Forgotten (Guardian Legacy Book 3)

by Ednah Walters

  FORGOTTEN

  Copyright © 2015 by Ednah Walters

  Sale of the paperback edition of this book without its cover is unauthorized.

  Spencer Hill Press

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  Contact: Spencer Hill Press

  27 West 20th Street, Suite 1102

  New York, NY 10011

  Please visit our website at spencerhillpress.com

  First Edition: June 2015.

  Walters, Ednah

  Forgotten : a novel / by Ednah Walters – 1st ed.

  p. cm.

  Summary:

  Nephilim teenager has no memory of her life before waking up, and she must figure out the rules of a new society as she moves toward a destiny she doesn’t remember.

  The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this fiction: Barbie, Godzilla, iPod, Kewpie, Ping-Pong, Ritz-Carlton

  Cover design by K. Kaynak

  ISBN 978-1-63392-013-2 (paperback)

  ISBN 978-1-63392-014-9 (e-book)

  Printed in the United States of America

  FORGOTTEN

  EDNAH WALTERS

  SPENCER HILL PRESS

  ALSO BY EDNAH WALTERS

  The Guardian Legacy Series

  (Young Adult: Spencer Hill Press)

  Awakened

  Betrayed

  Hunted

  Forgotten

  The Runes Series

  (Young Adult: Firetrail Publishing)

  Runes

  Immortals

  Grimnirs

  Seeress

  Souls

  Witches

  Writing as E.B. Walters

  The Fitzgerald Family Saga

  (Firetrail Publishing)

  Slow Burn

  Mine Until Dawn

  Kiss Me Crazy

  Dangerous Love

  This book is dedicated to my fans. For those who are misunderstood and those who’ve overcome. Dream Big.

  A SELECTED GLOSSARY OF TERMINOLOGY

  Fallen angels: Angels sent to earth by God to protect humanity who strayed and intermarried with humans.

  Nephilim: Children descended from the union of fallen angels and humans. Guardians: Good Nephilim.

  Cardinals: Guardians with the ability to control energy, solids, water, air, time and psi/mind.

  Civilians: Guardians with limited abilities who support the Cardinals financially and by monitoring demonic activities.

  Hermonites/demons: Nephilim who can choose to be good or bad.

  Primes: Powerful demons with the ability to control energy, solids, water, air, time and psi/mind.

  Souled Demons/Neutrals: Demons and children of demons who have given up their evil ways and/or have no interest in hurting humans.

  Neteru: Nephilim who don’t have the ability to shift into other beings, form or sprout non-human body parts.

  Nosferatu: Vampire Nephilim.

  Werenephil: Shape-shifter Nephilim.

  Lazari: Werenephils that can shift into smoke-form.

  Nephling: Nephilim with one human parent or grandparent.

  Nature-benders: Nephilim with the ability to manipulate nature.

  The Brotherhood: Short for the Brotherhood of Guardians—Souled Demons who live in a closed community with their own chosen leaders, are peaceful, and don’t side with Guardians or demons.

  Chosen One: The most powerful Guardian, prophesied to unite the Nephilim.

  Kris Dagger: A powerful dagger the Chosen One uses to channel and

  direct his or her psi energy.

  Psi or psi energy: Psychic energy channeled by Nephilim.

  Alrunes: soul mates.

  Tartarus: The abyss where fallen angels and evil Nephilim can be sent.

  Alphas: Energy balls created by Cardinal Energy Guardians.

  Omegas: Energy balls created by ordinary energy demons.

  Omnis: Energy balls capable of great destruction, produced by powerful demons. Only one person can destroy them—the Chosen One.

  Teleport: Move from place to place by dematerializing and rematerializing. Telegate: An energy pathway left behind when someone teleports.

  Medium: A human psychic who channels communication between humans and Nephilim.

  Mimic: To shift and copy another being.

  Athame: a powerful dagger used by demons.

  PROLOGUE

  The Guardians were so close, I could feel their energies, yet their faces were blurry through the haze of my tears. Everything and everyone I loved was lost to me.

  Bran.

  I heard his thoughts. Felt his anguish, but there was nothing he could do, not unless he wanted to lose me forever. The Tribunal had made its decision—I had to live with my father, a powerful demon, for a year or give up my right to be a Guardian and protector of humanity. Being a Guardian was what I’d trained for over the past year, ever since I got my powers at sixteen and learned I was one of the Nephilim—part human and part angel.

  You will be fine, little one, a familiar, melodic voice said inside my head.

  I recognized Goddess Xenia’s voice. She, the goddess who’d charged us with guarding humanity, hadn’t stopped the Tribunal from handing down their sentence. Why? Because living among demons was part of some divine plan to prepare me to be the leader of our race. If this was my destiny, why then did I feel betrayed?

  Stay out of my head!

  A hand wrapped around mine and I turned my head. My sister Solange… No, my stupid, jealousy-ridden, evil half-sister stared at me. I hated her. All this was her fault. Her attempt to get rid of me and become the apple of our father’s eye or some stupid cliché had led us to this.

  I wanted to jerk my hand away, but fatigue washed over me like a sudden downpour. It didn’t make sense. Was Solange draining my psi energy—the energy that gave us life and supernatural abilities? Without it, we were nothing. Empty shells. I tried to jerk my hand from Solange but couldn’t. Tried to stop my eyelids from drooping but failed.

  Darkness wrapped around me, offering me temporary comfort, and I embraced it.

  Seconds later, I picked up on things—the soft pillow under my head, the warm wrap covering me, the birds calling through the window, and the crashing waves. But the most insistent and annoying were the voices.

  They demanded that I get up, eat, and communicate with them. I tuned them out and sought solace in sleep. It took away the pain and gave me dreams of the people I loved. I’d thought I could be strong, but I wasn’t. I was weak, scared, and angry. Maybe I would sleep for an entire year, like Sleeping Beauty, and only wake up when it was time to rejoin the Guardians.

  “If she doesn’t eat, she won’t survive, my Lord,” a female voice said. “We’ve tried everything, even the Kris Dagger, but it is not responding to her.”

  I wanted to laugh, but then they’d know I was awake. The Kris Dagger would remain useless until I held it. The power of the mighty weapon forged by Azazel, my ancestor and a Principality, was no longer contained in the blade. It was in me.

  “I wanted a daughter, not a corpse,” Lord Valafar bellowed. “Call every Prime Psi in the league. The Prime who can compel her to do as she is told will have untold riches and a seat in my court.”

  I drifted again. Hours passed. Or was it days? It didn’t matter. I didn’t care. At times, I was in a state of unco
nsciousness, not able to open my eyes, yet my senses stayed alert. Sometimes I woke up to someone trying to get inside my head.

  I fought back and screams filled the room.

  “Even unconscious, she’s powerful, my Lord,” the woman said. “That was the tenth Prime she’s reduced to a catatonic state. The rest don’t dare try.”

  “Throw them in the dungeons. Bring in Dante.”

  Dante. My protector. Could he really be here? I knew the moment he appeared in the room. His psi energy was familiar. There was a sewer-like stench in the air. Was that from him? He was a dashing guy with impeccable taste in clothes. I wished I could spare him, but I couldn’t afford to be sentimental now.

  “How dare you bring him to me unwashed?” Lord Valafar bellowed. “Clean him up.” I know you can hear me, daughter, he said, linking with me before I could block him. Your protector is a prisoner in my dungeons. Only you can help him. Stop being difficult.

  Using all my powers, I pushed my father from my head. He couldn’t fight me. I’d always been stronger than him. I wanted to open my eyes and help Dante, but I refused to give my father the satisfaction of manipulating me again. Like most Prime Psis, Dante was powerful, but I could still hurt him.

  I refused to link with him.

  “Little one, you must stop this,” Dante said. “You are a fighter. You’ve faced your worst enemies and survived. You can’t give up now.” I remained silent. “The entire Nephilim race is depending on you, Lilith.” Fight him, little one. Don’t let him win.

  Lord Valafar roared. Then there was a sickening thud. My heart bled for Dante, but there was nothing I could do for him now. I needed a plan. I had to survive this year. I just didn’t know how.

  “My Lord, what are we going to do?” the same woman asked. There was fear and doubt in her voice.

  “I need to consult someone,” Lord Valafar said. His voice sounded troubled now.

  Silence followed, and then someone sat by my side and gripped my hair. The pain radiated down my neck, but I fought hard not to wince.

  “Listen, you little brat,” a female voice snarled in my ear, her voice dry and brittle. “We worked hard to get you here, so do what you are told or your Guardian friends are going to die. We have Raphael on speed dial.”

  Really? She actually thought a threat would work on me? They didn’t stand a chance against the Guardians, and Raphael was out of commission, thanks to me.

  Her grip eased. The next second, she was stroking the same area of my hair. “Little princess, you need to stop this foolishness.” Her voice was back to being sweet. “You can’t win, not against your father. Please, give him a chance to love and guide you. That’s all he’s ever wanted.”

  I wanted to tell her to shut up, but I realized why she’d changed her tactics. My father was back in the room. Once again, he wasn’t alone. Sure that I’d scramble the brain of whoever he’d brought, I waited.

  The person didn’t speak and I couldn’t locate his psi energy, which was strange. I could find anyone’s energy. A weird suspicion worked its way into my mind. My eyes flew open and I saw him.

  Archangel Raphael. My worst nightmare.

  He grinned, light from the window making his golden hair look like a halo, his massive wings draping over his back like a cloak. The one I’d nearly chopped off was angled oddly against his body. I screamed and launched myself at him.

  At least, that was my intention. Instead, I found myself paralyzed. A sudden chill crept under my skin as though I’d been dunked in ice-cold water. I tried to lock onto his energy, but I couldn’t. My energy was being drained, my mind scrambled into goo. My eyesight dimmed and my chest hurt with every breath I took. I tried to find my father, to beg him to stop the archangel. Promise him to be a dutiful daughter. I think I did, but my hearing was gone. Then I was free-falling into a depthless void.

  PART I THE REEDUCATION OF LILFALCON

  -1-

  The covers were soft and warm. The need to linger and not open my eyes kept me burrowing deeper. Somehow, I knew things wouldn’t be the same once I opened my eyes. I don’t know how I knew; I just did. But I couldn’t shut out the world forever.

  Slowly, I lifted my eyelids and squinted against the glare. It was too bright and my eyes couldn’t focus, so I closed them again and tried to use my other senses to get a feel for where I was. I moved my legs. They were stiff, like I hadn’t used them in a while. The sheets were soft and felt good against my skin. I couldn’t hear anything.

  Was I deaf?

  Panicking, I opened my eyes again, slowly this time, giving them time to adjust. The first thing I noticed was the emerald-green bedcover. It looked expensive. My arms were weak and heavy, but I managed to run my hands over it. It felt like nothing I’d ever touched before. I turned my head to study my surroundings.

  Where was I?

  The bed was huge, topped with a lacy canopy embroidered with colorful butterflies. The room appeared endless. There was something weird about it, but I couldn’t put my finger on what. One wall had floor-to-ceiling mirrors; another had windows covered with green velvet draperies that matched my duvet. It was unnaturally quiet, though light poured into the room through the windows. The sheer curtains covering them fluttered gently as though blown by a breeze.

  I pushed aside the covers and swung my feet to the floor. Dizziness washed over me and my stomach rebelled at the sudden movement. I imagined throwing up on the white carpet and cringed.

  I waited until the nausea passed before standing. My toes curled on the soft carpet, but my knees gave way. I landed back on the bed and took a moment to catch my breath, panic surging through me again. Why was I so weak?

  I sat up slowly and looked around again. Then I realized why the room appeared funny. There were no doors. What kind of a room didn’t have doors? A tower?Was I a prisoner?

  I grimaced. Now wasn’t the time to have negative thoughts. I caught my reflection in the mirrored wall and frowned.

  The image staring back at me was familiar. Moss-green eyes. Long and curly hair of different shades of red, like the skyline at sunset, tumbled down my back to my waist, but it wasn’t long enough for me to wrap around the bedpost and escape out a window.

  Now, why did I think of that? Who was I? Why couldn’t I remember my name?

  Slowly, I got up. I was more prepared for my weak, unsteady legs this time around. Taking one step at a time, I moved toward the window. My pajamas…no, my nightgown was white and delicate, and frothed around my ankles. It didn’t look or feel like something I’d wear normally. I didn’t know how I knew that.

  My reflection on the mirrored wall drew my attention again. I was tall, maybe five-nine or ten, and skinny. Change that to too skinny. I could see my collarbones. The girl in the mirror didn’t look or feel like me.

  I giggled at my thoughts. Of course it was me, whoever “me” was.

  I made it to the nearest window and sank with relief into the cushions covering the wide window seat. Breathing heavily, I lowered my head until the dizziness passed. Such a short distance, yet I felt like I’d climbed a hill. I glanced out the window, down, left, then right, and finally up.

  I was somewhere near the top of a large and very weird castle-like building. It was carved on the face of a cliff, as though part of it was embedded in the mountain. The bricks were earthy colors and blended with the landscape.

  Nothing about the castle, the courtyard below—with statues, flowerbeds, a pond with water birds, and a gazebo—or the surrounding valley floor was familiar. The valley itself looked like something from a painting, with rolling hills of colorful flowers, shrubberies, and trees. Farmlands, except there were no roads or landmarks separating the grassy areas from the shrubberies and the trees. And there were no other buildings.

  To my left, sunlight bounced off a beautiful waterfall, and to my right were jagged edges of a mountain range. The scent of the sea was in air.

  As though someone turned on my ability to hear, I heard voices and the cla
ng of metal. I angled my head to listen, but there were too many people talking at once and I couldn’t see where the sounds came from. They grew louder and louder. I slapped my hands over my ears, but that didn’t stop the sounds. Then I realized why. The voices were inside my head. As soon as the thought crossed my mind, the voices disappeared.

  Okay, I was crazy and this was probably a nuthouse. Once again, I fought dizziness as I walked to the dresser by my bed and sat on a stool. I reached down to pull out a drawer and then realized there were no knobs.

  Weird, but considering the room didn’t have a door, not surprising. It was definitely a prison. A picture frame caught my attention. It sat next to lotions and creams and showed a different picture every few seconds.

  The images showed a couple and a little girl with red hair. Was it a younger me? The woman had black, curly hair and laughing eyes. The man’s hair color was similar to mine. They must be my parents. Others showed an older, not-so-emaciated me standing by the same man and a pretty older girl with pitch black hair.

  I reached for the frame and brushed against a purple crystal the size of a lime. Images like those on the frame shot from the crystal.

  “Princess Lilith. You are awake,” a high-pitched voice called from behind me.

  Startled, I dropped the crystal. Was the voice in my head?

  “You shouldn’t be trying to walk,” the voice added with concern.

  Okay, that didn’t come from my head. Relieved, I slowly turned. A tall, big-boned woman stood in the doorway that hadn’t been there a few seconds ago. Thick and glossy black hair hung to her waist. Brown eyes twinkled under her bangs. She was more handsome than beautiful, and her makeup was subtle, making it hard to guess her age. I had never seen her before.

  I frowned. So my name was Lilith. It didn’t ring a bell. Princess of what?

  “How are you feeling?” the woman asked, hurrying to my side. She wore a simple white dress inspired by ancient Egyptian fashion. Or was it Roman? It came to her ankles. The jewels on the belt around her hips caught the light from the window and threw splashes of colors around the room.