Begotten: Book 1 of The Forsaken Prophecies

By Giovanna Lagana

Begotten (A Paranormal Romance)

Book 1 in The Forsaken Prophecies Series

Evil is watching and waiting...only love can save them when it strikes...

In the blink of an eye Megan Johnson’s perfect life turns into a nightmare. Her beloved husband mysteriously dies in a car crash and her fourteen-year-old son, Tristan, runs away with a diabolical cult leader named Vincent Hellion. Her world is spiraling to destruction. She leans on her husband’s best friend, Rhett Foster, for support and help. But when feelings she thought she never had for Rhett begin to surface and unknown psychic powers possess her, she becomes more confused than ever. She tries to push her feelings for Rhett aside and focus on her visions to save her son before it’s too late.
Rhett Foster has loved Megan for so long. But he never confessed his feelings to her because his best friend was her husband. Now that her husband is dead, he struggles with his conscience. Should he tell Megan how he really feels or should he honor his best friend's memory?

Megan's desperate quest to find and free her son sets them both on a path of love, danger, and renewal. If they return, their lives will be changed forever.

Reviews:

“...Wow! This one grabs you and does not let loose until the dramatic climax, which left me with my jaw hanging in awe! Following a string of romances and ‘happy ever afters’, I was looking for something different...boy did this one ever deliver!”

Reviewed by Johnna
Fallen Angel Reviews
4 Angels

“...You will be shocked at the climatic conclusion. This book was impossible to put down...”

Reviewed by Sherry
Review for Coffee Time Romance & More
5 Cups

“...It literally gave this reader goose bumps!”

Reviewed by Dawn
Love Romances & More
5 Hearts

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mallet Publishing
• Release date: Nov 30, 2013

Giovanna Lagana

Giovanna Lagana is an award-winning freelance author. Some of her short stories and poems have been featured in magazines like Tales of the Talisman, Short-Story.Me, Static Movement, and Fear and Trembling Magazine, etc. To learn more about Giovanna and her writing, please check her website at: www.giovannalagana.com

Book preview

Chapter 1

Love you, sexy, Mark Johnson whispered in Megan’s ear before he tried to sneak out of their bedroom early in the morning.

She turned in bed and mumbled, stretching, Mmm, don’t go. Stay with me.

You’re awake? His cheery blue eyes twinkled in the sun’s rays coming through the window that beamed on his face.

She sleepily sat up and gave her husband a big kiss. I am now.

He kneeled beside her and wrapped his hand around her neck, giving her a long, gentle kiss. Her heart skipped a beat on their contact. They had been married for fifteen years, but his kisses were still electrifying and made her giddy.

Releasing her lips, he caressed her cheek and pushed her wavy auburn hair out of her eyes. You came to bed only a few hours ago. You’re tired. Why don’t you go back to sleep.

Come stay with me a little while longer, she moaned, touching his hand and pulling him to her.

He grinned. Oh, baby, you don’t know how tempting that is, but I gotta get to work. Today’s the big meeting and I have to be ready for it.

She pushed her hair behind her shoulder and tilted her head. You’re talking about the merger, aren’t you?

He nodded. Yup, what I’ve been dreading for a few months.

She lifted his hand and kissed it. Don’t worry, Mark. Everything will go just fine.

He laughed as he cupped her face. You’re my good luck charm, so I know it will. He breathed deeply while he continued to stare into her eyes. So how much writing did you get done last night?

She shrugged. Not much. It was a total waste of time.

But I heard you typing away on your keyboard until the wee morning hours.

I did write five thousand words, but after I read it, I hated it all. I’ll have to start the chapter over again this morning. I hope I get a lot done today. The deadline is fast approaching.

Well, you don’t have to worry about making dinner. I’m taking Tristan out for pizza and I’ll bring home your favorite. So concentrate on the story and relax. He smiled.

Are you going to talk to him? She stared at him with wide eyes.

He nodded. Yeah, I’m hoping he’ll open up and tell me what’s been troubling him.

She placed her hand on his lap. He’s barely eaten anything this past week and he’s been moping around the house.

I know and I promise you we’ll talk. Hopefully, our son will tell me what’s wrong and we’ll be able to help him. He leaned in and gave her a quick, sweet kiss on her cheek. Now I really have to go. I’m late. Love you, baby.

As he hurried out the bedroom door, she shouted, Love you, too. Call me when the meeting’s done. I’ll be waiting for the good news.

She leaned back on the bed and crossed her arms over her chest. Staring at the ceiling, she wondered if the day would turn out to be good. She hoped it would be a fruitful one, that her muse would hear her calling. But she also wished Mark’s meeting would go well today and she especially hoped that Mark would be able to get their fourteen-year-old son, Tristan, to confide in him and tell him what had him so troubled and depressed this past week.

Her motherly instincts told her it was something serious if he wasn’t eating or sleeping, and if Tristan didn’t get the help he needed soon, then things could get worse. She sighed in hopelessness and prayed everything would turn out well.

Chapter 2

Tristan Johnson’s mind was a million miles away. Even the hollers and laughs from his teammates surrounding him couldn’t draw him out of the dark thoughts that haunted him. He sat in the locker room staring blankly at his unlaced skates, playing the disturbing, recurring dream he had this past week over in his mind.

Actually, it had been a nightmare, not a dream, one he could never forget no matter how he tried. His stomach churned, and dreadful chills crawled up his spine. He’d do anything to forget it. Truthfully, he’d give his soul if it never even happened.

A bolt of pain pounded his right shoulder suddenly and he cringed. He turned to see his friend Mathew sporting an obnoxious grin. Dammit, why did you do that for?

You look like a zombie, bro, Mathew said.

You could have just nudged me, not punched me so hard! Tristan grunted while he rubbed his sore shoulder.

Mathew’s smirk disappeared and he frowned. It still hurts?

Tristan shook his head. It feels worse now, like it was ripped out of my socket. I don’t know what was up Steve’s butt today at practice.

Mathew’s expression turned to astonishment. Oh, come on. You know why he slammed you against the boards.

No, why?

The way you were playing at practice today was pathetic.

What? No way, I played my best!

Mathew chuckled. Your best nerdy game. Come on, dude, you kept letting in all the shots.

Uh-Uh, only a couple got past me.

Yeah, yeah, in your dreams. If it hadn’t been practice, but a real game, we would have been pulverized. That’s why Steve checked you the way he did. You know how competitive he is. He's an obsessed idiot, who can’t stand to lose. He wanted you to wake up and concentrate on the game.

Tristan continued to rub his sore shoulder. By practically dislocating my shoulder! Yeah, that would have done the trick. Then I wouldn’t have been able to play at all and Stan would have taken my place at the game next week.

Mathew put up his hands denoting innocence. Hey, I never said what Steve did was smart. Anyway, I think the coach’s three-week bench suspension was punishment enough. He won’t be trying that anytime soon. Did you see his eyes pop out when the coach told him? Ah, man, that was priceless.

With sarcasm, Tristan replied, Duh no, I was bent over in pain, remember.

It was really that bad?

Yeah, I saw stars! It still hurts a lot, but at least the swelling is down.

Mathew shrugged. What’s with you, anyway? For the past week, you’ve been on another planet. At school and at practice.

Tristan directed his gaze to the floor. I’ve been worried about something.

Mathew slid closer and asked in a whisper, Is it a girl?

Tristan laughed. Are you serious? Who? It sure as hell isn’t anyone in school. No one is worth considering there. You know that as much as me.

So then what’s up? Problems at home, with your parents?

Tristan wanted to confide in his best friend, but Mathew wouldn’t understand. Hell, he didn’t understand it himself. Sort of, I guess. Look, man, I don’t want to talk about it. He paused a moment. But can I ask you a question?

Sure, bro, shoot.

Tristan looked into his eyes and asked, Did you ever have a dream, a really bad dream that came true?

Mathew scratched his head. What do you mean, like déjà vu? Like when something happens to you and you could swear you did it before, but you don’t know when? Yeah, sure, it happens to all of us at one time or another.

You’re a big help. Tristan looked up in exasperation. He really wanted to say, "This is way weirder than that. If I told you, you’d never believe me. It really freaked me out. I’m scared, Mathew, really scared. And I don’t know what to do." But in despair, he lied, Yeah, something like that.

Mathew finished taking off his hockey uniform and walked around in his sweaty shorts. "Anyway, bro, I got to take a shower. Hey, you want to come with me and a couple of guys out for burgers? My mom is picking us up. Then we’re heading back to my place to play Uncharted on the PS3."

Who’s coming?

Brandon and Peter, Mathew said as he headed for the showers.

Tristan spoke louder so Mathew could hear him. Nah, my dad is coming to pick me up. We’re going out for pizza.

Okay, see you later, Tristan.

Bye.

Tristan got up and went to his locker. He took out his cell phone and dialed his dad’s number. He wanted to know if his father had finished work and was on his way. The phone rang several times until a message came on. A pang of panic hit him. Damn! Dad, where are you?

He waited for the voicemail message to end and said, Hi, Dad, It’s me. You said you’d pick me up after hockey practice and we’d go for pizza. Practice just finished, and I’m going into the shower now. I’ll see you soon.

He put away his cell, picked up his towel, and heading for the showers. That continuously haunting feeling of fear got a little stronger. Something told him things were wrong, very wrong.

Chapter 3

Tristan waited in the vacant parking lot at the arena after everyone else had left. The gelid wind sent chills up his spine. He hadn’t dried his hair after taking a shower, thinking his father was outside waiting for him in the car, and now he regretted it. Zipping up his windbreaker to try to shield his body from the wind’s force, he paced to keep warm.

He stared at the old, cracked pavement. Ants scurried in and out of the multitudinous crevices searching for food. Tristan stepped on a few just to see how their crushed bodies looked. Yellowish/brown liquid oozed out of their smashed abdomens, and their limbs were torn off or broken from the force of his shoe.

This destructive act distracted him for only a few seconds. Once he got bored, he checked his watch. Ten past four. Where are you, Dad?

He thought back to that nightmare he’d had all week long. A shiver went up his spine. Relax, it was only a dream. Forget about it. He’ll be here soon. He’s just late, that’s all.

But Tristan’s gut told him otherwise. No matter how he tried to bury the memory back deep in his mind, it kept resurfacing with a vengeance. It had been so real, so detailed. Just like the dream he had a month before about his grandmother’s death.

He remembered that first nightmare of his grandmother’s death as if it were only yesterday. He recalled the way she started down the stairwell with a graceful bounce as she always did, but after five steps, she stopped, clutched her chest, and huffed in exertion. Within moments, she lost consciousness and plunged to her death. The expression of pain and utter fear plastered on her face just before she passed out in the dream would haunt Tristan for an eternity. Especially since what he dreamt came true a few days later.

But just because that horrible vision came true, it didn’t mean the dream he had of his father was the same. What happened to Grandma was a fluke. It could never happen again. It just can’t. I won’t let it.

He checked his watch. Five more minutes had passed.

Suddenly, his cell phone rang. Tristan jumped in surprise. It’s Dad. Hello.

Sweetie, are you still at practice? It was his mother, Megan. Her delicate, nurturing voice soothed his soul for the briefest of moments.

Yes, Mom. I’m waiting for Dad to pick me up.

There was an instance of silence, then she said, Well, maybe your father got tied up at work. Today was the big merger meeting. Maybe he’s still with them now and can’t use the phone.

Relief cascaded over him. He’s in the meeting, that’s why he didn’t come to pick me up. It made sense. He didn’t tell me that. I guess he forgot. Can you come and get me?

Sure, honey, I’ll be right there. Bye, sweetie.

Bye, Mom. He waited until he heard a click at the other end of the line, then slipped his phone into his windbreaker’s pocket and walked to the street curb. Dismissing the haunting dream from his conscience, he waited for his lift.

* * * *

Megan put away her cell phone and closed her laptop. She had finished the second chapter in her romance novel and felt frustrated. The story was still dragging. She knew that when a story started out like this, she’d probably end up scraping it and starting again.

The problem was she had a deadline to meet. The publisher had given her four months to finish the novel. Usually, Megan had no problems working under pressure, but this time was different. Her mind was on Tristan and Mark.

It was almost dinnertime and Mark hadn’t phoned her nor had he picked up Tristan. It was so unlike him. She had called him on his cell several times, but there was no answer. Maybe the merger talks hadn’t gone as planned. Maybe a glitch or disagreement came along. He and his colleagues were probably out now having supper, still discussing and negotiating.

Getting up from her desk, Megan got her purse and her car keys. Her stomach gave a loud growl as she walked out the creaking, front door. She hadn’t eaten lunch and was famished. Perhaps she’d take Tristan to Pizza Joey’s. A nice Caesar salad with a small mushroom pizza would satisfy her hunger. While they ate, she’d try to find out what was troubling her son.

Chapter 4

Pizza Joey’s was packed. They waited at the door for a hostess to bring them to a table. Megan had tried again to get a hold of Mark on his cell while they were driving there to see if the meeting had ended and he could meet them. Unfortunately, there was still no answer. Tristan began to worry again, but he didn’t want his mom to notice. She’d bring up things he didn’t want to talk about or deal with.

Megan looked at Tristan. Do you want a table or a booth?

Confused, Tristan asked, Why are you asking that?

She scanned the crowded room. We usually take a booth when we come here, but look at the crowd. If we want a booth, it’ll take longer. So it’s up to you what you want to do.

The appetizing smell in the restaurant helped him make up his mind. Anything. It doesn’t matter. I’m getting hungry.

Megan shook her head in agreement. Yeah, me too. I was so busy with my story that I forgot to eat at lunchtime.

How’s your story coming along, Mom?

She shrugged. Not so well. At first, I wanted to open the story up with the heroine’s point of view, but the more I think of it now, I think I should change it to the antagonist’s point of view. It’ll definitely set the suspense at high right from the start.

As Megan finished her sentence, a petite, blonde hostess came to them, smiling. Hello, how many will you be?

Megan answered, Two, please. Booth or table, it doesn’t make a difference.

She picked up tow menus and extended her arm. Follow me, please.

Tristan whispered to his mom as the hostess guided them to a table, I guess you were right. We got a table right away.

The hostess waited until they were seated, then handed them the menus. Your waitress will be with you shortly. Have a nice evening and enjoy your meals.

In unison mother and son replied, Thanks.

While they waited for their waitress to arrive, Megan picked up her menu. So what are you in the mood for?

Tristan snorted a chuckle. "What else – a meat lover’s pan pizza.

Ah, yeah, of course. You want a Coke with that?

Yup, he responded.

Megan put down her menu, folded her arms, and stared at him. So, how was practice today?

Okay, except I got a bad check from Steve.

Steve, who’s Steve? Megan asked perplexed.

Ah, he’s a pain in the butt who thinks he’s the best hockey player on the team. Anyway, he didn’t like the way I was stopping the pucks today and decided to let me know it the hard way. He shot a puck at me and charged me at the same time. He got my shoulder pretty bad when he crushed me against the boards.

With a worried expression, Megan extended her hand and rubbed his shoulder. Oh, baby, does it hurt a lot? Why didn’t the coach stop him? I ought to come down there and make a complaint.

Tristan drew back from her sign of affection foremost because it hurt when she touched his shoulder and also because she was embarrassing him. Relax, Mom. Don’t do that. People are looking.

Megan glanced around. So? I’m your mom and I’m worried.

Tristan shook his head. I’m fourteen, Mom. Please, that is embarrassing and super weird. Anyway, the coach ended up benching Steve for three weeks and warning him if he does that again, he is off the team. Steve won’t try something that stupid again.

Yes, but it shouldn’t have happened in the first place. You could have gotten really hurt.

Tristan shrugged. Nah, Mom, I’m tougher than that.

She smiled. Yes, you are, just like your father.

At the mention of his father’s name, a pang of concern came over him. His mother must have sensed it, because she said, Don’t worry about your dad. I’m sure he is still in the meeting. Do you remember what happened at their last meeting? He was tied up the whole day and got home super late.

Yeah, but I just wish he’d call us to let us know this.

Megan responded, We’re talking about your father here. You know how he gets about work, especially if there is a problem.

Do you think Dad will lose his job if this merger takes place?

Megan shook her head. I doubt it. If anything, he would be promoted.

That’s good. Tristan looked around. I wonder where the waitress is. I want to eat soon.

And in conjunction with his request, their waitress walked up behind their table. Hi, I’m Cindy. I’ll be serving you for this evening. Are you ready to order?

Megan picked up the menu as she always did, which irritated Tristan. She knew what she wanted to order. So why the hell did she always have to look at the menu and point to the items. Sure enough, she did as he predicted. She placed her index finger on the left page of the laminated menu. I’ll have the Caesar salad/pizza combo and my son will have a small meat lover’s pan pizza, please.

As the waitress looked at where Megan pointed on the menu and began to jot down their order, she asked, What type of pizza do you want, ma’am?

Megan closed the menu and looked up at her. I’ll have a mushroom pizza, please.

And what’ll you have to drink?

My son will have a Coke and I’ll have an iced tea."

The waitress smiled once again. Okay, I’ll be back with your drinks in a short while, and then left.

Tristan looked up to his mom. Why do you always do that?

Megan stared back. Do what?

Even though you know what to order, you always open up the menu and show them what we want.

Megan smiled. Do you know how many times waitresses and waiters have gotten my order wrong? By pointing to what I want, they don’t place the wrong order.

Yeah, but still.

Still what? How about next time I’ll let you order, then?

Tristan shook his head in agreement. Fine.

Megan straightened out the tablecloth that had bunched up in the corner when she was looking through the menu and continued, So how is school?

Tristan answered, Okay. I have two projects I need to do for next week. I’ll have to go over to Mathew’s for one. It’s a group project.

Oh, on what?

History. No big deal.

How is Mathew, anyway?

Good.

His parents?

Tristan was beginning to fidget. They’re fine, Mom. What’s with the fifty questions?

A moment of distress came over her face. I can’t even ask you any questions? We barely talk at the dinner table anymore. I figured since this is the first mother-son outing we had in a long while, we could chit chat.

Okay, Mom. But there isn’t much to talk about on my part – school and homework, that’s it.

Megan started playing with her rings and remained silent for a few moments.

In the meantime, the waitress came over with their drinks.

As they each took a gulp, Megan said, Tristan, are you sure there isn’t anything you want to talk to me about?

He was confused. No, why?

Well, your father and I have noticed you haven’t been yourself these past few of days. You’ve been very quiet at the dinner table. You barely eat anything on your plate, then leave right away and lock yourself in your room. And at night, I’ve heard you wake up and start watching TV. Are you having problems at school, or with friends of yours?

Tristan looked away fearful she could see his lie. No, everything is fine at school. I’ve just been having problems sleeping of late.

Megan asked once more, Are you sure there isn’t anything else that’s wrong? Are you feeling ill?

No, Mom. I’ve just been having strange dreams.

Dreams?

Yeah, more like nightmares.

About what?

He wanted to tell her. Actually, he had wanted to tell his dad when he first had the dream, but then he didn’t. Some deeply imbedded terror told him to be silent. He feared that by telling them about it, it would come true. Maybe it was just like a wish, if he told someone what he wished for, then his wish was lost. Only in this case, it was the other way around. If he did tell them about the nightmare, then it would happen. He didn’t know what he would do if it did come true. His whole life would turn upside-down. He didn’t know if he’d be strong enough to deal with it.

He looked at her. Look, Mom, I don’t want to talk about it. It was a nightmare and let’s leave it just at that, okay?

Megan stared at him for a minute with a slight crease in her brow. Okay, sweetie, but if ever you want to talk to me or your dad about it, you know we are here for you.

Tristan smiled to reassure her. I know, Mom. Thanks. With a sudden urge to hear his father’s voice, he said, I’ll see if I can catch Daddy. He pulled out his cell and pressed redial. It automatically dialed up his father’s cell number. He waited and prayed, Please God, let him pick up. I need to know he’s okay. Please.

But his prayer was unanswered as was his phone call. He wanted to tell his mom there was still no answer when the waitress arrived with their orders. Suddenly, his insatiable hunger disappeared and the pizza he had been dying to devour minutes ago didn’t look so appetizing.

Chapter 5

Dinner had been quiet. His mother