Prelude to Destiny: Awakening

By Fairwren Faust

Rhea and Cynthia Evers are teenage sisters who have been shielded from the truth their entire lives. After their mother is killed in what appeared to be a robbery gone wrong , Rhea, the elder, discovers a chest full of secrets hidden away in her parents’ closet. The chest makes her think back to the night their mother died and how strange her mother had acted. Why would their mother hide mysterious leather bound spell books, odd charms, and strange pouches full of unfamiliar objects and heady aromas in her closet? And then there is the ring that Mom gave her before she died. Did she know something terrible was going to happen to her? What other secrets would be unearthed?

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Apr 2, 2017
• ISBN: 9780999220108

Book preview

peace.

Prologue

The front door of the house swung open and two teenaged girls burst into the foyer, laughing as they leaned against the wall, panting from the brisk run they’d just made from the car. Even though it was raining, it didn’t dampen their moods. It was Thursday, and that meant there was only Friday standing between them and two glorious, homework-free days (unless some hard-hearted teacher decided otherwise.)

Ha! I beat you, said Rhea, the elder of the two.

Cynthia, the younger, huffed, Only because you cheated.

Rhea scoffed and was about to close the door behind her sister, who’d left it wide open.

Don’t close it, Ray. Dad’s got stuff to bring in, said Cynthia.

What stuff? Does he need any help?

Cynthia had thrown her bag down near the foot of the stairs and gone into the den to watch television. Shrugging at her sister’s back, Rhea headed back to give her father a hand and met him as he walked through the doorway with two boxes stacked one atop the other.

I was coming to help, she said as she backed away to give her dad some room.

I’m all right. They’re not heavy, said Dad, smiling at Rhea.

Dad was a gentle, kind-hearted man, but quick to anger… if the situation warranted it.

How’d Cynthia know you had them? Rhea followed him into the kitchen and leaned against the counter and looked at her little sister, stretched out on the couch, her grimy shoes leaving nasty, wet stains on the armrest.

She helped me carry them to the car after school.

What are they? she asked, peeking into the top box.

Dad assured her there was nothing interesting in the boxes. They only held old papers and documents he’d been reluctant to throw away. He only decided that day to get rid of them when a shower of papers fell from the top of his already full filing cabinet onto his head.

Since I can’t have a larger office, I thought it best to get rid of some of the junk, he explained.

About time, Rhea laughed.

Listen, I talked to your mom before I left work. She’s gonna be a little late. Could you start dinner for us? I would, but I have lots of assignments to grade.

Sure, Dad. I’ll see if Cynt will help.

Good luck, he chuckled.

He took a bottle of juice from the refrigerator, picked up the boxes, stopping a moment to ruffle Rhea’s hair as he walked by. He knew Rhea hated it, but it had been a standing joke between them ever since she’d cut her hair last December (without her parents’ consent.)

Rhea believed she was old enough to make certain decisions on her own. She could choose her clothing and could decorate her bedroom to suit her personality. Why shouldn’t she be able to express herself? In fact, Mom and Dad somewhat agreed with her, and since it was obvious Rhea regretted her rash decision and desire to be trendy, she got off with less punishment than she deserved.

Rhea scowled at her dad and smoothed her hair back into place and went into the den with Cynthia.

Cynt, Mom’s gonna be late—

What’s new about that? She’s been late almost every day.

It was true. Mom had been late often. She was putting in extra hours along with everyone else at the museum. There was a new exhibit to organize and that took lots of planning and there seemed to be a great deal of bureaucratic niceties to slog through.

You wanna help me get dinner later? asked Rhea.

Nope, answered Cynthia, yawning and stretching her long, bony arms.

Rhea was used to her sister’s sarcastic personality. She decided the best thing to do was to just play along; it was much easier than arguing with her.

"Will you help me with dinner?" asked Rhea, with mock pleading.

Cynthia looked up at her sister and gave an affected sigh. Okay.

Good. Let’s say around 4:30 then.

The sisters were good friends. Fifteen-year-old Rhea and fourteen-year-old Cynthia discovered at young ages that their parents would tolerate nothing less.

Rhea picked up her bags and headed upstairs to her bedroom. Just as she reached the downstairs landing she heard the front door open and close, so she changed direction and headed for the foyer instead.

Mom? I thought you were gonna be late.

Mom was putting her dripping umbrella in the stand near the door and gazing out the window into thick sheets of rain. Her melancholy mood had her family worried. Mom seldom awarded them with the smile they all loved and she was always on edge, snapping at everyone who crossed her.

Mom? said Rhea.

Oh… hi, Ray. Uh… the meeting didn’t take as long as I thought.

Dad asked me to cook dinner.

Don’t worry about it, Mom sighed, turning back to the window. We’ll order Chinese. How does that sound?

Fine with me, Rhea shrugged as she watched the lines on Mom’s forehead deepen. Is everything all right?

Her mother turned her gaze away from the window and smiled. At least her lips smiled, but her eyes were distant and grave.

So, what will it be? Chicken or beef?

Rhea frowned at her mother’s evasive behavior and put her hands on her hips.

Okay, Mom grasped Rhea around her shoulders in a one-armed hug and forced another smile, we’ll have both.

Rhea strained out a chuckle but didn’t press the matter any further. She knew Mom was going through a tough time and the last thing she wanted to do was make the situation worse.

A couple of hours later Rhea and Cynthia were settled in the loft which had been converted into a study for the girls. Rhea sat at her desk staring at her laptop’s screen, her mind far from the essay she was proofreading for her sister. She turned to face Cynthia, who was sitting at the other desk, busy finishing up an assignment that was due the next day.

Have you talked to Mom today? Rhea tried to ask as casual as possible.

Yeah—why? answered Cynthia.

Oh, I don’t know. She seemed a little nervous when I talked to her. Did you notice anything?

Cynthia wrinkled her nose and looked toward the ceiling as she thought back. "Now you mention it, she was kind of jumpy earlier. But you know Mom—she’s like that sometimes."

Yeah, but this time was… different.

"Ray, lighten up. You’re becoming as weird as Mom. She’s just worried about that new exhibit."

Maybe Rhea was making something out of nothing. The doorbell chimed and Cynthia dropped her pencil and jumped to her feet.

Great! Food’s here, said Cynthia, abandoning her homework.

When they reached the downstairs landing, Cynthia almost bumped into Rhea, who’d stopped to listen. She put her finger to her lips to hush Cynthia’s outburst, then she pointed towards the foyer. Cynthia’s eyes stretched with interest and she tilted her head to hear better. They could hear their mom having a quiet conversation with someone at the front door.

A man whispered, Are you sure about this? We don’t have to go through with it.

They had to strain hard to hear their mother’s answer, I know you’re worried. I am too, but we have little choice.

Neither Cynthia nor Rhea recognized the man’s voice. They exchanged puzzled glances and strived to hear more.

The man’s voice spoke again. Can’t we tell—

You know we can’t tell them, not yet anyway. They won’t understand. I’ll let them know when the time’s right.

There was a short pause, then they heard the man’s voice again. Can I come back here to pick you up in an hour?

No. Let’s stick to the plan. I’ll meet you there—I can’t let Arden see you here.

Faith, I don’t think—

Listen, Frank, we’ll do this my way. I’ve got it all planned.

The man sighed. All right. I’ll see you there.

Cynthia and Rhea knew the conversation had ended, so they crept away from the landing and into the kitchen.

What was that about? Cynthia whispered.

I don’t know. Sounds like they’re in some kind of trouble. I wonder who he is. Wish I could’ve seen his face, admitted Rhea as she crossed her arms.

A strange, accusatory look spread across Cynthia’s face. "You don’t think—"

"Think what!" Rhea snapped. She knew what her sister was thinking. Mom wasn’t involved with that man. She wouldn’t do anything like that… she loved Dad.

Nothing, mumbled Cynthia, rolling her eyes and leaning against the counter. She didn’t know why Rhea was so uptight. It was only a suggestion and it would explain why Mom had been acting so distant.

Mom walked into the kitchen carrying the bags of food. The delivery guy must’ve come while she was still at the front door. She held up the parcels and dangled them at her children.

Chow time. Cynthia, go get Arden. I think he’s still in the office.

Why can’t Rhea go? she grumbled. I’m starving.

Mom advanced to Cynthia, her nostrils flaring. Girl, if you don’t get—

Cynthia jumped back out her mother’s reach and scurried out of the kitchen.

As soon as Cynthia was out of earshot, Mom turned to Rhea and whispered, Rhea, I need to talk to you.

Rhea’s heart pounded in her ears and she had to fight the urge to run from the kitchen and hide in her bedroom. She couldn’t understand why she felt so nervous, but she knew it had something to do with Mom.

Come with me, Mom ordered.

Mom led Rhea to her closet, where she dropped to her knees and pulled a small chest from the corner while Rhea watched as she took a tiny key chain with two small keys from her pocket. Mom unlocked the chest and pulled out a small gold pouch and clutched it to her chest and mumbled something Rhea couldn’t make out. Then Mom looked up at the perplexed look on her daughter’s face.

I want you to have this. She handed the pouch to Rhea.

Rhea reached for the pouch, and when their hands touched a brief foreboding feeling rushed through Rhea. Shivers ran up her arm and she snatched her hand away.

What is it? she mumbled.

Open it.

Rhea’s hands shook as she pulled the drawstring of the pouch open, reached inside, and pulled out a small wooden box. She looked wide-eyed at the box then at her mother who wore a solemn expression. She dropped her eyes back to the box and opened it. Inside was a gold ring inlaid with a single, small ruby that twinkled in the dim closet light. It was a simple ring, but Rhea thought it was beautiful.

Why’re you giving me this? It all seemed so odd. Why would Mom choose tonight of all nights to give her an old ring?

This ring’s been in our family for over two hundred years. It’s always given to the oldest daughter. Now I’m giving it to you.

It’s… beautiful. Is it expensive? asked Rhea. What if I lose it? She clenched the box to stay her trembling hands.

"It is expensive, and extremely valuable to our family. Don’t let your dad or Cynthia know about it yet. Treasure it and keep it safe. When the time comes, you’ll pass it down to your oldest daughter… or Cynthia’s— Mom’s voice trailed off. Put it on."

Mom, what’s—

Dad’s voice calling out from the bedroom interrupted her. Faith, you in here? he shouted.

At the sound of Dad’s voice Mom dropped to her knees and grabbed the chest and looked at Rhea with panic stricken eyes. Put it away, she whispered. We’re in here, Arden!

Rhea stuffed the small box into her pocket, feeling as if she were hiding much more than a ring. Her mother was locking the chest and shoving it back into the unseen corner as Dad stepped into the closet.

What’re you two up to? he asked, smiling at them both.

Oh, I was just showing Ray my new shoes, Mom answered, with the slightest look to Rhea that indicated she must play along. However, Rhea was not as quick on her feet as Mom, and just stood there unable to say anything useful.

Dad frowned then chuckled as he took in the befuddled look on Rhea’s face. Doesn’t look like she likes them.

Mom rose and stood next to Rhea. You know Ray— she tittered, next week I won’t be able to find them until I look in her closet. She put an arm around Rhea’s waist and gave a light squeeze to trigger a response. Still nothing came out. There was a moment of silence while the three just stood there staring at each other.

Well, let’s go eat, said Mom, ushering a mute Rhea out of the closet.

That evening Rhea left dinner early. She couldn’t make herself eat, even though Mom had ordered from their favorite Chinese takeout restaurant; every bite she took seemed to get caught in her throat. After a few forced mouthfuls, she retreated to her bedroom where she sat on her bed staring at the ring and going over everything that had happened earlier. What was so special about the ring? Mom had told her to put in on before Dad interrupted them. She slipped the ring onto her forefinger and a warm feeling flushed across her entire body. She looked at the ring and frowned as she removed it from her finger and placed it back in its box.

Well that was odd.

There were footsteps in the hall and then a knock at her door. She closed the box and pushed it under her pillow before answering.

Yeah, said Rhea.

Cynthia poked her head into the room. You got a sec?

Sure.

Cynthia walked into the room and closed the door behind her and spoke in a hushed voice.

So, what’d she say? asked Cynthia, sitting down on the bed next to her sister.

It took Rhea a few seconds to get control of her thoughts, but she was much quicker on her feet this time.

Oh that… she just wanted me to see her new shoes, said Rhea, adopting her mother’s story; she would keep the ring a secret for now. But I was thinking about talking to her before she leaves. If we both go, maybe it won’t be so easy for her to get away.

Okay, Cynthia shrugged and picked up a stuffed bunny from the bed.

Let me do the talking though. You might say something to make her mad, continued Rhea.

Well, we’d better hurry, she tossed the bunny back onto the bed and stood up. She told Dad she was going back to Ridgeview. He offered to go with her but she said she could handle it by herself.

Rhea jumped up, scattering several pillows to the floor in her haste toward the door. There was a muffled thud as something hit the rug next to her bed.

What’s this? asked Cynthia, bending over to pick up the wooden box. The ornate carvings made her think of her mother. Did you get this from Mom?.

Rhea’s face flushed as she snatched the box from her sister’s hand. Mom wanted no one to know. It’s nothing. She stuffed the box back into her pocket and pushed Cynthia toward the door.

They found Mom in the kitchen putting away the leftovers and doing the dishes.

Where’s Dad? asked Rhea.

I think he’s in the shower. You need something? Mom asked, looking over her shoulder as she loaded the dishwasher.

No, we wanted to talk to you, said Rhea.

There must’ve been something in Rhea’s voice that caught Mom’s attention, because she stood up straight and closed the dishwasher door, and turned to face her children.

About what?

Rhea stepped forward, her courage increasing. She wiped her sweating palms on her pants leg and began. Me and Cynthia, she began, but corrected herself as soon as she saw the stern look from her mother, Cynthia and I heard you talking to… to that man earlier. We wanted to—

Mom cut her off with one swift move of her hand.

"Girls, forget about what you heard. It’s my business and I don’t want you or Arden dragged into it."

But Mom, if you— started Rhea.

Mom stepped closer and gripped Rhea’s face in her hands and held her gaze.

Listen, Rhea. Promise me you won’t tell anyone what you overheard, said Mom, her eyes bright and fierce.

Rhea could feel those eyes burning into her like hot coals and the palms of her mother’s hands were like fire. Rhea’s eyes smarted and a tear rolled down her cheek as she heard herself whisper, I promise.

With no warning Mom rounded on Cynthia. Before Cynthia knew what was happening, Mom had gripped her face. Rhea knew what Cynthia was feeling and could see the fright in her sister’s face as she struggled to break free from their mother’s blistering grip.

Cynthia, promise me you won’t tell anybody what you overheard today.

Cynthia continued to struggle away from Mom, her lanky arms were trying to push Mom away and her eyes were shut tight.

Open your eyes! Mom commanded.

Cynthia’s eyes popped open as demanded and she stopped struggling.

Promise me!

I promise! shouted Cynthia.

Mom released Cynthia and Rhea rushed over and held her sister close, but let go when she became overwhelmed with fear and anger that almost knocked her to her knees. Rhea gripped the counter and looked from her sister to her mother. For the first time in their lives, they were afraid of the mother they loved so much.

Mom stared at them and could see the fear and anger reflected in their brimming eyes. She stepped away from her them and put her hands to her mouth, taking deep, measured breaths and muttering words they couldn’t hear.

Then she said, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—I promise—but I don’t have time to explain everything right now. We’ll talk when I get back.

She turned and almost ran from the house.

Chapter One

Rhea stood in the school parking lot trying to shade her eyes from the brilliant dazzle of the afternoon sun while Cynthia leaned against the car with her arms folded.

"Dammit. Where is he? said Cynthia to no one in particular. I bet you he’s with her," she said, turning to Rhea.

Rhea didn’t have to ask Cynthia the identity of the accused. It was Ms. Atkins, a new teacher at Borough Academy, the school they attended and where their dad was a chemistry instructor. Ever since the start of that school year, Ms. Atkins had been making advances toward Dad, and the sisters thought it showed bad taste and had both developed unpleasant attitudes toward the woman, Cynthia more so than Rhea; Cynthia had her for American Literature that semester.

The death of their mother had strained their relationship with Dad. As one might expect, her passing was hard on them all. Their dad was now alone and overwhelmed with raising two daughters without the help of his wife, but he tried to hide it from his daughters, who had been slipping further and further away from him.

Rhea and Cynthia agreed on one thing—Dad was spending too much time with Ms. Atkins. After Mom had been dead only a little over a year, he was taking lunch or coffee breaks with this other woman in front of the entire school. When they complained about this to their grandparents, their grandmother was reproachful. They mustn’t think their father didn’t love their mother and they should understand what he was going through. This, however, didn’t make them feel better; if anything, it made them cross with Grandma. Their mother was her daughter. Why wasn’t she upset?

It was now May and their mom had been dead for a little over two years. Rhea wasn’t upset with Dad anymore. All the same, the arrival of summer vacation pleased her. In secret, she thought this was a great opportunity to keep him away from Ms. Atkins (Cynthia was probably thinking along those lines also.)

See! What’d I tell you? Cynthia fumed as she glowered at the top of the steps. What in the hell is wrong with him?

Rhea followed Cynthia’s gaze to where their dad was walking down the steps with Ms. Atkins. Rhea couldn’t understand what Dad saw in the woman either. It wasn’t as if she were pretty. She was pale and her eyes were too far apart and were a muddy shade of brown. Her hair had a greenish tint, and she wore it in a short, pixy cut. She was tall and much too thin; her hipbones seemed to jut out at odd angles beneath the ugly, flower patterned shift she wore. She had a wide, toothy mouth, and she loved to grin and laugh whenever she was near Dad. Cynthia cursed and stood with her hands on her narrow hips as she watched them say goodbye.

As Dad approached the car he waved and said, You girls ready?

"We’ve been ready for twenty minutes now," said Cynthia, rolling her steel-gray eyes.

Dad unlocked the doors but didn’t seem keen on continuing the conversation. Cynthia went for the backseat as soon as the door locks clicked. Neither Rhea nor Cynthia enjoyed sitting up front anymore. The forced conversation and awkward pauses took over the short ride home (unless Cynthia was in one of her moods… like today.)

"Could you please explain what it is you see in that woman? She’s fake as a flea market Gucci bag!" Cynthia said, seething.

Cynthia, I don’t want to argue with you today. I think Ms. Atkins is a nice person. You’re being unfair. She’s just a friend, said Dad, his voice low and calm as he tried not to rise to Cynthia’s bait.

"Oh please, scoffed Cynthia. You must be—"

Cynthia, give it a rest. Rhea had heard enough. If she didn’t stop Cynthia now, she’d rave until they reached home.

Cynthia glared at the back of her sister’s head, but she fell silent all the same. The thirty-minute drive was more like three hours and Cynthia was the first one out of the car after; she didn’t even wait for the car to come to a complete stop. She hurried to unlock the door, her hand shaking as she forced the key into the lock. As soon as she turned the deadbolt, she heard footsteps behind her. Cynthia pushed the door open and ran upstairs, not even bothering to disarm the alarm.

Rhea stepped into the foyer and entered the pin. The incessant beeping ceased, and she went into the kitchen where Dad joined her.

Rhea, I want to talk to you, he said, pulling out a chair, indicating she should sit.

Rhea sat down, prepared to discuss the topic she was hoping to avoid.

I want to talk about Cynthia… and how she feels about Ms. Atkins, Dad answered.

Well, she cleared her throat, not meeting his eyes, "I can tell you how I feel, but you’re gonna have to talk to Cynthia and find out what she thinks."

I’ve got an idea of what she thinks. I’ll talk to her, I just wanted to talk to you about it first.

Over the past few months, Rhea had grown into the mediator role she was forced to play between Dad and Cynthia; at times, she felt like a referee in a boxing match.

I can tell you this much… Cynthia’s not into Ms. Atkins at all. As for me… I don’t know much about her. The only things I hear come from her students. You know how that can go.

I understand, offered Dad. I don’t want the two of you to get the wrong idea about Ruth. We’re only friends, he continued.

So, it’s Ruth now? Rhea bit the inside of her cheek as if she could bite back the thought.

"I don’t know if Cynthia has a problem with Ms. Atkins or just the idea of you seeing anyone. You say you’re just friends, but it’s kind of obvious that Ms. Atkins likes you. Whatever you decide, I won’t make things difficult."

Dad looked at her and knew she understood the situation. She wasn’t a little girl anymore, afraid of the monsters living in her closet. Dad cleared his throat around the small lump that had formed.

Could you please try to explain things to Cynthia? I would, but lately we’re at loggerheads.

Rhea exhaled and nodded. I’ll talk to her. But just in case you haven’t noticed, Cynt and I have been ‘at loggerheads’ too, she said,