Prophecy

  Prophecy

  The Owens Chronicles Book One

  Amanda Lynn Petrin

  Amanda Lynn Petrin

  Copyright © 2019 by Amanda Lynn Petrin

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  For everyone who has supported me along the way…

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Chapter One

  2. Chapter Two

  3. Chapter Three

  4. Chapter Four

  5. Chapter Five

  6. Chapter Six

  7. Chapter Seven

  8. Chapter Eight

  9. Chapter Nine

  10. Chapter Ten

  11. Chapter Eleven

  12. Chapter Twelve

  13. Chapter Thirteen

  14. Chapter Fourteen

  15. Chapter Fifteen

  16. Chapter Sixteen

  17. Chapter Seventeen

  18. Chapter Eighteen

  19. Chapter Nineteen

  20. Chapter Twenty

  21. Chapter Twenty-One

  22. Chapter Twenty-Two

  23. Chapter Twenty-Three

  24. Chapter Twenty-Four

  25. Chapter Twenty-Five

  26. Chapter Twenty-Six

  27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

  28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Epilogue

  Coming Soon

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Amanda Lynn Petrin

  Prologue

  I can still remember the very first time I met Embry and Gabriel, two mysterious men who came out of nowhere and inserted themselves into my life. The details were fuzzy, more like a dream than a memory, but I knew they were important. I always felt special when they came to see me, even if I didn’t know why. I was so young that I didn’t understand the gravity of the situation, or how these men would eventually become my dark knights in shining armor, keeping me safe from all the scary characters from my nightmares…

  I was 5 years old and Grams had just died. She had been the one taking care of me ever since ‘the cancer’ took my mom away. I used to make Grams look under my bed almost every night because I thought ‘the cancer’ was a monster, like the boogeyman. They always talked about it in hushed voices, and I knew it was the reason my mom left me. Instead of admitting there was nothing that she or anyone else could do to protect me from it, Grams humored me with a flashlight and some herbs that she would leave under my bed, to make sure it wouldn’t come while I was asleep. She would go through different phases, sometimes putting salt by the windowsill as a protective barrier, other times hiding garlic in the closet. The smell was terrible, but it made me feel safe. Grams convinced me that burning sage to cleanse the house and all of her other tricks could help ward off ‘the cancer’ and other misfortunes. I didn’t realize they were old wives’ tales until ‘the cancer’ ripped Grams from me as well.

  I hadn’t counted, but it looked like there were hundreds of people gathered in the manor I grew up in. It was unnerving when I had never met a single one of them before. The manor was big enough that every curious mourner could lurk in their own room and I would never run into them. However, the East and West Wings were roped off, so everyone was crowded in the parlour. Mr. and Mrs. Boyd, the groundskeeper and his wife, were in charge of me until someone else could be found to take me in. Neither my mother nor my grandparents had any siblings or relatives to mention, and I knew nothing about my father, other than a blurry picture of a man whose face you couldn’t see.

  Mrs. Boyd was always vocal about her opinions, such as how horrible it was that the townsfolk were using Grams’ funeral to gain access to our elusive manor. There were real estate agents and lawyers wandering as far as they could, trying to get lost on their way to the restroom, sniffing around for clues as to who was inheriting the property and whether they were likely to sell. Mrs. Boyd made certain none of them felt welcome, and a few of them literally retreated from her steely gaze. She had always been fiercely protective of us, and her fiery red hair, though slightly graying, made it clear she was not the type of person you wanted to mess with. I was grateful it meant no one dared come near me, but I could still hear their whispers.

  I would never have called Grams suspicious or eccentric, but that was how the strangers in my home described her. They spoke as though they knew her and her crazy old woman behaviors, but they didn’t know about half of the odd things we did. I could only imagine what they would say if they knew we ate strawberries and jumped into the creek for summer solstice, had soul cakes instead of trick-or-treating for Halloween and filled the house with fresh cowslip. Not to mention the bonfires. Or the locket. In movies, girls wore lockets with pictures of people they loved, whereas my locket was incredibly old and sealed shut. Grams had wanted me to wear it all the time, but it smelled funny, so she said it was okay as long as I wore it around the end of October. She never elaborated on the purpose of the locket, or what she was protecting me from, and she did get most of her information from books and movies, but she ingrained in me from early on that something terrible would happen if I didn’t follow these practices. When she died, I saw it as proof that none of it was real, but then again, maybe I just hadn’t tried hard enough to do everything she taught me.

  The townspeople knew none of that. They only knew that Grams was a recluse who never mingled with the outside world. A few people had come to visit us once or twice over the years, but we never left the manor and after my mom died, there were no more visitors. Mrs. Boyd did our grocery shopping and her husband took care of any errands we had.

  Whenever Mrs. Boyd suggested I needed playmates my own age, Grams would remind her that I had Samuel, Mr. and Mrs. Boyd’s 15-year-old-son. Sam had none of his mother’s fierceness, and tended to make me laugh more than anything, particularly when he got angry, which was rare. His hair was ginger and reminded me more of a carrot than of fire, which suited his personality perfectly.

  In an attempt to avoid the strangers, I secluded myself on the stairs, past the velvet rope Mrs. Boyd used to show our ‘guests’ where they weren’t welcome. I was perfectly content there, playing with Grams’ antique dolls. They lived on a shelf in my bedroom, too high for me to reach, because they were old and fragile. As Grams would say, “They’re meant to be looked at, not played with.” Sam had taken them down for me that morning as a special treat. On occasion, Grams would bring them down as props for the stories she would tell me about the lives they had lived. I loved these stories about adventures and courage, even though they never ended with the dolls living happily ever after. “It’s not about that.” Grams would tell me. “It’s about the kind of women they were, the things they overcame with their strength and bravery.” She made sure my heroes wouldn’t be princesses whose sole ambition was to marry the prince by the end of the story, then live happily ever after.

  Other than Beth, whose hair barely reached her chin, the dolls all looked the same, with big green eyes and lots of curly brown hair. I had to look at their clothes to tell them apart; Annabelle looked like a pilgrim with her bonnet, Rosalind had the big, poofy bottom to her dress, Cassandra wore a straight gown in bright colors with white gloves and Elizabeth had a flapper dress. Grams said you could recognize them by their smiles, but I assumed she was teasing because the smiles all looked the same to me. They were strong and confident, but also a little sad.

  My favorite part was that each doll had a crescent moon birthmark on the back of her neck, right below the hairline. You had to lift up their hair to see it, so
Grams didn’t know about it until I showed her. I liked it because I had one too, in the exact same spot. Mr. Boyd tried to rub it off once, when Grams put my hair up in a high bun for a ballet lesson, but Mrs. Boyd told him it was just something that ran in my family.

  “Does that mean the dolls are real?” I had asked Grams excitedly.

  “They’re just dolls.” She brushed it away.

  “But they look like people who are related to me.” I specified.

  She looked at me in that way where she tried to be stern, but failed miserably. “They’re made to look like your ancestors.” Grams reluctantly agreed.

  “Did you know them?” My eyes grew wide.

  “They all died long ago.” She sounded sad.

  “That means that all of their adventures…” my brain tried to remember every story I had been told.

  “They’re just stories, Luce.”

  I was lifting up their hair to see the birthmark when a man, dressed all in black, knelt down in front of me. His sandy blond hair was still wet, as though he had tried to make it look presentable, but it was sticking out all over the place. Mine always got really frizzy, which made Grams think I hadn’t brushed it when I had.

  “That’s a pretty doll you have there.” He picked up the white bonnet I dropped when lifting her hair and handed it back to me. “What’s her name?” His voice was kind, with the hint of an Italian accent, but his eyes were dark and intense. Not exactly scary, but unlike anything I had seen before.

  “Annabelle.” I answered, which made him smile. “And this is Beth and Cassie and Rosie.” I introduced him to the others. The isolation I grew up in at the manor meant that I hadn’t encountered enough strangers to be warned not to talk to them. Although even if I had, I would have made an exception for him. He made me nervous, not that he gave me any reason to be, and he felt familiar, as though I had met him before.

  “And what is your name?” he asked me.

  “Lucy.” The shyness in my voice led him to turn around and see the other man who had caught my attention. His hair was dark brown and straight, but his eyes, that he hadn’t taken off me since he came up the staircase, were the same as the first man’s. He was listening intently to our conversation, but made no attempt to join it.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Lucy.” The first man continued, turning back to me. “I’m Embry Dante and this is my friend, Gabriel Black.” He said ‘friend’ in a way that told me they weren’t.

  The introduction provided an opportunity for the other man, Gabriel, to come closer. He also knelt down to my level and extended his hand, so I could shake it. Up close, his eyes were even scarier, but I wasn’t afraid.

  “I’ve never seen her so young before.” Gabriel told Embry, looking me up and down. The statement confused me, as I had only ever been younger.

  “How did you know my Grams?” I asked, sensing these weren’t the townspeople looking for access. They had gone past the velvet rope, but instead of looking like they got caught while exploring, they acted like I was the one they were looking for. They must have been Grams’ friends. Or more likely my mom’s.

  “We’re old friends of the family.” Embry explained, not looking all that old to me. He was older than Sam, but younger than any adult I knew.

  “Did you also know my mommy?” Grams knew so few people, that anyone who knew her would have known my mom as well, especially if they were friends of the family. I remembered so little of my mom that I was always asking people to tell me stories, but it made Grams sad, and the Boyds insisted they had already told me all the stories they knew.

  “Of course I knew Marilyn.” Embry told me while someone in the hallway caught Gabriel’s eye.

  “Lucy, you need to eat something.” Sam came over and extended his hand, expecting me to follow him to the room where the food was set out. He had looked at the men with curiosity when he walked by them, but focused entirely on me once he got close.

  “They knew my mommy.” I argued with him, not ready to leave.

  “This area is off-limits to guests.” Sam told my new friends. “I’ll bring you to her room later if you come with me now.” He tried to bribe me. It was a tough decision. I could stay there and talk to men who might know stories I had yet to hear about my mother, or I could take Sam up on his offer and spend hours going through my mother’s things, wearing her clothes and possibly hiding something in my blankie to treasure later. I carried it with me everywhere, so no one would suspect anything if I slipped a photograph or some jewelry into the creases of the pearl-colored material. Grams was always worried I would break things, which was why the dolls lived on the shelf that was too high for me to reach.

  “Okay.” I reluctantly agreed, taking Sam’s hand to get up from the steps. “Will I see you again?” I asked Embry, looking around, but Gabriel had vanished while I was talking to Sam.

  “I’ll be around.” He assured me before Sam brought me to the dining room, where his parents were waiting.

  “Come here sweetie, I made a plate of your favorites.” Mrs. Boyd motioned me over, took me into her lap, and handed me a plate with deviled eggs, Swedish meatballs, hot dogs wrapped in bread and bacon, as well as little cheese cubes. I knew she had also bought a tub of cookie dough ice cream for me to have later, once all the strangers were gone.

  “Where was she?” Mr. Boyd asked Sam. He was tall and fair and usually wore dirt-stained overalls, but now looked uncomfortable in the stiff black suit his wife made him wear.

  “On the stairs, talking to some guys I’ve never seen before. I got the feeling they were hiding something.” He told his father, stealing one of my cheese cubes with a smile, knowing I would forgive him.

  “Everyone here today is hiding something. None of them have seen the inside of this house in years, if at all.” Mrs. Boyd added her two cents.

  “They knew Grams. And mommy.” I inserted myself into their conversation.

  “What were their names, sweetie?” Mrs. Boyd asked me, playing with my hair. Sam didn’t have any siblings, but she liked having a girl around, and I definitely didn’t mind.

  “Embry and Gabriel.” I said with my mouth full. “I like them.”

  Mr. and Mrs. Boyd exchanged a glance before she took me off her lap and asked Sam to watch me while she went to take care of something.

  I tried to ask Sam where they were going, but he didn’t seem to know any more than I did, so he let me finish eating, then brought me to the backyard. His girlfriend, Deanna, showed up not long after and played hopscotch with me. Sam wasn’t biologically my brother, but he had been there my whole life. Grams had rarely let him have friends over because they were always too loud or ‘had a look about them’, but even she had liked Deanna. Her auburn hair was cut just below her ears, but she still knew how to do French Braids, and would do mine sometimes when Sam had homework to do. Grams liked her because she was always smiling.

  Eventually, Deanna and Sam snuck out to the garden swing to do ‘grown-up things’ which I knew meant kissing, leaving me alone.

  I saw Embry and Gabriel by the fountain, so I went over to try and talk to them some more. I was sure Embry would answer questions about my mom, and maybe even tell me some stories. Unfortunately, Mr. and Mrs. Boyd had found the men as well, so I stayed close enough to hear, but far enough that I wouldn’t be seen.

  “My family has been taking care of Lucy’s for a long time, Mr. Dante, and I know who you are.” There was a warning in Mrs. Boyd’s tone, like when she was yelling at the animals that ate out of the garden.

  “Then you know why we’re here.” Embry sounded serious, like it was important business that had brought him to the manor. Everyone seemed to know what was going on, but I didn’t have a clue.

  “Martha, you can’t believe your father’s stories? He was a drunk.” Mr. Boyd didn’t trust the two men, or believe their story, whatever it was.

  “I never believed them before, Curtis, but he is not a day older than in the painting from the East Wing,
or the picture from Miss Helen’s bedroom.” That was where I knew him from.

  The manor had 4 wings, but I couldn’t tell you which one was which, except for the East Wing, because I wasn’t allowed to be there. This meant I had been dozens of times and seen the life-size portraits of my two new friends. Miss Helen was my great-grandmother, who died before I was born, so I had never felt the urge to explore her bedroom, which was also in the East Wing.

  “That painting could be of anybody. It’s hundreds of years old.” Mr. Boyd argued.

  “It could, but it isn’t. We understand that it’s difficult to fathom, but we are exactly who we say we are, and we’re here for Lucy.” He didn’t sound mean, but I could tell that he was going to get his way. I didn’t think they were going to hurt me or anything, but at the same time, I didn’t want to leave the manor, or Mr. and Mrs. Boyd.

  “You’ll take that girl over my dead body.” Mr. Boyd said with anger, but it still made me smile. He was strict, and often talked to Sam and I like we were soldiers in his army rather than children, but deep down, he was a softy. He was the one who would sneak me a cookie when Grams said I wasn’t allowed to have dessert.

  “We don’t want to take her.” Gabriel said as if it were preposterous. “What would we do with a 5-year-old girl?”

  “We want to come by every once in a while and make sure she’s safe.” Embry spoke calmly, convincingly, until he used the wrong words.