The Prophet

By Jo Michaels

It’s one year until the apocalypse of 12.21.12 is supposed to take place.

Burning buildings, screaming babies, and death will surround us.

It will be the end of the world.

That can’t be allowed.

When six powerful women come together with one goal—to save humanity—they’ll get much more than they bargained for. They join forces and learn to use the gifts hidden within themselves to battle a monster feeding off something too many of us feel in our souls: Hate. But they must first learn how to forgive—themselves as well as others.

Hate is birthing a creature dwelling under Central Park in New York, and the fiend is eager to burst forth and sink his fangs into the Earth.

The Fury, The Visionary, The Beguiler, The Siren, The Prophet, and The Mystic are our last hope, and even they aren’t sure if they can win.

The end is coming, but with it, there may be a new beginning.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jo Michaels
• Release date: Nov 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463242858

Jo Michaels

Jo Michaels loves writing novels that make readers gasp in horror, surprise, and disbelief. While her browser search history has probably landed her on a list somewhere, she still dives into every plot with gusto, hoping "the man" will realize she's a writer and not a psychopath about to go on a rampage. Her favorite pastimes are reading, watching Investigation Discovery, and helping other authors realize their true potential through mentoring. She's penned the award-winning Pen Pals and Serial Killers series and the best-selling educational book for children, Writing Prompts for Kids, which has rocketed the kids that use it into several awards of their own.Most of Jo's books feature the places she's lived: Louisiana, Tennessee, and Georgia. That's given her a special amount of insight to what makes those locations tick. Her works are immersive and twisty, and she wouldn't want it any other way.

Book preview

The Prophet

12.21.12 – The Hate Apocalypse – Book 5

By Jo Michaels

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The Prophet

12.21.12 – The Hate Apocalypse – Book 5

By Jo Michaels

Copyright © 2018 Jo Michaels

All Rights Reserved

Published December 3, 2018

License Notes:

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be copied or re-distributed in any way. Author holds all copyright.

This book is a work of fiction and does not represent any individual living or dead.

Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

This book was previously published with the title: Mystic-Coralie. Significant changes have been made to the story. Author retains all copyright.

Cover design by Jo Michaels

Typeset for print and digital formatting by Jo Michaels

Edited by Tia Silverthorne Bach

Both of INDIE Books Gone Wild

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of a copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by fines and federal imprisonment.

***

Bronya lifted a hand. Shhhh, I hear something. Turning her head to the side so she could pay attention to the noises reaching her ears, she noticed Shelia crouching and staring straight ahead. Soft sobbing sounds were coming from inside the car parked across the street. Bronya’s eyes followed the line of Shelia’s gaze and fell on two figures, both male.

I see you, whispered Shelia. Before she could be stopped, she took off like a flash and ran straight for the men.

Cursing, Bronya followed; already igniting the power in her hand. Red sparks flew as she knocked the figures aside so Shelia could get to the car. Another red flash and the door flew off the hinges, revealing a third form huddling inside.

At once, the woman scrambled out of the car and fell to the asphalt.

Shelia stopped running and took a defensive posture, creeping slowly toward the mass of hair and limbs tangled on the ground.

Bronya could hear soft words being spoken. It’s okay. We’re here to help.

A shrill scream pierced the night air, and both girls put their hands over their ears to shut it out. Then, everything went quiet. It seemed the city hushed to listen to the momentary scream of the woman now lying silent and prone on the road.

Shit! Shelia ran forward and put her fingers to the young woman’s neck. Call an ambulance! No pulse! We’re too damned late!

Hello? Operator? I need an ambulance! Bronya rattled off the names of the cross-streets and approached the girl at the operator’s request. Yeah, she has no pulse. There’s blood everywhere.

Footfalls echoing in the distance signaled the retreat of the two men. Everything was quiet except Shelia’s heavy breathing.

She was frantically doing CPR, via instructions yelled out by Bronya, as the whining siren of an ambulance shattered the new quiet. Tires squealing, the vehicle pulled up and two EMTs leapt out, equipment in hand. Bronya clicked her phone off, pulled Shelia back, and stood nearby, watching.

After working furiously over the girl for a number of minutes, the medics lifted her onto a stretcher and everyone climbed into the ambulance. The two girls shrank back against the walls, trying to stay out of the way.

Dark hair, matted with blood, fell around the pillow and framed the girl’s face. She had a nasty bruise below her left eye and red welts here and there on her arms. But there was still no clue as to where the blood was coming from. Bronya scratched her head and chewed the inside of her cheek while her eyes roamed over the mess in front of her. One of the medics was suddenly in her face. Do you know who did this? he asked.

Bronya and Shelia both shook their heads.

His voice dropped to a low growl. Are you the girls that called nine-one-one?

Taking point, Bronya lifted her hand into the air. I did that. We found her this way. There were two men, but they ran off when we got here.

Two men? Can you describe them?

No. It was too dark. I only saw silhouettes and figured they were men because of the way they were standing. You know, leaned to one side, hands in pockets, kinda puffed up like they were big, bad dudes.

Do you know this young woman? He gestured to the girl.

No. Bronya shook her head. We were just walking by and heard crying coming from the car. When we checked it out, we found her and called you guys. She knew damned good and well who the girl was, but explaining how they knew where she was going to be would take too long and raise too many eyebrows. Playing dumb seemed the best option.

That was a very brave, and very stupid, thing you did. Those men could’ve killed you both. From what I see of this young woman here, they had an agenda. And they probably weren’t alone when they began. His voice softened. She’s in for a lot of pain.

Why? Where’s all the blood coming from? I don’t see any cuts on her. Bronya’s voice was shaking.

From what I’ve seen so far, it looks like she had an abortion, got caught unaware by some of the fanatics that hang out in clinic parking lots, and they beat her and raped her to teach her some kind of lesson; probably about pain of death or something. This isn’t the first case I’ve seen.

Bronya gasped. She had an abortion? Now why the hell didn’t Markaza tell me that?

He nodded. I believe she did. Poor thing. I imagine that’s a difficult decision for anyone to make.

The EMT turned his attention back to Coralie and Bronya made the call to Markaza to let her know what was going on and request her presence.

It seemed like hours before they arrived at the hospital. When they emerged from the ambulance, TV cameras and reporters swarmed them. Microphones were shoved in their faces and one reporter even had the audacity to ask if the victim was on drugs. Bronya swatted them away and rushed after the