Misty Fairchild and the Heart of Alignment: The Heart of the Wayshower Saga, #1

By Michael D. Brooks

When a mystifying explosion drags Misty and Melody Fairchild into Adam Rowan's life, along with a trio of dangerous would-be kidnappers bent on hauling the girls back to the shady underground government facility they escaped from, the teens must join forces with Adam's little brother Dylan and his cousin Jeremy to reunite the girls with their family and unravel the secrets of where the twins have been for the last five years. 

 

In Michael Dawn Brooks' Misty Fairchild and the Heart of Alignment, readers will be taken on a thrilling urban fantasy adventure ride, filled with sci-fi and contemporary fantasy elements and a touch of paranormal romance that fans ofSupernatural and Vampire Diaries will love. With wit and humor, the action moves at a brisk clip with characters that are relatable and full of life. 

 

Follow Misty and the gang as they fight against nefarious forces trying to steal psychic kids for reprehensible purposes and find out if they can make it out alive. If you enjoyed books such as Anne Bishop's The Others or Kate Griffin's The Midnight Mayor, you'll love Misty Fairchild and the Heart of Alignment. 

 

What folks are saying:

 

★★★★★ "I was hooked within the first few pages. Couldn't put it down. Characters are relatable with lots of wit. The writer has extensive knowledge of Ancient wisdom school teachings. From Law of Attraction to Law of One. Highly recommend. Can't wait for her next book!" --Good Reads Review

 

★★★★★ Urban Fantasy Adventure Ride "The action moves at a brisk clip… [and the] … dialog is snappy." --Amazon Review

 

★★★★★ Beautifully Addictive "...it was a perfect pace increasing speed through intoxicating delicious, breathtaking suspense and orgasmic moments followed by an afterglow of contentment touched by a desire to follow this group wherever they're adventures lead. I existed in their world, absorbed in their lives... I put [this] in the ranks of: Anne Bishop, Kate Griffin. Brandon Sanderson, Gordan Dahlquist, Michael Sullivan, and Pierce Brown." --Amazon Review

 

★★★★★ "...An adventurous read for anyone looking for a Stranger Things type vibe." --Amazon Review

 

★★★★★ "Misty Fairchild is a fun read, and like butter, just melts in your mind. Sparkling wit and nuggets of cultural references light the way on a delightful romp through a dark underworld peopled by young heroes and nefarious characters. Courage and love tempered with a dollop of sarcasm show the way. Action packed mysticism at its finest!" --Amazon Review

 

★★★★★ A breath of fresh air! "This book is pure gold! It had me laughing, crying, swooning and shaking in my boots the entire way through. Michael Dawn Brooks is a master at sucking you into her story. I literally binged it in three days (Mother of three, ya know, I don't have much time to read). I adored the homage to pop culture that all ages will pick up on. The storyline of light and dark, the potential of human consciousness and conjuring magick from within is one of the best I've ever read. If you like the Stranger Things vibe, you'll love this book." –Amazon Review

 

Content Warning: Misty Fairchild and the Heart of Alignment is recommended for readers age 15+ due to language, adult situations, moments of peril, traumatic death, self-harm, suicidal ideation, and sexual assault.

• Language: English
• Publisher: EleventyFirst Publications
• Release date: Oct 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9798986704401

Book preview

Chapter 1

Take a deep breath, Misty.

The little girl heaved in a loud gasp.

Good girl. Ian Fairchild held up an index finger before his daughter’s mouth. Now blow out the candle.

A weak stream of air shuddered from her lips.

It’s okay, honey, take another deep breath. That’s right. Okay, blow out the candle.

The four-year-old swiped at the tears in her gray eyes and gulped in air, filling her lungs to capacity. Her freckled cheeks ballooned in a gust aimed at the tip of her father’s finger.

Whoa! Ian feigned falling over. You nearly blew me away!

Misty giggled and sniffled then swiped her nose with the back of her hand. Silly Daddy.

Okay, let’s take a look at that knee now. Ian crouched beside Misty and examined the broken skin. Hmm. Looks like we may have to amputate.

No, Daddy! Misty pushed his shoulder. I need my knee.

Well, if you insist on saving it, then I guess a Band-Aid will have to do.

And a hug?

Okay, and a hug.

And a kiss?

Okay, and a kiss. Ian took Misty’s tiny hand and led her to the bathroom. He cleaned the abrasion and applied the bandage with great solemnity. After a hug and a kiss, Misty ran back outside to the sweeping live oak that had first wounded her.

That’s right, Misty. Ian leaned against the doorpost and watched the fiery mop of red curls glint through the sunlight dappled leaves and branches. Always keep climbing. He bent down to tousle the raven-black curls of Misty’s twin, Melody, playing tea party on the front porch.

Tea, Daddy? Her chubby hand grasped a teacup adorned with roses.

Why certainly, princess, thank you! He accepted the proffered cup and lowered himself into the too small chair, knees jutting above the imaginatively set table.

With a choking gasp, Misty’s eyes flew open to the darkness around her. Melody breathed softly in the sleeping bag beside her own. Cicadas sang above the snapcracklepop of the dying fire. The scent of wood smoke, damp earth, and pine needles filled Misty’s nose. Through the treetops, stars winked against the black night. A breath of wind swirled through the branches, which seemed to wave to her.

She rolled to her side, mopping tears with the cuff of her flannel shirt. I miss you, Daddy.

The trip from Dulce, New Mexico, to Santa Fe the day before had been harrowing. Misty and her sister were smuggled out of the base under Archuleta Mesa in a faded-red Ford F150, covered by an itchy blanket that smelled of horses.

In Santa Fe, a kind old man in a straw cowboy hat helped them out of the bed of the truck at a bus station.

Misty stretched her arms legs and back. She looked around, blinking in the dazzling sunlight and trembled. It was the first she’d seen the sun in years. The glow of daylight on Mel’s pale face made it almost hard to look at her. The twins squinted at each other, a mixture of apprehension and hope.

The old man handed them each a small backpack. There’re bus tickets inside. I’m sorry we can’t do more. He spoke barely above a rushed whisper—his eyes shifted left to right the whole time, searching over their heads. Your bus is leaving in five minutes from over there. He pointed to a Greyhound bus nearby. Hurry. Don’t talk to anyone; if anyone approaches you, run.

He leaned down and grasped them each by an arm and looked them in the eyes for the first time. Fear and concern showed in his weathered face. I know it’s not much. I only wish we could save more of you. He fixed them both with a sharp gaze. You’ll find what you seek in Comfort. Trust your hearts. Trust your spirits. The Great Spirit will guide you.

The stranger crushed them both in a bear hug then shoved them toward their bus. He jumped back into his truck and peeled out of the lot.

Misty opened her backpack and found an envelope on top. Inside was a bus ticket from Santa Fe, New Mexico, to Comfort, Texas, as well as a New Mexico state issued ID with her picture but a different name (Greta Farley), birthdate (the ID said she was eighteen instead of seventeen), and an unfamiliar address. Also inside was a bit of cash.

Misty tipped the envelope toward Mel. I guess ‘Comfort’ was more literal than figurative then. We better hurry. I hope they gave you a better name.

Melody, blue eyes wide, gulped, and nodded. She trembled and almost dropped her backpack. Misty grabbed it from her and slung both packs over her shoulder. She grasped Mel by the arms and steered her to the bus.

Onboard, Misty scanned over the rows of seated passengers, feeling for any warning or misgivings. The vibration felt calm and steady, with an aura of blue to violet that hung over the passengers. Only a few punctuations of orange and yellow spiked through the bus, but there was nothing to give Misty any alarm.

No one looked at them or seemed to notice them at all. Misty thought it was strange that about half the passengers wore masks over their mouths and noses but dismissed it quickly. Once settled in the furthest empty seats back, she pulled the ID out of Mel’s envelope. "Well, Vivian, I hope we have a smooth, uneventful, trip."

We got one! Gloria Rowan-Beaumont’s voice rang out through the ancient intercom system until the subterranean compound under Rowan Mountain reverberated.

Dylan Rowan let Issue 1 of Superman: Son of Kal-el drop to his chest and heaved a sigh. He reached for the box next to his bed and pressed the button to the office. "Aunt Glo, do you have to do that every time?"

In response, the Ghostbuster’s theme pumped through the speakers. Dylan plopped back on his bed and rolled his eyes skyward. God.

Boot up, Baby Bro, Adam’s voice sounded tinny through the speaker. Let’s see what she’s got.

Dylan smashed the button to reply. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Be right there.

Gloria’s office was five levels up on the opposite side of the mountain from Dylan’s room. He had to change elevators twice and walk halfway around the balcony ledge that overlooked the Marble Hall. He barely registered the labyrinthine tunnels that veered off from time to time, some manmade, carved smooth ages before he was born, others naturally formed. Some led to caverns untouched by sunlight since they first formed when the earth was young, while others led to grottoes with crystal pools lit with electric lights for the family’s use.

By the time he arrived fifteen minutes later, Adam and their cousin Jeremy Beaumont were already waiting.

Adam lounged in one of the high-backed leather chairs, his sneakers propped on the edge of the large mahogany desk. His green eyes focused on what appeared to be a jumble of nails in his hands, one of many 3D puzzles from Aunt Gloria’s desk.

Adam took after their dad—tall, with rugged good looks—though he had their mom’s green eyes and blond hair. Dylan definitely favored his mom’s more willowy, delicate features, with their dad’s dark-brown hair.

In the opposite doorway, Jeremy counted off a rapid succession of pull-ups on the intricately carved lintel. His bulk filled the frame, dark, russet-brown skin rippling with each flex of muscle. He was a carbon copy of Dylan’s uncle Dwayne, who looked like an NFL linebacker in a lab coat. From Aunt Gloria, he inherited a lighter complexion and humorous smile.

Dylan self-consciously crossed his pale, thin arms over his chest, wrapping his fingers around his biceps. At fourteen he was four years younger than Adam and six years younger than Jeremy. With his brother’s all-American good looks, and his cousin, who could basically double for the Rock, he wondered if he could ever catch up.

Sup, Squirt? Adam’s eyes never left the metal puzzle. Finally left your room, huh? We were taking bets on whether you’d stay in there ’til Thanksgiving or Christmas. I told Jeremy you’d need to come up for tissues and lotion eventually.

Dylan glowered and slumped into the other chair opposite the desk. "And further deplete your stockpile? You need them far more than I, Brother Dear. I’ve noted the distinct dearth of visitors to your boudoir."

Adam paused his puzzling without looking up to gesticulate a helpful suggestion to Dylan with his middle finger.

Okay, okay, calm down, children. Gloria peered at the boys over her half-moon glasses. She took them off and let them hang on the ornately beaded cord around her neck. Her hazel eyes, so much like Dylan’s, sparkled with fun. Howzabout a case just in time for Halloween?

Dylan flounced back in his chair. "Why do we have to go? Why can’t Mom and Dad do it themselves?"

Because Mom and Dad have another matter to attend to in the opposite direction. Cynthia Rowan glided into the room and planted a kiss on Dylan’s head. Oh, Son. Promise me you will shower as soon as we’re done here.

Dylan huffed. How far is it?

Down the hall about fifty feet. Adam’s eyes remained fixed on the puzzle. You know, in the same room with the toilet. Use soap. That’s the foamy stuff.

Dylan kicked Adam’s feet, knocking them from the desk. Adam glared at Dylan then chucked the nail puzzle at Dylan’s head.

Ow! You could’ve put my eye out! Mom!

Enough. Cynthia put her hand lightly but firmly on Dylan’s shoulder and gave a meaningful look to Adam. All right, Glo, Dylan wants to know where they’re going.

Texas. There’s a situation down there we need you three to check out.

Adam and Jeremy exchanged pleased grins. Dylan lolled his head back on the headrest with an exasperated sigh.

Adam pushed himself out of the deep leather chair. All right, then. I’ll start loading up the equipment. When do we fly out?

No, said Cynthia, You’ll be taking the Schoolie.

Adam slumped back into the chair. Are you serious?

The Ghoulie Schoolie? said Dylan.

Yes, the Ghoulie Schoolie. Garrett Rowan joined his wife beside Dylan’s chair. Mom and I have some business to attend to over the next few weeks, and we know you three can handle this.

Dylan ran his hand through his hair, rubbing the tender spot where the nail puzzle had hit. It’ll take days to drive to Texas from Pennsylvania. Why can’t we just fly there and back?

Cynthia rubbed his shoulder. We thought you would like the chance for an adventure. You know, get out of the Mountain, see the country. Glamping across America in the autumn. Who could ask for more?

Adam snorted. "The Ghoulie Schoolie is not glamping. There’s nothing glamorous about it. An old Blue Bird school bus will never be glamping."

Garrett grinned. Hey, we did a lot of work to make that old Blue Bird into something beautiful and comfortable for our family; you boys should show more respect.

Jeremy shoved Adam’s shoulder. C’mon, A, it’ll be fun. He looked at Dylan. We can all do some bro bonding on the road.

Dylan made a strangled noise in his throat. All we ever do is bond.

No, said Aunt Gloria, All you ever do is hang out in your separate rooms doing your own thing. We never see any of you, between studying or playing video games, or whatever you do behind closed doors. Go. Eat at Waffle House. Find the Largest Ball of Twine. Discover the cleanest restrooms in the USA. Come back with South of the Border bumper stickers.

Cynthia joined in. Dylan, think of all the things you can put into your homeschool portfolio this year with a cross-country trip.

Maybe, Dylan said. I guess I could knock out some history credits with all the Civil War battlefield stuff along the way.

The boys spent the rest of the afternoon packing and loading up the Schoolie.

The Ghoulie Schoolie, as the old renovated Blue Bird was lovingly known, had been Rowan Inc’s go-to mode of travel for long distances for almost two decades. When the boys were small, Garrett found a deal on the bus and towed it to the garage under the mountain where he worked for over a year with Jeremy’s dad Dwayne to make it run.

Cynthia and Garrett’s sister Gloria gutted the insides, creating a comfortable and aesthetically pleasing home and office environment. Gloria designed the layout and Cynthia applied the artistic elements. In the end, it slept up to 10 people, had a functioning full kitchen, fully stocked with a collection of Cynthia’s hand thrown pottery mugs, bowls, and plates, a bathroom, and even a tiny beautiful blue enamel wood stove.

The whole thing was painted a rich purple with pink and green polka dots, the sides and hood emblazoned with Ghoulie Schoolie in a fantastical, hand painted font. The boys found it delightful as children, but a keen source of embarrassment as teens.

They loaded all of the tools of the paranormal investigation trade, recording equipment, monitors, cables, night vision and full spectrum cameras, as well as hooked up Garrett’s classic ‘67 Ford Galaxie 500 behind.

At least we can travel in some kind of style eventually, Dylan muttered.

Misty and Mel stopped in Amarillo for a couple of hours’ layover. The tightness in Misty’s belly hadn’t subsided. Still, it felt good to stretch her limbs in the warmth of the sun. Her sister’s trembling began to lessen.

Misty squeezed Mel’s hand. It’s gonna be okay, Mel. We’re out. We’ll make it.

Her sister squeezed back. I know. At least, I hope.

Hope. Misty breathed in the fresh air deeply. Hope feels good, right?

Mel relaxed a bit more. Yeah, yeah it does.

The girls walked the concourse to stretch their legs, swinging their clasped hands between them. Misty pulled up short when Mel stopped, staring at something. Misty followed her gaze to a giant clock that flashed the date and time.

It’s almost Halloween. Mel’s soft voice choked on the word. Her eyes glistened with tears.

Misty squeezed her sister’s hand and looked back at the date. October tenth, 2021. Five years. She said it more to herself than to Mel. She shook herself and cleared her throat. It really has been five whole years that we lived in that hole.

Mel hitched a sob in her throat. She straightened her thin shoulders and slid an arm around Misty’s waist. Yes. But we’re out now. She leaned her head on Misty’s shoulder. Everything’s gonna be better now. Right? She glanced up with her big blue eyes.

Trepidation rippled through Misty. She heaved a breath. It’s gotta be.

Lunch was a revelation. It had been ages since the girls had eaten a real corndog. Mel moaned over the giant pickle she’d ordered. Oh my god, Mis. I can’t believe we’re eating real food that hasn’t been rehydrated. She offered the pickle to Misty for a taste.

The bite crunched in a satisfying way. Juice squirted out of the corners of her mouth. Her jaw tightened with the face-puckering tang. Misty scrunched her eyes and nose and pursed her lips. Dear god that’s sour. How can you eat that?

Mel turned wide eyes on her twin. Quite easily, thanks. I’ll take it back if you can’t appreciate true flavor.

Misty gladly handed it back.

In the restroom, they took immediate advantage of the sinks to freshen up as best they could. After they had washed off the smell of horse blankets and years of underground dwelling, they dug through the backpacks.

Each pack had a change of clothes, jeans, tee-shirts, and flannels. They changed out of the pale-yellow tracksuits that had been their uniforms for the last half a decade, stuffing them deep down in the trash can. The clothes were a little big, but the denim and soft cotton felt amazing on Misty’s skin.

She breathed a sigh of relaxation and stretched with the soft fabric. Brilliant, she murmured. She turned to Mel. Ready to catch a bus?

Her sister nodded with a huge grin.

They stepped out the restroom door into a red buzzing wall of nausea. Mel stopped short and grabbed Misty’s hand.

Yeah, I feel it too. Misty swallowed against the urge to vomit.

They ducked between a large sign and the wall.

Mel squeezed her eyes shut, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. It’s them. I feel them. They’re here somewhere. Oh god. I’m gonna be sick.

Breathe Mel, just breathe. Misty peeked around the edge of the sign. She couldn’t see Damian or Adrian Lee, but she knew that rising gorge sensation very well. The twin brothers inspired an aura of sick terror when they were close. Misty had never known anyone else like them.

A familiar male voice whispered behind her. Who are we hiding from?

Misty jumped and spun around.

A young man with auburn hair leaned against the sign, his arms casually crossed. He grinned at Misty and Mel.

Misty flushed cold then hot. "Jason! From you, you traitor."

Jason clutched his heart with a pained expression. Ouch, Mis. We’re just here to bring you home.

That place isn’t home, it’s a hole. Misty stepped closer to him, shifting to a softer tone. But you’re out now, just like us. Come with us. Ditch the Lees.

A shadow flickered in his violet eyes, but Jason’s grin remained fixed. Can’t do that Mis. You and Melly need to come back with us.

No. Mel stepped forward between Misty and Jason. We don’t. She kicked him in the shin.

Jason’s cheeks flushed red. What the hell, Mel? There’s no need for vio—

Misty aimed a hard kick a little higher. Jason hit the ground with a wheezing gasp. The girls ran.

"Oh, c’mon, Jason’s voice popped into Misty’s mind, even as he writhed on the floor. You know they love it when you run."

She could feel the hot pain behind his glib warning and smiled to herself. "Might want to get some ice for that, Jason," she thought back.

The girls raced down the concourse, losing themselves in the crowds and lines. The buzzing nausea that foretold the Lee boys guided them. The more it lessened, the more distance they felt between them. They headed back toward the buses, hoping to board undetected.

Misty and Mel crept along the side of the bus, stopping to breathe, listen, and feel for any indication that they were followed.

Mel gulped a breath. Do you think they know where we’re going?

Probably, said a smooth baritone.

Misty and Mel whirled around to find Jason leaning against the bus. Hey, Chiclets.

Come on, Jason. Just let us go, the Lees will never know. Tell them I kicked you in the nards again.

No can do, Mis, sorry. Jason shifted his gaze over their heads.

Misty spun around. Two medium built, dark-haired men in their early twenties flanked the girls. Their identical black eyes glittered, but their faces showed no expression. Malice waved off of them.

Oh my God, Misty shrieked, when did you learn to sneak?

Jason chuckled. "You can teach an old dog new tricks, am I right?"

Icy energy crackled above Misty’s head from the Lees to Jason.

Yes, Adrian, it’s just an expression. I know you are neither of advanced years, nor a canid. Why are you guys so fricking weird?

Misty and Mel couldn’t move.

Ladies, you know how this goes. Cooperate, and Damian and Adrian won’t turn your brains to mush. We’ll return home all nice and peaceful-like and go back to doing what we do.

Misty strained against the energy that held her. What we do is unconscionable, Jason. How can you be okay with any of this? None of this is you. What would Joey say?

Don’t— Jason barked, raising a threatening finger within millimeters of her nose. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Don’t. He lightly tapped the end of her nose. He raised his eyes to Damian and Adrian. Let’s go.

Jason and the Lees followed behind Misty and Mel. Each involuntary step brought Misty’s knees straight up to form a ninety-degree angle with her leg before slamming her foot firmly down on the ground in an audible stomp. Her arms remained rigidly at her sides, unable to move freely.

My dudes, can you make them look more natural and less high school marching band?

Energy flowed through her limbs in a more fluid motion. Her arms swung languidly at her sides, and her strides grew uncomfortably longer.

Jason snorted a laugh. Stop. You’re gonna draw too much attention if they look like they’re interpretive dancing their way out of here. We’re not applying for the Ministry of Silly Walks, just make them look normal. He lowered his voice and