma, but her demeanor is off and she barely speaks. We would like to do further testing, but we need her to talk, in order to communicate what’s going on. We'd also like to test her mental capacity.”

  “Yes, well, doctor, if you had several strangers prodding you, your demeanor might be off, too,” Emily said, standing next to the child and absentmindedly stroking her hair, wet from her bath. She’d already become protective. And, she’d never cared for doctors, particularly since that tragic night surrounding her husband’s death.

  “Well, yes, that’s a possibility.” It was clear Officer McKenzie’s mindset was more like hers. He continued, “But we wanted to at least rule everything else out before coming to that conclusion. You know all kinds of languages and dialects, right?” When the professor looked at him to ask how he knew, he answered before she could. “My sister took your class.”

  “Oh, okay. May I?” she asked, stepping closer to the child who whined when Officer McKenzie stepped back. All eyes were glued on Emily and the unfamiliar little girl.

  Emily took the little girl’s hands. “It’s all right. I know that you can’t understand me, but I am going to try and help you.” The nameless child they call “Jane Doe” watched her cautiously, but Emily had her attention. Numerous onlookers on the other side of the large glass wall anxiously watched the interaction. Emily proceeded with all languages, even ones they'd already covered. She tried dialects from third world countries. Emily had been an anthropologist for many years before she'd settled down in Connecticut—that’s how she'd come to know so many languages. The interview went on for about ten minutes, and she, too, had no luck.

  “Try Latin,” Doctor Naturi said. “I would almost swear it was Latin.”

  “But that’s impossible. What would a child know about Latin?” Emily asked, referring to a language that was as old as time. It was practically dead, except when used in a few places like medical school, religion or certain mandatory schooling overseas. It was hard for her to believe she spoke Latin, and more apt to believe head trauma or shock.

  “Aut vincere aut mori,” Emily said to herself as a motivational quote. “Either to conquer or to die.” Something she always said to get her through bizarre times such as this. The girl's eyes lit up. Emily's eyes widened. “It can’t be. Latin? Te potest me?” The girl finally nodded. “Quod nomen est tibi?" Emily pried. “Do you understand me?” and “What is your name?” Emily explained to the others in the room what she had asked the girl.

  The little girl's doe eyes drifted up and over as her brows furrowed for a minute. She finally replied, “Nescio,” and stared up at the woman. Everyone in the room cheered with excitement as the little girl’s mouth formed words for the second time today.

  “Is that her name, Nescio?” McKenzie asked.

  Emily's face only held concern. “No, she said s
he doesn’t know it.” She bit her lip, thinking of how strange this was. “Doctor Naturi, it’s rare that a child speaks Latin. It’s basically a dead language.”

  “I know. Latin is almost exclusively used in medical terminology, law references, and religion, other than a few words here and there. This is most definitely disconcerting. We will further test her. There have been cases with head trauma where rewiring occurs, causing the afflicted to speak another language. If that is the case, hopefully, it will be temporary,” Doctor Naturi explained.

  “Can you ask her how she wound up on the side of the road?” the officer prompted.

  “Yes, of course," Emily replied, before returning her focus to the child. She didn't want to make her feel pressured, so Emily held on to the child and offered in a light tone, "Quid est quod in parte ambulans in itinere? Patres vestri ubi sunt?” Emily asked the little girl.

  “Nescio,” said Jane Doe, frowning up.

  “Quid est memoria?” Emily asked.

  “Ibi erat multum de lumine clara et dolore,” the girl answered.

  “All she remembers is a lot of hurt, and bright lights,” Emily translated.

  “Pain? Where? We can recheck her sight.”

  “Unde vobis noceat?” Emily asked where her pain was.

  “Ego autem non feci.”

  “She doesn’t hurt now. Only before, with the lights,” Emily explained.

  “Unde es tu?” Emily asked, then explained, “I asked ‘where are you from’?”

  “Nescio. Non memini.”

  “She doesn’t remember. I don’t think we’re going to get much more out of her,” Emily explained, turning to all the hopeful faces.

  “Okay, let’s not push it. The therapist will be in later. Maybe she can try and get more answers or work with her memory. Professor Vail, do you mind sticking around to help with more translating?”

  “Not at all. I’m very much interested in this child’s background. She is an enigma.” Emily stared at the child with a concerned smile.

  Sadly, that is all they got from her that night or during the following days. She never remembered her parents or anything prior to that day. After leaving the hospital, she rarely had a day’s peace from the stalkers or from the death threats. She practically lived on the FBI’s list of protection. But after the professor found out what they’d discovered down the road, she figured the FBI kept her on the list to keep a keen eye out on her.

  No one ever came to claim her, other than con artists or people desperate for a child. However, there were zealots that came forward claiming the child was an act of desecration. They claimed she had no right to be there. Others claimed she was the antichrist herself who rose up to turn the world evil. They drew such conclusions because it just so happened on the very day she was discovered, all the livestock within the vicinity died along with the crops.

  Her memory never resurfaced. Not through the years of therapy, hypnosis, or even when she revisited the scene. Bizarrely, she never lost the language of Latin. Eventually, she became known as “The Connecticut Highway Baby.”

  In between the bad times, there were still some good. That year, Dr. Vail had adopted Jane Doe, now named Octavia Amelia Vail. Like Officer McKenzie and Betty, Emily could not let her go. A year after their fateful meeting, Officer McKenzie and Betty got married and he was recruited by the FBI. His mother’s health had improved immensely, and once he knew Octavia was well cared for, he and Betty moved to Virginia. Of course, they made frequent visits home to check up on the strange child who had mysteriously appeared in this world.

  Chapter 2: Octavia

  A few years had passed and Octavia was not quite eleven. In middle school, she made a new friend named Jared. They quickly became close and were inseparable.

  They resided in New Haven County, and by no means was it a small city, which meant a lot of people knew of Octavia’s cryptic past. As a result, she had been teased in school. She’d learned to have thick skin, but now she had Jared to help protect her. Actually, that is how they had become such good friends.

  One day after school, a few kids had been teasing Octavia because she “talked funny.” Since she spoke Latin, the way Octavia pronounced the English language was different that most people. Learning English was a challenge.

  “Why do you talk like that?” Lisa, a girl twice the size of Octavia and three inches taller asked, shoving Octavia against the side of the school building. Two of the bully’s buddies stood behind her, egging Lisa on.

  “How do I talk?” Octavia didn’t understand why the girl would be angry because of the way she spoke. “My English is better than yours,” she stated matter-of-factly. She did not mean to offend the girl, but she’d heard Lisa in class and it was clear to Octavia that English was not the girl’s best subject.

  Some of the kids, from school, had gathered around and laughed at what Octavia said, including Lisa’s friends. The bully turned, sending them dirty looks. Lisa balled her fists, but before she could punch Octavia square in the jaw, Jared suddenly appeared and shoved Lisa away. “Pick on someone your own size. You should be in high school by now anyway,” he said before refocusing on Octavia. “Are you cool?”

  Still stationed against the building, Octavia took a long breath. She nodded her head at this boney boy who'd just stood up for her. She couldn't remember ever being so relieved in her life. But instead of speaking, Octavia ran past him and shoved Lisa so hard that the unsuspecting bully fell down the hill. Octavia and Jared then took off running, as Lisa screamed from behind, “I’m going to get you, fag-boy.”

  They ran until they couldn’t run anymore. They stopped by the park, once they knew no one was behind them. An out of breath Octavia said, “That was nice of you. No one has helped me before.”

  “We just moved here. I know what it’s like to be different,” he smirked. “You’re awfully strong for a girl,” he laughed. “Lisa’s twice your size.”

  She playfully shoved him. He pretended to fall. “What’s a fag-boy?” Octavia wondered aloud. She’d never heard that term used before.

  “It’s nothing.” He shrugged it off, facing away. “Let’s go.” He frowned but Octavia picked up that something was wrong.

  But it wasn’t “nothing.” It was something he’d have to endure through school and home. His father would never accept his life choices, but now, he had Octavia there beside him to encourage him through the hard times. They became each other’s everything. Their differences were what sealed their friendship, which became the closest of bonds.

  ***

  One weekend, Octavia stumbled upon a somewhat hazy picture of a man. She rarely went to her mother’s office, but on this particular day, she felt drawn to go in there. He was in a leather-bound book her mother had just opened while doing research. It was a simple portrait of a well-dressed man sitting in a high-backed chair, gripping a long silver and black staff in his right hand as his left hand draped across his thigh.

  She couldn’t fathom why, but there was something about him, perhaps the overpowering pull from his demanding stare. His pupils were enchanting. Maybe it was the callous expression upon his face that shook her. Maybe it was simply the stiff demeanor of the man. No matter the reason, he mesmerized her and the sudden chill that soared up her spine told her he was someone of great importance.

  “Who is that?” She moved her mother’s hand aside as if her mother’s touch invaded her space. Octavia inhaled such a profound breath, it was as if time stalled the second she touched the smooth yet aged page. Her pupils constricted, focusing on the hazy painting, but his eyes stabbed through the distance as if she were there the moment the first stroke had touched down on the canvas. The outside world faded from her consciousness and all she could think of was this colorful masterpiece and this fascinating man.

  Emily wrapped her arm around the child’s tiny frame. “That’s Nikolai Von Mort. His family worth is beyond prosperous and they run a hospital in Pennsylvania that specializes in blood diseases.” A f
rown crossed Emily’s lips at her child’s intense demeanor.

  “Blood diseases like mine? I want to go there.” Octavia never once faced her mother as butterflies took flight in her belly at the slight sting of hope. Never before had she felt such an intense desire for anything as she did at this very moment.

  “Yes, darling, like the one you have.” Emily pressed her nose like a button, trying to lighten Octavia’s suddenly serious effect. “One day we will go there and they can test you, too. But remember, it’s our little secret.” Emily was always worried about Octavia’s health. Even though she appeared healthy, her mother knew that anemia could be life-threatening. It was one of the few things that had never reached the news, along with the fact that she was barren. The doctors had said she would never have children because she suffered from severe anemia. She required a blood transfusion every so often, but they could never figure out why.

  “I don’t want to be studied anymore,” Octavia’s bottom lip pouted, but her gaze had not moved from the book.

  “Then why do you want to go?” Emily asked Octavia, curious as to why she would want to go visit a hospital if she did not hope to be cured. She turned her head slightly, biting the inside of her bottom lip as she gave her daughter her full attention. She’d always thought Octavia was quite unusual for a child.

  “To meet him.” She pointed at his picture, letting her finger linger across his face as she examined the man on the page. Octavia could not help but touch the picture in the book, as if to grasp her appeal to this stranger.

  “He is quite handsome, isn’t he?” Even Emily had to admit to herself that he was attractive. His eyes were the most astonishing shade of blue. It was almost as if they were alive.

  “I don’t know. I just want to meet him.”

  Emily opened her mouth to tell her the truth, but paused. She hadn’t the heart to tell Octavia that he had died long ago, hoping the fascination of meeting him would pass.

  When Emily tried to close the book, Octavia gripped her hand to stop her. She took the book away from her mother without even looking at her and sat on the floor, reading all about him, and his stunning castle, Château du Roux.