Child of Prophecy (Divide Series Book 1) Read online

  T. E. Bradford

  Copyright Notice

  Child of Prophecy

  First edition. Copyright © 2018 by T. E. Bradford. The information contained in this book is the intellectual property of T. E. Bradford and is governed by United States and International copyright laws. All rights reserved. No part of this publication, either text or image, may be used for any purpose other than personal use. Therefore, reproduction, modification, storage in a retrieval system, or retransmission, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, or otherwise, for reasons other than personal use, except for brief quotations for reviews or articles and promotions, is strictly prohibited without prior written permission by the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. Characters are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover and Interior Design: Derinda Babcock

  Editor(s): Linda Rondeau, Deb Haggerty

  Author Represented by Hartline Literary Agency

  PUBLISHED BY: Elk Lake Publishing, Inc., 35 Dogwood Dr., Plymouth, MA 02360, 2018

  Library Cataloging Data

  Names: Bradford, T. E. (T. E. Bradford)

  Child of Prophecy / T. E. Bradford

  338 p. 23cm × 15cm (9in × 6 in.)

  Description: How far would you go to fit in? Another world?

  Fifteen-year-old Nova Hawthorne has a unique trait that sets her apart, yet she wants nothing more than to be normal and fit in.

  She soon finds out there’s a very real reason why she feels so out of place in this world—she’s from another one. And prophecy says she is destined to destroy them both.

  Identifiers: ISBN-13: 978-1-948888-27-1 (trade) | 978-1-948888-28-8 (POD)

  | 978-1-948888-29-5 (e-book.)

  Key Words: speculative fiction, young adult, coming of age, other worlds, family

  LCCN: 2018951168 Fiction

  For Beans Mama and for Hector.

  Please save us a seat at the table.

  The time has finally come!

  The time to say thank you to all of the people who have made writing the words “THE END” not just possible, but a true experience. First and foremost, to every person who has read this book, you have my heartfelt and deepest gratitude. You are who we’re doing this for.

  To Deb Haggerty and all the folks at Elk Lake Publishing Inc, thank you from the bottom of my heart for seeing value in my story and for taking a chance on a new author like me. You make dreams come true. To Linda Rondeau, thank you for not only helping to make this book shine, but for making me a better writer.

  To Marlene Bagnull and everyone at the Greater Philadelphia Christian Writers Conference, thank you for serving God and changing lives. You are true Wardeins and Travelers of the High King.

  To Jeff Wheeler for inviting me to share my story online: You set my feet along the path, demonstrated to me what truly excellent writing could be, and inspired me to keep moving. As Laura would say, “At least if you do something, you’ve got a shot.”

  To Peter Wiebe, who has endured the battles of life and come through with scars, but an inner strength forged in flame: Jesse would be so proud of you, my friend. You have my beta reader services for life. Now get writing, because I can’t wait much longer to see what’s going to happen next in your story!

  To Soleil, RC, Ken, Staci, Carole, TEW, Pam, Michelle K., Michael H., Michael W. Jason, Ryan, Susan, Ed, and all of the people I met, got to know, and journeyed for a while with on Write On: I will never forget our time together there. We may have crossed the Divide to a new place, but those magical days still fill my heart and call to me.

  To all of the wonderful people in RWA and especially my CNYRW Chapter: Thank you for enduring my years of growth and for all the versions of this story you had to hear over the years. You ROCK!

  To Alicia who read every new and revised bit with eagerness, and to Marje, who prayed with me and for me, thank you for being my friends. You are rare gems in this world.

  Now for the more personal stuff.

  Mom, thank you for reading to me, always telling me how talented I was, and for giving me the gift of laughter. Dad, thank you for being a steady rock in a sometimes tumultuous world. I never once heard you complain even though life threw you many hard curves. I owe you both so much. Thank you for teaching me about God, for raising me in a Christian household, and for loving me through whatever came. I wouldn’t be who I am today without the two of you.

  Grandma Mason, you left this world many years ago now, but your legacy lives on. Thank you for forcing all of us grandchildren to sing and perform, even when we didn’t want to. You gave us the gift of music, and I will always cherish that. I know somewhere in heaven, the angels are listening to your beautiful voice as you sing the song of the High King.

  My darling husband Doug, you are the inspiration for every hero I write. Thanks for putting up with me, with having to read the beginnings to countless stories, and for challenging me to write so that even a Sci Fi reader will enjoy Fantasy. I love you beyond measure, and am so blessed to have you. God made you just for me, and I am forever grateful for such undeserved grace.

  To my son, my little man, my creative inspiration: You contain the best parts of both your Daddy and me. Your mommy loves you more than you will ever know. You are my heart, and you will forever be my greatest creation and my best story.

  Finally and most of all, to my Heavenly Father, my High King and the One True God, without whom I would be nothing: You have given me the gift of music and writing, and I hope they will be used to your glory.

  “If I can help somebody as I pass along, then my living shall not be in vain.” -- Alma Bazel Androzzo (1945)

  From whence may come the blood that holds

  The elemental gifts of old

  Cometh the power that seeks to bring

  The end of every living thing

  By choice and action freely made

  Life’s stones like water soon cascade

  The wings of darkness stand unfurled

  And seek the end of every world

  So, one must stand and face the night

  Else risk the loss of life and light

  And for destruction to be stilled

  Life’s blood must then be freely spilled

  —The Blood Debt Prophecy

  Tiny bits of color danced in the air around Nova, fragments of the sound that had plucked her from the warm embrace of sleep. Frowning, she blinked at the clock as she registered the time. Why would there be fragments of sound at three in the morning? She tilted her head, listening and watching.

  There. A small whorl of dancing orange floated in the air near her bedroom door. Orange signified a soft sound.

  “Opus?” Nova whispered. “Is that you, silly kitty?”

  She left the comfort of her bed and padded out to the living room. More spatters of orange floated through the air. They were coming from the direction of the sliding doors. A small, dark shape pressed against the glass from the outside, trying to get in. It had to be Opus. Something must have disturbed his nocturnal prowling, probably his enormous appetite. Nova turned on a lamp.

  “Are you hungry, Op—”

  The shape outside the door moved, growing before her eyes, unfolding like origami in reverse, expanding into something far too large to be a cat. The darkness shifted to reveal a man’s face inside a black hood. His eyes glittered. Menace radiated from them. The shadow shifted again, and a fold rose, a pale arm sheathed inside. The lamp light reflected along the surface of something gripped in a tight fist.

  Nova’s scream erupted from deep in her chest, sending shards of red, yellow, and white in every direction. They crashed against the walls like waves. The figure in black recoiled, ducking as if afraid of being hit by them. Then, he turned and disappeared into the night.

  “Nova?” Her mother flew into the room, eyes wide with alarm. “What is it?”

  Grandpa Zeke came on her heels, white hair sticking up in all directions. One of her mother’s pink bathrobes fluttered around him like wings.

  “Th—there was a man.” Nova saw the sound of her voice, surprised by the nearly black color that accompanied the husky, too-deep sound. “There.” She could only point to the doors.

  Grandpa Zeke stalked to the doors to investigate, muttering something under his breath. Nova’s mother sat her down on the couch, holding her close for a moment before leaning back to look into Nova’s face.

  “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  “I heard something.” Nova paused. Should she say anything more? No. She had to be honest about this, even if she upset her mother. “Something orange.”

  Her mother’s body stilled. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  She shouldn’t have been surprised. Not by the answer or by the way her mother’s lips pressed into a disapproving frown, her forehead marked with a deep crease. Nova had mentioned the synesthesia. She should have known this would be her mother’s reaction.

  “Yes, but you don’t see sounds, Mom. I do.” There. She’d said the words.

  “Sometimes our mind plays tricks on us.” The concern in her mother’s voice had cooled to something more detached. “I’m sure you thought you s
aw something.”

  “Seriously?” Nova was stunned. “We’re going to do this now? When some stranger just tried to get into our house?”

  “Watch your tone, young lady.”

  Nova’s face warmed. Fire blossomed inside her, steadily growing hotter.

  “This is what you do. I try to talk, and you shut me down. You act like having a daughter who can see sounds is something to be afraid of, like spiders or heights or something. Well, I’m sorry if you’re embarrassed by your freak kid!”

  Her mother’s eyes widened. “Is that what you think?”

  Angry tears stung the corners of Nova’s eyes. She didn’t want to cry. She wanted to be mad. She wanted her mother to listen to her and stop pretending everything was okay when it wasn’t. Hiding wouldn’t make Nova’s synesthesia go away. She knew—she’d tried.

  “I don’t think you’re a freak, Nova.”

  These soft words pierced Nova’s heart. She wanted them to be true but knew better. If her mother meant what she’d said, why did their conversations always have to end in a battle?

  Her mother pulled her close again. “I never meant to make you feel that way.” She pressed her lips against the top of Nova’s head.

  She wanted to settle into her mother’s embrace, but the stab of denial in her heart wouldn’t let her.

  “I didn’t see anyone.” Her grandfather came back inside, locking the patio doors behind him.

  “He was there, Grandpa.”

  The scene filled Nova’s mind, the shadow growing, impossibly changing in a blink from cat-size to man-size.

  A shiver twisted through her.

  “Oh, I don’t doubt that.” His bushy white eyebrows crowded low over his bright blue eyes. “He left footprints.”

  That startled Nova. She realized she had expected there wouldn’t be any sign at all, as if the stranger had been a ghost or a leftover part of her dream.

  “Plus, every dog in the neighborhood is barking.” Grandpa paused, sending a pointed look in their direction. “I should go after him.” His normally bronze voice was the color of burned wood, stained with concern.

  “No.” Her mother’s soft green voice sounded steady, but Nova could see the tension. The normally supple waves were rigid and hard. “Whoever he was, he’s long gone by now.”

  “We should take every precaution,” Grandpa argued.

  “I know that!”

  Nova flinched, caught off guard by her mother’s shout. Grandpa Zeke’s bushy brows climbed upward.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.” Mom’s eyes softened, filled with some unspoken plea, as she looked up at Grandpa. “We stay together.”

  Worry and sadness warred on his face. “Mira, you know as well as I do—”

  “I know, Dad. Trust me, I know.” She sighed, her shoulders sagging in defeat.

  “Maybe it’s time to tell her.”

  Nova stilled, like a mouse not wanting to make the cat aware of its presence. They should definitely tell her. She had been kept in the dark for way too long.

  Her mother shook her head, her gaze faraway. “It’s too dangerous.”

  Grandpa waved his arm angrily in the direction of the doors. “And this isn’t? Someone was inside the yard.” His voice looked as sharp and rigid as Nova had ever seen it. “You know what that means.”

  What? What does it mean? Nova’s heart pounded.

  There was a reason for her mother’s strong reaction. Nova needed to know what that reason was.

  “If he’s found her …”

  He? He who? Why would someone be looking for her? Unless they meant …

  Are they talking about my father?

  The forbidden topic. Nova didn’t just want to know who he was, she needed to know. Why wasn’t he around? Was he dead? Maybe he’d taken one look at his strange child and ran, leaving them behind, broken pieces of a family scattered on the ground like shattered glass.

  Nova didn’t even know what he looked like.

  Could this veiled conversation be about her father? Did Grandpa think he was looking for her? That he might have been here, at their house? Could that explain why they were being so secretive? But why would he come in the middle of the night?

  “We’ll go somewhere.” Her mother’s voice left a jagged trail of green pointed teeth.

  “Yes, because coming all this way has worked.”

  Nova didn’t understand. They’d lived here for as long as she could remember.

  Her mother’s eyes snapped up, shooting daggers. “I made a hard choice, but it was the right one.”

  Grandpa took her hand, his fingers dusted with white hairs but still strong.

  “As is this one.” Somehow, even in Mom’s pink bathrobe, he looked wise.

  Her mother seemed to deflate. “I can’t.” She looked at Nova as if startled to find her there. “Don’t worry, honey. Everything is okay.”

  “Sure, it is.” Nova tasted bitter disappointment on her tongue. Were they really going to try to sweep this entire night under the rug?

  “We should check the yard in the morning,” her mother said to Grandpa, ignoring Nova’s sarcasm. “Make sure everything is where it’s supposed to be.”

  Nova’s disappointment hardened into resolve.

  She had to know.

  “Is this about my dad?”

  The silence that followed was so deep not one speck of color showed. The room turned dark and still.

  Storm shutters closed in her mother’s eyes. “No.”

  “But you said—”

  “It doesn’t matter what I said.”

  “It does matter!” Nova forced herself to take a breath. “Mom, I need to know. I’m not a little kid anymore.”

  Her mother stared at her. For a moment, Nova thought she saw a glimmer of surrender in those cornflower-blue eyes. Whatever she saw disappeared as quickly as it had come, shut away behind the iron shutters of her mother’s will.

  “You’re fifteen, Nova. I think I still know what’s best for you.”

  “The truth is what’s best for me.” Couldn’t her mother understand how desperately she needed this? “Please, Mom.”

  Her mother turned her face away. “I can’t do this with you right now. You’ll have to trust me. Everything is going to be fine.”

  Sure.

  Sure, it was.

  Nova wanted to scream at her mother but arguing would only leave them both feeling more hurt and angry.

  “Fine.” She was sick to death of all the secrets.

  Before anyone could protest, she pulled away, storming back to her room and slamming the door hard enough to send streaks of red flying through her room. She grabbed the pillow off her bed, pressed it against her face, and loosed a frustrated scream.

  If anything, her anger only intensified. They were still talking out there. She could see their voices coloring the air with bits of gray and white, like smoke drifting under the door. She hurled the pillow against the wall.

  Why wouldn’t they tell her the truth? She wasn’t supposed to worry that some guy had tried to break into their house, but telling her about her father would be too much for her to handle? That made no sense.

  None of this made sense.

  Her cell phone buzzed. She grabbed it off her desk and swiped her finger across it.

  U OK?

  Quentin’s text illuminated her face.

  WHAT R U DOING UP? She texted back.

  His response came back immediately.

  HEARD YELLING. TXTED—U DIDN’T ANSWER. U OK?

  “Nope.” She wondered if you could hear sarcasm in a text.

  She was definitely not okay. Not with any of this. Acid burned her guts.

  I’LL B FINE.

  Her phone vibrated. Nova’s lips twisted into what might pass as a weak half-smile. She should have figured he’d see right through her texts. She poked the green phone icon.

  “Hey, Quen.”

  “What happened? Should I come over?”

  Warm blue-green waves washed over her at the sound of his voice.

  The smile tugged at both sides of her mouth now. “No, it’s okay. I’m okay.”

  “Are you sure? You said you were fine. I know you. You don’t do fine.”