Shadow Prophet (Midnight Chronicles Book 1)

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by Andrea Pearson


  The thought died on my brain before I had a chance to cement it in—there’d been too many attackers. I wouldn’t have been able to get to her.

  I gasped when I saw what was happening, surprised that I really hadn’t seen it all. The bodies were actually deteriorating, not melting. Eyes rolled back into heads. Skin rotted away, exposing bones, cartilage, and ligaments.

  The juices that puddled on the floor flowed to the Shadow Prophet, seeping into his clothes and healing the holes that were still visible.

  I swallowed, officially convinced that there was nothing I could do to stop this demon.

  The Shadow Prophet rose to his feet. He didn’t use his muscles or hands—he sort of glided up. He turned to me.

  “You haven’t tried killing me in a very long time.”

  37

  “And you,” he said, turning to Porter. “Back where ye belong, lawman.”

  He spread his hands and pushed, pulsing them toward Porter.

  The entire room tilted at least four inches. Nothing fell or moved, and gravity didn’t change. What was going on?

  Porter began screaming soundlessly.

  A great wind started up, roaring from the back of the house, spinning and whirling as it converged on a point behind Porter. And then a long tunnel appeared, and the whole room twisted around and around it, spinning.

  I wasn’t touched by the wind. Not even my hair got ruffled.

  Porter slammed backward, down the tunnel, toward a dim light at the end of it, getting smaller and smaller until he disappeared.

  With a bounce like Jell-O that knocked me to the floor, the room returned to normal. Its usual normal, with zero evidence that a battle had taken place. Not even the bodies remained.

  “I actually grew comfortable,” the Shadow Prophet said, his voice mild, “thinking you’d changed your mind about killing me. And with you returning this quickly, I thought you’d finally decided to finish your job.”

  I clenched my guns at my side, shaking, wishing they’d work against the demon. “I will never kill her.”

  The Shadow Prophet tsked several times, shaking his head. “Would you like to see your mom?”

  The blood drained from my face. “No. Please, no.”

  “It’s been such a long time since I last let you.”

  “No!” I shouted. “Please!”

  “I can’t allow you to think you can keep trying to kill me, Abel.”

  He clapped his hands, and six or seven of his men rushed into the room—back from the dead? Where had they come from?—and grabbed me, jerking me to my feet. They hauled me out of the room and to the stairs, with me kicking and screaming the whole way.

  The Shadow Prophet didn’t plan to kill my mom—no, he still needed her. But there were a lot of things he could do that didn’t involve her dying.

  I hated this man. I hated him so much.

  It surprised me when the Shadow Prophet allowed me to go into the room—alone—where he kept my mom. He must’ve thought I needed actual alone time with her as new motivation.

  “Abel?” She jumped to her feet, rushing across the room and throwing her arms around me.

  I held her tightly, sobbing into the crook of her neck. I couldn’t believe he was letting us be together. I hadn’t really talked to her since I’d been kidnapped. Previously, he’d only allowed me to see that she was still alive before the torture began.

  The moment my tears started, I couldn’t keep from telling her what I’d become. “Mom . . . Mom. I’ve done something—so many things—wrong. I’ve completely screwed up my life.”

  She shushed me, rubbing the back of my head. “You could never do anything wrong, honey.”

  Did she know what was going on? She couldn’t possibly. Not with an answer like that. There was no way an upright citizen—which she was—would take a look at my actions and not condemn me for it. No way.

  “Mom, I have. I . . .” My voice hitched. “I’ve killed innocent people.”

  “I know, baby. I know.” She pulled back, taking my face in her hands and staring into my eyes. “It’s not your fault.”

  “I don’t know what to do. I’ve tried everything to stop him.”

  With a sigh, she led me across the room to the bed, having me sit next to her. “I don’t think you can stop him. And it’s not worth it. I’m not worth you killing more people. I don’t blame you for those you’ve already done. Anyone would have fallen apart under similar circumstances. But you can’t put my life above the lives of anyone else.”

  I shook my head, not meeting her eye. “I’ve lost my soul.”

  She took my hand, holding it with both of hers and staring at it. “I know why you feel that way. But you’re still good-hearted. And you would have chosen a different path had you been given the opportunity.”

  “I had plenty of opportunity, Mom. I could’ve killed myself. I could’ve let them kill me.”

  “Things aren’t always that black and white, sweetie.”

  Did she have a point? Was there still hope for me? I didn’t dare even think about a future that involved freedom and not a prison.

  She turned to me again. “You have your whole life ahead of you, one that includes her. You can’t allow him to manipulate and control you anymore. And that includes manipulating you with my life. It’s not worth it, Abel.”

  The door banged open, and one of the Shadow Prophet’s henchmen entered.

  “Time for your lesson.”

  My mom stood, holding out her scar-covered hands. “I’m ready.”

  I felt like I’d been slapped. I almost threw up, realizing what she was doing. She was handing herself over.

  She’d fought it every single other time. Why not this time too? Wasn’t it worth fighting?

  Seeing that bravery, seeing her not collapse in fear gave me courage to attack again.

  I pulled out my backup gun, shooting the man. He fell to the ground, but was quickly replaced by many more. I shot them all in rapid succession. My ears would probably never get over the events of the day. If I even survived.

  My gun ran out of bullets, and I pulled out knives instead, throwing them with perfect accuracy. When the henchmen continued coming and I ran out of space for throwing, I removed a fighting knife from a sheath on my thigh.

  I fought hard. I fought like a cornered mountain lion. Like a grizzly that hadn’t eaten in months. Like a cheetah facing annihilation. I fought as swiftly and as much as I could.

  It wasn’t enough.

  I couldn’t keep up with the sheer number of men who rushed through the door. They piled on top of me.

  I heard my mom scream.

  Mom.

  With a roar, I reached for my magic, swearing to destroy everything and everyone around me.

  I grabbed too much.

  Before my powers could even do anything, I fell unconscious.

  38

  When I awakened, I was bound and gagged, sitting in the chair the Shadow Prophet always made me sit in.

  He loomed over me, his toothless mouth gaping in a grin that stretched the skin from his gums. “I see you finally Restarted.”

  I glared up at him, chewing against the gag, trying to burst the bands that held me. It was futile. I knew it would be.

  “But you can’t control your magic yet. I suppose that’s not surprising, given the circumstances.”

  I knew what he was referring to. Most Aretes had to learn their magic bit by bit after Restarting. I’d been granted access to all of it at once. It didn’t surprise me that I couldn’t control it. It did disappoint me, however.

  He stepped aside, nodding to the men who surrounded the chair my mother sat in.

  “You may begin.”

  39

  By the time the Shadow Prophet’s men were done with her, she was unconscious. She’d been unconscious for at least five minutes. The last bit was for my sake.

  Who was I kidding? All of it was.

  This was the worst it had ever been.

  My
voice had long since gone.

  I’d thrown up several times from screaming.

  My muscles burned, cramping painfully and freezing in tightened positions.

  I’d rubbed the skin off my wrists and ankles where the wire tied me to the chair.

  I’d cried until there wasn’t anything left. My tongue was swollen and sticky. My face, too. I was so dehydrated, I was dizzy.

  The men finally untied her.

  Several women rushed to catch her before she fell and carefully placed her on a stretcher. This part, I was always grateful for. They tended to her wounds, making sure she didn’t get any infections, and inserted an IV to replace lost fluids.

  Completely spent, I slumped against the bands that held me, unable to feel the pain doing so would surely cause.

  I couldn’t feel anymore.

  I couldn’t feel hatred.

  I couldn’t feel the need for revenge.

  I couldn’t even feel my heart beating.

  Nothing was there.

  “Abel. Look at me,” the Shadow Prophet said.

  His words entered sluggishly into my brain, but they didn’t compute.

  “Look at me!”

  He grabbed me by the chin and jerked my head up.

  My eyes focused on his ugly face.

  “Do you know how to prevent this from happening ever again? Do you? Kill her. And I will let your mother go. Finish your contract, and you will be free.”

  He released me, and my head dropped.

  “I won’t give another warning, Abel. I will kill her and your mother as you watch.”

  The Shadow Prophet left the room. My bands were cut, and I slumped out of the chair, falling to the floor.

  No one paid attention to me—the henchmen turned on a TV and drank beer while watching a game. They knew I wouldn’t try escaping.

  After the nurses had cared for my mother, they came to me, bandaging up the wounds on my wrists and ankles. They hooked up an IV for me. They washed my face and put ice chips in my mouth.

  The nausea and dizziness went away as my fluids were replenished.

  But none of it mattered.

  I was going to have to kill Lizzie.

  There was no way around it.

  I loved her, yes.

  But I loved my mom more.

  Porter had been my last chance. My last shot, literally. And I couldn’t stand seeing my mother tortured like that again.

  I knew truth when I heard it—the Shadow Prophet wasn’t lying. If I tried anything else, my mother and Lizzie would be dead. I had no other options.

  At least, if I killed Lizzie, it would be quick and painless.

  And so, once the nurses proclaimed me good, I kissed my still-unconscious mom on the forehead, promising her that her suffering would be over soon.

  I was going to finish my job.

  40

  As I drove down the highway, I watched the sunset.

  It was beautiful.

  Brilliant colors streaked across the sky, tingeing everything with reds and pinks and yellows and oranges.

  For the first time in well over a year, I felt peace.

  It was time to say goodbye to Lizzie.

  I would give the Shadow Prophet what he needed from these last two targets.

  I would make sure my mom was safe.

  And then I would turn myself in. Because I would rather spend the rest of my lifetime in prison than disobey the Shadow Prophet and watch my mother be tortured again.

  I knew better than to think the pain wouldn’t return. I had to kill Lizzie while I was dead inside.

  While I still couldn’t think. While I still couldn’t feel.

  And so, I drove toward Lehi, Utah.

  With one goal in mind.

  ###

  Evening Storm, Midnight Chronicles Book Two is available. Grab your copy now!

  If clicking the button above doesn’t work, go here: http://andreapearsonbooks.com/myfreebooks.html

  Note from the author:

  This has seriously been the hardest book I’ve ever written. So complex - lots of moving parts - and so many emotions! I hope you enjoyed it. His story is going to be a wild ride, and I can’t wait to delve into it with you. Evening Storm, Midnight Chronicles Book Two is available here, and if you scroll down, you can grab all the rest of the books in the Midnight Chronicles.

  Thank you for taking this journey with me.

  If you haven’t already, check out The Shade Amulet, the first book in Lizzie’s completed series. Shadow Prophet covers the same timeline, but it’s a very different story. Compare this book to hers and read how Lizzie sees Abel during those dark times. I think you’ll love it.

  Hope you’re having a great day,

  Andrea

  About the Author

  Andrea Pearson, author of several series including the Kilenya Chronicles and Mosaic Chronicles, lives with her husband and children in a small valley framed with hills. She graduated from Brigham Young University with a bachelor of science degree in Communications Disorders.

  Andrea spends as much time with her husband and daughter as possible. Favorite activities include painting, watching movies, collecting and listening to music, and discussing books and authors.

  Connect with her Online:

  Facebook

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  Join her readers group for news on upcoming releases

  (She values your privacy and doesn’t sell or misuse email addresses)

  Books by Andrea Pearson

  Mosaic Chronicles:

  Discern

  Praxis

  Perceive

  Observe

  Reclaim

  Conceal

  Obscure

  Enshroud

  Withhold

  Forsake

  The Kilenya Chronicles:

  Forsaken Prince

  Ember Gods

  August Fortress

  Rise of Keitus

  Eyes of the Sun

  Golden Symbol

  Kilenya Romances:

  Samara

  Midian

  Koven Chronicles:

  The Shade Amulet

  The Black Masquerade

  Temple of Flames

  Crimson Hollow

  Forbidden Knowledge

  Demon of Darkness

 

 

 


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