Hi Dollars! My name is Anubis and I love to read books. Because of this, my imagination has spawned a number of characters and I have tried my hand at creating a series.

So far, my family says the whole thing is good. I really need your feedback. Not just that, I want to see how far my luck can take me. I've always wanted to see if my story was good or not.

So please, please, PLEASE tell me if the story is good enough.

Thanks in advance.

I've also got no title for this, so I'll just have to do with The Keepers.

“10 p.m. sharp, slightly mangled, grimy fingernails, fresh off the adrenaline rush, traces of tequila present in her system. Don’t be late,” a redheaded girl read off a small black pocketbook for the hundredth time that day.

She sighed. Her brother, Nicholai Veilthorne, was never one to take directions and follow them to the letter, but she knew she could count on him when she needed a diversion or protection. Her job was to be the brains of the operation, and keep the deliveries – if there were any – in line.

Truth be told, they were to deliver something, and the delivery involved precision, as the operation was of high priority.
Maybe leaving him without any way to contact her was the worst idea she had in eight thousand years. He could turn anything into a disaster if he had not given the instructions perfect attention, which was very rare for even the girl herself to procure from Nicholai.

She slid up the sleeve of her sweater, revealing a silver watch glinting in the moonlight. Three minutes to ten pm.

She did, however, trust her brother enough to lure an unsuspecting eighteen-year-old girl up to the roof of a supposedly abandoned building. Especially since that unsuspecting eighteen-year-old used to have a black belt at a very young age and went by the name of Monica Samson.

“Cue brother and Monica Samson,” she said not glancing at the door she was facing, staking her life on the fact that her brother couldn’t possibly mess this up.Any moment now, and they would live to come home to the family.

Any moment now…

Any moment…

A resounding crack! was heard coming from the ground floor. The redheaded girl focused her hearing some few floors down. She heard a disc scratch, and then the loud music stopped completely. Silence followed. Utter, deafening silence followed.

Sirach Veilthorne was going to rip Nicholai apart for this.



Nicholai Veilthorne put up a mask of pain.

He had been punched into a glass window.

Though he was quite strong for a boy his age, someone actually had the gall to punch him. He hated being weak and being proven weak. He was Sirach’s partner-in-crime, and he was in charge of pounding people’s heads in. Or anyone or anything that posed a threat to Sirach, him, or the mission.

Especially not his sister.

And now this little fighter wannabe had made him look bad. Ah
well, Nicholai thought, points for the one with the most woes.
Well, at least the wannabe didn’t escape without a scratch. He was in between being steadied by his lackeys and being held back from lashing out at Nicholai.

The wannabe had mousy brown hair and looked as if drunk…even just a bit. Nicholai decided to see just how drunk he was. Of course, Nicholai had no watch on him, so he decided it wouldn’t matter as long as Sirach would be there to vouch for her own brother.

“Is that all?” Nicholai taunted. The mousy brown-haired boy, in response, squirmed in his friends’ grip, cursing bloody murder at Nicholai. Nicholai decided to push his luck. “Thought so. What a pathetic little wimp.”

The brunette boy launched himself at Nicholai.

not bad anubis!! im actually interested to see what happened!

*And now this little fighter wannabe had made him look bad.* the word wannabe kind of seemed out of place BUT it may belong if that is relavant to the characters mannerisms, so id have to read more, but yes i approve

To el Toro

Thanks for the feedback. Currently working on the next one. Yeah, I wanted to expand the vocabulary a little. Thanks again.

Yeah, that's great, eagerly awaiting for next part.

>>4 Thanks. Almost done with chapter 2.

This is pretty awesome, you left me a nice cliffhanger there at the end lol. Can't wait for whats next, keep it up!

>>6 Thanks. Almost done with the next...

Sirach Veilthorne watched as the spectacle unfolded: her brother had created quite a scene on the dance floor. The crowd parted to give way to a squabble between the delivery itself. In terms more suited to the normal person; Monica Samson’s ex-boyfriend had up and taken on someone who went out with fair game.

What an imbecile, Sirach thought. If you’re tired of something, or it’s worthless no matter what angle you look at it, there’s no point in keeping it around.

Sirach had jumped from the fifth floor and rounded the corner in less than one minute. By the time she had gotten over to the front, the glass was cracked, but not broken — a sign of Nicholai’s handiwork.

Though the fight was concentrated behind the glass window, no one saw Sirach. Everyone was too preoccupied on watching the school’s handsomest guy — Monica’s ex — battle it out with someone who could easily have won the title from him.

Sirach had held a record for keeping history’s straightest face. She was void of all emotion. The world could have ended and Sirach wouldn’t even so much as twitch. She always had a straight face, but on the inside she only held anger, contempt, nervousness, and hostility to anyone and everyone but her own family.

And the hatred widened every mission, as what was happening right now. She couldn’t stand whatever assignment her and her brother’s employers gave her if it had something to do with humans.

Sirach and the rest of her family hated them.

Nicholai, however, thought of them as weak, rather than something to hate. Now he just wanted to go and feed this little mousy brown-haired wimp to the chief employer.

Sirach was panicking. The two of them were running out of time. Their employers were very impatient. They chose the two siblings for a reason. A very good reason indeed.

The other reason was that they were always, always, always punctual. Never mind a rabid ex-boyfriend who had all the reasons he needed to land Nicholai in the hospital; their employers would sic the entire family on the two if their mission was a bust.

No one had ever failed and/or upset the employers.

Not once.

This mission was out of control.

It was a wild card.

No, Sirach thought in horror. He’s the wild card.

Sirach had taken all necessary precautions. Everything, all details were taken into account. Nothing should have gone wrong, and yet this boy…he defied the mission objectives.

He was a threat.

But how?

In a split second, Sirach came to a conclusion: The boy himself was unpredictable. Though she was about eight or nine feet away, she could read the boy’s emotions, splayed all over his face and concentrated in his dark eyes.

Jealousy.

Pride.

Loss.

Anger.

Love.

Sirach herself envied the boy. In order for her life to be spared, she had herself siphoned of all emotion. The only thing she could do was just keep her face an emotionless, uncaring mask.

And if she wanted to keep her — and her brother’s —life spared, she had to act fast.

Really, really fast.

Sirach blinked once, and her pupil turned into an intricate clock design. The hands ticked away for a split second, until it mirrored her watch, abruptly stopping.

Everything else stopped as well.

It was as if someone had pressed the universe’s pause button.

Trash and empty soda cans that tumbled away in the evening breeze froze in mid-air. Lights that were in the middle of being switched on froze as well as the people that were dialing for the police. A clumsy old lady who had been completely oblivious to the glass that had cracked less than five minutes ago had tripped on a tree root. She froze mid-fall. The groceries she was carrying didn’t even hit the pavement. At least, not yet that is.

Nothing stirred, moved, breathed.

All except for Sirach, who picked up her cello case and walked into the building, taking extra care not to blink. Everything — and everyone else, for that matter — had frozen as well. Yes, even the two hormone-crazed teens. The ex had taken to being frozen mid-lunge. His face wasn’t something for a five-year-old child to see, though Nicholai barely even hurt him.

Sirach grabbed hold of Nicholai’s shirt, pulled him aside, and stared straight into his eyes. She spoke in an archaic, echoing tone. “Eye of Time, grant my brother Nicholai Veilthorne the Sight of Time. I ask that you pass on this gift that was only meant to come once in the running of the Eternal Timeline.”

And with that, one of Nicholai’s pupils had changed into an intricate clock face shape, mirroring Sirach’s eye. Immediately, Nicholai tensed for a split second before he became oriented with his current surroundings.

“Hey there, sis.” Nicholai greeted casually, as if their lives weren’t depending on delivering one simple female teenager to their employers. “I thought I told you I had it covered.”

If Sirach could show her emotions as clearly as breathing, she would be downright pissed off. “I thought you would lure Monica Samson up to the top floor.” She retorted flatly. “And I don’t need eyes at the back of my head to see that you really have this covered don’t you, Nicholai?” Sirach added sarcastically.

“It ain’t my fault someone got a little too possessive for his own good.” Nicholai snapped. He hated it when his sister’s tone went flat. Not a lot of good things happened after the dreaded ‘tone’. Nicholai jabbed a thumb at Monica Samson’s ex-boyfriend. “I was well on my way, and he managed to body slam me into glass.”

Sirach looked from the ex to Nicholai, then back to the ex again. “Body slammed, Nicholai? You were built to withstand more that that.”

Nicholai waved the insult off. “Cut me some slack. That Samson girl is G-O-R-G-E-O-U-S gorgeous. I totally wish she’d come with us. Hell, even not getting Usurped would cut it for me.”

“Your hormones are running dangerously high.”

“And I totally take that as a compliment.”