Adopted by The Owl: The Owl Shifter Chronicles Book One

by Qatarina Wanders

  “So, Mom wasn’t Adopted by an Owl?”

  No, I don’t believe so. She was powerful, I’ll give you that. A strong human and Owl connection runs deep in our family, but she wasn’t Adopted by an Owl.

  Emily continued to chew her thumbnail, so much so she was ruining her expensive manicure.

  It’s not as easy as it sounds, The Owl continued. Not many Owl shifters can survive the procedure. In fact, there have only been a few who successfully withstood the process of Adoption. Your grandfather was one of them.

  “But he was killed by the vigilantes!” Emily yanked her thumb out from between her teeth, sending a fleck of nail polish flying. “Mr. Winter told us the story in class today. They caught him and strung him up at the city’s center. He was the first supernatural to have been publicly displayed in the—uh—in that fashion. His Adoption didn’t make him very strong if he was caught, right?”

  He was stronger than you think. He didn’t recant. He said he was doing it for—

  “Nadarog Maragog,” Emily muttered. Like clockwork, she felt The Owl’s terror flash through her mind, leaving her heart pounding in its wake.

  “What is it about that phrase that has you terrified every time it’s mentioned?”

  To be honest, it’s weird that I know little about the phrase and yet always feel terror when I hear it, The Owl admitted.

  “So you don’t know?”

  No, I don’t know.

  They crossed the town limits in silence.

  21

  “So let me get this straight,” Emily continued. “You’re saying Granddad was Adopted by an Owl but allowed himself to get caught because he wanted to prevent . . .” Emily felt an apprehension from The Owl as she was about to speak the phrase. So she switched gears. “. . . you know what.”

  It seems that way, The Owl responded.

  “And the Adoption process is most likely lethal?”

  Yes, most likely.

  “Well, that just adds to my list of things never to do.”

  By the time they got to the house, it was fully dark. The trucks and men were still around. The house was back to its normal state—lights on, windows fixed. The door seemed to have been changed to something more exquisite.

  Emily noticed the roofing material, too, had been changed. Then she noticed other things. The lawn was fresh and green and . . . was that sod? The window panes looked very thick. Like bulletproof thick. A man came outside of the house carrying a stack of tiles around toward the back.

  Emily stopped him to ask a question. “These panes look very thick. Any reason for that?”

  The man first gave her a curious look.

  “I’m Emily Davies,” she explained. “I live here. My friend contracted you. Joanna.”

  “Oh,” the man said. “The panes are bulletproof. They can withstand a mortar strike even. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a team waiting for me out back.” And then he walked away.

  Emily whistled.

  “Beautiful, huh?” said a chirpy voice. Standing on the porch, Joanna looked stunning. She was wearing a glittering red dress that instantly made Emily jealous of not only the expensive dress, but of Joanna’s curvaceous figure. The gown was covered in little diamond-like stones that sparkled even in the overhead porch light. Joanna wore a bright smile on her face, and naturally, Emily was envious as her friend sauntered down the porch steps and came to her side, glancing at Emily’s empty car and then back at Emily.

  Together, the girls observed Emily’s newly renovated house. It looked different. It looked better. They had even added a chimney, which meant there’d be a fireplace somewhere in the house. Emily had always loved fireplaces. She remembered once telling Joanna about it when they were both in third grade. Back then, she’d go to Dad’s family’s place in Houston, where they had a fireplace, and sit in front of it listening to the fire make all sorts of noises.

  Apparently, Joanna remembered. How the hell did they even do that!? Apparently one really could do just about anything with enough money! Emily felt nothing but love for Joanna emanate from her heart. She wondered how much all of it cost. Surely, it was more than a hundred grand. But the fact that Joanna had even done this for her at all meant way more to Emily than how much money she spent.

  “How’s your dad?” Joanna inquired after they’d been quiet for a moment.

  “Dad’s fine. He wasn’t hurt by whoever did this.” Then Emily remembered that Joanna had been investigating the vandalism. “Hey, so did you figure out who did this?”

  “It’s weird,” was Joanna’s non-answer.

  Granted, it was not a good way to start a sentence. Still, it was apt. Emily knew it and silently praised her friend’s decision not to involve the cops. Because they would have arrived at the very same conclusion: it was weird. The whole thing. And whenever they did that, they resorted to the vigilantes.

  The vigilantes had no respect for the law. Many were vagabonds and outlaws. They justified their conduct by the simple lie that the end justified the means—what end? Of course, the end of all things supernatural. Forgetting these people are first human beings. And for God’s sake, not all supernaturals are bad, in the same way not all humans are good.

  Heck, why don’t we start shooting down humans because they’re destroying the environment, huh? Eat that, Mr. Winter! Emily tore her mind from those thoughts and refaced them on the issue at hand. “What’s weird?” she egged her friend on.

  “That no one saw anything,” Joanna said. “Heck, even when they passed by, I had to call their notice to the windows and the lawn and the broken door for them to acknowledge the fact they were all damaged.”

  See? The Owl’s voice in her head made Emily jump.

  Joanna saw this. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” Emily replied a little too fast and with a little too much enthusiasm.

  This drew more scrutiny from Joanna. “You don’t look okay . . .” Joanna paused and thought for a little while before she said, “Hey, what’s been going on with you lately? You still haven’t told me why this happened in the first place.”

  “And I will.” Emily sounded frantic. “But let’s not get off track here. You were going to tell me how your investigation went.”

  Joanna didn’t talk at first. She just glared at Emily, who turned away. Although she remained conscious of Joanna’s scorching gaze on the side of her face.

  “Like I said, weird,” Joanna replied. She caught sight of a few other men coming out of the house. They walked past the girls with only a nod to them and beelined straight for their vans parked on the street.

  “Totally,” Joanna said thoughtfully. “This is the sort of thing you’d call the vigilantes for, ya know?”

  Emily felt her heart thump in her chest. Suppressing the urge to dissuade Joanna from such an alternative, she knew it would be turning a light on her own activities if she did. Joanna could easily pick up on her fear and wonder why Emily was so terrified of the vigilantes if she was not a supernatural.

  “But after what happened last year, I don’t want any more attention on you and your dad,” Joanna finished with a sigh. “Whoever did this . . . let’s hope he doesn’t show up again.”

  Emily nodded. Though she knew that he was probably watching them. He was probably wondering what they’d do. What she’d do.

  The Owl had called him a rove. A warlock whose powers weren’t tied to any ancestral land. They were more powerful and, she presumed, probably more dangerous. Imagine if you had all that power, and you weren’t tethered to any loved ones. There was no love in your life, so you could wander about causing mayhem . . .

  The first time he’d come, Mom had died. Now that he’d come again, who was going to die? Her? The Owl said the warlock was hunting her. Why? What did he want? Surely, she was too insignificant a supernatural to deserve the attention of one of the most powerful supernaturals in existence. So why her? Why her family?

  Was it something Mom had done in her more youthful days? Was this r
evenge? Was it some family curse?

  Emily had spent so much time trying to distance herself from who she really was and hence knew nothing about . . . well, about who she really was. So it took very little to confuse her. But one thing was sure; after she got through this party and came out on the other side, and not in chains, she was going to deal with this creepy warlock.

  She would get answers to all the questions she’d been asking. She was going to interview Mr. Winter. He had, after all, given her his card. She was going to spend nights in Aunt Anastacia’s house to read up on all things supernatural. She would learn about Nadarog Maragog, the warlock, and her mother.

  She would get to the bottom of the truth. And when she did, she would go after this warlock. This rove. If this was the only way to save her father and deliver him from the spell, then the warlock was going down. Hard.

  The Owl interrupted her thoughts again. A rove is too powerful for a youngling like you.

  Emily would have replied if Joanna wasn’t standing by her side. She only chuckled. There was nothing The Owl could do to stop her. If the warlock had anything to do with Mom’s death, he was going to suffer the same fate, after suffering at her hand for a long time.

  “You look like you’re about to go to war,” Joanna observed.

  Emily glanced at her, her face melting into a smile. “Just deciding that whoever did this is going to pay. I don’t need the cops. I don’t need the vigilantes. Whoever did this has bitten off more than he can chew.”

  Joanna sighed. “I kinda knew you were going to say that.”

  Uh-oh. “Um, Joanna . . .”

  “Cut it out, Emily.” Joanna laughed into the night. “You’re so precious with your little secret, you know.”

  Emily felt her heart cut into her chest.

  Joanna turned and looked into Emily’s eyes. “You think you could hide such a big secret from your best friend? Really? You don’t give me much credit.”

  Emily was in full panic mode now.

  Calm down, The Owl said. She hasn’t said anything yet.

  Emily tried not to scream. “What are you talking about?”

  Joanna rolled her eyes. “That you’re The Owl?”

  Terror exploded in Emily’s mind, so much so that she immediately went lax and fainted.

  22

  Emily had flash nightmares. They were first pictures. Pictures that didn’t make sense but left her feeling terrified. And pain. There was lots of that, too.

  Then it settled. It crystalized. The vision, that is. But it was not a vision. Not exactly. It was an experience. She was in it.

  She was the one on the slab in some sort of underground cave. A very cavernous one. There was water dripping somewhere. Incessantly. It was annoying.

  She was chained. Wearing a flimsy white bridal cloth of sorts. Her hands and legs were bound. The chains stretched taught in four directions, anchored to nothing but air.

  It was magic. Or sorcery. She didn’t know.

  Around her, there were pentagons and hexagons and drawings and blood and items. Nothing made sense, except that she was in pain. That was all she knew for sure. And the fact that she was on an altar of sacrifice.

  There was a hooded figure there. He—yes, she knew it was a he because of his masculine presence—was not cloaked in normal cloth. No, it was darkness, for it spewed from him like a dark substance, snaking into the air and disappearing. He had a malicious presence. He had deep orange, fiery orbs for eyes.

  He also had a very long, ornate, and sharp-looking dagger. It looked like something right out of the House of Saud in the Middle East.

  She took one look at it and screamed. Her scream came out as a terrible blast of a girl’s childish shrill for mercy. It reverberated across the massive cavern and disappeared into the inky darkness surrounding her.

  “No one can hear you,” whispered the man’s voice. A scaly voice that made her skin crawl. She would have screamed again, but she choked on her own fear.

  “You are the Adopted,” the man said as he approached her. “You are the key to Nadarog Maragog.”

  She expected to feel the explosive fright of The Owl, but felt nothing. It was then that she became instantly terrified and blood-curdlingly aware of the absence of The Owl’s distinctive presence.

  “You and your brother . . .”

  Brother?

  The man brought down the dagger on her belly. Emily snapped to an upright position on the couch, panting as though she’d just run a marathon.

  The first thing to reach her awareness was the way her entire body sizzled with energy. Magic energy. She recognized it. It was the same magic that enabled her to turn into The Owl. She was drenched in sweat and being pummeled by the curtain above her that danced in the night’s breeze pouring into her room from the dark outside.

  She looked around to confirm that she was, in fact, in her room and not some creepy guy’s sacrificial altar. Then she checked her abdomen for any stab wounds and then her hands and legs for signs of shackles. Nothing.

  She began to relax, shutting her eyes and trying to overcome the splitting headache raging within her skull.

  That’s when she remembered The Owl’s silence in her weird dream. She returned to her apprehensive state.

  “Owl?” she muttered. Does she have a name, though? Emily wondered. How the hell could I not know that!?

  Yes, I do, if you must know, came the familiar sizzling female voice, full of youth and haughtiness.

  Emily felt her heart slump in relief as she let out a huge sigh. She never thought she’d be this happy to hear The Owl in her head.

  Oh, so I’m growing on you, aren’t I? The Owl crooned.

  Emily rolled her eyes. “That was some messed-up dream.”

  It wasn’t, The Owl said. Whatever you saw was a vision of the future.

  Emily balked. “Uh . . . I know you’re like this ancient force, and you probably know a lot that I don’t, but it’s me, okay? I was the one in that place. It was definitely a dream.”

  The Owl didn’t reply, which was just as well because the door to Emily’s bedroom burst open. A muscular black guy and a skinny redheaded chick burst into the room, kissing fiercely. The guy was groping the girl, trying to unhook her bra. The girl fumbled with the guy’s pants zipper.

  Emily was still trying to understand what was happening, when she, for the first time since waking up, realized that there was loud music blaring. And it wasn’t coming from the neighbors. It was coming from her own house.

  Suddenly, like a flash flood, she remembered everything. She remembered the warlock. She remembered the FREAK message. She remembered how her house had been vandalized and put back together with Joanna’s help.

  Joanna.

  She remembered Joanna.

  Joanna knew!

  “Hey!” Emily screamed. The couple froze and snapped away from each other, staring at her with surprise. The redhead was blushing so terribly she could have been mistaken for a red balloon.

  “Get out of my room!” Emily shrieked.

  They didn’t need to be told again. When they bolted out of her room through the opened door, she heard cheers, loud conversation, screams. Even out back. There was a pool party going on, too. She could hear it all. And when did she get a pool?

  She hadn’t had time to go around the house to see all the new additions because, well, she was too busy fainting.

  Emily leaped out of bed and slammed the door shut. “She knows,” she said to The Owl.

  It appears she does, The Owl replied calmly.

  Emily paused from pacing her small room. “How can you be so calm?”

  Because you’re still alive and in your bed, and there’s a party going on downstairs, The Owl responded. Just then, the sound of breaking glass and a group of boys yelling in excitement came to greet her ears. What followed was Joanna’s distinctive, commanding voice condemning whatever act had gotten whatever object broken.

  Listening to the anger in Joanna’s voice, Emil
y couldn’t help but feel more terrified. What was she going to do about Joanna? Was her best friend going to turn her in?

  Geez, Emily, relax, The Owl said. You’re making me nervous.

  “I need to go talk to her,” Emily said to herself. “I can’t stand this suspense. It’s killing me.”

  And what are you going to say to her? The Owl said in a lazy voice. Especially when Rina and Michael are both out there.

  Emily shook her head involuntarily. She didn’t know what she was going to say. She just needed to meet with Joanna. She needed to know her own fate.

  When Emily walked out of the room, the corridor was littered with people kissing, talking, and drinking. They were everywhere. Even in Dad’s room. They had no sense of privacy or decorum. Emily was livid when she saw the house was a total mess and nobody seemed to care.

  The music got louder as Emily descended the staircase. The crowds were thicker downstairs. All along the corridor, games were set up. Fumes of weed filled the dining area as about a dozen weirdos lounged around smoking pipes.

  Emily cringed at the grungy-looking group but was downright horrified when she got to the front lawn to look for Joanna. That was where she found Jamie and his posse. They were all dancing sexually with cheerleaders, including Jamie with Kendra. The moment Emily walked out onto the lawn, Jamie sort of jerked and pushed Kendra away.

  “Ouch!” Kendra crashed into the barbeque by her side.

  Jamie looked embarrassed. “It’s not what you think . . .”

  “Oh, yeah? And what do you think I think?” Emily spat back, then turned on her heels and marched back into the house, making a beeline through the crowd of people to the backyard. She thought she heard a guy and a girl’s moaning coming from the kitchen, but the music was too loud to tell; it could have been something else. She didn’t want to know.

  Emily located Joanna in the backyard, bossing around a couple of seniors who were trying to light a tree of tires they had scrounged from God knows where. Apparently, they wanted to have a bonfire right there in her backyard, where—surprise, surprise—there was a pretty impressive swimming pool.