The Book, The Witches, and the Doorway (Fated Chronicles Book 1)

by Humphrey Quinn

  FATED CHRONICLES

  VOLUME ONE

  Humphrey Quinn

  TABLE of CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  CHAPTER 41

  READ THE NEXT BOOK

  PROLOGUE

  Before we can be brave, we must learn what it is to be afraid.

  Before we can appreciate unconditional love and unwavering loyalty, we must first understand what it is to be hated, exploited, and cast aside.

  Before we can fight with the desire to win our freedom, we must experience what it means to lose it. Only then, can any of us ascend to greatness and truly appreciate what it means, to live….

  —Gracie Jane—The Last Oracle

  CHAPTER 1

  Colin Jacoby did not hear the morning birds chirping.

  He did not feel the black fly tickling his arm, or the cool morning breeze blowing through his wavy, bowl-cut hair.

  More importantly, however, is what he did not hear approaching.

  A fallen tree branch just a few feet away, snapped under stalking footsteps.

  Colin’s head jerked up. His book slipped from his hands falling onto the muddy ground as the color drained from his face.

  There was no escape.

  Toady number one blocked him from the right, while toady number two blocked the left, leaving the head bully blocking the pathway in front. A sheer granite rock towered behind Colin.

  “Hi –hi guys,” he stammered, putting on a fake smile. “I see you’re all camping here again this summer, too.”

  “Lucky us,” snarled the head bully bitterly. “Only thing good about it is gettin’ to pound on little kids like you.”

  Colin couldn’t decide whether he was more upset over the impending humiliation, or at being called a little kid. He was nearly thirteen for goodness sake!

  “If you recall,” he began, hoping to distract them, “I believe I am actually older than the three of you.” He laughed nervously after he had said it.

  The head bully was easily a foot taller and wider than Colin. The bully’s face boiled with rage as he furiously strode toward Colin, pushing him to the muddy ground.

  His two toadies pointed and shrieked with laughter.

  Colin, defeated, prepared for whatever was to come next: a mouthful of mud, a wedgie, or maybe this time, a black eye.

  Then he saw it!

  The thing Colin Jacoby dreaded the most.

  The silhouette of a girl dressed in black.

  “Not her too!” He let his face fall into the mud blowing dirty bubbles of frustration.

  The girl’s voice rang out tauntingly.

  “I thought I made it clear that only I get to bully my little brother?” She stood atop a nearby tree stump, her flame red hair blowing in the breeze.

  The head bully jumped back, startled, the smug grin dropping from his face.

  “Meghan Jacoby. H-hey. We weren’t doin’ notin’.” He backed up a few steps. “He fell on his own!” The bully scurried off, his two toadies at his heels.

  Meghan jumped off her perch with a satisfied smirk. “I should have just given him two more black eyes,” she boasted. She held out her hand offering to help her brother off the ground. “You can thank me anytime, Little Bro.”

  Colin stubbornly ignored the offer and dragged himself out of the mud. He collected his mud-ruined book and walked toward home. Meghan’s longer stride easily allowed her to catch up and she sauntered alongside him.

  “Okay. Fine. Don’t thank me.”

  Colin still did not answer.

  “Nice move by the way,” she continued, ignoring his brooding demeanor. Mockingly she repeated, “I think I am actually older than you… good way to get your head bit off, Little Bro.”

  Colin stopped abruptly, clenching his teeth. “I tried to block you."

  “Yeah, I sensed that. Why?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I’m tired of having someone in my head all the time, comes to mind!”

  “You think you’re tired of it! Your head is exhausting.”

  “Then why don’t you stay out of it?”

  “So you would prefer to have a face full of mud and your underwear yanked up over your head?”

  Colin stormed away as fast as his short legs would allow him. Was there anything more humiliating than his sister coming to his rescue? The fact that she was his younger sister (yes, by only two minutes, but still younger), was definitely so.

  He silently screamed in his mind, blocking his sister from hearing him the best he could.

  Will I ever grow?

  Ever?

  I’ve been the same height for almost two years.

  Meghan is easily three inches taller than I am! And she’s a girl!

  Meghan sensed her brother’s irritation. He blocked most of what he was thinking but not quite all of it. She knew why he was upset, at the same time, she wasn’t about to let him get hurt.

  He was small for his age. And often the target for bullies. More than his height though, she expected it had more to do with the fact that he was a total geek who always had a thick book in tow, like today. And more often than not, a book he’d already read at least ten times but just had to read one more time.

  As they neared their campsite, she did her best to smooth things over. “Look, Colin. We can’t help that we hear each other’s thoughts. Just try a little harder to block me out if you don’t want me to hear. I can’t stop from hearing it.” It did not have the helpful effect she hoped it would. She huffed, irritated by his severe stare. She just could not say the right thing. Ever.

  “I heard that thought,” muttered Colin. “And it’s not what you say, but how you say it.”

  “How I say it? How else is there to say it?”

  Colin ignored the question and stepped around her into their uncle’s travel trailer. Arnon Jacoby sat inside, tinkering on a broken toaster. His eyes widened at the sight of Colin, covered in mud, but before the words escaped his lips to ask what happened, Colin spat out, “Don’t ask!” and disappeared into the bathroom.

  “Don’t tell me those same bullies are back again?” Arnon said to Meghan when she entered a moment later. She nodded yes and sat down, helping herself to a glass of juice.

  “I wonder if I should have a talk with their parents.”

  “Yeah! If you wanna get him killed!” she scolded her uncle.

  “You’re probably right.” He rubbed the dark stubble on his chin, wrinkling his brow. How did he help Colin, without making it worse?

  “Don’t worry,” said Meghan. “I
won’t let those stupid bullies go too far.”

  Arnon dropped his hand and chuckled. He wasn’t sure Meghan’s help made it any easier on Colin either. And yet he knew she was right… if he made a scene and confronted the bullies, or their parents, it would only aggravate them even more. He’d have to give it some thought before acting on anything.

  “Oh, almost forgot,” said Meghan as she uncovered a slow cooker and stirred the contents inside. “I ran into Kanda on my way to find Colin. She’s coming for breakfast.” Meghan jumped and dropped the spoon into the slow cooker as a loud buzzer went off, startling her.

  “I thought for sure I had fixed that,” exclaimed Arnon.

  Meghan raced into the hallway opening the door to the dryer, instantly returning quiet to the trailer. “Well, it’s at least drying now,” she yelled, grabbing the clothes. She threw the laundry on the kitchen table and deftly folded each item, except for her own. She put away her uncle’s and her brother’s, but when it came to her own she simply threw them on the floor, on top of another pile from a previous load.

  Colin, fresh from showering, appeared in their shared room. He ignored Meghan, sulking his way to his dresser.

  Each twin had a tall bunk bed with a desk, chair, and dresser underneath. At the foot of each bed shoved into a small shelf, was a TV and DVD player. Colin had added another shelf, alongside the trailer’s wall, to hold his many books. Almost every one of them fantasy themed.

  Colin unhooked a curtain, which dropped and divided the room, allowing him privacy while dressing. A few minutes later, he pulled the curtain back, hooked it to the wall and started up his laptop to listen to some music. While waiting, he plugged in his ear buds. Before he could hit play, his sister sucked in a deep gasp, holding it.

  “What?” he asked, annoyed and not yet in the mood to speak to her. He heard the thought before she could say it. “Did you lose the locket?” His mood changed immediately to concern.

  Meghan pushed against her chest through her sweater, exhaling in relief.

  “Still there,” she breathed out. Meghan always wore the locket, for safekeeping. However, neither twin would have wanted to lose it as it had once belonged to their mother. The locket was the only possession of hers they still owned.

  Two vines, one colored black and the other gold, covered the outside of the locket, twisting around each other like a snake. The most confusing part. though, was that the vines had actual sharp, piercing thorns, which, when Meghan bent or moved just right, would pinch her skin. Over time, the occasional prick of the thorns had become a comfort to her, a positive affirmation that it was still securely hanging around her neck.

  Colin turned his attention back to his laptop but again found his thoughts interrupted. “What now?”

  “Can’t find my black jacket. Need to sew a button back on.”

  “How can you find anything? It’s all in a pile, and everything in that pile is black. Even the carpet it’s piled on is black.” He hit play, uncaring of the song or band, in attempts to block out the moans of disgust seeping into his own thoughts. After a few minutes of tearing through her side of the room, she gave up, leaving.

  A moment later, she yelled that breakfast was ready. As Colin entered the kitchen, Meghan gently pulled the earbuds out of his ears and ordered him to set the outside table.

  “Why are there four plates on the counter?” he asked, instantly suspect.

  Meghan smiled, blocking her thoughts, but it took him only a second to guess.

  “Kanda’s coming. Yes!”

  Meghan knew how much Colin loved Kanda Macawi, especially the stories she told around the campfire. It would also brighten her brother’s mood. As long as she kept her mouth shut and her thoughts to herself… she hated the stories. Well, maybe hate was too strong, but it was far from her favorite thing. Kanda’s stories were more like, and the moral of this story is… Colin always saw them like a puzzle he couldn’t wait to piece together. Another reason he was a total geek.

  They often swore they could not possibly be siblings, never mind twins. Other than being able to hear each other’s thoughts, and speak to each other through their minds, they had nothing in common. They didn’t even look alike.

  Uncle Arnon grabbed the coffee and juice while Meghan brought two slow cookers full of food out to the table. An enclosed screened room protected them from the thousands of newly born mosquitoes whose only purpose was to find their next blood-filled meal.

  Footsteps approached the Jacoby campsite. Meghan, Colin, and Arnon watched eagerly as an attractive middle-aged Native American woman strode closer. She wore a thin, ankle length sweater to stave off the chilly morning air. When she arrived, Uncle Arnon held open the screen door, allowing her entrance to the mosquito-free zone; he zipped it up hastily after she stepped inside.

  “My dearest friends,” she greeted. “Back at my campground again.” After hugs all around, she demanded, “What have you done with the real Meghan Jacoby? Look at you! On the corner of thirteen and growing like a vine.” She gazed closely at Meghan’s face, zoning in on an ocean blue gem in her nose.

  “Awesome, isn’t it? Uncle Arnon got it for me as an early birthday present.”

  “I thought,” started Kanda, in an I-told-you-so tone, “you were going to make her wait another year?”

  “You know Meghan,” replied Arnon. “She can be very… persuasive.”

  Meghan curtsied knowingly.

  “You will visit me later,” ordered Kanda, as Meghan rounded the table serving breakfast. “I’ve got something that will help the infection.”

  Meghan unconsciously touched the blue gem. It did hurt a little. How did Kanda always know?

  “I have to agree with the awesome part,” Kanda continued. “It matches perfectly with your eyes.” She winked mischievously and swept her attention to Colin. The boy whom would also be turning thirteen soon, but who had not grown a single inch during the last year. Or two.

  “My, what a good looking young man you’re turning into. Is it possible that you look even smarter than you did last summer?” She worded her compliment carefully.

  Colin’s face lit up. Kanda always knew how to make him feel better.

  She cast a gentle smile at Arnon and grasped his hand. “I’m sorry I was not here when you arrived last night. I had business that just could not wait. I’m so happy that you’re back, Arnon. All of you. I missed you all terribly.” Her gaze stuck to Arnon as she spoke it.

  His cheeks blushed as he showed Kanda to her seat.

  Meghan’s breakfast, was as usual, scrumptious. She had one slow cooker filled with pumpkin oatmeal, and the other with cinnamon bread pudding.

  In no time, their bellies were full and content.

  As they finished, a host of muffled footsteps filtered in from the entrance of Cobbscott Campground, their home for the summer.

  “What is that?” mumbled Arnon.

  A moment later, a large group of people came trudging along the camp road.

  “Gypsies,” determined their uncle with a stammer. The color drained from his face as he said it. The twins wondered why. They had camped alongside many gypsies during the years traveling with their uncle. He never cared before. In fact, he had many friends and acquaintances among them as they often ran into each other during repeat visits to various campgrounds and towns along their travel route.

  Kanda jumped up to greet the new arrivals. “My business that just couldn’t wait,” she explained to Arnon poignantly. “I must go, but I’ll be back soon.”

  Arnon heard her, but only barely. He stepped back towards the trailer, watching from the shadows as the procession marched by. The twins ignored his odd behavior, enamored with the people walking by. These gypsies were not what they expected. Different from any they’d met during previous travels with their uncle.

  They were on foot, for one thing. Each carrying packages or overstuffed suitcases. A few even carried large travel trunks, a person holding on to each end. Strangely, it didn�
�t seem to take much effort even though they looked extremely heavy.

  And they dressed as though about to hit the town, or go out to dinner. Very formal. And stylish. And considering they were on foot, their shoes were clean, new looking even. Some men wore polished winged-tips, with shirts that were bright and crisp. Some donned tweed jackets and caps. Or thin sports jackets. Many of the women wore similarly styled jackets that were shapely and of various lengths and thicknesses, covering up whatever clothing they were wearing underneath. In some ways, it almost looked like they’d stepped out of different time.

  The twins shuddered. Except for that guy… they both thought at the same time.

  He stood out near the back of the crowd. Tall. Stern. Spiky, colorful hair. Black tattoos that slithered out of his hairline, down his neck. And a ridiculously boisterous overcoat that was far too thick for the warm weather of early summer.

  A family of four lagged behind.

  The father shook his head and grumbled at his son, who apologized for dropping something. The twins guessed it was his suitcase, which he was holding together with both hands as clothes seeped out of its barely held together sides.

  The mother and daughter rushed to keep up. They were kindly encouraging a rather grizzled looking older man to hurry. He had a wistful smile on his face and trudged along behind them.

  “Cornell…” it slipped across Arnon’s lips in a barely audible whisper. He had a hard time taking his eyes off the old man, but the twins didn’t notice. They were too busy watching the young man and his popping at the seams suitcase.

  He looked to be around the twins’ age. A tall, scrawny looking boy, with long stringy hair hiding much of his face. But as he turned to speed up and join the rest of the group his gaze caught the twins’. Just for a brief moment though. He didn’t linger in it.

  Arnon dropped his gaze as Kanda met the travelers on the road and greeted them. She walked with them down the road, showing them to their campsites.

  “It makes sense now,” blurted Meghan, unexpectedly.

  “What makes sense now?” asked Arnon absentmindedly.

  “Why those gypsy wagons are always parked in the campground. They must leave them here, to use when they return.” Except for all their summers spent in this campground, they’d never once seen them in use. And this place closed down November through April. Perhaps they always came late summer or early fall, after they and their uncle had left.