The Elysian Prophecy (Keeper of Ael Book 1)

by Vivien Reis

  Abi listened, reaching out to touch one of the light purple stones on the counter.

  "Don't!" Myra stopped Abi's hand just inches from the crystal. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Crystals store energy but they can absorb it from any environment. Touching one without proper knowledge of crystal handling can leave a trace of your energy behind. It's like biting into an apple at the grocery store and putting it back." Myra had an apologetic expression on her face. "Sorry, I should have mentioned it before we walked in."

  Abi awkwardly wiped her hand on her pants. "How do you learn to handle one?"

  "In essence, you cast a thin wall between your limbs and your mind.” As if to prove her point, Myra picked up the purple stone Abi had reached for and turned it over in her hand. “Most of us carry it with us at all times, at least out in the real world." She set the stone down as Gertrude came back around the corner.

  "A thought stone for you, my dear." She held out a white stone and Abi looked to Myra before taking it. It was warm in her hand. "Keep it on your person anytime you don't want your thoughts broadcasted out into the world." Gertrude gave her a wink. "And the earth stone." She turned to Myra, who had a twinkle in her eyes.

  They gazed into the stone, suddenly unaware of Abi's presence. It was brown and quite ugly. She wondered if she was seeing the same stone they were, because they regarded it with such fascination.

  "What was it dated at?" Myra asked, holding it up to the light.

  "680 A.D."

  "Oh, wow. It's magnificent."

  Abi wandered, their excited voices fading to a murmur as she traveled deeper into the shop. A hunk of a crystal, the size of Benji, and appeared to be too heavy for one person to carry. Others were small enough to be as easy to lose as a pebble on the ground.

  Locked glass cases, filled with more than just crystals, lined the back wall. There were elaborate chains, and crystals embedded into pocket watches, hidden in pens, and lockets. It was like hippie spy equipment.

  Kneeling, Abi looked on the lower shelves, the pit of her stomach turning into a solid mass.

  The necklace. The one she had found weeks ago underneath the floorboards in her room. There was one very similar to it on the shelves, only with different metal work.

  The men had been searching for the necklace. It wasn't a coincidence. It couldn't be. Abi was about to call Myra over when she paused.

  Why would her mom hide the crystal? If she were one of these people, why hadn’t she asked for help? Given it to one of them?

  Abi grappled with who her mom used to be and the woman she grew up with. Was that same woman capable of keeping that stone a secret from both the Brethren and the King’s Army?

  What if all of it had been for the necklace? Her father being attacked, her mother going missing, her being kidnapped?

  But the man in the basement had never asked about a necklace. She had forgotten about it completely.

  She bit her lip, thinking. Everything was too new here, and although she wanted to trust the Consul and Myra, her gut told her not to. There was no real way to know who she could trust yet.

  She didn't understand how a stone could be so important, but her dad had nearly been killed to get it.

  Abi returned to the front desk where Myra and Mrs. Gertrude were still gazing down at the stone, mumbling things to one another and taking turns holding it up to the light.

  Making her way to the front of the store, her subconscious caught something out of the ordinary. Across the street, a man was comforting a woman, holding her tight against him. The woman's shoulders were shaking hard and her hands covered her face. She was crying.

  And she wasn't the only one. A man stood, his eyes red and streaked, staring up at the sky. Other people had paused almost mid-step with looks on concentration on their faces.

  People started to run.

  Someone shrieked in the distance. People hopped away, disappearing as others appeared nearby.

  "We need to go." Myra grabbed Abi's hand and pulled her outside and down the street, which was becoming more and more crowded by the second.

  "What's going on?" Abi's legs screamed, but her heart hammered in her ribcage as they moved

  The slight decline in their path made it easy to see over most of the square. It was crowded, people crying out, some staring off into space, most looking toward the hospital.

  They paused. Abi followed everyone’s gaze, not sure what they were looking at when a large group hopped at the foot of the hospital stairs, a cloud of dust dissipating until their bleeding and tattered forms were visible. Upwards of twenty people were huddled together, some carrying others as the onlookers Oracles jumped in to help.

  Myra looked at Abi. “There’s been an attack.”

  # THIRTY

  Ben’s phone buzzed, his untouched breakfast on a plate in front of him. He checked the message under the kitchen table to hide the tremor in his hands from Gran. It was Cora.

  I found something. Come pick me up.

  Gran was chopping vegetables and dumping them into a slow cooker for dinner, occasionally asking Ben generic questions about school.

  "I'm going to head out, Gran." He picked up his toast and wrapped it in a paper towel to take with him, depositing the plate in the sink.

  "Oh." She glanced at the clock on the oven. "You're leaving a little early."

  "Cora wants a ride to school. Her car's been acting up," he lied.

  "That I can believe. I'm surprised that clunker has made it this far at all. They just don't make them like they used to, you know."

  He put on his coat by the door and grabbed his backpack, sticking his head around the corner to the kitchen to say bye to Gran.

  "Bye. You drive safe. Radio said there might be ice on the roads," she called out.

  It was still dark outside and his breath fogged in front of his face as he opened the garbage can lid and threw the toast into it. The dry and singed smell had been too strong, and the thought of driving with it anywhere near him made his stomach tighten. He got into his truck, let it idle for a few minutes to heat up, and backed out of the driveway. The roads were spotted with patches of black ice so he took his time.

  When he pulled up to Cora's house, she was already waiting in the street. He stopped the car, and the pom-pom on top of her red beanie bounced up and down as she ran to the passenger's side.

  "I brought my computer,” she started, but her face scrunched up as soon as she closed the door. “What the hell is that smell?”

  Ben didn’t immediately know what to say, and fought the urge to do a sniff-check. Had he put on deodorant that morning?

  “Found some old food earlier. Sorry.”

  She continued, her expression not making it clear that she bought his story. “Anyway, last night I had been looking over this page, and I set my laptop on my vanity. When I got up to do my hair this morning, I glanced down at the laptop and noticed something."

  Ben pulled off on the side of the road and put the truck in park, waiting while she pulled her computer out of her backpack and powered it up.

  She rubbed her hands together as she waited. "This page," she turned the computer so he could see, "looks illegible and like a bunch of scribbles until..." She clicked a few buttons, and the image changed and then changed again. "You have to mirror the image across the vertical plane for some of the letters to make sense. See, this is clearly a lowercase T, and this one looks like a D."

  The handwriting was still illegible to him. "I don't see it. It looks like she just wrote random letters or something."

  Cora’s eyes held a spark. "That's because it's backward and written vertically. Look." She flipped the screen on her laptop closed, changing it into a tablet, and started circling chunks of vertical letters. Finally, she held it up for him to see.

  Mundi please please don't trust him he lies he's a liar.

  Chills spread down Ben's back. His mom had somehow written this section in mirrored and vertical text.

  "Your
mom is a genius, Ben. The rest of the pages follow this general pattern but in differing directions. Whoever this Mundi is, she obviously didn't want him to know she was writing about him."

  He stared at the page. "Holy shit."

  When had she done this? Was this when she’d first become sick? He couldn't imagine the catatonic woman he knew being capable of any of this.

  "I think we should skip school today, work on this and find out what your mom is trying to tell us."

  Ben shook his head. "Gran will find out."

  He was supposed to meet up for "tutoring" after school anyway. If he didn't show up to class, Mr. Flynn might stop by Gran's to check in on him and bust him for playing hooky. He didn't want to chance Mr. Flynn getting suspicious of his mom’s journal, in case it incriminated their relationship in some way. Ben still wasn't sure they hadn’t had an affair of some kind.

  "This is huge, Ben. We found her journal and decoded it! No one goes through all the effort to write like this for nothing."

  "Let's figure it out after school then. I can't skip."

  "Ben—"

  "No!" He gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. "This afternoon, okay? I need to talk to Mr. Flynn after school, and then I'll meet with you." He was losing track of the lies spilling out of his mouth.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. "You haven't told him about the journal, have you?"

  "Of course not. It's…it's hard to explain. He's just helping me right now."

  "No offense, Ben, but you haven't been yourself. We can't know you'll feel well enough after school to work on this with me."

  "Then figure it out yourself!" He knew the words were wrong, too rough and hoarse, but a part of him came alive as he said it.

  Cora glared at him and shoved her things into her bag. "Screw you. I'm trying to help find my best friend. If you're too much of an asshole to care about your sister then I will figure it out by myself!" She slammed his door so hard a rough crack spidered across the glass.

  She stomped down the street toward her house and Ben scowled as she left, feeling sick but awake for the first time in weeks.

  He shifted the car into drive, sliding on a patch of ice before his tires gripped the road. Something wet reached his upper lip and he wiped at it, drawing away bright red on his hand.

  Two drops of blood fell into his lap, the sound of it hitting his jeans loud in the cabin of his truck. He’d had a couple nosebleeds before but those were all from hockey. There were only a couple napkins in the glove compartment and he spent the rest of the drive pinching his nose with the napkin, the taste of iron in the back of his throat.

  The drive to school seemed longer than it should have and somehow he was late to first period, which usually warranted a tardy slip. Too many tardy slips and you could get detention. But Mrs. Applegate ignored his tardiness, making eye contact with him as he sat down.

  She continued her lesson.

  It had grown increasingly difficult to force himself to eat, so during lunch, Ben retreated to his truck and half-listened to the radio. He stared out at the trees. Yesterday he’d seen movement there, and he thought it could be Avery skipping class again. He hadn't seen the strange boy in a while.

  Ben hissed and looked down at his hand. A torn and bloody piece of nail dangled from his left index finger. He hadn't realized he had been picking at it.

  There were no bandages in his truck, so he tried to clean it up as best he could before going back inside. Students lined the hallways, either chatting or sitting near their lockers eating lunch.

  Mike appeared beside him and seemed in the middle of telling him a story when he pulled back. “Man, when’s the last time you showered?”

  Some kind of response left his lips, and then Mike was gone.

  A larger student bumped into his shoulder, hard, and Ben’s head pierced with pain.

  "Oh, sor—" The boy's words faded, and a darkness pulsed at the edge of Ben's vision. He turned his neck sharply and it craaacked.

  A strange clicking came from Ben's throat.

  “He did that on purpose,” the voice growled, and Ben's hands became fists.

  Ben lunged and someone screamed. He screamed back, tearing at something, dull pain telling him it was his own arm.

  “Where's the boy!” His vision was too dark to make out any of the floating forms around him, but they were closing in on him. He swung his arms, trying to keep them away, trying to clear his eyesight.

  His fist connected with something and the jarring pain felt good.

  Another person screamed and Ben was on top of them, on the ground. He bit down, ripping something away.

  Rough hands knocked him sideways to the ground, a heavy weight pressing down on his back. His arm was twisted behind his back, his face smearing into something wet underneath him.

  Stepping away from his body, he watched as it writhed underneath two uniformed men, twisting and shrieking unintelligible words, dark eyes empty.

  “Soon,” the deep voice whispered. “Soon we will be together. Soon we will be immortal.”

  Ben turned away from the scene and strode down the hallway, leaving his struggling body behind.

  # THIRTY-ONE

  "A linked message was broadcast to the entire island. There's been an attack on one of our offices outside of Elysia—a bombing," Myra yelled.

  They broke into a run as the crowd briefly thinned but had to push and shove through people as they neared the hospital.

  "The Vikars are making another announcement soon," Myra shouted over her shoulder. "We need to get you back to your hut."

  People yelled and others cried out, some in relief, most with pained expressions. As they squeezed through the crowd, Abi noticed each person who teleported nearby would pause for a while, stationary, as the growing number of people jostled them about.

  "What are they doing?" Abi yelled, nodding toward someone who looked catatonic.

  Myra followed her gaze. "They're listening in to the message. It's our Emergency Telecommunications Broadcasting System."

  They pushed through the crowd and set off at a run back toward Abi's hut. Her lungs burned and all the minor soreness she had felt earlier in the day magnified with each passing step.

  "Hurry,” Myra called. “They need every Healer they can get their hands on right now. They're macrohopping more injured into the hospital as we speak." Although she was running in heels, Myra appeared calm and poised. It sent chills down Abi's arms. This girl was only a couple years older than her and was helping people in ways Abi couldn't. She had a purpose, and it wasn't to ferry her around anymore.

  Abi grabbed Myra by the arm, stopping her. "I know the way from here. Go."

  Myra paused deliberating.

  “I got it. Don’t worry about me.”

  Myra nodded once before disappearing.

  Abi waited, listening to the sudden stillness around her. Echoes from the crowd reached her but there wasn't anyone on the trail with her.

  She was alone.

  The trees closed in on her. She took a deep breath, forcing her feet to move toward the hut, fighting the urge to run.

  Her ears pricked at each sound. You're safe here. You're safe here, she told herself. Calm down.

  When her hut finally came into view, there was a man waiting there. She didn't recognize him and the sight halted her steps.

  Bulging arms were crossed over his wide chest, and he glared at her. Close-cropped hair made Abi think of a Marine. The path behind him was abandoned. It was just the two of them there.

  "Abigail Cole. I'm Corporal Benning," he boomed in a British accent. "I will be your private instructor for the time being."

  Her eyes widened. This...thing was to be her instructor? He looked like the real-life Terminator. She hadn't known whom to expect, but she had imagined someone like Vikar Gowri or Roderick.

  Why had she insisted Myra leave early? She would know who this man was and whether or not he should be training her. Her feet betrayed her thoughts,
moving slowly toward the man.

  "The Consul has reassigned me as your replacement instructor. Ready to begin?"

  No

  “Replacement?”

  “Apparently your previous instructor’s talents are needed elsewhere at the moment.” Everything about the man screamed tension as if he didn’t want to be there.

  She didn’t either.

  "Uh..." Did he know she hadn't fully healed yet? She imagined him shouting at her to do push-ups and sprints. Her adrenaline pumped hard and she thought she might get sick.

  "I assume you have an Indian thought stone since I can't hear your projections. You'll have to remove it during our training."

  Great. Not only would this guy see how physically pathetic she was, but he'd be able to hear her whining about it the whole time.

  "Our first lesson will be brief. After the attack, the Consul thinks it imperative for you to know some vital defense tactics if something were to happen."

  "But I thought I was safe here?" Her question tapered off into a mousy whisper, and she grew uncomfortable as his tall frame loomed over her.

  "You are. But you won't always be here on this island. Unless you never want to leave..."

  She wanted to ask what exactly that meant. Had the Consul decided to let her go home early or was that blind hope?

  "Your stone," he prompted.

  "We're starting right this second? I mean, what about the attack?"

  He glared and Abi feared he might implode at any second.

  Right. Stupid question.

  "You'll want to sit for this." He motioned to the stairs.

  Her eyes narrowed and a tiny wave of bravery appeared just long enough for her to ask, "What kind of training is this again?"

  "Mental."

  She almost laughed. They had sent the most muscular man she had ever seen to train her about the mind?

  She fished the stone out of her pocket and set it on top of the wide handrail leading to her hut. She took a seat several steps up, not wanting the Commander to tower so high above her.