Prophecy Accepted: Prime Prophecy Book 2 (Prime Prophecy Series)

by Tamar Sloan

  “What are you telling me, Mom?”

  “By protecting you from pain, I was keeping you separate, even isolated. Sure, grieving was painful, but you didn’t do it alone.”

  My whole face falls. “I’ve kept her apart; by protecting Eden, she never had a chance to become one of us.”

  Like the wise woman she is, Mom simply sits there and waits for my slow, pain-riddled brain to process the implications.

  “I need to fix this.”

  Mom slips her arms around my shoulders, leaning her head against mine. “Noah, there was a reason I named you after a great leader. A leader who built something beyond belief, with nothing but faith.”

  I envelop her with both of my arms, pulling her in tight and close. Words are a little hard to find right now.

  She pulls back to smile a little. “Totes awesome, right?”

  “Mom, you’re that and so much more.” I pull back the rest of the way. “I need to talk to her.”

  Mom stands, retrieving the plate from beside her. “I’ll put these in the fridge for when you get back.”

  Right now, I’d eat those with a grin and a thank you. “Thanks, Mom.”

  I sprint down the stairs to find Dad leaving the kitchen. He looks at me, registering it’s the first time my face isn’t twisted and blurred with pain.

  He nods. “About time.”

  I frown. “But you said...”

  “I never said I stopped believing in you.”

  My eyes widen. “You reversed psychologied me?”

  “Yep.” The ‘P’ pops like a bubble, showing his utter lack of remorse.

  It flipping worked, too. I grab him in a hug. “You’ve still got a lot to teach me, Dad.”

  Dad’s big bear hands give me three solid pats between the shoulder blades. “Less and less every day.”

  I head to the door, only to find Mitch there. It seems I have a gauntlet of goodbyes to get through before I can leave the house.

  His hand on the doorknob, Mitch smiles a smidgen. “Scared?”

  I finally acknowledge that feeling that has been slithering and sliding inside me since the day I found out Eden and I were bonded. “Yep.” I’m glad I don’t have to tell Mitch scared is an understatement. He can already tell.

  With a nod, Mitch opens the door. “That’s my big bro.”

  As I reverse the truck, I lay out my plan. Eden’s not at school, so there’s no point going there; so I head to the next likely place. At the Inn, Alexis’s shiny white sedan is nowhere to be seen. Please let that mean it’s in the garage. I knock on the door, wrapping false bravado and non-existent plans around me like an armor.

  I’m about to knock again, feeling a little tense at the prospect that Eden’s not here, when Alexis opens the door. She stands there, unsmiling, as she lifts an arm to grasp the doorway—effectively barring my path. Her perfume hits me hard. Whoa, why would someone wear the entire bottle in one go? Then my Were nose picks up what a human might have missed. The tannin laden, woodsy scent of fermented grapes. I look to the nails wrapped around the door jamb. It seems they serve a stabilizing function.

  “I need to talk to Eden.”

  “She’s not here.”

  My teeth are so tight and hard I have to squeeze my next words through. “Where is she?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Frustration, hot and urgent, has me tempted to step further into the wine-laden haze surrounding this woman. “Look, I know I’m not your preferred choice for Eden”—because I have a pulse—“but this is important. Please, tell me where she is.”

  Alexis goes stonier than her usual granite self. “I don’t know where she is. She left over a week ago. She didn’t tell me where.”

  “You don’t know where your own daughter is?”

  Alexis leans forward, eyes narrowed, as the smell of wine gusts over me. “Don’t you judge me.”

  I turn, a little disgusted, but mostly saddened. What mother doesn’t know where her daughter is? “I’ve got better things to do with my time.”

  I think Weres in the next county probably hear the door slam behind me as I head back to my car, but Alexis is out of my mind before I’m out of the driveway. Radar or no Eden-radar, I’ve got to find her.

  I decide to drive through town, knowing it’s useless, but doing it anyway. I drive past Tyrell’s, remembering Eden wanting to help with Seth, and me saying no. I even drive past school, knowing she isn’t there, getting to remember all the times Eden’s eyes asked for more, and I pretended I didn’t see it. When I run out of streets to comb I deflate. I can’t face going home yet.

  In the end, all roads lead to the Glade. Crossing the big, green and never-changing space, I approach the Precept Rock. I stand before it, reading the four lines I grew up with…the last line that changed everything. I stand like a person at a party where they don’t know anyone. Awkwardly, unsure whether to stay or leave.

  Eden and I could have made Prime Alpha amazing. Me with the Phelan name, the oldest, most respected of Weres. Carrying everything Dad and Mom have taught me about patience and integrity and the power of responsibility. Man, even the two years spent as a freak weren’t wasted. I’ve spent more time as a human than any Were. I know how precious a gift it is.

  But it’s Eden who’s the link from Were to human to nature and all the infinite connections in between. Eden is living, breathing proof of what’s possible by living in two divergent but complementary worlds.

  I need Eden. As the Prime Alpha, but far more as a guy who cries for his mate.

  Eden. I consider screaming her name, fracturing the oppressive peace, throwing birds up to the sky, frightening away any animal naïve enough to come close.

  But I don’t.

  Instead, I sink to my knees before the Precept Rock. I chant her name like a beacon, over and over and over. Knowing the whole time, that on that radar of ours, she’s not there.

  32

  Eden

  It seems Orin’s mismatched cottage is a haven for healing souls.

  He tells me the stories of each animal. Amadeus, the stocky brown dog, was found matted and flea infested, probably abandoned most of his life. It had taken three months before he let a human touch him. Treble (possibly named after trouble, because that’s what his tail means for anything at knee height) had been nothing but black saggy skin on bones. Diamond, the hissing feline now sitting in my lap, arrived on his own, his tears and scars telling their own story.

  And sitting in the overgrown garden, the spring sun trying hard to chase away my goosebumps, I talk, too. Knowing that I’m too far away for Noah to see my tears, to feel how painful this is. Allowing him to move on and take his rightful place. I talk like I’ve never unloaded before. Orin’s silent acceptance hears everything—Alexis’s emotional and physical absence, the constant moves to suffocating city after suffocating city, never fitting in, finding solace in animals, knowing that’s what set me apart. I tell him about moving to Jacksonville, the last place before I went to college somewhere far, far away. The river of tears dries for a few precious minutes when I tell him about finding Noah...falling for Noah. They don’t even start when I tell him about Kurt, Adam being shot, and breaking up. It feels good to tell him about calling the animals, being the one that turned the tide.

  But they pool hot and heavy as I know what comes next. I briefly wish for my hollow oblivion to return, because this is going to hurt.

  The tears never gain traction because the coughing rumble of a car punctures the quiet then slowly grows. When a faded sedan pulls into the driveway, bursts of rust blooming across the hood, I look to Orin.

  He rises from the patchwork lawn that couldn't decide on a uniform height. “What is the purpose of healing, if not to move on?”

  In the front sits a dark-haired guy, somehow familiar, but I can't place him. Beside him is an elderly lady. I'm not surprised when he heads to the trunk and pulls out a metal walking frame. I am surprised when he takes it to the driver’s side and opens the b
ack door. He helps a little girl, matching black curls in a jaunty ponytail, climb out of the car.

  The girl immediately sets forward, scraping the walking frame over the loose gravel, her frail body looking small in its enclosure. “Where is she? Where is she?”

  The elderly lady tries to catch up. “Now, Molly, let’s not forget our manners.”

  “Aw, Gran, she's just excited.”

  The moment he speaks, I recognize Dale, the perpetually absent biology student. But glossy black curls no longer covered by a beanie, and sinewy arms no longer covered in faded Goth black. In jeans and a t-shirt, Dale is barely recognizable as Dale.

  He sees me as they approach, clearly surprised to see me here. “Oh, hey, Eden.”

  “Hi, Dale.”

  Orin passes me to greet our guests he obviously knew were coming; his hand brushes my back before he kneels before the little girl.

  “Now, Molly, what do you know about taking care of cats?”

  “Well, Dale took me to the library, and we’ve been reading books every day. And reading on the Internet, and talking to Uncle James in Minnesota cause he has five cats.”

  “That's a lot of research. Are you all ready?”

  “Oh, yes. Her water is in the kitchen, and her kitty tray is in the laundry. It’ll be my job to look after her.” Molly’s curls bounce as she skips within the confines of her walker. “We’re gonna have tea parties and fashion shows, and I’ve already got her a stroller and special treats that smell kinda fishy, and I’m gonna read to her every night.”

  The need for oxygen finally stops Molly's excited never-ending sentence.

  Orin smiles. “Oh, she loves to read.”

  “Did you hear that, Dale? She loves to read!”

  “And how often do you need to feed her?”

  Serious eyes hold Orin’s. “Every day. Her bowl is in the kitchen, and her food is in the pantry on a shelf that I can reach.”

  “And what if you get sick or really, really tired?”

  “Mum or Gran, even Dale, said they’d help out, didn’t you?”

  Molly’s head zig zags between Dale and her grandmother. Dale chuckles, his hand coming to rest between Molly’s fragile shoulders. “Sure will, curly girl.”

  Molly wrinkles her nose at the pet name before turning back to Orin. Her voice is quieter, practically solemn when she asks again, “Can I see her now?”

  “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

  Orin leads the way into the cottage, and it shrinks the moment four adults and one child enters. In the lounge, Aria sits in the middle of the dining room table, like she knew she was about to receive guests. Molly sees her instantly, a little gasp sucking in then failing to come out.

  Aria stands, languorously stretching for her audience. She gracefully leaps from the table and instinctively heads to her new owner. With the wisdom and gentleness of an animal, she weaves between Molly’s ankles then rubs her head against the metal leg beside them.

  “Gran, Dale, she likes my walker!” Molly sinks to her knees, hands coming out to caress ginger fur. You can tell the moment we all become invisible as the two become absorbed in each other; Molly whispering animatedly, Aria purring contentedly.

  I retreat so Molly can have some time getting to know her new friend. Outside, Caesar and his two new best buddies race around the cottage to join me. I’m struck again by the lack of a fence, despite the domesticated zoo that lives here. I suppose this way lost, wounded animals can come when they need.

  I kneel, fingers rustling between Caesar’s ears. “Giving her some space, huh?”

  It hadn’t escaped me that they knew to stay away until Molly had gone inside. Behind me the door opens, and a moment later Dale joins me in the sunshine.

  He jams his hands into his jean pockets, shoulders relaxed as he smiles at me. “So, hope the family emergency is under control.”

  My lips try to smile back. It seems Mrs. Marple still managed to relay what little information she had. At least now that I've found someone who looks like me, the family part is plausible. “Yeah, I'll be back for exams.”

  I stand, hang-on-a-second bursting through my mind. “You’ve been to school?”

  Dale grins, and with those black curls glinting in the sun, the grey of his shirt, he suddenly looks kinda carefree. For the few times I've seen him, it’s a look he’s never worn. “Yeah, every day for two weeks.”

  I give an impressed whistle.

  “Yeah, it’s an alternative universe. Me going to school, you and Noah not.”

  At the mention of his name, my eyes shoot to the grass, the green stripes blurring as I frantically search for self-control. But then I look back at Dale. “Noah hasn't been to school?”

  “Nah. Biology is kinda lonely. And pretty confusing. I can’t keep up, even with Mr. D’s pace.”

  I smile, our ancient teacher talks, and walks, as if he’s in permanent slow motion. “Chapter seven of the text is your best place to start.”

  “Thanks, dude, will do.” I smile again, despite the clothes and hair, the essence of Dale remains. He heads to the car, pulling a pet carrier from the back seat.

  Caesar leans into my leg, and I pat his furry head as curiosity has me asking. “Why the change?”

  Dale stops, then resumes, slamming the car door. He puts the carrier down on the cracked concrete pathway, and stands to face me. “Dude, have you ever had a pivotal moment? A change or bust moment?”

  Like seeing a guy turn into a horse-sized wolf then attack your lab partner? Or maybe letting the one who built your world go…

  I swallow, knowing this pain will always be with me. “Yeah.”

  “That what you’re doing is actually the opposite of what you should have been doing?”

  I don't get a chance to respond, Dale is staring down the street, not seeing a thing. “Like maybe what you were really doing was running away?”

  I clasp my arms around me, pulling up a smile as Dale turns back to me. “That’s not an easy change to make. You should be proud of yourself.”

  Squeals of laughter tinkle from inside the walls behind us, Molly’s happy, girly voice not far behind. “Look, Orin, she’s like a scarf!”

  Dale gives a one shoulder shrug, those curls tilting to the side then bouncing back. “I was letting more than just myself down.”

  Watching Dale and his family leave, Molly’s arm protectively wrapped around the cat carrier she insisted was buckled up, lights a first flicker of warmth that gives me hope that life can be bearable.

  I settle with Orin back on the grass. “Molly and Aria look like they’ll be happy.”

  “We heal, we move on.”

  I frown, knowing Orin is no longer talking about the cat. “I am. More importantly, I'm letting him do that.”

  Orin angles his head in silent question.

  I stroke a piece of grass beside me, pale green base to dark green tip. It’s a quiet tone, a painful pitch, that tells Orin Noah and I have bonded. That he didn’t tell me. And why.

  With arms around Caesar I whisper, “Now you know.”

  Orin also seems interested in the blades of green by his leg, almost imitating my posture, probably digesting that Noah would have had to choose me over his pack, a life becoming a limbo between human and Were. That I could never have asked him to give up being the Alpha, a future without the legacy of children.

  Head down, eyes focused on the stubby emerald, he asks quietly, “Have you not learned you are far more than you ever imagined?”

  I feel my elbow give out, and I quickly sit up. “What?”

  “You are part Fae, the beings that are more connected to nature than anyone else. You are the daughter of a king.” I look away, not sure I’ve accepted that yet, or whether it makes a difference. “You are the girl who turned a Were through nothing but a connection.”

  And a good dose of fear. “Why are we going over this?”

  Orin gives up pretending he was interested in his lawn. Those earthy green eyes lo
ok at me. “There is self-sacrifice, and then there is putting others first because you believe you are less.”

  Stunned, I can’t find a response. What is more important than Noah being the Alpha of his pack?

  “Why would Noah choose you? Before calling the animals, long before you knew you are the Changeling daughter of a king?” Orin’s eyes grasp mine then spear straight through me. “Why would you be the one who changed him?”

  I frown; I've loved Orin’s tendency to be unpredictable until now, but all of a sudden this conversation feels dangerously out of control. “That’s a puzzle I haven’t been able to solve.”

  “I have. Tara and Mitch have. Noah knew long before any of us.”

  As Orin’s words refuse to be ignored, my heart begins a painful staccato in my chest. What is the point of all this? Is he trying to break me more than I already am?

  I try to look away, but Orin’s gaze doesn’t let me. It’s a traction beam of green and significance. “What could happen if you believed they would choose you? That this is possible?”

  Caesar is looking at me, doggy eyebrows raised. Not you, too. His mouth opens in a grin, canine tongue lolling unapologetically. Ramifications start to pile and gain weight.

  I flop forward, head in his fur, muffling my words. “I’ve done it again, haven’t I?”

  Unfortunately, Orin can still hear me. “Run scared, underestimated yourself and what you could mean to someone else?”

  I look up at my brother. “I was thinking of the first, but thanks for the list.”

  Orin smiles that serene smile of his. “Or lacked faith in a connection that has defied boundaries?”

  “Have you finished?”

  “I believe so.”

  I wait. But Orin doesn't contribute anything else. I look from him to Caesar. They are both watching me, ‘what now?’ expressions on their face.

  Orin’s question is still hanging in my mind. Like it’s grown claws or burrs or roots or something. What would happen if I believed?