Fields of Elysium: Chapters 1-10

By A.B. Whelan

"The novel's take on otherworldly travel is a compelling one, and the romantic plot will likely appeal to Twilight fans." - Kirkus Reviews

"I expected a good love story with a paranormal twist. I got so much more. I think you should take the chance and read it. Let this book take you on the adventure, fall in love." - Young Adult and Teen Readers

"Fields of Elysium is a fabulous read. ... Whelan paints her faith into the fabric of her story with deft, light brushstrokes, making her work accessible to all, no matter their spiritual beliefs or background." - Readers Favorite

Synopsis:

Small town girl, Molly Bennett, moves to Los Angeles where she becomes an outsider while attending Beverly Hills High School. It seems life cannot be any more dreadful. Then one day after school, something magical happens. On a secluded hike in the Hollywood Hills, Molly chases her disobedient mutt and only friend into a hidden cavern. She stumbles upon a strange glimmering gateway that transports her to Arkana, a planet that is the cradle of an advanced human race. There, teenagers navigate amazing flying vehicles, compete in perilous games for glory, and possess supernatural powers. While Molly tries to wrap her mind around this unbelievable discovery, she meets the alluring and mysterious Victor Sorren. He is a Sentinel Apprentice, whose hatred toward people from Earth is beyond understanding. Yet every time Victor unpredictably saves Molly’s life, his heart draws closer to hers, no matter how much he tries to fight against it. It further complicates things that their growing friendship is strictly forbidden. Earth people are prohibited in Arkana, yet Molly continues to cross through the portal to Arkana to see Victor. Torn between their double lives, they go down a dangerous path, from where there is no return and multiple endings.

Fields of Elysium is a YA romantic fantasy/ science fiction romance.

About the Author
A.B.Whelan is a Hungarian born, American writer. She currently lives with her husband and two children in Southern California.
While growing up in a wealthy Eastern European family, she had a chance to travel Europe. Later as an adult, she visited Africa and the Middle East and lived in Ecuador and in Crete.

• Language: English
• Publisher: A.B. Whelan
• Release date: Mar 7, 2013

Book preview

What is she doing here? A fierce voice penetrated the room, making me jump. Victor was standing by the door, his face hard with resentment.

Weston pulled away from me, raising his hands to his chest as the sign of surrender. Calm down, Victor. I don’t think she means us harm.

Victor drew in a deep breath, veins bulging on his neck.

"You know exactly what Terrakas did to us, yet you let her into your home?" His tone was harsh as if he doubted his best friend’s sanity.

Looking into his piercing eyes, fear gripped my heart.

We didn’t know what she was. She showed me the Sacred Passage, and I didn’t know what to do.

Ignoring Weston’s rambling, Victor ripped a black bow off his back and stretched it out wedging an arrow into place.

The tip of the arrow pointed straight at my heart.

1

THE DISCOVERY

Sunlight pierced through the gap between my curtains and caressed my face. It was a beautiful morning and, after a dreadful first week at my new school, it was finally Saturday.

I used to live in Hopewell, New Jersey where I had a bunch of friends and a life, but my dad got a promotion, so we had to move.

Molly honey, think about it as a new opportunity, Mom said, preparing our last dinner at the old house. You can be anything you want there.

Yeah, right, I’d grumbled, shoving a pie into the oven.

My life was perfect. I had no need for new opportunities. Los Angeles was on the other side of the country; 2,750 miles away. I knew I’d never see my friends again.

It hadn’t been easy to start at a new school. All week long, instead of hanging out with friends that I’d known since kindergarten, I was eating my lunch alone. The kids at Beverly Hills High were entirely different from the ones in my old school. They didn’t notice me or ask where I was from. I was a ghost just drifting down the corridors unnoticed by their Gucci bags and Prada shoes. I could feel my old life slipping away, turning into a distant memory.

I wasn’t sure how I felt toward my parents for uprooting me. There was definitely some anger with an after taste of disappointment. It just wasn’t fair for my parents to make a choice that impacted my life too without even asking for my opinion. I knew I would never do the same to my children . . .

I missed my friends and my old life terribly. I wanted to go back to my favorite pizzeria with the girls, ride our bicycles to the lake, and steal apples from Mrs. Collins’ tree . . .

Adults always say time heals everything. In my case, as the days passed, the more miserable I felt.

I pushed the troubling thoughts from my mind and crawled out of bed. I went to my window to see my car parked on the street. Lately, that car was the only thing that could make me smile.

I think my dad felt bad ripping me away from my old life because a couple of days after we moved in to our new house, he brought home a black Audi A3 for me to use. It was five years old, had a few bumps, but with the red leather seats it looked awesome.

How did you know that this was my favorite car?

Your brother read it in your diary, he said nonchalantly.

I felt the urge to roll my eyes. My twelve-year-old little brother Nick had a bad habit of snooping around in my stuff. I tried every possible hiding place for my diary, but Nick would always dig it up. He was the only person in the entire universe capable of evoking two strongly contradictory feelings out of me: One moment I loved him more than anything; the next I wished he had never been born. But what could I do? He was like the freckles on my face, just always there.

It was getting late, and I needed to get out of the house. I crouched in front of a giant moving box to find some clothes. I yanked out a pair of khaki shorts and a black tee, quickly assured myself that they weren’t wrinkled too much, and started to get ready for a hike at the Griffith Observatory. My dad drove us there yesterday, so I kind of had an idea what to expect.

As I pulled my shirt on, the faint mark on my left wrist caught my eye. The skin was still lighter from the watch I had been wearing my entire life.

I felt a shiver run down my spine.

One of the most published crimes of the 20th century was the Lindbergh baby kidnapping, and it also happened to be in my hometown. The story is still fresh in people’s mind and the memories linger. When I turned one, my dad bought me a watch with a built in GPS. My brother got one on his first birthday, too. The only good side about our moving was that he removed my watch and granted me more freedom. I guess he believed that at the age of sixteen I was finally able to take care of myself.

I’d never lie to you or do anything you wouldn’t approve of, I promised, rubbing the spot where the straps almost became part of my skin. Without it, I felt a little bit naked—vulnerable.

I know, he said, a mixture of love and worry crossing his face. You’re a smart girl, and I trust you,

I launched myself into his embrace. I was like a fragile butterfly that got to fly out of its jar at last.

Once we separated, Dad held the watch in his hand for a moment. Then he slipped it into his pocket. Just like that. A part of my life was over, and a new era was about to begin . . .

As I bolted down the stairs to eat breakfast, my dog ran up to me. Pandora was a mutt. We saved her from a dog pound years ago when she was about to get the fatal needle. You would expect that after being rescued she would be the most obedient and grateful dog ever. Wrong. She never listened to me. Never listened to any of us for that matter. But I loved her. Well, who couldn’t love a dog that wakes you in the morning with a slobbering tongue, brings your cell phone when it rings, and sheds golden hair onto your pants every day? She was a sweet nuisance that I would miss if gone.

Pandora followed me to the dining room, excited about my hiking shoes. The rest of the family was busy in the kitchen, getting ready to eat. I grabbed the plates to help set the table.

While having breakfast, I announced my plans for the day. To my surprise, Dad didn’t try to talk me out of hiking on my own, but instead encouraged me. He only insisted that I take my emergency bag with me.

Dad was the type of man who kept a survival backpack in his car with non-perishable food and basic tools, enough so we could outlive a major disaster. Of course, he packed a smaller, portable version with pepper spray, a knife, a light stick, water, and a protein bar for me. I thought he was being way too paranoid, but I wanted to make him happy. Besides, carrying a survival pack was nothing compared to wearing a tracking device.

When I’d finished eating, I hit the road with Pandora.

It was hard to believe that I was driving my first car. It gave me a feeling of independence, yet scared the heck out of me.

Following the GPS, I navigated the route, gripping the black wheel so tightly that my knuckles turned white. The traffic was just as crazy as always, typical L.A., but getting to the park didn’t require driving on the freeway so I managed.

To avoid the busy lot by the observatory, I parked closer to the bottom of the hillside.

There was no one around, so I let my dog off her leash.

As we hiked higher up on the bluff, I spotted tiny light beams dancing on the ground where the sunrays found their way through the parched, bare branches. This was a different type of forest, more open and baked, nothing like the dense green woods I had grown up with. Still, it was nice, and the diamonds of dew glistening on the spider webs added a magical touch. Surrounded by nature and despite the obvious differences in the landscape, I felt a little bit like I was back in Hopewell.

After a good twenty minutes of climbing the steep hillside and inhaling the dust that rose from the ground, I was out of breath. I slumped down onto a fallen tree trunk and called Pandora closer. She positioned herself between my knees, seeking a little petting. I rubbed her head, and she wagged her tail in contentment.

This path was peaceful and solitary. My eyes could wander as far as downtown Los Angeles where skyscrapers yearned to reach the heavens, surrounded by small buildings and houses as far as the eye could see. The entire picture looked as if slaves were bowing before their masters. One of those slave-houses is ours I thought smiling.

Stroking Pandora’s chest, I closed my eyes to hear every little ambient sound. One minute just the usual forest hissing was audible, followed by the waft in the crown of the trees; then I heard a soaring hawk’s shriek right above us. I looked up at the clear blue sky when Pandora flexed and tapered her ears. I followed her gaze and got a glimpse of a squirrel, making its way along the dirt, jumping nimbly on the dry, lackluster leaves.

No! I shouted and tried to get a firm hold on my dog, but it was too late. She was gone—chasing after the little ball of fur. I leaped to my feet and ran after them. I sprinted between trees and yelled at her to stop. Even though I lost sight of them both, Pandora’s barking was loud in my ears, and it kept me running.

As I advanced higher on the hillside, the whispering of the trees intensified, the wind had picked up. Then the sun hid behind a single cloud making the bright light disappear from around me. Ignoring my uneasiness, I kept moving forward, deeper into the untamed area while dry branches and twigs tore at my skin and scratched my legs. I only stopped when I reached a clearing.

I waited and listened when a repressed yip made me shiver.

Pandora, where are you? I cried in frustration.

I heard heavy panting and the sound of thumping paws, but I couldn’t identify from which direction.

Behind a cluster of bushes