The Guardians of the Wells Book One: : Jessie/Brandon: Jessie/Brandon

The Guardians Of the Wells

Jessie/Brandon

By J.B.Andrews

Table of contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue:

About the Author:

                                                                  In loving memory

Of my mother Kathleen

Though your pen

may be silenced.

Your legacy lives on

in these pages

Copyright © 2023 J. B. Andrews

All rights reserved.

Chapter One

Another nightmare

Out of all the things Jessie could have been told, her death being foretold was the last thing she would have guessed. And yet here she was, in a very dark place, standing in front of a woman with indistinct features telling her just that. She couldn’t tell where she was or how she had gotten there, but for the moment, she didn’t care.

"How do you know I’m going to die? she asked, her voice quivering in fear.

The woman did not speak, instead a vision flashed before her eyes, of her on her knees, clothes in tatters, her attacker with something long and sharp held aloft for a moment, Can you not see you’re already defeated? The person asked, then violently plunged it into her.

A white flash filled her eyes and the woman was before her again, What was that? She asked, her body shaking as she did so.

A portent, A faint voice answered, This is what will come if you do not act!

Another vision flashed before her eyes, Her sisters, her father all in the middle of their living room, dead in a pool of their own blood. Fire raging all around, her vision shifted to the outside and her childhood home was in flames!

Another flash of white light and she was with the woman again, These events need not come to pass, heed my warning, or others will suffer! The voice said, and yet again a flash of white light filled her eyes, and she saw a stout man with long dark hair, bound and kneeling, bleeding from his head and mouth, alone and begging for mercy, a gun was put to his head, and a shot rang out, White light filled her eyes.

The woman was there again, He will die if you do not prevent it.

How do I know this is real? How do I know this is true? She asked, feeling she had seen more than enough.

You will see your sister; she will offer you guidance… The woman said, and white light filled her eyes yet again, and she saw a vision of her sister sitting across from her, offering her a white book.

White light flashed before her eyes, and her vision shifted. She was in the middle of the street in her hometown, but it wasn’t as she remembered it. The town lay in ruins, homes splintered, burning and crumbling, cars flipped on their sides like children's toys, burnt husks of civilization lay everywhere, a hint of what once was, a world in flames, rent asunder by unseen hands. She peered around, the sheer breadth of the destruction wrought, barely being able to comprehend it all with her eyes. She peered down and saw the bodies of the dead, splayed out everywhere torn and mangled or burnt beyond recognition.

And then she heard a loud noise, like low rolling thunder, and she saw a wave of fire billowing from the sky, she tried to move, to escape it, but it was too late, it descended upon her and engulfed her, and then oblivion overtook her…

Jessie gasped as she awoke sitting bolt upright in her bed. She looked frantically around the room, and found it was still dark, save for the faintest hint of light coming from the slits of her window blinds.

She swore breathlessly, as her heart pounded in her chest. The discomfort of the rapid heartbeat going on for a long moment or so. She held a hand over her chest futilely trying to calm herself. It took her several long moments and deep breaths before she slowly regained her composure, before her heart actually managed to calm down.

After that she angrily threw her comforter off and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She reached toward the lamp on her nightstand and clicked it on. The small room lit up with a faint pale-yellow light, just enough to illuminate the space's features. She looked around the area, still in a slight daze from sleep. Her single sized bed was against the eggshell white walls and in the corner, it was topped with a blue Burberry comforter in a tangled mess. It was positioned next to the double windows that would look outside to the side yard if the blinds weren’t closed. But even though they were closed she could definitely tell by a faint hint of pre-dawn light just barely visible through the slits that it was still very early.

She looked toward the woodgrain shelving system she had across her room by the door against the ‘feature’ wall that was painted a pale gray and saw the digital clock on one of the shelves along with a messy array of books near the TV, and found that it read Six Fifteen AM, Friday the sixth of October. She hated mornings, especially on workdays. But it was the only time of day where she had any alone time, so she found those times to be filled with conflicting emotions, especially after that dream she had just witnessed. Was it a dream?

The thought seemed to worsen her headache, and she swore under breath again as she held her hand to her temple. Her head had been pounding since she woke up, but now it was getting to obnoxious levels of pain. Unfortunately for her, it was something of a new normal for her lately.

She stood onto her blue and white Persian style rug then stalked across the cold wooden floor to the desk on the far side of the room that had a wooden cup filled with sculpting tools as well as a few packs of clay stacked on top of it. But between that unorganized mess she found a bottle of pain pills that she had kept there next to her ball stylus set. As well as a bottle of half drank water. She lifted the pill bottle and tried to rattle it, but unfortunately, she found it was completely empty. Swearing once again she slammed it into her trash can almost violently. Sleep deprivation and pain had her temper getting the best of her, again.

She gave up on that idea for the moment and then went to her dresser and grabbed a pair of socks and sweatpants and the teal hoodie off the peg on her door and dressed quickly.

Then as silently as she could she opened her bedroom door and walked out into the wood floored hallway. She crossed the hall and crept into the bathroom trying to stay on the long multicolored runner rug as long as possible to avoid the chilly floors and to be extra quiet.

As she clicked on the light, she was temporarily blinded and winced from the pain that the sudden bright flash caused. She opened her eyes and then turned on the faucet and splashed some cold water on her face to help wake herself up. As she took a hand towel off the rack nearby and began to dry herself, she took a moment to consider her face. She checked her pale green almond shaped eyes and saw that they were bloodshot. Not good since she had to work today.  As she continued to dry her face, she was forced to pat her roman nose dry. She hated it. "Too long, and the tip is too wide."  She thought. This caused her to purse her slightly thin lips. All in all, she felt she was rather average looking facially. Especially her skin which she always thought was too pale, as opposed to her father and baby sister who had more of a tan or olive complexion.

She then looked up at her straight light brown hair and found it in a tangled mess, hanging in matted strands all about her shoulders that hung about midway down her back. She must have been sweating during her dreams to have it mussed up this badly. She picked up a comb off the sink and briefly tried to comb her hair, but found the task was nearly impossible due to all the tangles. After a moment of this self-induced torture she eyed the scissors in the cabinet and had a brief dalliance with the idea of giving herself an impromptu haircut. But she shoved the idea aside and instead brushed her teeth before going back out into the hallway.

As she walked down the narrow passage, she saw to her surprise the dining room was lit up by the hanging light fixture in the middle of the room. She needed to pass through there to get to the kitchen entrance which was also next to the living room archway.

She carefully entered the dining room trying to make as little noise as possible. It was a medium sized room with white walls and one wood paneled wall to her right that had also been painted white with a set of three mirrors with the middle one being larger than the other two. The floors were pale wood and shiny like most of the house, except for an oblong woven multicolored rug under the dining table that gave the room a homey look. And the scattered messy spots made it look quite lived in. There was also a hutch for dishes off to one side, and various cabinets each having little stacks of bills and envelopes on them that lined the walls. And the walls themselves were adorned by a few landscape pictures and a few family photos. 

Behind the dining room table was a set of black trimmed double glass sliding glass doors that went to the side porch outside. But right now, the long sectioned blinds were closed, letting only a hint of the morning light in. And off to the right-hand corner of the room sat an old telephone table with drawers that still had an older lan-line telephone on it, and an alcove set into the wall. That area could be best described as ‘organized chaos’ with its sticky notes, envelopes and a cork board that had even more paper notes and reminders pinned all over it. A calendar was hung on the wall beside that as well. All these were necessary since Dad had a terrible memory and needed all the assistance in the world to remember things.

Jessie reached for the light switch and almost shut them off but found her little sister Abigail sitting at the pale pine wood table-or at least that's what her father had called it-as she lifted a spoon full of breakfast cereal from a ceramic bowl and munching on it cheerfully. She had on her red headphones, bobbing her head to the music she was listening to. This was causing her loose armpit length blue-black wavy hair to bounce and bob as she jammed out to her tunes. Jessie tried to sneak past her little sister, and heard an exclamation from just to her side as she tried to sneak past.

You scared me! Abby said, obviously startled. She had a somewhat high-pitched voice but it wasn’t unpleasant. What are you doing up so early!? Abigail asked as Jessie turned to look at her little sister. She noticed she had on a red hoodie that was a few sizes too big for her, and it seemed to swallow her small frame up and hang loosely on her arms.

I could ask you the same thing. Jessie answered in an almost accusing tone, sounding a little grumpier than she would have liked.

Abigail’s warm brown eyes twinkled through her black rimmed glasses in a quizzical expression. She raised an eyebrow nearly halfway to the neatly cut bangs on her heart shaped face, and she wrinkled her slim little button nose.

"Damn her for being so cute!" Jessie thought irritably.

"I’m studying, duh!" She answered ruefully. Gesturing broadly to the books and notepad in front of her, splayed out on the table, wads of paper also strewn about.

Have you been to sleep yet!? Jessie asked, realizing her sister was in the same outfit she had worn the previous evening.

Who needs sleep? She asked with a smirk. I got a big test coming up and I’m gonna ace it! She punctuated the sentence with a single finger pointing in the air.

Jessie groaned and shook her head; she was in her twenties and felt like she had the energy of an old woman. And yet here was her 15-year-old sister, pulling all-nighters like it was nothing. It was unfair and frustrating just how much energy she had.

Your funeral. She said grouchily, before turning so she could head into the kitchen and complete her quest to find some pain pills.

Good morning to you too El Senorita de la grumpy pants! Abby called after her as she walked into the small white room. This elicited an eye roll from Jessie. That kid was a veritable walking dictionary of bad dad jokes.

The kitchen itself was a glorified white cube of a room, with cabinets and cupboards topped with dark tiled countertops on all sides. Those were of course the usual variety of kitchen utensils like a block of knives and a pitcher full of whisks and spoons, a toaster, a blender and so on all haphazardly arranged in another lived-in unorganized mess. There were also a couple of long cabinets that went from floor to nearly the ceiling. And a gas stove with a microwave above it, and a little set of shelves were built into the wall next to the door. And the refrigerator was also to your right as you walked in. But the part of the kitchen that she cared about the most right now was the white cabinet to the right of the sink next to the dishwasher, also known as the ‘medicine cabinet’ as her father liked to call it.

She reached up, shoving bottles impatiently out of the way until she found what she was after and grabbed a bottle of pain pills. It didn’t matter what it was exactly, just as long as the words ‘pain’ and ‘relief’ were on the label.

She quickly popped the lid off, grabbed two pills and shoved them into her mouth. Then performed the undignified act of turning on the faucet and then leaned over the sink to crane her head and slurp water straight from the tap. She simply didn’t have the patience to get a glass out of the cupboard at the moment.

That’s gross Jess! Abby called from the dining room. Evidently Jessie had slurped a little too loud. As she swallowed, she rolled her eyes yet again.

Mind yer own business pipsqueak! Jessie called grouchily over her shoulder. But was rebuffed with a gleeful almost evil sounding laugh. Jessie always seemed to make people laugh when she was angry. And she wasn’t sure why. She firmly believed that she could, without any irony in her voice at all, tell people to go straight to hell and they would laugh at her like it was the funniest joke ever. Maybe it was her expressions? She tossed the idea aside and walked back into the dining room, then took a seat across from her antagonist. Her baby sister’s light brown eyes met hers and as soon they did, concern filled them.

She pulled her glasses off before speaking, You look like dog crap sis. Abigail’s dark eyebrows furrowed slightly, Care to share? She asked, as she rested her chin on the palm of her left hand, that also held a pencil askew.

Not particularly, Jessie retorted flatly, then noted the puffy bags under her sister's round eyes. Ya ain't lookin so hot yerself kiddo. she added with a smirk.

Better than your zombified ass! Abby shot back the retort quickly as she sat up in attention. She had the annoying habit of being very witty and quick about it. She then grinned and waited for a reply, since trading barbs was a fun game to her.

Jessie grunted and gave up on trying to go toe to toe verbally with her baby sister, she was too tired for that, so she decided to change the subject. I had… nightmares. She said simply, as she rested her elbows on the table, letting her head droop down. The pounding of her head was getting to be a bit too much for her.

Again? Abby asked incredulously. How many nights has this been? She added, now sounding genuinely concerned.

Too many. Jessie answered glumly, as she slumped in her seat letting her head come to a rest on her arms.

Maybe Dad’s right, Abby said Maybe you should see a therapist-

Jessie cut her off briskly. No. She answered not even trying to hide the scorn in her voice.

But- Abby started.

No! Jessie almost shouted.

Then there was an awkward pause after that. And Jessie felt guilty for a long moment. After all, her sister was just concerned with her wellbeing.

I’m fine. Jessie told her, trying to sound more jovial, Please, don’t worry about me.

Sorry, I’m your sister, it’s my job to care about you. Abby said in an annoyingly cloying way.

Could you care a bit… less? Jessie asked as she buried her head in her hands.

Nope. Abby retorted dryly.

Just then footsteps came from the hallway.

Hey, could you guys be a little louder? Dad asked angrily from Jessie ’s left as he entered the room. I think there’s still some of our neighbors left that might still be asleep! He practically growled the words, sleep still evident in his voice.

Jessie looked over and saw her dad. Henry Molineaux was dressed in his usual white t-shirt gray flannel pajamas combo he wore to bed. His curly brown, black hair was poofed out in all directions, and his round brown eyes were narrow slits, looking nearly as bloodshot as hers. And he scratched at his new beard growth irritably. Facial hair aside, Abigail had been often referred to as his ‘mini-me’ due to the fact they looked very much alike.

Sorry dad. Abby responded, sounding a bit ashamed.

Sorry… Jessie echoed her sister as she stifled a yawn.

What’s with you? Dad asked as he walked forward and grabbed one of the chairs and pulled it out, then took a seat.

Nightmares. Jessie answered bluntly.

Again? Dad asked, sounding as concerned as Abby.

Yes, dad I’m fine. She answered glumly as she looked up at him, trying to evoke a serious expression that said, ‘Drop the subject’.

Maybe it’s time we booked that therapist session…? Dad began and left the question hanging.

Jessie paused before answering, her head still resting on her arms, Jeez you’re as bad as Abby.

Jessie - He chided, but she cut him off.

No. She repeated more firmly, meeting his gaze sourly as she lifted her head up and sat upright in her chair.

As stubborn as your mother… He muttered, then he winced slightly.

The pang of grief hit Jessie quickly. It had been a year or more since her mother had passed, or so she guessed. She refused to keep track of the exact date, since it was too painful. Even just talking about it still hurt her badly.

Sorry… He added, sadness filling his voice.

There was an awkward silence that was almost deafening for a brief moment, as each person seemed to consider the thoughts of their late mother and wife each in their own way.

After the silence had seemed to become unbearable, Dad finally spoke again. You… gotta work today, yeah? he asked, clearly wanting to change the subject.

Yeah… Jessie answered.

You don’t gotta be there till eight, why not go try and sleep some more? He clearly didn’t care what time she had to be there. He must be handling her with kid gloves now. Since he was well aware of her current sleep issues and probably didn’t want to stress her out too much.

Might do that. She conceded wearily, as she closed her eyes briefly and yawned.

"Also, why are you up so early anyways?" He asked, turning his attention toward Abby.

...Studying… She answered reluctantly after a small pause, trying to look innocent, even flashing a toothy smile.

Have you been to sleep yet? He asked, sounding more agitated as the sentence carried on, looking pointedly at her clothes.

Nope. Jessie answered for her, shooting a smirk across the table, and crossed her arms under her breasts.

"You traitor!" Abby shouted angrily, then picked up a paper wad and tossed it at her.

Jessie raised her hands to deflect it and giggled as it bounced off her chest. The joy brought by her sister's misfortune was the first pleasant emotion she had felt all morning. Revenge is mine! She thought to herself.

Three words. Dad growled. Go. To. Bed. Now!

That’s four words Dad. Abby answered sarcastically.

The glare Dad shot back at her made Abby flinch a bit. Her eyes bounced off of his multiple times before she looked regretfully down to the table. Then she gathered her things wordlessly and scurried away from the dining room.

There was another long silence before her Dad spoke again. Hungry? He asked simply. For once she found herself in the reverse of the usual situation. Her little sister was the baby, and she got preferential treatment most of the time. But today dad had scolded Abby and gave Jessie the special treatment instead. Again, he must have been taking it easy on her, or maybe he figured she might be heading in early today. Either way she couldn’t be sure.

You do realize she has school today, right?

Yeah, but I just wanted to get one over her smart mouth for once. He replied with a smirk before he headed to the kitchen. Her Dad was a pretty good cook. In fact, her mother had actually been terrible at cooking. So, the job had fallen to him by default, or so she was told. Soon the smell of bacon and eggs filled the house. But what really got her attention was the smell of coffee. Oh sweet, delectable coffee. She needed that badly right now.

She refused to go back to sleep, since she didn’t want to risk another nightmare. So she preoccupied herself with a shower instead. As she washed herself, she briefly considered herself with a frown. She felt her upper body in general was just plain average. Although as she washed her legs she took solace in the notion she had at least one attractive feature. Her legs were long and had nicely toned muscles to them. In fact, the one time she had worn a dress in recent memory at her cousin's wedding. She had gotten more attention to her bare legs than she wanted from a few of the male, and even some of the female wedding attendees.

The memory was quickly tossed aside as she turned off the water and exited the shower and dried herself off. And then she tried to brush out her hair again, having marginally better results now that it was clean and wet, but still tearing several small clumps out painfully. She was going to go bald for sure! Then after a moment of effort she managed to put her hair up in a utilitarian ponytail.

Afterwards she went back into her room and changed into her work clothes, which consisted of a loose-fitting black t-shirt which she covered with her teal hoodie. And then she put on her light blue denim jeggings, which had many holes worn in them. And then she slipped on her worn black sneakers with blue trim and headed back out to the hallway.

She then went back to the dining room and ate with her father. They shared small talk over coffee about the day ahead, and the weather and found out it was going to be chilly out today. He even managed to work in some rants about the local sports teams. She of course was a sports nut. Which people thought odd for a woman for some reason. Her father himself was a sports encyclopedia, and they had bonded over the subject ages ago. And they shared many good conversations over the subject. They both could get lost for hours in the world of sports honestly. Of course her eldest sister Scarlett was more of the same mind on the subject with her father in that regard. Scarlet's mind was an iron trap for statistical details small and large. Well, except for the genetics department. She, like Jessie, looked and acted like their mother.

Scarlett lived off on her own now and was a psychiatrist by trade. And overall she was an egghead and nerd. However, she didn’t look like it. She was tall for a woman with hair much like Jessie only hers was curly, and she was quite pretty. Just the thought of Scarlett made Jessie  feel ugly. She knew the thought was ridiculous of course, but she couldn’t help but be a little sullen over it.

The next couple of hours passed and Abby eventually returned, with a new set of clothes that consisted of the same red hoodie, a short black and red plaid skirt, with black leggings and black flats. She also had her hair done up in pigtails. Her backpack was slung over one shoulder, and she was glancing around nervously like a wary deer afraid of the hunter. Wordlessly she grabbed some cold leftover breakfast by quickly smashing together a sandwich made of two slices of toast and some eggs before she sneaked out the side porch sliding doors. After that Dad went out to the entranceway of the house, rounded up his things for the day and went out the front door. After a few moments Jessie heard the sound of the car starting outside, and then the engine could be heard roaring, then faded into the distance.

After Dad had left Jessie stepped out onto the screened in front porch and then locked and shut the door behind her. She shuddered against the bracing cold as she grabbed her blue bicycle and then opened the screen door and walked it down to the front walkway. She mounted her bike and peddled her way down to the sidewalk and rued her decision to not wear a knit cap in favor of her hair staying in place when the first cold blast of wind hit her.

Jessie, like every day before this, enjoyed her brief solitude as she rode her bike to work. She liked the exercise, and the town they lived in gave some lovely sights as well as some scenic views every day. And this morning did not disappoint. The sky was bright blue with nary but a few clouds, with the brilliant sunrise casting a light on the trees that gave the yellow and red leaves a luminous glow.

Petoskey Michigan was a sight to behold in the fall. A town set almost entirely on an eternal hillside it seemed. With all the buildings and houses constructed into that hill seemingly just to spite it. Those hills were densely covered in trees that were swaying and their leaves rustling in the brisk autumn breeze. There were so many trees and underbrush foliage it seemed that the forested areas dominated the landscape. The leaves vibrant colors of yellow, orange and some red dotted the yard and park grass as she rode by. She also noticed the green of the aspen, fir and pine trees that stood out in stark contrast to the almost rainbow hues of the sea of maple, poplar and beech trees.

The town itself was a neatly organized place that had a Victorian air to it. It was somehow rustic and quaint, and yet large and modern at the same time. The lovely scenery caused her mood to pick up as she coasted downhill through the shopping district and passed a flat-iron building that sold sandwiches. She had in the past frequented that shop at lunch time often, and her favorite bookstore on the way as well. It was a cute little shop with a set of big glass windows that had an inset red door and a round glass center. The shop had green and gold painted trim with a red awning that gave it a candy shop kinda vibe. She admired it as she hurried along and passed the fudge shops and other tourist trap shops on the way.

Seeing this area reminded her that Petoskey was a tourist destination and summer retreat at the same time. In the warmer months, the ‘flat landers’ as the locals called the people from southern Michigan, flocked to her hometown and filled the streets with tourists, either visiting or staying in one of the time shares or other permanent vacation homes.

But there were all kinds of modern stores and amenities available as well, like the