Prophecy Awakens

By Brenda Wamsley

Jane, a preacher’s daughter, is getting forced into marrying a man twice her age and whom she does not love. Her prayers for a way out of her life are answered one fateful night starting a whole new existence and all new dangers. Soon she realizes that she can be more than just a dutiful daughter as she tries to survive a world where demons are real and they want to destroy her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brenda Wamsley
• Release date: Feb 23, 2010
• ISBN: 9781458177650

Brenda Wamsley

I enjoy writing in my spare time, seeing my thoughts come to life through words and sharing them with others has always been a life long dream. During my non-writing hours, I am busy with three kids (20-7 yrs), my wonderfully supportive husband of 10 years and my job as a information technology instructor at a community college. I tweet frequently. Mostly about my crazy kids and our peculiar cats. Please make sure to rate or comment on my books. I love to have the feedback and appreciate my readers very much!

Book preview

Prophecy Awakens

Brenda Wamsley

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2010 Brenda Wamsley

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is available in print at Lulu.com.

Contents

Chapter 1 – Hope Dies

Chapter 2 – Desperation

Chapter 3 – Genesis

Chapter 4 – The Keystone

Chapter 5 – Directionless

Chapter 6 – Safety

Chapter 7 – Charles Towne

Chapter 8 – Venganza El Diablo

Chapter 9 - Training

Chapter 10 – Isle of the Beast

Chapter 11 – Catherine's Palace

Chapter 12 – A Hideous Secret

Chapter 13 – Skating on the Neva

Chapter 14 – Dakhanavar

Chapter 15 – The Christmas Ball

Chapter 16 – Rock and a Hard Place

Chapter 17 – Regrets

Epilogue

"The quality of mercy is not strain'd.

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven

Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest:

It blesseth him that gives and him that takes."

--Portia, Merchant of Venice

(Act IV, scene I)

Chapter 1 – Hope dies

I knew I was dreaming, yet everything around me was so realistic. Standing in a dark forest of Black Pine trees, I could smell the crisp cool air with the scent of pine and moist dirt. In the moonlit sky I could hear the flap of owl and bat wings and calls from the nocturnal in the trees around me. I could reach out and touch the paper bark on the birch trees and the rough texture on the trunk of the maple. Most of all, I felt fear filling me like a thick syrup. Something was here in the trees circling me just out of my view like a hunter would stalk a deer. My heart pounding, I didn’t know which way to go; I just knew I needed to go somewhere. I ran.

The trees flying past me, I was running faster than I could in real life. The dried pine needles were springy under my feet. And I released the scent of decaying pine as I crushed them. The speed was exhilarating and unbelievable, but whoever was following me kept pace. I ran faster, the world around me becoming a blur of dark green and browns and still I could sense someone mirroring my steps.

Suddenly, I ran into a large clearing and quickly stopped in surprise at the immense space. With the light of the yellow moon fading in and out with the cover of clouds, I could see the tall grass looking like waves on an ocean as the breeze blew gently across the diamond shaped clearing. The smell of lemon grass and chicory flowed over me.

As I walked cautiously, a dark figure appeared from behind the tree line across the expanse. Pausing in the middle of the clearing, I feared this specter but felt compelled to walk forward. The shadow remained motionless as if observing my movement. My breathing came in rushed gasps, my stomach tied in knots, and my hands were shaking. The silhouette was shaped like me, tall and willowy. I froze mid-step, afraid to get closer.

The moon broke through the clouds once more and the shadowy figure was illuminated. I gasped at the sight of the vision… of me. There was no blush to my doppelganger’s cheeks and she was not breathing. However, the vision was lovely in her deathlike state. Her skin was pearly white not dappled like mine. Her full lips were pale pink and her reddish-brown hair fell in shiny waves around her oval face whereas mine was dry and brittle.

Abruptly her eyes flew open. The round eyes were as red as rubies with a fire glowing hot behind them. Although her body looked dead, there was life behind those eyes, a ravenous hunger of a monster. She smiled widely at me showing a set of perfect white teeth. I blinked and suddenly she was right in front of me, inches from my face. I could smell her sweet breath as she exhaled. I tried to scream, but she gripped my throat with inhuman speed and strength choking back the shriek. A feral growl came from her exquisite mouth as it clamped down onto my neck.

*****

I woke with the choked scream finally bursting out of my throat. The sound was piercing in my small stark bedroom. My face was covered in sweat and I felt cold and clammy. As the door slowly groaned open, I looked up with my hands still shaking. The dim light from a lantern illuminated the pale yellow on the walls.

Are thou all right, Jane? A concerned voice whispered. It was the deep tone of my father. His slender form, shadowed by the lantern, stood in the doorway. However, I could see that he was still dressed in his wrinkled breeches and waist coat from the previous day.

Yes, I’m fine, Father, I tried to make my voice calm, hoping it wouldn’t betray my fearful vision. It was just a bad dream.

His shoes clacking on the wooden floorboards, he walked into the room. Placing the lantern on the simple three-legged table next to my bed, he sat on the worn rocking chair. Slowly, he rocked and the wood creaked as it moved back and forth. His thinning grey hair was tousled, his tan face wrinkled with worry. He folded his callused hands together and looked down at them.

Father, are you alright? I questioned sitting up, the terror still fresh in my mind and I wondered if he knew my fear. Looking out the window, I could see the grey of the early morning sky and I wondered if father had been up all night again.

I am fine dear. It was just a long night, My thoughts confirmed, I looked into his weary eyes. John White’s cows have been getting slaughtered by some beast. We were hunting last night, but we have come up with nothing. I believe it might be mountain lions… or wolves… I’m not sure. His face looked deep in thought and he gently stroked the arm of the rocking chair, my mother’s chair, I want you to stay away from the forest. And, please, come home before dark until we get this taken care of. Some of the men and I are going to be hunting until we get whatever it is and, I’d hate for anything to happen to thee. I fear it is a vicious, bloodthirsty creature.

He looked at me and must have seen some remnant of my terror, for he smiled gently and, leaning forward, brushed a lock of hair out of my face. Looking at the jagged scar that ran from my right jaw down to my shoulder, he sighed, You look so much like your mother. I’m sorry you never got to know her. She would have loved to see what a charming young lady you’ve become.

My father was the preacher of the Puritan church in Andover. After the Salem witch trials took their toll on him, he decided to move here. He never did talk about what happened; only that many innocents were tortured and killed. Andover was in need of a preacher and he needed a change of surroundings. It was the perfect fit.

Here, he met my mother, Isabella, a baker’s daughter. Even though she was much younger than he, they were soon married. Trying for two years to have a child, they were finally blessed with me, or perhaps cursed would be a better choice of words.

While pregnant with me, mother became horribly ill. Father rarely spoke about this. I’d been told that my mother begged Dr. Goodwin to open her up and save me, against my father’s objection. Father believed that it was God’s right to decide if we were to live or die as he prayed for our safety. Dr. Goodwin, knowing that I wouldn’t survive, swiftly cut her belly as she departed this life, saving me. However, in his haste, he had cut me deeply from my right jaw to my shoulder. Dr. Goodwin repaired the damage as best he could but thought for sure I would soon follow my dear mother to heaven. With the prayers of my father, I grew strong. My father named me Jane, which means, God is gracious, I suppose because he was grateful that I lived, a small piece of my mother.

My father loved my mother deeply and never had the heart to remarry. I think he frequently regretted leaving me without a mother figure as he often left me alone as he performed his duties to the church. Because of this, I mostly raised myself. Although he never said anything, I could tell that he was frequently worried about what would become of me after he passed on.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, he smiled at me once more and gently patted my face. Without another word he simply sighed and rose from the chair. Taking the lamp father left the room, leaving me in the soft early morning glow. I flopped back down in my pillow, but when I closed my eyes, I saw the dead me with the eyes of the devil and knew there would be no more sleep. I stared at the wooden planks of the ceiling as the sound of robins and larks twittered outside with their morning songs.

Repeating the Lord’s Prayer to guard myself from this demon, I got up and put on the white petticoat and grey gown carelessly tossed by me the night before at the bottom of my wardrobe. It was a simple gown with a high collar that covered most of my scar. The sleeves came down to my elbow and then finished with linen cuffs. I combed my hair with the wooden handled brush and looking into the small mirror on my wall I pulled my dark red hair into a bun at the back of my head and pinned on my white cap with a black ribbon. Finally, I put on my black lace-up shoes, a bit dirty and worn.

Looking into the mirror one last time before leaving the room, I carefully examined my oval face, pale with red blotches on my high cheek bones and narrow nose from spending most of my time in the sun. I narrowed my emerald green eyes at my reflection and sighed at the tragedy that was me. I knew that it was vain for me to worry about my features but I still felt dissatisfied.

Our house wasn’t very big or extravagant. It was a nice and tidy small house and with my father being Andover’s pastor, he believed that we needed to set a good example for the people of the village. The house had three rooms, one was my bedroom, another for my father, and then there was the living area.

In the main room we had a large black wood stove for cooking and heat in one corner. Honestly, it was too big for this small house, but it was given to us by a family that left to Virginia five years ago and couldn’t take it with them. It did keep us very warm on the freezing winter nights that we frequently had. I stoked the dying embers with more wood and in a few minutes, the fire became a blaze, quickly warming and drying the morning air. I pulled a pewter plate out of the cupboard and a fork and set them on the worn wooden table. I prepared breakfast for my father, eggs, bacon, and coffee the rich smells filling the room.

Going about my morning duties perfunctorily, my mind wandered back to my dream. What horrible creature of Satin would have risen into my subconscious, I wondered. Slowly my fears melted away as I began to mentally create my list of things to do that day. Soon the dream floated away from the forefront of my thoughts and hid in some deep recess of my mind.

Finally coming out of his room, Father was dressed in fresh brown breaches and a heavy tan waist coat over his white shirt with full sleeves gathered at the wrist. His hair was combed back and into a ponytail at the nape of his neck and his face although still worn, was brighter from a scrubbing. He sat on his chair at the table as I set the food down in front of him. I poured a coffee for both of us and sat down giving him his cup.

He inhaled deeply the aroma of the breakfast then eyed at my empty place on the table. Aren’t you eating? He questioned as he picked up his fork. He tried to look unconcerned, but I could tell he feared for my health.

I am not very hungry, I fiddled with my cup. This was the truth, as my stomach felt unsettled since I woke.

Jane, you will never get any meat on your bones. One day you’re just going to fly away in the breeze, He mocked.

Maybe I’ll be detained for flying on my broomstick and casting spells on unsuspecting children. I smiled wryly, gazing at the steam rising from the black liquid in my cup.

You should never jest about that! His voice was suddenly stern. People have died for less.

Father, you and I both know that most of those people were blamed for someone else’s weakness.I closed my eyes. I’d gone too far and it would result in the speech I’d heard so many times before.

Yes, but they died just the same. I was there. I saw those poor souls get tortured and killed, if they did anything wrong or not. His face was fretful.

It was a quip. I was just trying to be funny. Apologizing, I shook my head, disgusted.

He threw his fork on his plate and stared at me. People dying is not something to quip about, Jane! And I love you too much to let anything bad happen to you.

I thought about my dream. So, if I turned into a devil…

I would pray for your soul and destroy the demon that took over your body. He droned and looked down at his plate. I could see the deep worry lines I caused every time we spoke of these things. He sighed, I just don’t understand this sudden facetious behavior from you. Listen to me, Jane; I need to keep you safe. I need to know your soul will meet your mother and me in heaven. I made a promise to her.

He finished his breakfast in silence while I sipped on my coffee. When he was done I took the plate and fork to the wash basin and cleaned up. Opening his Bible, Father quietly read and prayed, most likely for my offensive soul. This was our usual morning ritual followed by him going out to work with some unfortunate farmer that needed his help and I would busy myself with being the good daughter and complete the housework. It was a dull but contented life full of rituals and repetitiveness.

I’ve always wanted more from my life, although I’d never speak of this to my father. Last summer I’d come across a book of plays by Shakespeare while vacationing with Father on Star Island in New Hampshire. I particularly enjoyed the powerful female characters in the story and felt that I too could be something more important. I had such potential that was wasted on housework and gardening, but pleasing my father was more important. He needed me and I loved him, so I was a dutiful daughter.

This day, however, was different. Suspiciously, my father remained home. Sitting in one of the wooden rocking chairs on the front porch, he continued reading from his worn bible. I went about my daily chores, curious, but I dared not ask what he was doing. He was still angry with me for my retort at breakfast.

I went out into the garden that filled our fenced in backyard. The misty morning air still lingered among the tomato pants and rows of corn. Inhaling deeply, I could smell the warm earth around me and felt at peace. I put on my wide brimmed straw hat and tied it with a grey ribbon under my chin. Taking a bucket sitting on the wooden step outside the door, I went to the well and prepared to wash the laundry.

It was almost mid-morning when John Bailey, the local butcher shadowed our walkway. I was hanging clothes on the line to dry in the cool spring air in the backyard, but I could hear his distinctive booming voice.

Good morning, Pastor Howell! John greeted my father. I hope I’m not interrupting your morning activities?

I came around to the side of the house and peered around the corner. John was a large man in