Etheria (The Halo Series Book 1)

by Melody Robinette

  Etheria

  Melody Robinette

  Copyright 2017 by Melody Robinette

  All rights reserved.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This story is a work of fiction. Names characters, places and incidents either are the product of my imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover illustration and jacket design by Natasha Snow

  Editing by Kressa Melander

  Available in ebook and paperback

  http://www.melodyrobinette.com

  For my dad. Thanks for raising a lion.

  Contents

  FREE BOOK When You Sign Up for My Newsletter

  Destined to Fall

  1. One

  2. Two

  3. Three

  4. Four

  5. Five

  6. Six

  7. Seven

  8. Eight

  9. Nine

  10. Ten

  11. Eleven

  12. Twelve

  13. Thirteen

  14. Fourteen

  15. Fifteen

  16. Sixteen

  17. Seventeen

  18. Eighteen

  19. Nineteen

  20. Twenty

  21. Twenty-One

  22. Twenty-Two

  23. Twenty-Three

  24. Twenty-Four

  25. Twenty-Five

  26. Twenty-Six

  27. Twenty-Seven

  28. Twenty-Eight

  29. Twenty-Nine

  30. Thirty

  31. Thirty-One

  32. Thirty-Two

  33. Thirty-Three

  34. Thirty-Four

  35. Thirty-Five

  36. Thirty-Six

  37. Thirty-Seven

  38. Thirty-Eight

  39. Thirty-Nine

  40. Forty

  41. Forty-One

  42. Forty-Two

  ECHO

  More from Melody Robinette

  FREE BOOK When You Subscribe to My Newsletter

  About the Author

  FREE BOOK When You Sign Up for My Newsletter

  Today when you sign up for my mailing list, I will send you a link where you can download my YA contemporary fantasy novel set in Alaska, Dream Snatchers, FREE!

  Destined to Fall

  Once upon a long, long time ago...an angel named Lucifer fell, quite literally, from grace. There is a common misconception of angels being perfect, which may lead one to believe Lucifer was simply an anomaly.

  This belief is wrong. For, Lucifer was only the first—made infamous by Bible and horror stories alike. No doubt, he was the most powerful, hence his cozy home in Hell.

  This could be the end of the story of good and evil. But what sense would that make? Do angels not still have thoughts? Do they not have the ability to change them? To seek power? Of course they do. And one will.

  Soon.

  How could he not with a name like Caducus?

  Destined to fall.

  One

  AURORA

  Aurora Coel was no angel. She was no saint. She was no good girl.

  The Devil’s minions—AKA, the high school freshmen—she babysat could certainly vouch for that.

  Aurora trampled into Mr. Freeman's ninth grade English class, looking frazzled. Her golden hair was a halo of frizz thanks to the continuous drizzle outside, and the circles beneath her dark blue eyes matched the Seattle sky.

  "Sorry I'm late," she lied. She wasn't actually sorry at all. Either way, the students ignored her. Tossing paper balls into the trashcan, gossiping about Ashley Lebowitz's new boyfriend, and doodling on their notebooks—all while keeping up a constant stream of text messages.

  Aurora let the bag snaking off her shoulder fall to the floor behind the teacher's desk, scanning the scribbled note Mr. Freeman had left for her.

  Dear Sub,

  Thank you so much for helping me out today. We have just finished reading “The Diary of Anne Frank.” I have left the video for them to watch. If you have any behavior issues feel free to send them to the office. Let me know if you have any problem students. Thanks again!

  Bob Freeman

  Thank God, Aurora thought, a movie. All she had to do was pop it in the ancient DVD player. No pretending to be a teacher for the day. Because, let’s face it, she was just a glorified babysitter who scrolled through Pinterest until the bell rang. But first, she had to take roll.

  Her eyes scanned the list of students with a growing sense of dread. This was not the first time reading some of these names. Matthew Renwick—pothead. Josh Truman—pervert. Kelly Stevens—blonde airhead who says ridiculously absurd things and makes borderline racist comments. The rest of the students were hardly better.

  "Okay, guys. Settle down. I need to take roll.” Aurora kept her eyes on the class roster—it was best not to make direct eye contact with teenagers unless absolutely necessary. The chatter did not cease. She cleared her throat, impatiently. Still, no change. Sighing deeply, she decided to resort to her almost always effective death glare.

  Dark eyes flicked up from the roster, piercing each student with a gaze that could summon Lucifer himself from the pits of Hell. She could practically feel the fire and brimstone burning within the depths of her eyes. Slowly...the class shut up.

  “As I was saying,” Aurora said, drawing out each syllable.

  A few students whispered something behind their hands, and Aurora's blood grew hot. Her mother regularly said this job would be the death of her. Taking a Zen breath, she called off the names on the paper, giving them only a handful of seconds to say, "Here." She called them by their surnames, because most of their first names were either too difficult to pronounce, or they didn't even look like a proper name in the first place.

  Something must have happened in the late nineties, causing the parents of these poor children to suddenly lose the ability to spell correctly. Now, apparently, Taylor was spelled Teiler, and Destiny was Destyne.

  As she called off the surname West—whose first name was Zakkery—one boy interrupted her.

  “Oh, Zakkery’s deaf, Miss.”

  Aurora looked up, her eyes first going from the boy who spoke—a kid who clearly thought he was the coolest thing in Edgemont High with his over-gelled hair and overwhelming stench of cologne—to the boy whose name she'd just called. Zakkery. The, supposedly, deaf student. He also just so happened to be a kid she'd had in class last week. Aurora remembered him because she'd sent him to the office…for talking too much.

  Aurora feigned shock. "Is that so?"

  "Yeah," the cool kid answered. "He only understands big hand gestures, and sometimes, if you yell, he can hear you then, too."

  A few of the girls in the class giggled. Many amused glances were exchanged.

  Were the other substitutes really that dense?

  Aurora played along. "Interesting. Wonder why Mr. Freeman failed to include that in his notes. You know, let me go ahead and call the office to see just what I need to do to better serve this student. My mom is a special education teacher, and I know how important it is to follow protocol when it comes to students with special needs."

  As she moved towards the classroom phone, a few kids shot angry whispers at the cool kid and Zakkery.

  "Okay, okay!" Zakkery burst out. "Sorry, Miss. We were just kidding. I'm not deaf."

  "No kidding," Aurora said, with a satisfied smile. She signed the roster and handed it to the textbook nerd of the
classroom—glasses, tight ponytail, terrified expression. "Take this to the office for me, please."

  The girl squeaked a nervous response and rushed out the door with the scurrying gait of a small rodent. Poor thing. High school was probably miserable for her.

  "Aw, man. I could have taken the roster to the office for you, Miss!" Zakkery exclaimed, sounding genuinely put out about not being the chosen one.

  "And returned half an hour later with a greasy bag of fast food you magically acquired on your way back to class?" Aurora asked. A few kids shot amused glances back at Zakkery. "By the way, my name is Ms. Coel. Not Miss."

  “Was that Ms. or Mrs.?” a boy in the back row asked, grinning slyly at his friends.

  “Ms.," Aurora stated. "Anyway—"

  "So, you aren't married?" another boy interrupted.

  "No, you idiot," a dark-haired girl in front of them said before Aurora could answer. "She's only, like, twenty."

  "Twenty-five," Aurora muttered, eyes rolling to the tiled ceiling.

  “My mom was married when she was twenty,” another girl said.

  "Well, that's because your mom is a—"

  "Okay!" Aurora shouted over them. "As I was saying. Some of you have had me before, so you should know I don't care if you text, or listen to music, or whatever, as long as you don't open your mouths. Your pitchy voices give me a headache."

  A few students looked mildly offended by this, but the rest were too busy pulling out their iPods and iPhones and iWhatevers to care.

  "Gah, the Holocaust was so sad," Kelly Stevens said as the movie began playing. "I mean they made them cut off all of their hair. That would suck.”

  Aurora shot the girl an incredulous glare.

  "What?" Kelly shrugged. "It would suck.”

  Aurora pursed her lips and returned to Mr. Freeman's desk before she said something she’d regret.

  The talk had already started up again. Only the goody-goody students were even attempting to pay attention to the movie. Kelly Stevens let out a high-pitched laugh at something one of the boys said, and Aurora pinched the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut.

  Two more months. Just two more months until Christmas break. Then I can find a job as a barista, or a librarian, or a stripper, or something.

  A wad of paper connected with her temple. Aurora's eyes flew open. A group of boys near the back cackled like a pack of inbred hyenas.

  “Sorry, Miss,” one of them said insincerely.

  Eyes of blue fire narrowed to thin slits. "If you do that again, I'm sending your ass to the office." A few kids gasped at their substitute's use of the “A” word. “Oh, shut up,” Aurora said, already past the end of her rope. “If that’s the worst word you’ve heard in your life, then you’re more sheltered than a preacher’s daughter.”

  “I am a preacher's daughter," a chubby redhead at the front of the class stated.

  Aurora looked over at her. “The word ass is in the Bible, honey. Look it up."

  "Now tell me again why you were fired," Aurora's mother, Anne, asked, handing over a plate of chicken casserole.

  She pushed the food away, folding her arms on the kitchen bar. "I said the word ‘ass.'"

  Anne raised an eyebrow. “That’s all?”

  "And, I may have told a preacher's daughter the word ‘ass' is in the Bible... I may have also suggested she look it up," Aurora added reluctantly.

  Anne dropped the serving spoon she was holding. It landed with a splggh in the casserole. "Aurora Grace! I did not raise you to speak like that."

  "Strangely enough, people start to develop a mind of their own once they leave the womb," Aurora said, changing her mind about the casserole and taking a mouthful. It was cheesy and comforting. Fattening things always are.

  Aurora's adoptive brother ambled into the room then. Her mother taught middle school students with severe and profound disabilities. A few years ago, one of her students was about to be taken away from his neglectful parents and put into a home. Anne offered to adopt him. Daniel was an eleven-year-old boy then. Now, he was sixteen and much larger than both Anne and Aurora.

  "Oh?" Daniel handed Aurora a toy sheep that sang children's rhymes. She pressed the button to make the song play again. Daniel walked happily back into the living room, climbing onto the sofa with sheep in tow.

  “Daniel, dinner’s ready,” Anne called after him. “You want to give me that toy so you can eat?”

  "Nuh." Daniel hunched over his toy, so Anne couldn't get to it.

  "That's fine, Danny. I'll just eat your food," Aurora sang over her shoulder. Daniel's head popped up at this. "Mmmm. So good."

  “Uh!” Daniel dropped his toy and ambled into the kitchen to save his food.

  "So, what're you going to do for a job now?" Anne asked Aurora, setting Daniel's food in front of him.

  "I dunno." Aurora shrugged. "Maybe a barista or something."

  “But, hun, you hate serving people. Remember how that Mexican food restaurant fired you for yelling at a customer?”

  Anne handed Daniel a spoon. He had no interest in using a spoon, though, and instead grabbed a handful of casserole, stuffing it in his mouth.

  “They tipped me thirty-six cents and wrote me a note on a napkin that said ‘quit, ASAP.’”

  “Well, maybe you could find a substituting job at a different school district,” Anne suggested.

  "Hell no," Aurora scoffed. "High school kids are spawns of Satan. They were sent to this Earth to torment and torture substitutes."

  Anne chuckled. “Really, Aurora. You need to be more positive. Your life is blessed.”

  Aurora rolled her eyes. “Sorry, Mom. I’m not an angel, like you. I choose to see the world as it is.”

  “You’re a pessimist.”

  “I’m a realist,” Aurora corrected, carrying her empty plate to the sink.

  "Maybe you just need a man," Anne suggested, forking a glob of casserole directly out of the serving dish.

  Aurora pulled a face. "Please. Men are right below high school brats on my shit list."

  "So, become a lesbian," Anne suggested, matter-of-factly, through her mouthful of casserole.

  “Girls suck, too.”

  “Basically the whole world sucks, then?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Oh!” Daniel exclaimed suddenly, looking in Aurora's general direction with his cloudy blue eyes.

  “Except for you, Danny,” Aurora said, smiling at her brother in a way she never smiled at anyone else. “You’re the best boy in the world.”

  "Well, I don't know what to tell you then, hun. Maybe this junk mail will help." Anne tossed a pile of envelopes before Aurora.

  “Oh, thanks. This will surely fix everything,” Aurora said, her voice saturated with sarcasm, as she shuffled through the mail. “How do I qualify for a credit card when I haven’t had a stable job thus far in my life?”

  Aurora chucked aside the credit card application, along with a couple of pizza coupons before her hand froze on a thick silver envelope with a shimmering underlay. The letter was addressed to Ms. Aurora Grace Coel in looping letters. There was no return address.

  Flipping the envelope over, she found a black wax seal pressed with an intricate emblem. Running the pad of her finger over the rough grooves of wax, Aurora tried to make out the details of the stamp. An anchor tilted on its side. And, some sort of small bird—a dove, maybe—perched at the top with outspread wings.

  Anne paused in eating and peered over the bar at the envelope in Aurora’s hands. “What’s that?”

  "No clue." Aurora gently broke the seal, opening the iridescent envelope to reveal the contents within.

  She pulled out a small, crisp note which read:

  Aurora Coel,

  Your journey is about to begin. Find enclosed your all-expenses-paid ticket aboard the grand ship, Etheria, for seven days. The ship leaves at 7 o’ clock on the evening of October 7, 2017. Prepare yourself for a voyage you will not soon forget.

  Rat
her than a signature, a stamp of the same emblem from the wax decorated the bottom of the page in royal blue ink. Aurora's eyebrows knit together. She peered into the envelope and pulled out two slips of paper—each a different shape and size. The first was an airplane ticket from Seattle to Juneau, Alaska.

  “Alaska?" Aurora murmured to herself before examining the second item in her hand: a stiff silver paper with yet another anchor emblem stamped on the back, and the word “Etheria” written in swirling white script.

  "Is that an airline ticket?" Anne tilted her head to the side.

  Aurora held up one of the papers. “And a ship ticket.”

  “A ship ticket?” Anne looked befuddled. “Like a cruise ship?”

  "Guess so."

  “Well, that’s ridiculous. Do you even know who sent it?”

  Aurora checked the front again. “Doesn’t say.”

  "Just throw it away with the rest of the junk mail," Anne said as she cleared Daniel's plate, carrying it to the sink.

  Aurora moved to toss the envelope and tickets onto the pile of discarded mail, but something stopped her. Turning the ship's ticket over, she traced a finger along the slightly raised letters.

  Etheria.

  She looked up at her mom, busy running hot water over the dishes. Then, quietly, she silently slipped the silver envelope into her back pocket.