The Gifted Ones: A Learner (Book 2): The Gifted Ones, #2

By Maria Romana

The Story (Book Two)
Daniel Holybear, a Native American Gifted One, finds himself at odds with a development company that is threatening the peaceful seaside town he grew up in. When the company's construction project unearths a mysterious stone tablet, Daniel calls on his Gifted friends to help secure the stone and uncover its secrets. Their efforts to assist him, however, are complicated by a peculiar kinship Ellie senses between Daniel and the project's lovely manager. As the relationship deepens, Ellie finds her Gift bringing more pain than pleasure to those around her, and ultimately leading one of them to the brink of tragedy.

The Series
The Gifted Ones is an episodic series, with each book running 60,000 to 90,000 words in length (250 to 350 paperback pages). Each episode is a complete story in itself, but leaves "dangling threads" to be resolved in later episodes. The stories are chronological and connected with recurring characters, so you will want to read them in order, similar to many action/adventure/mystery series on television.

Series Content
The Gifted Ones series is intended for an audience that is 16+. It does contain some violence and sexuality, but nothing graphic, gory, or explicit. It should be acceptable reading material for anyone from 16 to 106.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Research Triangle Publications
• Release date: Mar 14, 2015
• ISBN: 9781502212412

Book preview

Chapter One: Off Guard

DANIEL, IT IS TIME. We should go now.

Daniel Holybear nearly leaped out of his skin. His grandfather’s words had sliced through the peaceful silence of Bachelor Bay. He turned his head toward the old man. Geez, Papa, you scared me to death. Don’t sneak up on me like that. You’re as bad as Rique.

Rique? The older man thought a moment. Oh, your friend—Angel Espinoza’s brother, right? The big Hispanic fellow.

Daniel grinned. Yeah, that guy. He shifted his gaze back out across the still water, evoking memories of his youth. Nobody can sneak up on a person like Enrique Espinoza. Try playing hide-and-seek in the woods with a guy who can get within six inches of you and never make a sound.

Hoyt Holybear joined him in surveying the bay. Together, they watched the early morning mist burning off in the encroaching heat of a July day. Hoyt spoke toward the water, Perhaps you could’ve learned a little something from Enrique. A stealthy approach is a warrior’s skill.

Daniel cocked an eyebrow. Have we not previously established that I’m no warrior? He grabbed the summer sportcoat that he had hung over a tree branch and started pulling it on. I rely on brains, Papa, not brawn, to defeat my quarry. No bow and arrow required.

Hoyt’s wrinkled features softened into a smile. Just because you live in the modern world, Danny, doesn’t mean that you can’t be a warrior. There are still many battles to be won.

Daniel stepped away from the shoreline and pulled his long black hair into a pony tail at the nape of his neck. He secured it with a colorful elastic, then gestured toward a wooden walkway spanning the marshy morass that lay before them. Then let’s go fight, Papa. Today, it’s just us two injuns against a whole passel o’ cowboys.

Actually, Danny, it’s not just us two. Hoyt pointed toward the far end of the walkway, where a small group had gathered. A middle-aged woman at the front of the group waved and beckoned to them.

Daniel squinted toward the group as they began to walk in that direction. Where’d you dig up this crew, Papa?

Hoyt shrugged. Here and there. Williamston, Ahoskie. Some from Edenton, across the bay, and down around Kitty Hawk. Some from as far away as Buxton, Hatteras, and Croatan.

The creaky boards of the aging walkway groaned beneath their feet as they crossed the marsh. Kitty Hawk? Hatteras? Seriously? And they cared enough to come all the way up here and stand with us?

You underestimate the power of community, Daniel. Of ancestry. Of bloodlines.

Daniel shot a sidelong glance at his grandfather. He was pretty sure what he had underestimated was the power of a lifetime of loyal friendships that a Healer like Hoyt Holybear could accumulate.

Danny! Oh my goodness! Let me look at you. The middle-aged woman who had waved to them ran up as they descended the steps on the far end of the walkway. She reached up and smashed Daniel’s face between her hands. You’ve grown a foot since I saw you last. And so handsome, too. Then, grasping firmly onto Daniel’s lapels, she addressed Hoyt, My Shayla would be perfect for him, Hoyt. We must get them together.

Daniel swallowed a groan and gave her a polite smile. It’s good to see you, too, Mrs. Whitefeather. Hoyt kindly led her away, feigning interest in her plot, and left Daniel to guide the others toward the construction site.

A young woman with a baby in her arms hurried up to Daniel. Her voice was anxious, bordering on hysterical, Did you get it, Daniel? Did you get that junction thing? If they start building, they’re gonna destroy our town. My little house on the bay is all I got in this world. My family’s owned that property for three hundred years!

A skinny, older black man chimed in, "Yeah, and we don’t want no gamblin’ houses or dance halls buttin’ up against our churchyard. My whole congregation is against this thing, Danny. You’ve got to stop it!"

Other voices called to him, all pleading with Daniel to help them out, to take the reins and show them the way. He was flattered by their faith in him and determined to prove himself worthy of it. Perhaps his grandfather was right; perhaps he could still be a warrior. Daniel reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a thick packet of folded documents. He raised his hands up to calm the small crowd and flashed the papers before them. "Now just relax, folks. We’ve got everything we need right here. These papers say we can halt the construction until a judge has carefully considered our arguments. We’ll show them that this land has historical value and maybe even tribal ownership. Bachelor Bay will not become just another playground for the wealthy. All we’ve got to do—"

The sound of heavy equipment starting up drew everyone’s attention. A bulldozer was moving in the distance, and a backhoe was chugging along behind it. Nearer to the group, an excavator began pawing at the red clay ground they stood on. Daniel took off running toward the machinery, waving his papers in the air. Hey! Hey, you there! Stop that!

Naturally, the equipment sounds drowned out his pleas, so he headed straight for a threesome in hard hats—two women and a man. They turned to look at him as he stormed up, injunction in hand. He thrust it toward them, then pointed toward the machinery. "Tell them to stop. Now!"

The eldest of the three was a gray-haired man whose torn tee shirt stretched across an enormous pregnant-looking belly. He pulled a toothpick from between his teeth and gestured with it. Now what’s this all about, son? I’m the foreman here. We got all our permits—

And I’ve got an injunction! Daniel stopped less than a foot from the man with his feet planted firmly, head held high. He locked eyes with the foreman and lifted his chin, daring the man to challenge him.

The foreman took a step back and looked sideways at his partners. Er, uh, Lou...you wanna take this?

The older of the two women spoke with a raspy voice, like one who’d been smoking cigarettes for many years, You must be Daniel Holybear. The woman was tall, plump, and had brassy red hair.

Daniel held his ground and eyed the woman suspiciously. I am, and you are...?

Louise Lamar, CEO of Mid-Atlantic Investments. She gave him a perfunctory smile and stuck out her hand. Daniel shook quickly but firmly, and she continued, This is my project, and this is my foreman, Hal Corman, and... Louise turned slightly, indicating a young, pretty woman just behind her. This is my niece, Vanessa Redbird. She’s going to be staying in town and managing the project for me.

Daniel looked at the young woman then for the first time. His intention was to cut through her with his best stoic Indian face, but her looks distracted him from his mission. Beneath a bright orange hard hat was the whitest white girl he’d ever seen. She was blue-eyed, towheaded, and pink-lipped, with skin so pale, he wondered if this hot summer day was the first time she’d ever been exposed to the sun. Daniel had always had a preference for Indian women, but he couldn’t deny that this diaphanous creature was a stunning beauty. It might have been easier to ignore if she hadn’t proceeded to disarm him with the almost shy smile she offered, as she reached out her hand to him.

Daniel momentarily forgot his resolve as he accepted it, expecting a gentle clasp, but Vanessa’s grip was firm and solid, and the contact lasted just a little too long. Mr. Holybear, it’s a pleasure to meet you. We were told you might turn up here today.

The formality and the accent dripped with Southern charm—Tidewater Virginia, if he made his guess—but Daniel sensed no insincerity in her words, just a lot of upper-crust, private school education. Still, her statement brought him back to the task at hand. You were told? What? By whom?

Louise looked as though she might rejoin the conversation, but Vanessa took a step between her and Daniel, and spoke quickly, monopolizing the dialogue. Some of the project’s investors heard that you’d been raising objections with the town councils and county boards about our little endeavor here on the bay. I’m sorry that you didn’t see fit to come to us directly with your concerns before seeking an injunction, Mr. Holybear. I’d be happy to go over all the plans with you in detail, if you’d like. I’m sure once you see what we’ve got planned, you’ll all agree that Bachelor Bay Resort will be the best thing to ever happen to this area. You’ll have tourist traffic from all over, tax revenues you never imagined, jobs for a wide variety of skill levels, and a huge increase in everyone’s property values. And that, in turn, will attract more commerce and more building and more tax revenues.

Daniel blinked a couple of times to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. Upper-crust private school education? No kidding! Vanessa might look and sound like the quintessential Southern Belle, but she was apparently hiding a whole lot of business-school savvy behind those pretty blue eyes.

Danny. Hoyt interrupted Daniel’s thought process with a small gesture toward the papers that Daniel was still clutching in his hand.

The young Indian regained his focus. He set his jaw and looked Vanessa directly in the eye. Fine, Ms., Miss...

"Miss Redbird. But please, call me Vanessa."

All right, Vanessa. I’ll take you up on your offer to discuss the plans at length. That’s all we were asking. But for now... Daniel thrust his thick wad of papers at her and waved his hand toward the excavator, which was by now repeatedly lifting enormous chunks of red clay into the air and dumping them into a nearby pile.

Vanessa took the papers, unfolded them, and gave them a cursory review. Meanwhile, the foreman returned to arguing with Daniel. Look, son, we pay these guys by the hour. That equipment costs an arm and a leg to operate. We can’t just shut it down and send everybody out for coffee—

Vanessa turned toward him, looking up from the forms. Yes, we can. She handed the papers to her aunt. It’s all in order, Aunt Lou. Tell them to stop.

Louise took the papers from Vanessa, giving her an odd little smile, then addressed the foreman, You heard the lady, Hal. Tell the men to—

Wait! Look! Look at that! Someone in the crowd shouted and pointed high in the sky, where the excavator was dumping its latest load.

Daniel swiveled around to watch, along with everyone else, as the chunks of clotted red mud fell from the machine’s bucket. Mixed among them was an enormous stone, several feet long and wide and relatively flat. It appeared to have some kind of markings on it, as in man-made markings. Daniel took off running toward the machine, waving his arms over his head. Whoa! Whoa! Stop! Turn it off!

The operator quickly pulled on some handles and switches, trying to bring the big machine to a halt, probably not so much because of what Daniel had shouted, but simply to avoid injuring the crazy man who was running toward him. Daniel came to a stop just short of the red mud pile and waited for the final clumps of dirt to fall, partially burying the stone tablet. Then he rushed forward, climbing the little mud hill and finally dropping to his knees near the top.

By this time, most of the crowd had come closer, but only his grandfather was slowly ascending the mud hill to join him. What is it, Daniel? he asked, as the young man worked to unbury the stone from the heaps of dirt and mud.

Daniel didn’t answer right away. His hands moved more gently now, brushing the surface of the stone as if it were a delicate curio. He blew across the top few rows of markings to remove any further debris without damaging the tablet. He stared and squinted, then stared again. Finally, he looked up at Hoyt. Papa, I think we got us a bona fide artifact here. At that, several people in the crowd oohed and aahed and more began digging their way up the mound for a closer look.

Daniel stood and looked past them. Vanessa and Louise had come closer, but were making no attempt to climb up. Vanessa looked awkward and out of place now, standing at the base of a mud mountain in a silk skirt and high heels. Daniel caught her eye and gave her the slightest smile. The game was on, and they both knew it.

LEAVE HER ALONE, YOU stupid—

Joseph! Granny’s crackly call slashed through Joe Manning’s moment of solitude. He jumped back, dropping his coffee cup into the kitchen sink in front of him, and chipping the handle. Granny came up beside him, clucking her further disapproval, and rescued his mug from the basin. Now look what you’ve done, Joe. What’s got you so... Her voice trailed off as she glanced out the window toward the pasture and barns, where Joe’s attention had been fixed.

He sagged. Caught in the act.

She motioned with the mug toward the scene in the distance. You got a problem with that?

He frowned, watching Doo and Grace together, this time ministering to a couple of Colts, all the while grinning and giggling and making googly-eyes at each other. He snatched the mug back from Granny’s hand and stomped over to the cabinet which hid the coffee maker. Who me? Heck no. She’s a grown woman. She can do what she likes.

Granny answered him with a raised brow and a dubious expression.

He ordered the coffee maker to brew him up a double espresso, dark, then finally relented. Okay, so I guess it bugs me a little. It’s just...I mean, he’s so...

Good looking? Granny offered.

Joe scowled.

Kind and gentle with the animals?

Hmph.

Then it must be his flat-out, smokin’ hot, made-for-sex bod that’s got your knickers in a knot.

Granny! Joe felt his face flush. Sometimes the old lady’s candor could surprise even him. Especially when she was looking right through him. And they all thought Ellie was the Reader.

He picked up the coffee cup, careful to avoid the jagged edge of the handle, and took a swallow of the bittersweet concoction. As the piercing aroma seeped into his system, his frayed nerves smoothed over. No, I don’t have a problem with Grace and Doo...doing whatever it is they’re doing. And he didn’t want to think too much about what that might be. It’s just that he’s, well, kind of young for her, don’t you think?

Granny laughed out loud. Are you kidding me? This is Granny you’re talking to here. Have you forgotten about my Davis?

Davis? Joe wrinkled his forehead a moment. Oh, Davis. Your—

Third husband. That’s right. He was twenty-two years younger than me, and he still couldn’t keep up.

Joe couldn’t help but smile at that point. Whatever the subject might be, you could always count on Granny for a real-life anecdote. He raised a hand in defeat.

Trust me, Joe. Look how happy she is out there. You know how much she loves those animals. Throw in a little flattery and attention from a handsome cowboy, and you’ve got a recipe for keeping Grace and Ellie here for a very long time.

Now it was Joe’s turn to raise an eyebrow. So you engineered this whole thing?

She shrugged. Engineered is a strong word. But I may have given the boy a little push in the right direction.

Joe wasn’t going to say it out loud, but learning that the flirtation wasn’t entirely spontaneous cheered him up a bit. He brightened and moved on, So...you were looking for me?

Yes. I just got a call from Hoyt Holybear—

Hoyt! No kidding. How is the old fox? Still hounding you for the formula?

No, we’ve come to an understanding about that. He keeps me in fresh sassafras, and I make sure he never runs out of syrup. But that’s not why he called.

No? Joe could tell from the tone of her voice that something more serious than Granny’s secret anti-aging recipe was afoot. He pulled out a chair for her, then sat down at the small kitchen table himself.

She leaned in, as though preparing to share a juicy bit of gossip. They found something at the site.

You mean the construction site? Daniel wasn’t able to stop them?

Oh no, he stopped them all right. About one minute after they dug it up.

Okay, I’ll bite. What did they dig up? Buried treasure? Blackbeard’s tomb?

Granny lifted her chin, nodding confidently. Better. The answer to a four-hundred-year-old mystery.

ELODIE EGGLESTON PEERED around the next corner, keeping her body pressed tightly against the wall and allowing only enough of her head past the edge to see what lay beyond. Nothing and no one. Good. She made a break for it, scurrying down the empty hallway and straight for the library door. She turned the knob, careful not to make a sound, then pushed the door inward and slipped inside. She closed it gently, once again making certain of her silence. Alone at last, she turned and rested her back against the door, blowing out the breath she’d been holding for several minutes.

Ellie! There you are!

Ellie jumped at the sound, then sighed. Willow. Sorry, I didn’t think anyone would be in here right now.

Oh, no trouble. I’m glad you came in. Willow Begonia, the farm’s resident head shrinker, got up from the table she’d been working at and came toward Ellie. She motioned toward some papers scattered around on the coffee table. I found some great new research on auras and synesthesia. I was hoping we could run a few more tests. I’ve been wanting to talk to you all day.

Ellie made a face. You and everyone else.

Willow laughed and put an arm around Ellie’s shoulders. Oh dear, tell Willow what’s going on. Is Joe driving you crazy with wanting to show you experiments or new inventions or somebody’s latest artifact?

"Uncle Joe? Ha! He’s the only one who’s not chasing me down night and day. It’s Angel and Granny and my Aunt Grace and that Doo guy from out in the barn. Ellie dropped down onto the leather couch in a slump. Granny’s always telling me stories about her first husband and how he was a Reader like me, which is cool—I want to hear about that—but then she gets all misty and weepy and keeps wanting to hug me and stuff. I can’t take it! And Aunt Grace...she never stops hounding me to get back to studying. She’s afraid I won’t finish high school now that we’re living here at the farm. Ellie stopped to roll her eyes, then went on, And Angel? Don’t even get me started. She’s constantly dragging me to the underground for her super-duper workouts, so I can grow big and strong and learn to defend myself against bad guys." Ellie pushed up her sleeves, revealing significant bruising on her slender forearms.

Willow gasped and took hold of Ellie’s wrists, sitting down beside her. What on earth happened? Who did this to you?

Nobody. I got those during a skirmish on board the Santa Maria. I tripped over the virtual reality camera cord and fell off the side of the ship. She frowned. Angel loves these battle re-enactments. She actually thinks I can learn to fight like she can.

Willow grinned and released Ellie’s wrists. Angel underestimates her Gift.

I’ll say. But nobody’s as bad as Doo. Geez, that guy suddenly wants to be my best friend.

"Well, dear, I think he’s got a bit of a crush on your Aunt Grace, and he knows you are her first priority. She shrugged. He probably figures if you two can be friends, then that will improve his chances with Grace."

Ellie leaned against the back of the couch. I guess so, but I don’t think he’s right for her. I’ve got this feeling...

You do? Willow opened her eyes up wide. Have you seen more auras? Have you picked up on some emotions again? Was it your Aunt Grace...or someone else? What color did you see? How strong and for how long?

Ellie made a face. There was no rest for the weary. She should have known better than to start talking to Willow about anything she was feeling.

Willow jumped up, ran back to her work table and picked up a tablet. She hurried back to Ellie and immediately started typing, talking as she did, Go ahead, Ellie, tell me what you saw. Or-or felt. Or sensed. Or however it is you do what you do.

Ellie pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. That’s just it, Willow. I haven’t got anything to report. I’m starting to think everybody was wrong about me. I’m starting to doubt I ever saw those hazes or auras or whatever. I haven’t seen anything like that or felt anybody else’s emotions since that night we got back from Washington. It’s been weeks, and nothing’s happened since. She dropped her chin onto her knees. I know it’s a huge disappointment to everyone, especially Granny.

Ellie, no. Willow set the tablet down on the coffee table. Her voice softened, Honey, no one’s disappointed, and no one’s surprised that you haven’t seen anything new. This happens all the time. You’re a teenager, you’re growing, you’re developing, your brain is planting and pruning pathways all the time. This is to be expected. You have to be patient.

But then why was it so intense when it started? I mean, I was seeing stuff all over the place—that first boy Aiden, and then Carlo, and Sister Bertha, and Angel, and her brother.

We’ve talked about this, Ellie. No one understands how it works. You’re only the second Reader we’ve ever found. We don’t know why you saw what you saw, when you saw it. It could be heightened emotions or raging hormones or some special connection you had with those particular people—

Ellie was adamant, Connection? No. No way. Except for Angel, I barely knew those people. Aiden was a total creep, and Carlo... Ellie stopped speaking. She wanted to believe what she was saying, but a tiny voice in the back of her mind refused to be silenced. She had connected with those people. For better or worse, she had felt something way beyond acquaintanceship with all of them. And they with her. Carlo was the only one who said so, but she suspected the others felt it, too: an electric charge, a momentary bond, some commonality that couldn’t be put into words.

Ellie... Willow appeared to be choosing her words carefully. Finding out you have a Gift, that your brain works differently from other peoples’, can be overwhelming. That’s why we’re here. That’s why we’re working with you to sort it out. But there’s no rush. We can put it on the back burner for now if you like. We don’t have to run any more tests. We don’t even have to talk about it, if you don’t want to.

Really? Could we do that? For just a little while anyway?

Sure, honey. I’ll even have a chat with Granny and tell her to stop bugging you.

Ellie smiled. Nah, you don’t have to do that. It seems to make her really happy when she talks about good old Oren.

Willow smiled too. Yeah, I know what you mean. Oren was her one true love. I mean, she got married again after he passed on—three times, as a matter of fact—but no one ever came close in her heart to Oren. To hear Granny tell it, they shared a bond none of us can comprehend. Willow’s eyes drifted away from Ellie then, out the window somewhere, and though she kept talking, she was apparently far away. Kind of like Joe and— Willow stopped abruptly, seeming to snap out of her reverie, and focused on Ellie again.

"Wait, Uncle Joe and who? Was he married? Did she die too? Is that why he’s not married now?"

Willow just shook her head. I’m sorry, Ellie. I shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe you can ask him sometime.

Or not. That didn’t sound like a conversation Ellie wanted to have with anyone. Dead spouses were second only to dead parents on the list of most depressing topics, and Ellie had already lived through the first. Willow patted Ellie’s knee and stood up. I’ll give you some time to yourself now, Ellie. I’m going back to my work. Feel free to hang around if you like. I know you love it in here. She headed back toward her work table.

Thanks, I do. Ellie got up and walked over to one of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. There was a whole section of early twentieth century fiction, all in apparently original printings. She began perusing titles and came across a shelf of D.H. Lawrence. She hadn’t read any of his stuff, but she’d heard that it was always edgy and controversial. She grabbed one that looked interesting and plopped into a thickly padded leather chair. Soon, she was thousands of miles and hundreds of years away.

BANG!

Ellie, there you are! We need to talk to you! Angel had thrown the library door open with her usual vigor, yanking Ellie back to the present with a start. The book she’d been reading flew out of her hands, landing spine-up at Angel’s black-booted feet. Uncle Joe was just behind Angel, and Granny, back of that. So much for alone time.

Angel reached down and picked up the book, straightening the cover, and of course, reading it aloud, "Lady Chatterly’s Lover. Whoa. What’s this about? Sounds steamy."

Ellie felt her face going purple. Um, it’s for school. I have to write a paper. Good thing Ellie was the only Reader in the group, or her fib would have been obvious.

Granny sunk down on the couch opposite her. Oh, D.H. Lawrence—I love that man. And that book. And yes, Angel, it is quite steamy. It was all the talk back in the day...book banning and what have you. Why, I remember when it first came out, my mother and her quilting group—

Uh, Gran...

Joe seemed intent on stopping