Daniel Taylor and the Dark Legacy

by Monica Davis

  Contents

  Cover

  Daniel Taylor - the Trilogy

  About the Book

  About the Author

  Title

  Copyright

  Daniel Taylor and the Dark Legacy

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  Daniel Taylor — the Trilogy

  “Daniel Taylor” is a contemporary young-adult fantasy trilogy. The story — packed with exciting adventure, emotional drama, and a momentous decision — takes place in Little Peak, a typical small town in California.

  About the Book

  Daniel, a high-school outcast with nothing much going for him, suddenly discovers that he has feelings for his attractive classmate Vanessa. And if that weren’t confusing enough, strange things start to happen to him. His world is turned upside down when he learns about his true origins. Daniel becomes caught up in the shadows of a dark legacy — a legacy that opens the door to another world, the world of demons …

  About the Author

  Monica Davis is one of the pen names of the German writer Monika Dennerlein. Born in 1976 in Berchtesgaden, she moved to Munich after high school, where she worked for a few years as a dental technician. But she never lost her passion for writing. Since she completely devoted her time to writing, she has published 40 books and numerous e-books that regularly appear among the ranks of online bestsellers.

  MONICA DAVIS

  DANIEL

  TAYLOR

  AND THE DARK LEGACY

  BASTEI ENTERTAINMENT

  Digital original edition

  Bastei Entertainment is an imprint of Bastei Lübbe AG

  Copyright © 2015 by Bastei Lübbe AG, Schanzenstraße 6-20, 51063 Cologne, Germany

  Written by Monica Davis

  Translated by Claire Bacher

  Edited by Sonja Diehn

  Cover illustration:

  Cover design: Manuela Städele

  E-book production: Urban SatzKonzept, Düsseldorf

  ISBN 978-3-7325-0544-9

  www.bastei-entertainment.com

  PROLOGUE

  “I can’t stand it anymore,” James grumbled to himself. Wiping the sweat and dust from his forehead with the back of his hand, he sat down heavily on a stone block. It was stuffy and dark inside the pyramid, his nose itched constantly, and he was thirsty. They hadn’t yet found what they were looking for. In fact, thus far they had found absolutely nothing — nothing except a ton of dirt. Maybe the scepter wasn’t even in this tomb. Maybe it wasn’t anywhere near Cairo! The Guild must have made a mistake in deciphering the hieroglyphs. Could anyone believe what was written on a 1,000-year-old clay pot, anyway?

  A scepter capable of making anyone your loyal subject, that would be something, James considered. The first thing he’d do would be to send his archaeology professor — the one who made his students toil like slaves in ancient Egypt — straight to hell. James wanted badly to be back at his hotel, freshly showered and nestled in his soft bed. Every muscle in his body ached.

  He had moved a bit away from the group in order to enjoy his lunch break in peace, and now he found himself alone in an empty room. Outside, the sunlight was too hot for him to bear. In any case, James didn’t want anyone nearby while he wallowed in memories.

  Groaning, he pulled a lantern emitting a glaring circle of light closer to him, gulped the last swallow of water from his canteen, and took several folded pieces of paper from his breast pocket. They were letters from Anne. James had read them so many times that he knew them by heart. Just touching them gave him a sense of normality, of home. Anne had been the girl next door when he was a child, and he thought of her often. It wasn’t that long ago, really, just a few years. He wished that he could turn back time — he would have done so many things differently.

  Imagine, he read, in just a short while Peter and I will be married. I’ll be Mrs. Taylor, the wife of a future doctor! It would be lovely if you could come to the wedding …

  As always, his heart skipped a beat. Sighing, he lowered the letter. Anne was lost to him. Since her wedding, she scarcely ever wrote to him. James loved those letters. Anne was his only connection to a world that had no demons, watchers, or other terrible creatures — except in myths.

  As James scratched his head, shaking a layer of grey sand and dust out of his brown hair, he thought about how he hated this dry, barren country, and wished he could return to Little Peak. Although the town was situated in the middle of California, where the temperatures were often sizzling hot, there was at least a bit of green, flowing water, and, above all, the people he missed so badly. His parents still lived there. Like him, they worked for the Watchers’ Guild, although they were no longer in active service; they left that to younger members or those who had received special training.

  The mission of the Guild was to protect humanity from all things evil. The watchers were regular people, but acted like angels on earth: Although they were as vulnerable to injury as anyone else, they possessed certain special skills. They could even generate spheres of energy to protect themselves. The best thing was that they could “beam” themselves from one place to another. This was known as “dematerializing and rematerializing,” “translocation,” or simply “teleportation.”

  “I miss you, Annie,” James whispered.

  He wished he could have told Anne who he really was; instead, he had had to play the role of a spoiled rich kid who, thanks to the wealth of his parents, was sent off to a fancy boarding school rather than attending Little Peak High with her. In fact, he had been sent to the Guild School in the town of Avalon on Santa Catalina Island, just off the coast of Los Angeles. This was the best possible training ground for a future watcher. The island was owned by the Guild, but supported by tourism. In a large, fenced-in valley surrounded by forests, far from curious eyes, the organization’s buildings were well-protected, disguised as a military base.

  James only went home during school vacations. And because he was a watcher now, it was his duty to sit here in this dark, musty pyramid, searching for demon artifacts. It was part of his studies.

  Students do all the dirty work, he thought. They had been searching for months for this scepter. It would probably never turn up.

  With a derisive snort, he held up another letter to the light and examined Anne’s lovely handwriting. Peter has a good chance of getting a residency at Little Peak Hospital. We’ll be working in the same place!

  James sighed again. Peter — why did it have to be Peter Taylor, that boy with freckles who had lived down the street from them? He wasn’t a good match for Anne.

  He was starting to get the feeling that his bad mood had nothing to do with his job — it was often pretty cool, he had to admit — and everything to do with the fact that he couldn’t have Anne for himself. Okay, that did have something to do with his job. Watchers have to marry their own kind; when they had children with normal people, their magical powers weaken with every successive generation. In addition, the organization itself is a complete secret and only rarely grants admission to outsiders.

  A scraping noise made James leap up and spin around, his heart racing. He held up his lantern to get a better look at the narrow corridor leading to his little room. Frozen in place, he held his breath — but there was no one there. It was ridiculous of him to think that he would actually encounter a demon, especially since he was only a student. Usually, the underworlders kept themselves well-hidden; they wouldn’t allow themselves to be spotted so easily. The creatures avoided watchers like the plague.

  Suddenly, a shadow rushed up to him. “Boo!”

  James dropped the letters and the lantern, hands already busy preparing a crackling energy sphere to hurl at the enemy. His pu
lse was pounding in his temples, and again he held his breath.

  “Ruben!” At the very last moment, James burst the energy sphere, swearing as the recognized his fellow student. “Damn it, you idiot! I almost killed you!”

  The young Italian, whose blond hair was just as dusty as James’ own, simply laughed. “Do you really think your balls of glitter could hurt me?”

  Like James, Ruben wasn’t just a normal student of archaeology and Egyptology; he was also a member of the Watchers’ Guild.

  “I’d gladly give you a taste of my glitter balls,” James muttered. Their energy level was not particularly high, but if one managed to create a really massive sphere of concentrated energy, it could be used to repel demon attacks. James would much rather have been working on his battle skills than digging in the dirt. In two weeks, he’d be flying back to California to finally start the last part of his watcher training: defense and teleportation! Their group had already been trained in certain skills, but some students — unfortunately, himself among them — still needed a little remedial help in magical matters.

  Ruben walked over to him. “What are you doing here, Jimmy, amico mio? Reading love letters in secret instead of working?” As the young man began to sing “Amore mio,” James rolled his eyes and growled, “That’s none of your business. Anyway, I’m on my lunch break.”

  James liked Ruben, but he hated being called “Jimmy.” In any case, he was two years older than the Italian.

  “Ah, trouble in paradise?” Ruben grinned.

  James gave him a dirty look, and Ruben retreated from the room, raising his hands defensively.

  “Si, si, ho capito, I’ll creep back into my own hole. You know where to find me, Jimmy,” Ruben winked, “when you want to talk about it.”

  “Not likely!” Now James had to laugh. Talking — yes, that was what Italians did best. “But if you have an extra bottle of water, I’ll consider it.”

  “I’ve got a whole case!” Ruben’s words echoed through the dark corridor. “I’ll even give you a special price!”

  “Liar!” James shouted back, smiling. He could no longer see his colleague, but still could hear his footsteps. Ruben had found a narrow entrance into a ventilation chamber where he had stashed drinks and other items that he could sell at a hefty markup to his fellow students. If the professor ever found out, Ruben would get the boot. He seemed to get a thrill from the danger.

  There were five of them in the group, plus the professor, and they always worked together on one site under the watchful eyes of the old man, so that no one would do anything stupid if they happened across an artifact. Naturally, none of the Egyptian authorities had any idea who they really were. They had posed as scientists and obtained a special permit to carry out “measurements” for a few months.

  With the help of sophisticated instruments, the Guild had identified a constant but very weak energy pulse that couldn’t be localized precisely. Their scholars had concluded that a dark-magic relic emitting a weak electromagnetic field must be somewhere within this pyramid. Now the students were pulling out all the stops to find it in the limited time frame of the permit.

  Working in the depths of a pyramid could be eerie. Sometimes the silence was broken by quiet, unexpected noises — rustlings, cracks, rumbles. James told himself that it was just little animals or crumbling rocks, but sometimes it still gave him goosebumps — and he had been working there almost every day for the past three months.

  When his friend’s footsteps had faded into the distance, James set about collecting his letters. He recovered his lantern — luckily, it had been sturdy enough to survive the fall — and blew the dust off of every page before refolding the papers and returning them to his breast pocket.

  The last page had fallen against the wall. When he bent over to pick it up, James was shocked to see that something was clearly engraved on one of the lower stones in the wall. James pulled the lantern closer, then used a thick, soft paintbrush to sweep the sand away from the stone’s surface. He inhaled sharply.

  “The eye of Horus,” he whispered, kneeling on the ground to examine it more closely. “It can’t be.”

  This was a symbol of protection and power. Something important must have been hidden here, James hoped. This room wasn’t a burial chamber, so they hadn’t yet made any excavations within it — it seemed completely insignificant. The whole area was fairly low on the professor’s list of priorities.

  Somewhat awed, James traced with his finger the engraved line of an arching eyebrow and the oval beneath it that signified a hawk’s eye. Then he straightened up. Should he call the others over?

  No, he wanted to make this discovery on his own. It would make a perfect conclusion to his training, which would be over in just three months.

  James collected his tools and began to scrape at the cement between the joints of the stones with a sharp blade. Usually this cement was extremely hard, even after so many thousands of years. But to James’ surprise, it flaked away quite easily. The material wasn’t normal cement. Someone must have hidden something here after the pyramid had already been built.

  Using a wedge, he loosened the stone until he could pull it away. The rasping noise of stone scraping against stone gave James goosebumps all over, and he found himself constantly looking around to see whether anyone was coming. He could hear his pulse thumping in his ears.

  James lay down on his stomach, feeling his heart pound against his ribs. He held the lantern up to the hole in the wall, but couldn’t see anything but dust. Eyes straining, he finally made out an edge — a blind corner in the small hole. Oh, man, he’d have to reach in there! What if he encountered a skeletal hand, or what if a swarm of scarabs rushed over him, just like in horror films? This is reality, not make-believe, he told himself. He gathered his courage and stretched his arm out into the wall, right up to the shoulder. He groped around the corner and gave a start as he felt something rough and pliable. There really was something there!

  “Come on,” he hissed at himself, shoving his hand back into the hollow. Sweat was pouring down his face, dripping from his nose onto the dusty floor. Clenching his teeth and holding his breath, James made a grab for the object. It was bulky, and James had to rotate it before he could pull it out. The thing, whatever it was, was really heavy! The bundle consisted of a coarsely woven cloth covering a hard, elongated object — as far as James could feel. Although his hands were violently trembling, James carefully unwrapped it. As the golden staff appeared, topped by a golden snake head, James could scarcely believe his luck. The scepter, this had to be it!

  Man, today was his lucky day — incredible! The blood rushed to his head so quickly that he felt a little dizzy. He would have to tell the others, but first he wanted to be sure that he had found the real artifact. He had no desire to make a fool of himself.

  Don’t touch anything, call me over right away if you find something! James heard the words of his professor ringing in his ears.

  Of course — so that you can take all the credit, old man.

  James let the cloth fall to the ground. As he touched the bare metal, it seemed to him that it was vibrating. The sensation penetrated his entire body. Phenomenal!

  James turned the scepter over and saw an inscription running the length of the staff. It was in hieroglyphs, which James could read with ease. Students at the Guild School learned ancient Greek, Latin, Hebrew, Sumerian, and naturally also how to read Egyptian hieroglyphs. Unlike the rest of humanity, which had only deciphered the pictographs after the decryption of the Rosetta Stone, the Guild, which had been in existence for thousands of years, had never forgotten the old languages. How could he have doubted the Guild’s scholars, perfectly fluent in the ancient tongues — their reading of the clay pot had been absolutely correct.

  James read from top to bottom, whispering the ancient inscription: “Peret … em-bah netjer …” A tingle ran down his spine, and the hairs on his arms stood up. The staff in his hand grew warmer, vibrating more strongly
and beginning to glow. A dark power descended on James, nestling into his heart and making it beat even faster and louder.

  “This is madness,” he whispered in awe. Then he thought, Damn it, what have I done? But a few seconds later, his professor’s warnings were again forgotten. Who was the professor, anyway? He, James, was now superior to all!

  It was said that the gods of the ancient pharaohs were actually demons. At this precise moment, James had no doubt that this was the truth. Most of the pharaohs had been capable leaders who had protected their people and promoted trade and culture. But the demons had directed the human rulers. First, they raised the Egyptian culture to a world force in order to gain power over additional multitudes; then, they had corrupted the pharaohs (or even taken over themselves) to instigate wars, and subjugate and enslave entire peoples — generating misery, from which they drew their power. Demons thrived on negative energy and fed on souls, after all.

  In the process, they created a variety of objects that they used to more easily manipulate mankind. The Scepter of Power was supposed to be one of mightiest of these instruments. And now he was holding it in his hand!

  The voice of reason that had been whispering to him from the furthest corners of his mind, telling him that he had been incredibly stupid to activate the scepter, fell silent. James couldn’t have done otherwise — the artifact had literally forced him to do it! And he had no regrets.

  The glow subsided, but the feeling of power remained. James felt fantastic!

  This time, when he heard a noise behind him, he didn’t even flinch. He knew that he was virtually invincible.

  James turned around. “Ruben, you won’t believe …”

  It wasn’t his colleague standing there, but rather a beautiful woman whose black hair flowed in waves over her shoulders. She was wearing a white linen gown and pressing a strange bundle to her breast. She would have made an excellent ancient Egyptian.