Heir of Earth (Forgotten Gods) Read online

  Heir of Earth: A Novel by Rosemary Clair

  The First Installment Of Rosemary Clair's FORGOTTEN GODS Series

  epub ISBN: 978-0-9888931-3-9

  Copyright © 2013 by Rosemary Clair.

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in any form or through any means, in part or in whole. This book, and any part of it, may not be scanned, reproduced, or distributed in any form, written or electronic, without permission. For review purposes, reviewers are authorized to quote brief passages.

  Please do not participate in the violation of the rights of authors or encourage the piracy of copyrighted materials. Violators may be subject to criminal and civil liability.

  This is a work of fiction. All references herein are used fictitiously or are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, businesses or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and is neither intended nor should be inferred.

  Cover Design by Parlay Marketing Partners, LLC (ParlayLLC.com)

  All chapter titles above are also the titles of songs written and/or preformed by Ireland’s legendary singer-songwriter, Van Morrison.

  I am a huge fan of Mr. Morrison and encourage anyone who enjoys this book to check out his work if you are not already familiar with it. Ireland’s mystery seeps into Mr. Morrison’s lyrics and the haunting rhythms he creates.

  His music can be purchased from iTunes, Amazon, or Mr. Morrison’s website, www.vanmorrison.com.

  “Anything will give up its secret if you love it enough.”

  -George Washington Carver

  Prologue

  Don’t Look Back

  Sunshine danced through the wall of windows lining the corridor that led from the lunchroom to the gymnasium of my high school, throwing a brilliant sheen on the scuffed linoleum squares. In the air, a sickly sweet mixture of BO and baby powder seeping from the locker rooms mingled with the ever-present funk of canned corn in the cafeteria kitchen. Every student, except for me, was in class at this hour.

  Slowly, I peeked my head around the heavy metal door and peered carefully into each darkened corner, almost expecting her to jump out and grab me like some prowling ninja. The hallway was empty, so I gulped down the huge knot squeezing my throat and stepped into the warm sunshine. My hammering heart begged me to run away, but I wasn’t a coward. Even if I had been, I knew I couldn’t escape what waited for me at the end of the hallway.

  In my hand, a note from Coach Thomas fluttered like fall leaves every time I lost control of the nerves shooting through my body and let a fearful shudder escape. It wasn’t an odd request that called me to the gym that day. Coach Thomas often got me out of class to help her with various tasks. She’d thought of me as a kindred spirit after watching the way the girls in my grade had turned their backs on me when freshman year began.

  At a height and weight NFL players would envy, Coach Thomas was an outsider, too. She had tried to comfort me, saying high school girls were petty and mean, and that college would be different for me. I didn’t bother to tell her that losing my friends actually made my life easier.

  Over the afternoons spent washing softball uniforms or putting away equipment, we had developed some weird teacher/student, us-against-them relationship. I wouldn’t call us friends, but I certainly didn’t mind getting out of my mind-numbingly-boring history class every now and then.

  Three tentative steps into the corridor, the huge security door I had just passed through slammed shut, causing me to lurch out of my skin. Whirling around like a tornado, still not sure if I was going to fight or flee, I found nothing but the door, locking as it should. My heart hammered in my chest, constricting my throat with each thud as it tried to jump out of my ears. Cold waves of relief shuddered down the back of my neck, causing me to lose control of the note’s fluttering once again. I grabbed it with both hands and shoved it into the pocket of my jeans.

  “Come on, Faye! Get it together!” I hissed under my breath, wiping a hand over the perspiration prickling my forehead, and brushing my fingers through the veil of golden curls cascading down my back. The strands trembled in my shaking hands, which only strengthened my determination to continue. Punching my chin in the air and taking a deep breath, I gritted my teeth and marched toward the gym door.

  Halfway down the hall, I retrieved the note from my pocket and read it again.

  Please excuse Faye Kent from fifth period to help me in the gym.

  -Coach Thomas

  The gym was empty during fifth period, which was always when I was called to help. The only problem was that Coach Thomas was filling in for an absent teacher. I had known that when the note arrived in history class, but it hadn’t stopped me. I also knew it wasn’t Coach Thomas’ handwriting. The capital “C” in the signature had the same curly flourish my former best friend, Amber Crews, used to sign her name. But, if I didn’t show up, I feared they might suspect something, and I would do anything to keep my secret.

  Every step took me closer to the unavoidable fate waiting for me on the other side of the double gym doors. Yet, I didn’t turn away, even though I knew what they were about to do to me. I had seen my horrible future in a dream days before. A normal person wouldn’t have any reason to give a dream a second thought, but I didn’t have the luxury of being normal anymore.

  When my dreams turned black and white—like the one about that particular afternoon had— they always came true.

  Telling anyone I could see the future would have made me a freak in my high school, so I’d buried the secret of my handicap away, and cut all ties to anyone who knew me well enough to suspect something unnatural was going on.

  Being able to see the future was kinda cool at first, until I began seeing things I was helpless to stop. Like Amber’s father leaving the week before we started freshman year. How could I tell my best friend that I could see the future and that her father was about to vanish from her life? I couldn’t possibly act normal around her. So, I’d vanished from her life, too. It was the only way to keep the secret that I had become some crystal ball wielding, future-seeing freak.

  I had made my choices, as impossible as they were. Those choices forced me to live life as a friendless nobody. I told myself it was better to choose to let go of those I loved rather than to share my secret and have my friends turn on me when they knew the truth of what I was. Amber, on the other hand, couldn’t let it go. She hadn’t understood why I abandoned her, and after a few uncomfortable days of tearful messages on my cell phone, every bit of love she had for me turned to pure hatred.

  It was no surprise when I had finally dreamed about Amber’s revenge on me—she was that kind of girl—but even I wasn’t prepared for the lengths she was about to go to.

  At the gym doors, I paused. One hand reached out and gripped the cold, smooth metal handle, the pungent smell of rust and sweat stinging my nostrils. I sighed deeply and looked out the last window.

  My reflection shone back in the brightly lit glass like a mirror. I was a smallish girl, a little taller than average height, but in no way capable of fending off an attack from two girls hell bent on ruining my remaining high school years. Amber had every right to hate me for inexplicably abandoning her. Her new friend, Camie—the one who would hold me down on the hard locker room bench while Amber shaved off every strand of hair on my head— didn’t even know me, but Amber had poisoned her against me.

  The reflection looking back at me confirmed the fact that I was nothing special. My eyes were an unexciting shade of hazel, my skin stayed a pale pink color from the hours I spent riding horses, but refused to tan like I wished it would. The blue jeans and green sweater I wore made me look like every other female
student at my suburban Atlanta, Georgia high school.

  There was only one thing that stood out about me. One thing that made me different. From the time I was a little girl, golden curls—a soft yellow mixture of butterscotch and champagne— had grown in profuse wavy swirls down to my waist. My mother had insisted it never be cut, saying it was like a gift of spun gold from the gods.

  I loved my hair, but I’d learned to hate anything that made me stand out lately. All I wanted was to blend in and be forgotten. My handicap was hard enough to deal with on my own. When people paid attention to me, it was impossible. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to notice how differently I approached the world lately, always braced for what was coming next.

  I dropped the door handle, swinging my head to the side and swishing the blonde mane over my shoulder. A tear drop dangled from my eye lash, rolled down my cheek and landed in the soft folds of gold I twisted through my fingers one last time.

  Watching in the windowpane, I stroked my hair and said goodbye to it like an old friend, wondering how horrible I would look when they were done and I was bald.

  I couldn’t avoid this fate. It was my future, and it was coming whether I liked it or not. Pulling the length of my ponytail to my nose, I smelled the familiar, calming scent of my favorite mint shampoo. Closing my eyes, drinking it in, I released a slow breath and wiped the tear’s trail from my cheek.

  Resolved to pay any price to keep my secret safe, I turned back to the door, gritting my teeth and using all my strength to sling the double doors wide. My chin punched into the air, and I stared into the darkness that greeted me, focusing on nothing as I stepped onto the polished wood floor.

  A rush of wind from the closing door caught my hair and sent it spilling over my shoulder as the heavy metal clattered shut like jaws on a giant trap. Alone in the darkness, my head jerked to the side when a light clicked on in Coach Thomas’ office, leading me to the girl’s locker room where Amber and Camie waited to ambush me.

  With leaded feet, I shuffled forward. The cavernous purple and gold gym blurred, becoming the familiar black and white vision from my dream days ago. I whimpered in the darkness, terrified of what was coming next, but my feet continued on.

  I wouldn’t turn back. My secret had to be kept.

  Chapter 1

  Beautiful Vision

  Everyone loves a secret...especially those who have no intentions of keeping one. I was not one of those people. There was no embarrassment I wouldn’t suffer to keep the secret festering inside me safe. Which made me wonder: Was it really a secret if everyone remained oblivious to its existence, or just a luckless circumstance of my unfortunate life?

  I read once that the most interesting secrets often hide in the most mundane places. Which has to be true, because, I, Faye Kent, was utterly ordinary until the summer before my freshman year. After that summer I carried a secret that would send most normal people running for cover—if they didn’t die from shock first.

  Sometimes I entertained myself by imagining what people’s reactions would be if I let them in on my secret. If I let it slip that I’d dreamed about their future, and that my dreams always came true.

  Amber, my former best friend, for instance. What if I’d walked up to her that fateful morning our freshman year and said—

  “Amber, I know you and Camie are planning to lure me to the girls locker room all alone and cut off every strand of hair on my head. I saw it in black and white in my dream last night, so it’s only a matter of time before it becomes reality.”

  Knowing Amber, her nostrils would have flared like they always did when she was angry, about the same time her blazing blue eyes narrowed to seething snaky slits. An eternal second would have passed while her mean-girl brain thought about what she should do to me for my betrayal. She might have laughed at me, enjoyed the impossible color of red my cheeks would’ve flamed to have the entire school laughing at my insane claims.

  After that, she would have done it anyway. I couldn’t change the future without people suspecting what was going on—no matter how badly I wanted to— and that’s just who Amber was. My fiercely loyal best friend ever since we became neighbors in suburban Atlanta, Georgia at age five. Everyone knew better than to cross Amber. Once she felt betrayed, or wronged in any way, her tenacity boiled into vengeance, and she didn’t rest until she felt avenged. She was a great friend, but a horrible enemy.

  I didn’t really blame her. She had plenty of reasons to hate me, but the only one she knew about was that I’d flaked out on her when her father finally left home. I’d known about it for weeks, which made it impossible to be around Amber. Because when is it ever a good time to tell your best friend her father is leaving?

  Omission is the same thing as lying to me. So I couldn’t help but feel that my silence was the ultimate betrayal of a friend who had been like a sister to me. Sometimes, it felt as if the weight of that guilt might crush me.

  Our friendship ripped right down the middle after that. By the time Amber was done humiliating me and smearing my name for the worthless friend I had become, no one in our high school wanted anything to do with me either.

  I decided living with the handicap I did was easier without friends.

  Of course, I’d said nothing to Amber that morning. I dutifully walked into the gymnasium after lunch, believing my punishment was well deserved for silently betraying my best friend, and knowing I had to show up to keep my secret hidden.

  Four years later my hair had grown back; our friendship hadn’t.

  Losing a best friend was horrible, but it paled in comparison to dealing with the fact that I was no longer normal. Seeing the future made me an alien among my peers, and there was no one to turn to for help.

  My visions started during the summer before high school—a summer when teenage girls already have a million things to worry about. At first, seeing the future was kinda fun. The black and white visions that took over my dreams had been harmless. Just little snap shots in time that inevitably popped up in reality the next day like déjà-vu. I’d try to hide my secretive, knowing smile as I watched every familiar piece of the scene fall into place.

  The visions were nothing major back then—my mother cooking, Amber howling like a hyena at some inside joke, Dad coming home from work. All innocent stuff.

  Weeks later, the simple snap shots became full motion pictures. That’s when things got way too serious. My innocent dreams became lucid nightmares, black-and-white-Alfred-Hitchcock-type-horror-films starring people I knew. And I was powerless to do anything about it.

  It’s impossible to live normally in a world you know too much about unless you’re a superhero, something I was not. My body was constantly poised on the edge of my seat, anticipating what I knew was coming. I picked nervously at my fingernails until the cuticles were rough and bloodied, always fearful someone would discover the secrets I kept. Unguarded comments slipped out of my mouth when I wasn’t paying attention. Off-handed remarks about the future no one could possibly know were always met with an its-so-creepy-when-she-does-that scowl from whoever was listening.

  Normal became way too hard for me. So I pulled away from the life I’d known. My secrets became my prison, impenetrable walls built by guilt and held in place by my perceived helplessness.

  So its no wonder I was a friendless nobody by the time high school graduation rolled around years after my visions appeared. Most days I could convince myself I was happy enough. Other days I longed for what I’d had to leave behind.

  What I didn’t know then was that my clairvoyant visions were nothing compared to the dangerous secrets waiting to enter my world. But I’m getting ahead of myself. I need to take you back to where it all began.

  It was a gloomy spring Saturday in my hometown of Atlanta, Georgia, which always put me in an equally dismal mood.

  “April showers bring May flowers,” my mother parroted absently as she breezed past my perch near the window where I was pleading with the drizzle to go away.
r />   “I don’t care about flowers. I just want to go to the barn,” I answered her without even looking. It was normal for us. She’d never understood why I’d checked out of life, and I’d never offered her an explanation. These days, our main interaction consisted of passing courtesies, no real conversation.

  As if the rain gods were granting my pouty pleas to disappear, a single beam of sunshine filtered through the drifting cloudbank in a beautiful golden ray, bringing the return of my good humor with it. Seeing my chance to finally make it to the barn, I ran upstairs and threw on my riding clothes.

  Minutes later, I clomped down the wide hallway to the front door, the solid thud of my heavy leather heels echoing throughout the house.

  “I’m headed to the barn!” I yelled to no one in particular. Dad was in his office as usual, hard at work on some case he had next week. Mom had disappeared back to the dining room, pouring over her latest to do list for the Ladies Auxiliary Benefit Auction, a task that seemed to occupy every waking second of her life.

  It wasn’t unusual that my announcement was met with crickets-chirping-silence. The horses I spent most afternoons with were more interested in my boring little life than my parents were.

  I was unlocking my hand-me-down Camry when a shiny white limo glinting in the remaining rain puddles and sunshine caught my eye. My hand flew up to block the glare as I squinted to see what celebrity was driving down my street. Instinctively, my feet began to move and I was standing at the end of my driveway before I knew it.

  The blinker turned on and the limo pulled in eight houses down and across the street from mine. It was the same driveway I had drawn chalk hopscotch boards on as a kid. It was Amber’s house.

  I watched in awe as her front door opened and a rainbow of colored chiffon dresses and penguin suit tuxedos billowed onto the porch. They were gorgeous. A group of girl’s my age, tanned to perfection, made-up like high-fashion models, all wearing formal gowns that begged to be twirled around a dance floor.