Star Angel
Prophecy
David G McDaniel
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TeamStarAngel.com
Star Angel: Prophecy
Copyright © 2014 by David G McDaniel
Reprinted, Copyright © 2016
Published by
Black Helm Entertainment
Cover design by
Ivan Zanchetta
All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced
in any form, in whole or in part, without
written permission from the author.
The Star Angel Pentalogy is:
Book One: Awakening
Book Two: Return to Anitra
Book Three: Dawn of War
Book Four: Rising
Book Five: Prophecy
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Jess has uncovered a stunning reality. A truth that’s been there all along, revealed.
It’s a discovery that shakes her to the core.
But she’s on the move, no time to pause, still so far from her objective, and the next stop on this long road may be right back where she started. For there’s a reason she ended up where she did, and it has little to do with chance, everything to do with her own, hidden determinism; a buried impulse, shaping events beyond her current awareness, all of it leading to the realization of an even greater legacy. The conclusion to a quest spanning so much more than the short time she thought she’d been on it.
And so two journeys are about to come to a close. One that began with the arrival of Zac; intense, filled with epic events. Another that began a thousand years before, equally epic, the inception of it all. Two incredible journeys, both racing toward the same world-shattering conclusion.
Both journeys hers.
To you, the reader. I can’t thank you enough for being part of this adventure. Here we are at the end.
Let’s go out with a bang.
“Fate is what you make it.”
— Jessica
- PART ONE -
CHAPTER 1: HOME
CHAPTER 2: THE WAR MACHINE
CHAPTER 3: TIMELESS LOVE
CHAPTER 4: TRAPPED
CHAPTER 5: UNLEASH
CHAPTER 6: A HOPELESS SITUATION
CHAPTER 7: AN IMPOSSIBLE PLAN
CHAPTER 8: THE RESISTANCE
CHAPTER 9: LONGSHOT
CHAPTER 10: IN THE PRESENCE OF AN ANGEL
CHAPTER 11: THE EVIL QUEEN
CHAPTER 12: REUNION
CHAPTER 13: NO REST FOR THE WEARY
CHAPTER 14: REVELATIONS
CHAPTER 15: A SUMMONS TO WAR
CHAPTER 16: UNBREAKABLE TENSION
CHAPTER 17: IT BEGINS
CHAPTER 18: A THING TO SAY
CHAPTER 19: SHADOWS OF WAR
CHAPTER 20: SUICIDE CABAL
CHAPTER 21: SUPER NOVA
CHAPTER 22: ENGAGING THE MILITIA
CHAPTER 23: THE PHARAOH RIDES
CHAPTER 24: RAIDERS
CHAPTER 25: HERETICS
CHAPTER 26: SEIZING THE WINDOW
CHAPTER 27: THE REFINERY
CHAPTER 28: HONG KONG
CHAPTER 29: A PRIESTESS RETURNS
CHAPTER 30: FINAL APPROACH
CHAPTER 31: OPERATORS
CHAPTER 32: SATORI
CHAPTER 33: FULL CIRCLE
CHAPTER 34: FINDERS KEEPERS
CHAPTER 35: RELEASE THE BEAST
CHAPTER 36: BOISE
CHAPTER 37: ALL HAIL THE QUEEN
CHAPTER 38: STAR ANGEL
CHAPTER 39: RETURN TO HAMONHEPT
- PART TWO -
CHAPTER 40: INTO THE FIRE
CHAPTER 41: EXPOSED
CHAPTER 42: ANATOMY OF A TRUCE
CHAPTER 43: NEW PLANS
CHAPTER 44: A TRUTH REVEALED
CHAPTER 45: THE MORNING AFTER
CHAPTER 46: CONTACT
CHAPTER 47: TRANSITIONS
CHAPTER 48: ON TWO FRONTS
CHAPTER 49: THE HEART OF IT
CHAPTER 50: FRAILTY
CHAPTER 51: DICHOTOMY
CHAPTER 52: A COLLECTIVE BREATH
CHAPTER 53: ENGAGE
CHAPTER 54: THE ART OF THE SEIGE
CHAPTER 55: WAR
CHAPTER 56: DREAMING
CHAPTER 57: FACING WHAT MUST BE
CHAPTER 58: OVER
CHAPTER 59: NO EXCUSES
CHAPTER 60: THE BLACK FORTRESS
CHAPTER 61: INTO THE SPIDER’S LAIR
CHAPTER 62: HAIL MARY
CHAPTER 63: A MOST INEVITABLE THING
CHAPTER 64: TOO LATE
CHAPTER 65: ULTIMATE POWER
CHAPTER 66: A NEW DAY
EPILOGUE
- PART ONE -
CHAPTER 1: HOME
Jess ran. Without thought, without regard for the alien armor and the shock it might cause she ran. Not thinking of the sword or what might be waiting, how anyone might react or any other thing; as fast as she could and faster, leaping from outcrop to outcrop, down the hill and fairly flying, the ancient Kel metal fluid in motion, noiseless, the only sounds that of the sword slapping against her back and the sharp sound of her own breath; quick exhales with each hard landing, followed by the muted pound of her armored boots as she beat a path to the valley below. A blur of speed.
The world tunneled ahead in her haste.
The Bok were likely watching the house. Especially now. Especially after what happened at the castle in Spain. That thought burned in her mind. Part of her wanted the Bok to be waiting. Wanted them to jump in her face, because now she knew. This was Earth and the Bok had been there for the last thousand years and she’d been there too, on Earth when this all began a thousand years ago—a staggering reality that nearly made her stumble—and the Bok were hiding something and she knew it now more than ever and …
She was coming for them.
As soon as she saw she was home, back atop the hill, as soon as she realized she’d returned to Earth, that the gate dumped her here—I’m home!—where everything went down a millennium ago … the truth of the rest came crashing in. In the resulting expansion of memories she saw it clearly. Of course she knew the Bok history from the things she’s already learned, but with her arrival behind her house vague perceptions exploded into clarity, driven by the fact that she’d actually lived those events long ago. Long ago she, Aesha, left the Bok with secrets. And so if they waited for her now … so much the better. As far as she was concerned she was no longer their target.
They were hers.
She ran. Nani and Bianca might be watching too. They might still be up there in orbit and could be waiting for her to turn up. By now Satori and Willet must surely be back aboard the Reaver with the fighter. It had been so long!
Were they gone?
Had Zac reconnected? Would they have returned to Anitra? She had no idea just how much time had passed. So long. Did they wait? Other questions, flashing across her mind as she ran; recalls, far more recent, dredged to view. What happened with the Bok at the castle after she left? When she popped away …
Zac might have killed them.
In fact he might’ve killed them all. Would there be any Bok left? Had he rampaged across the globe? Finding that secret society where they hid and making them pay for what they’d done? Destroying them for having taken his true love?
She needed them. She despised the Bok and she wanted them dead but she needed them. At least long enough to tell her what they knew. Maybe the Bok weren’t watching the house. Maybe the Bok were no more. Other possibilities flooded to mind.
Maybe things had changed dramatically.
She ran faster. Faster than she ever had. Faster than she ever could; tougher now, sleeker, more refine
d. Stronger, a roaring channel of power, tapped and flowing, extending all the way to the physical and coursing through her body, kicking her legs harder than she would ever have thought possible. Wind howled in her ears, tall grass and other obstructions failing to impede or scarcely even slow her, each obstacle leapt or dodged and, in no time, she was down in the field skirting the woods and headed toward her oh-so-familiar barn.
My barn! She spared a lingering glance as she blitzed toward it across the open grass. I’m home! She passed close, near enough to see its cracked and peeling red paint, splintered wood and all the other details and her heart sang. My barn! Refuge. Escape from the world; seat of many a poetic musing; home of her greatest imaginations. Once hiding place for the Skull Boy armor.
Then it was behind her and she was almost there. Her house. Her home. Up ahead, just up the rise, the swing-set and her backyard. Beside it the playhouse where this all started, what seemed eons ago. Each thing unreal; so unreal when once—in truth not that long ago—these things, the barn, the swing-set, the playhouse …
They were the realest things she knew.
Her parents would freak. The image of that encounter struck her. Crashing into the house in the middle of the day, much like the last time she disappeared. Only last time it was good old Jess, just like they remembered; their little girl, naked and vulnerable but home and safe and in back their arms.
Not this time.
This time she wore armor. This time she carried a sword. This time she’d been gone so much longer, so much more of an ordeal behind her. Yes it was their daughter, it was Jess that returned in a rush, but this time things were different. So much. Banging home in a blitz as if literally popping back into existence. Far more shocking, bringing far more with her this time.
The yellow eyes.
Especially those.
This would be an interesting reception.
Fortunately the other, more dramatic changes they wouldn’t notice. Not at first. The fact that she’d been on a spiritual journey on another world, discovering things about herself they might never believe. Powers. Abilities. The fact, the stunning reality that—and the truth of this continued to rock her—the fact that she was no longer simply Jessica—never had been—not simply their daughter, the girl they raised, the girl they knew so well—though she certainly was still that—but something far greater. Someone far greater.
Yes, she herself was still wrapping her head around that one.
And of course back of that was the fact that the gate she just came through led to the mystic, the ancient, the legendary Codex Amkradus, the very epitome of knowledge, which meant the Codes were right here on Earth. Not hidden on another world, not in some fantastic, other place. All roads led here. She’d been in the right place all along. The gate, the way to the Codes—amazing record of the path to true freedom, if the legends were true—and she was convinced now those legends were … the gate let out into the hills behind her home. It leads to my house. That ancient tome had been here on Earth the whole time. Hidden by her. Prophesied by her. The Prophecy is mine! I’m the one that said this would happen! And that ... again, was something she could scarcely believe.
And the Bok would have the final clue.
But those mind-blowing realities took a back seat in that final instant. As she flew up the short hill to her backyard most of this new, altered frame of mind fell away and all she could think was that she was home. No matter the scale of who she really was, no matter her history, right then she was who she’d always been, Jessica Paquin, and this was her house and inside were her things and her family—that remained to be seen; she didn’t even know what day it was—and all epic realities and all unbelievable truths and all threats and all possibilities were forgotten and she fled to the back porch and slammed her way inside, so happy to be home the sheer thrill of it overrode all else.
I’m home!
“Mom!” she shouted as she rushed into the kitchen, not even noticing as her armored boots hit the tiles if the door had been locked or not. She’d just thrown it open and burst inside. Maybe it was locked. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe she’d blown it open with her mind. Didn’t matter. She was inside and there was everything she recognized. Everything she remembered. The Paquin kitchen, the Paquin living room, the smells, the serenity, everything in its place, everything quiet …
“Mom!” she yelled again, panting. “Amy!” Maybe her sister was home. She hurried into the living room, breathing hard.
And froze.
Zac.
Right there.
Zac! Her heart lurched with the sight of him, even as her mind twisted with the impossibility …
How …
But there he was. Standing, impossibly, at the bottom of the stairs. A vision, and her breath caught, held, frozen in mid-pant, exhaustion from the sprint … gone. She blinked and blinked again; Zac, locked in place, as was she. Blown away, as was she.
He shouldn’t be there.
She shouldn’t be there. None of this should be happening but it was, and no reaction made it to words as she rushed him. Before she could call his name, before she could process—really process—the fact that he was even there at all, and this wasn’t a dream or a hallucination and it was real, Zac, in her house, not an apparition but real ... she was to him. He rushed her in the same moment, his own stunned silence washing from his face in a flood of emotion.
And she had him. No words, not a sound save the desperate force of their breath and the grip of their embrace. His hands shifted at her back, against the armor, unable to hold enough of her at once; trying to pull her inside him, wanting—needing—all of her. He buried his face in her hair, hand desperately to the back of her head. She pressed against his chest, squeezing him hard, breathing deeply of him—even after all this time, his scent so familiar, so him—sensing the agonizing restraint he battled as he fought not to squeeze her with just as much emotion. It was killing him.
“Zac!” she managed his name, breaking the spell and turning her face to look up into his and his lips were against hers, hands at the sides of her face and pushing back her hair; a deep, consuming passion that swept her utterly into him. Pulled, as if a physical force, binding her to him with such immediacy she lost all orientation and nearly slumped. Desperately she clutched herself into his embrace and held on. Deep, throbbing shudders wracked her and she swooned, dizzy, no more sense of anything beyond that small, infinite world. You’re here! Right there, in her arms, and it made absolutely no sense, none of it, and the wild ride kept cascading forward like mad, further and further into impossible territory. Neither of them should be there, in her house, but there they were, and she fell utterly, completely, into the moment. Zac’s own relief, his own joy filled her senses, absolutely filled them; she could taste it; and her hands held his head even as he held hers, kissing, harder, and she kissed him, beyond passion, beyond reason, unable—thoroughly, frustratingly unable to pull enough of him into her to satisfy the aching desire.
At some point he paused as he continued to hold her face in his hands, she gripping his with her own, noses hard against each other’s, gaze intense and boring straight into her.
“Your eyes,” he whispered between pants. Zac, who could never be tired, who could never be out of breath, and yet here he was, panting, and she shivered with the power of what that meant. Zac was breathless because of her. She, her presence; she quickened the heart of this man who knew no fatigue.
There could be no greater sign of his love.
Your eyes, his words echoed. His own so bright at that distance they almost glowed. Ice blue and shimmering with emotion. If eyes were the windows to the soul then the drapes were open and the shutters were thrown wide and Zac was reflecting fully the depth she now knew he possessed. The depth she knew with certainty they both possessed.
Old souls.
He was hers. She was his.
A thing that had been true for a long, long time.
She pushed her nose harder agains
t his; stole a kiss, fluttered her lids closed and kissed him again. At length she held herself there, absorbing him, eyes shut, then, slowly, opened them so he could see her clearly. “I’m fine,” she told him, holding his stare as intensely as he held her own. She noticed things about him as well. His beard had grown, stubble, short and dark, soft beneath the palms of her hands; his hair a little longer. Despite those changes he looked as young as ever; a boy in the body of a man, fresh-faced and youthfully handsome.
She kissed him again, a flood of powerful realities washing through her, truths, the knowledge of how completely they were bound, more even than Zac could realize—more even than she’d imagined before now—so much more than she’d ever imagined and now here he was, in her arms, with her, again, again and again, and she could not stop rushing with the sheer thrill of his presence. Tall, strong, the intensity of his longing pouring off of him in waves, eyes glistening with virility, power, with a sharpness and a brightness that could be felt, his love, his devotion … so hers, so totally hers and now she too was powerful and together what might they achieve?
And suddenly there was too much she needed to say. The void of information was snapping open, crying to be filled. A single, burning instant and it could never be enough; an atom bomb of things to tell him and the counter was suddenly at zero. Words nearly exploded from her. So many, many things, so much more—so much demanding to be heard—too overwhelming, the discovery of Zac completely unexpected, here, now, too much to be explained, all of it slamming through her in a great big ball of questions and revelations and the one that made it through, the one that mushroomed to the top was for Zac himself:
“How did you get here?” She rubbed her hands over his cheeks, soft beard bristling against her palms, around his ears, holding his face as she searched his eyes.
Some of his blind, nothing-in-all-the-world-but-you intensity eased. She let her hands drop to his chest as he opened his mouth to answer, held back whatever he’d thought to say, changed his mind, almost spoke again—only to rethink that answer as well. Events leading to that moment were no doubt complex.
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