Birthrights

by Butler, Christine M.

  Birthrights

  Book One of The Awakening Trilogy

  Christine M. Butler

  and

  Jennifer L. Oliver

  ***

  Birthrights

  Christine M. Butler and Jennifer L. Oliver

  Copyright © 2010 Christine M. Butler

  Book Cover art © 2011 Christine M. Butler

  Smashwords Edition

  ***

  Disappearances & Discoveries

  Caislyn had been reading the newest best-seller that she grabbed from downstairs in her family's bookstore, Hidden Dimensions, when she nodded off. At first her dreams were filled with thoughts of Jack Kanon's loss and his travels to find his daughter's killer, but soon the images in her dream began to swirl together like a watercolor that had been submerged. Images grew darker and then as they began to clear she found herself in the bookstore downstairs. Of course, she wasn't physically there, she was seeing Hidden Dimensions as if she were floating above it all, watching the drama unfold.

  Vesta whispered to Mac, “This is it, we've found it.”

  “Vesta,” Mac started to say to his wife as he looked toward the front door of Hidden Dimensions, “they're here.” Caislyn watched as her father began chanting incantations to set powerful wards of protection on the book store, concentrating most of his energy on the upstairs apartment.

  Vesta began an incantation of her own. Whispering the words under her breath, Vesta flicked her wrist toward her assistant Melina, throwing her weight behind the spell. Melina was caught up in a cyclone of power and thrown from the store by the force of Vesta's will and the power of her words. As soon as Melina was clear of the place the doors slammed shut once more. Vesta took one last glance over at her husband who was still busy setting wards, then she took her athame from a special pouch that hung about her waste. The silver of the ceremonial dagger glinted in the soft light of the book store. The jeweled handle that held a sapphire moon sparkled dimly, in search of the right light to present itself in all it‘s glistening glory. Vesta poked the sharp tip into the middle of her index finger letting fly a droplet of blood before she held it over the book that was still sitting in front of her, as she began to softly chant once more.

  “Revealed only to the blood of my blood, seen only through her eyes. Secrets remain hidden until a need arise. Away you go to lands afar, a house in the hills, behind the scar. Blessed be this book of ours, hidden amongst a house of charms, until powers overcome their binds, truth be kept, for her to find.”

  With a touch of her finger and a droplet of her blood the book disappeared from the room in a quick, bright, flash of light. Vesta looked to her husband as he walked toward her, putting himself between her more fragile body and the front door just seconds before it imploded on them allowing an army of dark robed figures to pour through into the store.

  Caislyn watched as both Vesta and Mac flew across the room, thrown by a magic pulse that knocked them off their feet and left Mac crouching protectively over Vesta. “Don't fight,” he whispered to his wife with a look of confusion. “It's not who we thought, they were here for something else.”

  “The book?” Vesta questioned, but not in time to hear the answer. Caislyn was aware of the torment on her mother's face as she watched her husband fly through the air, landing on the opposite side of the store. A bookshelf exploded beneath him in a flurry of loose pages and bindings. Tears streamed down Vesta's cheeks as one of the robed figures bent over her and placed a metal collar around her neck and shackles around her wrists. Caislyn caught the look in her mother's eye as Vesta let her head hang against the thick metal collar cutting off the oxygen supply to her brain. She drooped limply in the arms of the robed man who had been escorting her.

  “This one's gone and passed out.” The robed figure shook Vesta a bit to demonstrate. As he did so, Caislyn watched from her dream state, as another man walked over to them and lifted Vesta's head, then her eyelids, seeing that she was indeed unresponsive he simply shrugged.

  “She's done our job for us, toss her in the van while we look for the book.”

  “Sir,” the man said in affirmation, as he picked Vesta up into his arms and carried her to the van. As the robed figure placed Vesta into the vehicle, Caislyn could see that her father was already lying unconscious and shackled in the van. “Make sure these two get knocked back down if they appear to be waking, we can't take any chances. I'm going back in to help locate the book.”

  The rear doors of the filthy, white van closed softly as the man who had taken Vesta backed away and returned to the store. Caislyn watched in silence as five men in robes searched tirelessly, quickly, and efficiently through every book in the store, until the man who had checked on Vesta came forward to the others.

  “They seem to have hidden it elsewhere.” He slowly removed the hood of the robe from over his head revealing locks of dirty blond hair that draped into his crystalline eyes. Those eyes were penetrating, as they were almost

  colorless. “It's not here at all, the witch has sent it off somewhere.” He looked at his brothers gathered around him. “Any luck breaching the upstairs?”

  “Sir, they must have had someone particularly adept come and set up security at some point. We can't breech the spells, nor the wards that have been placed.”

  “Yes, I sensed Fey magick, but I was hoping it was just a prankster residing in the shelves.” Those cool eyes settled on each of the brothers in turn as they removed their robes and tucked them into the brown leather satchels they all carried. “It's time to get back, we will report what we have seen and they will decide.”

  “What about the two in the van?”

  “They come with us. We will use one against the other until someone can tell us where the book is, and what they found in it.”

  It would be hours before Caislyn would awaken to find her parents missing from the apartment and the shadowy images from her dreams would come back to haunt her. Caislyn was an auto-sketcher, and oddly enough instead of sleep walking or some other embarrassing sleep ailment, she would sketch her dreams. She only sketched those dreams that would end up coming true. Caislyn immediately ran back to her sketch pad to see if she had drawn anything and there on the table beside the couch her worst fears were confirmed. Right on top was a sketched picture of her father huddled over her mother in the corner of the bookstore. Caislyn knew instantly that she had to get downstairs to see for herself. Her auto-sketching, while showing future events, did not come with a time line. Her hope was that it had not yet happened and she would still have time to warn her parents.

  “Let it have been a dream! Let it have been just a dream!” she kept chanting over and over to herself, knowing as she went that the sketch was proof enough that if it was not real already it soon would be. Auto-sketching was one of the gifts she had been given since early childhood. It came in useful at times, because usually the sketches appeared long before the incident that was predicted. So, if she didn't like how it turned out the first time, she could change things up. Though, she knew from experience that even though you change a small thing, it didn't necessarily change the outcome. The big events in life happen for a reason, and there really was very little you could do to stop it. You can change their purpose, even minute details, but the end result would always be the same.

  Caislyn rushed past the threshold into the downstairs bookstore that she had helped her parents with since she was a little girl. A whirlwind of memories assailed her as she remembered being five years old and running into the book stands with her big wheel. Her father, who had always coddled her, thought it was cute while her mother stood chiding her. Then she flashed to a few years later when she brought Eddie Montgomery home to meet her parents before the dance. She remembered the
sickly look on Eddie's face as Mac asked him what his intentions were for his daughter. She caught the wink her dad threw at her, even though Eddie didn't and the giggle that escaped her mom as she tried to look as serious as Mac. Another memory flashed before her of Vesta teaching her how to intone a spell with her voice alone, so that she didn't always have to rely on casting a circle and drawing power from it. Caislyn would one day learn the power of words, but it wasn't that day. She remembered Vesta upset with her for not catching on, but at the same time laughing with her when odd things came of her incantations.

  This rush of memories was nothing more than a ploy developed in Caislyn's mind to keep her from seeing the truth that she knew was before her. The bookstore was in shambles, her family was gone, and she was heart broken as she fell sobbing to the floor.

  ***

  New Beginings

  In the capital city of North Carolina, Jasmine Jaxon Delaney sat amidst the broken ruins of her porcelain angel collection her mother had started for her when she was a baby. She was aware that some of those shards were still nestled tightly in her flesh as the police officer tried talking to her. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to answer his questions, it was that she couldn’t find her voice. Everything seemed so muddled up and far away to her.

  “Get the EMT in here right now,” the officer shouted to his partner who was out of site, “I think she’s going into...” everything faded away from Jasmine as her vision began to darken and she felt herself falling.

  It would be a full day before Jasmine would regain consciousness, awaking in the hospital. She sat up too quickly in the squeaky hospital bed and felt nausea build up in the pit of her stomach. She waited out the moment as still as she could make herself and then slowly, she opened her eyes once more. Jasmine began to look around and take in her surroundings. “How the hell did I get here?” The question rolled off her tongue in a harsh sound that she didn’t recognize and her throat hurt with the effort. Slowly, she lifted herself up the rest of the way and glanced to the right at the mirror sitting there above the sink. She managed to get herself upright on her feet slowly. She shuffled the couple steps it took to get to the sink and there she hung on for dear life as another wave of dizziness and nausea rolled through her. Heat rose through her body right along with the sick feeling, making it ten times worse than before. Jasmine couldn’t take it this time, she began heaving into the sink, cursing each time as the movement jerked and pulled at her ribs. The bandages wrapping them did not stop the pain the heaving caused, which was compounding all her other problems. A nurse passing by in the hallway heard the commotion and walked into her room. She began chiding Jasmine immediately for being out of bed.

  “What on earth are you doing, child?” She tsked as she tried to put Jasmine back into her bed. “Girl, you don’t need to be getting out of that bed for a month. I don’t know how you were managing as far as you did.” She tucked Jasmine’s legs back up on the bed and under the covers. “I’ve been working here 15 years and never seen someone in your shape try to get out of bed, let alone accomplish it.”

  Knowing she would regret speaking once she did it, Jasmine answered her, “please, I need to see.” She managed to scrape out as she pointed toward the mirror on the wall.

  “Oh, sweetheart, I don’t think that’s such a good idea right now.” Where Jasmine was pale as a ghost this woman was dark as midnight with a nasty scar running from the corner of her left eye down to the bottom of her ear, ruining the otherwise dark perfection of the nurse’s face. She had a honey sweet voice that helped to put Jasmine at ease, “you just sit tight sugar. I’m gonna go get the doctor to come talk to you. The police are out here waiting on you to wake up too. They weren’t sure what happened at your place. If you feel up to it, I can let them know, or if you don’t I can get the doctor to stall for you a bit longer.”

  Jasmine could feel the sincerity in the woman’s voice. She knew she would do whatever Jasmine needed her to do and yet, at the mention of the police panic overwhelmed her. “He will kill me this time,” she took a breath trying to calm the burning ache in her throat, “if I say anything, please, help me.” If her raspy words hadn’t gotten the message across the frightened look in her eyes certainly did. Jasmine looked past the nurse to a cop who was watching through the door. “His friends,” she motioned to the door. The nurse turned to look and saw the cop taking interest in the fact that Jasmine was awake. “Please,” she pleaded.

  “Alright sweetie, we will get you straight soon enough. Give me just a minute to call the doctor in here.” Instead of leaving the room as Jasmine thought the nurse would, she pulled out a cell phone and dialed a numbered. She spoke in a hushed voice, but Jasmine was able to hear every word. “He beat her near to death, we gotta help her. No, of course he didn’t admit to it, he's a cop. They are saying something about a burglar or random break-in…” she was cut off as the person on the other line spoke a moment. Then the nurse with the honey voice spoke again, this time with a hint of desperation in her tone, “I remember being the one to wake up in the hospital.” She was quiet for a moment, listening to the person on the other end. Jasmine could hear the voice, but not well enough to make out what was being said. Something in her ears was still ringing. “Yes, I understand. I’m calling the doc now. We’ll get her set up, where can we meet you?” The nurse smiled toward Jasmine. “Okay, I will get her there. Thank you.” She hung up and made another quick call. This time it sounded like she was talking to a doctor. Within minutes one showed up in the room, fending off the cop who was still haunting her doorway.

  The doctor checked Jasmine over and marveled at how well she was doing, considering the beating she had sustained. Every bone, muscle, and piece of skin in her body seemed to be on fire, so she wasn’t sure why he was marveling at her ability to heal. Still, he was impressed and told the nurse, Angel - yes, that was her real name according to her, that she could transport Jasmine to her new room. He told the cop outside that he would have to wait until they got back from radiology before they could question her.

  As Angel wheeled Jasmine out of her room headed towards radiology, she explained that they wouldn't make it there. Angel waited until they were down on the first floor and passing radiology to explain what was happening. She told Jasmine that she was being transferred somewhere special to heal where the cops wouldn't be able to find her. Angel looked at Jasmine with tears in her eyes. “I was you, 17 years ago.” Angel pointed to the scar running across her cheek. “This isn't the only scar I carry, it's just the most visible.” She hung her head a bit as she continued, “I was saved by a woman who claimed to be a witch. You know, they were just coming out of hiding back then, so I was stunned by her revelation. She took me in and worked her magic.” Angel smiled down on Jasmine. “You see they already had an underground railroad type system in place to help each other escape persecution if coming out in the public eye stirred up trouble. When they didn't really need it, they started using it to help battered women. Some of them were like and you and me, just human, others were witches. They'll get you away, give you a fresh start.” She looked back down at Jaxon who was a bit on edge, “It will be a good thing for you. Many of the victims, like myself, go on to become counselors or to work in the medical field where they can help. Some are lawyers now, offering services, or running non-profits geared toward helping women who needed a fresh start or a place to hide out.” Angel saw the concern that was evident in Jasmine's eyes. “Don't worry none about those witches, child, they are a Godsend to people like you and me.”

  ****

  Six months after her escape from the hospital Jasmine was standing in her new apartment unpacking the last box. She looked over towards Sarah, who had hung around long enough to help Jasmine get settled in. “I’m going to miss having you around,” Jasmine said to her.

  “It’s always the hardest part of the journey, Jaxon. Just remember, you are now Jaxon Delaney. You were hired by an awesome art house here in northeastern North Carolin
a. You are strong, proud, and accomplished. Don’t ever let anyone take that from you.” Sarah hugged her as she had so many times along her recovery. “I’m never too far away. If you get down or lonely you can call. I’m just right down at the beach.”

  “Thank you, Sarah. Be sure to thank Angel and the rest of them for me too.” Tears welled up in Jasmine’s eyes. “I don’t know how things would have turned out if Angel hadn’t been there that day in the hospital. If they had made me talk to the cops, I would have been right back in his hands again.”

  “I know sweetie, just remember, you are no longer the weak Jasmine, you are the strong Jaxon now. Make it matter! That’s all the thanks any of us ask for. Changing your name makes it a little harder for him to find you again. Let‘s hope he‘s not looking. But using your new skills will keep him and others like him from ever being able to hurt you again.” Sarah gave her a final hug as she walked out the door.

  With Sarah gone Jaxon realized she was really on her own for the first time since her parents had died. She was going to have to make this work. She looked around at her tiny apartment and smiled. The best thing she ever did was get away from her ex-boyfriend, Rick. Jaxon was going to do exactly what Sarah said. She was going to make it all mean something. If that meant being the best damn art dealer she knew how, and one day being able to help support another victim, she was going to give it her all. She eyed the blades she had on the wall. They were only decorative pieces, but she knew how to wield the real thing now. Sarah’s brother had taught her well. Her knives would replace those porcelain angels her mother had collected for her so long ago, in another life. Jaxon didn’t need angels looking out for her anymore. She could rely on herself now and that was what mattered most.

  ***

  Casting a Prophecy

  A little more than a year after her parent's disappearance Caislyn was still running Hidden Dimensions, the book store her family had started just before she was born. Aside from not being able to give up on her family‘s dream, Caislyn knew she would need the income to fund her expeditions to find her parents. She believed with all her heart that they were still out there, still alive, and waiting to be rescued. The authorities had done next to nothing to help her parents. Even after twenty years of “other than humans” being out of the closet, so to speak, there were still a lot of misgivings in the police department about investigating a magical crime. The police force was still majority human because they didn't trust anyone magical not to tamper with the evidence at crime scenes. That was actually a good call on their part, as it had been proven time and again, non-humans could be a pain in an investigation. They could also be an asset and could have helped with her parents' case. As it would turn out, the police ended up ruining most of the evidence that other than humans could have collected and used for tracking those responsible.