Beginnings: Last Prophecy

by Jennie Andrus

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

  2932 Ross Clark Circle, #384

  Dothan, AL 36301

  Last Prophecy

  Copyright © 2006 by Jennie Andrus

  Cover by Scott Carpenter

  ISBN: 1-59998-234-X

  www.samhainpublishing.com

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: October 2006

  Beginnings: The Last Prophecy

  Jennie Andrus

  Dedication

  For mum, fellow lover of all things moose.

  And with thanks to Kim Knox and Pollyanna Williamson for the moose T-shirt ideas.

  Chapter One

  With trembling fingers, I picked up the portable phone and greeted the man who planned to kill me on Halloween. Despite the shaky hands, I wasn’t freaking out. Much. I’d already known what was coming before the calls started up.

  My crazy sister predicted it.

  I cradled the phone against my face and listened to the rapid, gasping breaths. “Are you just about done?” I asked, my voice as bland and bored as I could make it while my heart raced out of control.

  His breath rasped with excitement and a tremor of fear rippled over my body from head to toe. “What do you want, asshole?”

  “You know what I want.” The voice was cold, unnatural. Not human. Obviously some kind of electronic device made it seem that way but knowing that didn’t make it any less creepy.

  “You’re crazy.” Insulting a madman probably wasn’t smart, but I’d figured out that sarcasm and sniping just rolled off him.

  “I like your nightgown. Very—patriotic.”

  My heart leapt up to my throat as I looked down at the battered jersey I wore—Canadian Olympic hockey jersey. Oh God!

  “Why can’t you just leave me alone?” I cried, all trace of boredom vanishing from my voice. Could he really see me? Was it a bluff? My gaze darted to every cover, to the heavily curtained windows. I wanted to puke.

  “You know I can’t do that. I need you. I need your power.”

  “I don’t have any fucking power! I’ve told you that.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Lottie. I know things now, just like Maddy knew things because I took her power when I bathed in her blood. Just like I’ll bathe in your blood. You can’t escape from me. I’ll always know how to find you now.”

  Nausea rolled in my stomach and tears trailed down my cheeks. “You’re crazy.” If he’d been there at that moment I’d have killed him, no regrets, for the glee in his voice when he spoke of her.

  “You said that about your sister, too.” He paused and I heard his breathing increase to harsh panting. “You will be mine, Lottie.”

  * * *

  It was crazy of me to be packing a bag and booking a flight out of the province because of some nonsense my sister had spouted at me.

  Normally I’m not a coward. I’ve been in my share of fights. How could I not with a baby sister who everyone referred to as “Mad” Maddy? Yeah, I figured she was a bit of a crackpot, but I wasn’t going to let others call her that. That was my job and I broke quite a few noses in my youth to keep it my exclusive right.

  And now, thanks to a madman, I’d never have the chance to tease her again. Tears threatened to spill free as I remembered our last night together.

  Two weeks ago she’d dragged me out to dinner to meet the latest in a long string of freakazoid boyfriends. Trust me, most of them actually believed they were living in the world of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. But I went, and imagine my surprise to find Maddy with a guy who looked…normal. No black cape, no filed-down incisors, not a single extra hole in his face.

  Will had looked like he’d stepped right out of the nearest office building. Seeing my sister with a guy whose hair was neatly trimmed, wearing a clean shirt and—oh my God!—tie, I honestly thought I’d gone into a coma. It had to be some kind of trick.

  Through dinner Will spoke with surprising eloquence on a range of topics but not once did conversation turn to anything supernatural. He didn’t invite me to join a “Spiritual Love Raising”—a.k.a. an orgy.

  For the first time in my life I actually enjoyed an evening with my kooky sister.

  Then she’d gone into psycho-mode and blew the whole thing by making one of her crazy-assed prophecies.

  He will follow you in darkness with murder in his mind

  On Halloween he will take his chance to steal your power

  In searching for sanctuary, you will find love,

  To save yourself, accept the moose and accept yourself.

  The truth of it is I never doubted my sister had some kind of gift. She’d been right too many times. A chicken will lead you to treasure, she’d told our mother, and sure enough, mom had found her wedding ring under the fridge while picking up the frozen chicken that had fallen from the freezer. I wish I’d had the chance to say that to Maddy—I wish I’d told her, just once, that I believed in her.

  I’d teased her almost all our lives, and not once had I given her my support. It wasn’t that I never took her seriously, because I did. The problem had always been that her predictions were just so unbelievable. I tossed a sweater into my backpack and let the guilt burn in my stomach for every time I’d wished for a normal sister.

  Then again, I wasn’t exactly normal either, but it would take some pretty nasty torture to get me to admit it out loud.

  If only Maddy had had a vision about herself, because that night, after we had dinner, she’d been murdered.

  Will had dropped her off and gone home because he had an early morning meeting. Two hours later, a neighbor noticed Maddy’s apartment door open and peeked in. Thank God for nosy neighbors. The police said it looked like a ritualistic sacrifice, then made comments about not being surprised. Maddy had tried to help them on a few cases, so they knew all about her—uniqueness.

  When the calls began, I naturally called the police who, naturally speculated that perhaps craziness ran in the family. The cop who’d made the remark left my apartment with a broken nose and we danced around formal charges for a few days. After that there were mutters about mental hospitals and straitjackets so I figured it would be smarter to deal with the situation on my own.

  No, I’m not normally a coward, but I was scared enough to run. Maddy said I had to accept a moose if I wanted to survive, and the chances of one running around Kensington Market, or anywhere in Toronto for that matter, were pretty low. There were only three days to Halloween and I didn’t want to take any chances. I was pretty happy living, thank you very much.

  Besides, the whole nightgown thing freaked me out way past my breaking point.

  My parents had owned a cottage in Newfoundland. When they died it came to Maddy and I and somehow we never got around putting it up for sale. It would be easier to go north, to Muskoka or something, but I wanted more distance. I’d always hated going east, not because I didn’t like the place. Newfoundland is beautiful, the town itself charming and full of the friendly people. The problem lay in the town’s name—Dildo, Newfoundland. I’d always wanted to be a normal kid; instead I was the kid with weird parents, a loony sist
er and a cottage in Dildo.

  So, with mixed feelings, I packed some necessities, booked a flight and was just on my way out the door when the phone rang.

  It was only five, not anywhere near dark yet. I doubted it could be him. Still, my heart thudded painfully at the sound.

  “Hello?”

  “Lottie? Hi. It’s Will.”

  I groaned inwardly, but said, “Hi, Will. What’s up?”

  “I was wondering if you wanted to get together for drinks tonight.”

  I should have known. It had been two days since he’d called, wanting me to hold his hand while he cried into a martini. “I’m really sorry, but this isn’t a good time. I—”

  “Lottie, I really need to talk to someone.” I gritted my teeth and resisted the urge to bang my head against the wall. “I miss her, you know? Maddy was everything to me and I just don’t think I can go on without her.”

  I wish I could say I’m the kind of person who could tell him to bugger off. He’d known her a few weeks and I’d known her my whole life. He wanted pity from me when I’d just lost the last of my family? Instead, I fell back on a lifetime of not rocking the boat, and said, “Will, I know you cared for my sister, but she wouldn’t want you to do this to yourself.”

  “Please, Lottie, just one drink?”

  My eyes rolled back in annoyance. “I’m on my way to the airport. I’m running late as it is. I’m really sorry.”

  He laughed, a barking, forced kind of laugh. “The airport? Please tell me you aren’t taking Maddy’s prediction seriously. I mean, I loved your sister, but you can’t possibly believe someone is going to kill you on Halloween.”

  “Of course not,” I lied.

  “Then where are you going?”

  I hesitated. “Just away for some quiet. I need some time to mourn my sister.” At least that was the truth.

  “Oh, of course.” His tone changed, became distant and cold. “Well, okay then, maybe we can get together when you get back.”

  “Definitely. We can have lunch.” I hung up the phone and rolled my eyes. Dear God, who knew a man could be so much like a nagging mother? Sheesh. If there were a choice between a strong and competent vampire wannabe and Will, I’d take the vamp any day.

  I took one last look around my apartment and stepped out, locking the door behind me. Prophecy or no prophecy, I’d find a way to get out of this situation, with or without the moose. And the man my sister had predicted? Well, I decided to reserve judgment on that for now.

  Chapter Two

  By the time the plane landed in St. John’s, my eyes were gritty and sore. At some point I must have fallen asleep, because there was a crusty kind of feeling on my cheek where I’d drooled on myself.

  Despite all that, I felt great. It’s an unbelievable feeling to know you can walk somewhere without feeling you’re about to get a knife in the back.

  With a bounce in my step I found the car rental kiosk and flirted with the gray-haired man behind the counter. After signing away most of the remaining credit on my Visa, I bought a map and a bag of necessities (chips, pop and a paperback novel) and headed out to pick up my vehicle.

  Cool fall air blew around me when I stepped out the doors into the night. I drew in a deep breath and imagined I could taste the tang of the sea over the airport smells of oil and tarmac. The blue, knee-length sweater I wore billowed in the breeze. I stood there just outside the door, simply breathing, for a good ten minutes.

  It wasn’t until I was in the dimly lit parkade that I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise. I stopped, spun around and saw nothing but the shadows cast by parked sedans and minivans.

  “You’re being stupid,” I whispered to myself. There was no way he could have followed me here. I hadn’t told anyone where I was going, mostly because there wasn’t anyone to tell. My parents had died in a car crash two years ago. All the friends I’d had at the hospital were the kind of friends you talked to at work, but didn’t invite out for drinks after shift. Hell, I doubted any of them even noticed I’d quit two weeks ago. Being a trauma nurse didn’t offer much time to contemplate the whereabouts of your co-workers.

  Still the feeling would not go away. My skin itched. Probably a janitor, I told myself, and forced my legs to keep moving.

  I found my car, a putrid green hatchback that made me question the wisdom of asking for the cheapest car on the lot. With a wince I unlocked the door and threw my lumpy backpack into the backseat. Green was so not my color.

  The airport was about ten kilometers from St. John’s, but I wasn’t heading into the city anyway. The cottage was in a small town on the southern coast, about an hour and a half away. Actually it wasn’t a cottage at all, in the way we think of them in Ontario. It wasn’t on a lake, or any waterfront for that matter, just a small house with a view of the ocean (if you squinted through the trees while standing on the roof) that my parents had bought because real estate was so cheap there.

  Two weeks of restless sleep, followed by a late flight, didn’t exactly make me into the most competent of drivers. After forty-five minutes, I’d hit the shoulder about ten times and spilled half my pop in my lap. I was crashing, long past the point where a cup of coffee would help—even if there were any Tim Horton’s out in the middle of nowhere. The car didn’t come equipped with a radio of course, so I made do by sticking my head out the window like a golden retriever.

  By the time I hit the outskirts of Dildo, I was holding one eye open with my left hand and driving with my right. Even snickering about the name of my destination wasn’t helping me stay awake, which is really saying something. I know it’s immature of me. Dildos are the pegs used to brace oars to a dory for rowing, but I was too tired to be thinking like an adult.

  Maddy would be giggling right now. She’d always thought it was cool that we had a cottage here, and she told everybody all about it every chance she got. The only thing that kept our vacations here from falling into the realms of hell was that we were never here long enough for people to realize what a screwed up family we were.

  As my eyes started to blur with exhaustion, I made a pact with whichever deity would listen—let me survive until November first and I’d never make another crack about Dildo again.

  And that was when the moose stepped onto the highway.

  “Son of a—” I swerved the car, aiming for the ditch. It would be just my luck to kill the damned moose that I was supposed to accept if I wanted to live. I’m pretty sure I was still giggling about how absurd that thought was, when I hit the tree and slipped into unconsciousness.

  Chapter Three

  Warm callus-roughened hands slipped up my body. The smell of forest and warm spices drifted across my face. My skin tingled and I arched my back, hungry for more. Large fingers skimmed the lower curve of one breast, slid higher to cup me.

  When those hands tweaked my nipples I realized I wasn’t dreaming.

  Warm brown eyes peered down at me and I shrieked, then drew back and popped the guy in the nose.

  “Bugger me!” The man stumbled back, raising his hands to his face, and I realized he was huge. Not obese, but one of those tall and burly guys who could give the hulk a run for his money.

  I scrambled up, realized I’d been laying on what could possible be the ugliest couch in the known universe, and looked around for the door.

  “What the hell d’ya do that for?”

  “You were feeling me up!”

  “I was checking for injuries. There’s blood on your shirt.”

  I looked down and winced. A large stain spread across the white shirt and the inside of my sweater—my favorite sweater. My head snapped back up. “And you thought you’d pinch my nipples to see if they squirted?”

  In the odd light cast from three hideous lamps, I watched his cheeks turn red, and he sighed dramatically—melodramatically. “It was an accident. You’ve got great breasts by the way.” The boyish grin that split his face was so unexpected I couldn’t help but giggle. Okay, so there was a slim
chance this guy was my stalker, but I wouldn’t have bet money on it. He was too boyishly charming, despite being in his late twenties. I’d always thought stalkers were supposed to be nondescript, though I have to admit I’m not an expert. This was my first experience with one.

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  “Perry Sullivan. I pulled you from your car and brought you to my home.”

  I looked around the room and cringed. It was like some sort of bad hippie flashback—orange shag carpet and brown and orange paisley wallpaper for God’s sake.

  “No offense, but this room is beyond ugly.” The minute the words were out I slapped my hand to my mouth. “Shit, I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  He laughed. “Don’t be sorry. Everyone in town tells me the same thing. I’m told I’m perverse and lack taste, but I prefer to think I’m unique.”

  Unique? He was a huge bear of a man dressed in black jeans and a white T-shirt bearing the slogan “Of Moose and Men”. His hair was a little too long, his chin had more than a five o’clock shadow but less than a beard and he was standing barefoot in a house that looked like a drug-induced hallucination. Unique would be a good description. I would have said comfortably eccentric and sexy as hell. Not out loud though. I’d already made one blunder.

  “Well, thanks for getting me out of the car. How bad was the damage?”

  “You’ll need a new radiator, and the front end is a little crunched, but it could have been worse.” His eyes dropped to the drying blood on my shirt. “Are you sure you aren’t hurt?”

  The truth was, I probably had been bleeding. I said before that I wasn’t exactly normal, and this was the reason why. I heal freakishly fast and I can heal other people, too. When I worked in the ER I used the gift to help people who, by rights, should have died. Just a touch, just enough to keep them alive so the doctors could succeed. I’d always been careful about it, never doing more than necessary so people didn’t ask questions.