Earth Walker: The Earth Walker Series Book One

By D.C. Marks

The time has come for Sophie Walker to learn the truth, that the world she was born into is not the same world she grew up in. Life as she knows it is a lie and the truth, as she is about to discover, will change her and the ones she loves forever. Sophie is a Nephilim, daughter of a pure blood angel, with a future pre-written in prophecy. She, along with her boyfriend Cole, who is not only her partner but also her Phantom destined to protect her as she rises, are fated to wage war against those who seek to destroy her kind. With the help of her closest friends and a new mentor, Sophie soon discovers that in the world of The Divine blood lays claim to all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Dec 9, 2019
• ISBN: 9781532083143

D.C. Marks

D.C. Marks discovered her love for the written word at a very young age, after running through a sliding glass door she was limited to the couch for several weeks where books became a staple in her life. This passion, which she shared with her father, continued to grow with her and has become a permanent fixture in her world. She was raised and currently resides in South Florida with her family, where she has spent the last twelve years of her career in the Marine Industry. Earth Walker is her first novel.

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Copyright © 2019 D.C. Marks.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by

any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying,

recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system

without the written permission of the author except in the case of

brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents,

organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products

of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-5320-8315-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-8314-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019915105

iUniverse rev. date: 09/13/2021

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

For all the fearless souls

who are not afraid

to chase their dreams.

chapter

ONE

It’s been raining for days, not constantly, but enough for the sky to remain an endless shade of dreary and make the ground feel like soggy bread beneath our feet.

Although we have been given small reprieves here and there, the thought of leaving the house is daunting and makes the idea of staying in to watch movies all day much more appealing. Good thing it’s a long weekend and I have an extra day to hide away—one of life’s small miracles.

Today, like almost every day, I can be found lounging in my boyfriend’s bedroom.

Cole has a spacious two-story townhouse with his cousin Ty. I guess you could say that I live here, too. I have my own place—well a room at each of my parent’s homes—but Cole’s place has a big back yard for my dog Doodle and in all honesty, Cole is more my home than any four walls with windows could ever be.

Unless Cole and I are in bed together, I’m usually relaxing on the oversized chaise in our room, especially on a day like today where the sky is angry and thunder rumbles loud enough to make the walls shake around me.

Stop it, I mumble to Cole whose humming some dumbass new song by The Elite, which is apparently at the top of the charts this week.

Stop what? Cole asks while continuing to jam out, the song obviously set on repeat in his head, and drumming away on the dresser.

Stop doing that. I repeat, more annoyed by his playing dumb.

Stop doing what? he tosses back with an arched eyebrow and smirk.

You know exactly what; I hate that song I say with squinted eyes, hoping he can feel the invisible arrows I’m mentally shooting at the back of his head.

But why? It’s so catchy he says. Besides I have an amazing voice which makes it a hundred times betttttteeeer. He sings a note too high while placing a hand over his chest, painfully failing at his attempt to serenade me in the mirror.

I cover my ears with both hands and scrunch my face up in revulsion. Babe, don’t take this the wrong way, but you suck.

I suck, do I? Watch this, he announces, grabbing my hairbrush from the dresser and spinning around to face me, hairbrush in hand like a microphone and the other hand planted on his hip. Hit me, baby, one more time. My loneliness is killing me and IIIII….

Oh my god! I gasp as I shield my eyes with my hand, too embarrassed to look up as he begins to saunter around the bed towards me, over exaggerating each lyric more with every step he takes.

I’m a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world, Life in plastic, it’s fantastic… he shouts as he jumps on the chaise, standing over me, singing at the top of his lungs with a disturbing amount of lisp and feminine pitch, his free hand making wave motions in the air.

At this point both hands are hiding my face while I struggle to laugh and breathe at the same time. Dear God, save me, is all I can muster through gasping laughter.

A momentary pause in his performance causes me to peek around my fingers only to find him looking down at me, grinning like the idiot he is. All I can do is shake my head and laugh, I’m in love with a fool.

He suddenly drops, pinning me to the chaise with his body weight.

And this fool is in love with you he whispers against my lips before lightly brushing his against mine.

The small intimacy stealing my breath for a moment as yearning flows through me like a warm tide to where his body touches mine.

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Mom always told me that once I met the right person it would be obvious.

It’s one of the few conversations I remember with her vividly but that’s probably based more on the time it took place versus her attempting to be a parent.

Dad was always more of the parent while Mom was more of the friend; it’s not a bad thing, but it did make taking her seriously a little more difficult at times.

It was the middle of my sophomore year in high school.

My first real boyfriend, Matt, had just broken up with me and I was going through the hurricane of what is known as your first heartbreak.

I was in the shower crying hysterically again for the hundredth time when she came in due to my lack of response to her persistent knocking. She sat on the toilet with her hands in her lap and told me that everyone gets their heart broken and that the pain would go away slowly; one day would turn into two, two into three, and before I knew it, I’d wake up and not even think about him.

Of course, I didn’t believe her. I thought life as I knew it was over and I couldn’t go on another day without him. Surely, I was going to die of a broken heart; at any second, my heart would beat its last, putting an end to my suffering.

At some point, she also said that the day would come when I would meet the person meant for me, the person who destiny had chosen as my soulmate. Fate would make it unmistakably clear to me, she claimed.

I always thought she just said all those things in attempts to soothe me.

Looking back now, I can positively say it was one of those mom knows best things and boy, did it irk the hell out of me when I realized it later. It was literally an unmistakably, painfully obvious experience.

The date was Tuesday, August 26, my first day of American Lit 2010 and my first day as a college freshman.

I was psyched because I love literature—I love anything that I can read and absorb.

I got to class early in hopes of finding the perfect seat near the front but instead found the door still locked and the lights off.

After making a mental note that this was college, not high school, and the Professors were most likely coming to class from normal lives like the rest of us, I decided to take a seat at one of the picnic tables which were set up in the center of the courtyard.

As this was a mid-morning class, the sun had mostly bloomed, and the scattered trees weren’t providing much shade.

Being the sun-worshipping creature that I am, in my black Ray-Bans and white tank top, I happily chose a spot welcoming the sun’s heat.

I leaned back on my palms, letting the warmth wash over my face, listening to the music playing somewhere off in the distance and thought to myself how much I was going to enjoy college.

Professor Douglas showed up about ten minutes later, not saying much of anything but under his breath, Good mornings, as he passed.

After he unlocked the door and turned on the lights, I picked up my bag to head into class. As I swung my bag over my shoulder, I heard the strangest sound, an odd mix of what sounded like wings flapping and the wind when it rushes by your face.

At first, I thought it was something coming from behind me, so I looked around to see if I could spot the source but was baffled by finding nothing.

The noise continued to get louder as I walked toward the classroom and I realized it wasn’t wings flapping or wind—it was more of a flow, a rhythm that I felt inside of my head. It was unlike anything I had ever felt before.

Even more perplexed, I paused to concentrate harder on listening but just as quickly as it came, it was gone.

Good job, Soph; first day of class and you’re already having some sort of mental breakdown, I mumbled to myself as my hand landed on the doorknob.

Mid-yank, something bumped my shoulder and I turned to find a dark-haired, gray-eyed guy behind me.

Damn, sorry about that, he said as he backed up a step and looked down at his shoes.

It’s okay, with a shrug was the only response my brain could come up with, right before turning too quickly and slamming face first into the side of the door.

Oh shit! exclaimed the gunmetal gray-eyed stranger behind me who obviously decided to look up at the exact second of my facial impact.

Cupping my nose, I bent over, squealing in agony while letting loose some of my own very unladylike profanities. Fuck. God damn it. Son of a bitch—fuckin’ shit!

I’m so, so sorry! Are you okay? Oh god, please look at me, pled the very masculine voice behind me.

Realizing this may have been the most embarrassing moment of my entire life, I stood up straight and turned to face him, dreading the look of pity I was sure would be plastered across his face.

To my surprise, all I found was concern. His beautiful eyes were turned down with what appeared to be genuine worry and there was a large V scrunched between his two full eyebrows.

He was much taller than what my glance just a moment ago let on, easily a full head taller than I was.

The tattooed biceps revealed under his burgundy sleeves were both bulging and incredibly sexy. Not to mention the well-defined forearms reaching out as if to steady me without touching me, showing one arm to be a complete sleeve. My skin cried out for the contact with him just to see what it would feel like.

You’re bleeding.

Looking down at the bright red puddle streaming down from my palm to my wrist. Of course, I am came out on an exasperated sigh.

The handsome stranger picked up my fallen bag, swung it onto his free shoulder, and smiled, offering me his hand.

Let’s go get you cleaned up; my name’s Cole by the way.

It wasn’t the gray eyes or beautifully sculpted tattooed arms that got me; it was the soft smile.

In that exact moment, with his head tilted slightly to the left and the right side of his mouth turned up just a bit more than the other, I knew it—the inner voice in my head stating the obvious: You are so screwed!

Damn it, I exhaled while closing my eyes. Somehow, some way, I knew this one was going to be the death of me.

Reopening my eyes to his dark