Discern (Mosaic Chronicles Book 1)

by Andrea Pearson

  “Really?” Lizzie squealed. “But didn’t you say her blood was all over?”

  “Yeah. She was really badly injured—was in surgery for several hours at the hospital in Grand Junction, Colorado, apparently—but she’s going to make it.” Nicole relaxed against the back of the couch, feeling the worry seep from her system. “I can’t even begin to say how relieved I am about that. And you probably won’t be surprised to hear that she’s dropping out of school. A part of me doesn’t blame her. But on the other hand . . . We’ve got so much to learn, Lizzie. We have no idea what we’re up against.”

  “What are you going to do about the book?”

  Nicole turned to her friend. “Coolidge says he’ll keep it where it is until I tell him otherwise. I have to go to Ohio to work with Professor Nielsen. I need to control my powers better before I face my parents or the book.”

  “You’re really going to read it?”

  She sighed. “I don’t see that I have a choice. I didn’t tell you, but the spirit of the old woman followed me to Arches. I saw her twice, very briefly. It was as if she was there to remind me about the book.”

  Lizzie looked at Nicole with a troubled expression, but she didn’t say anything.

  Nicole continued. “And I can feel the book now, reaching out to me. By using my powers—even just a little—I’ve become more aware of certain things. I couldn’t feel the book while in Utah, but I can now. And that feeling is getting stronger. I think—and Professor Coolidge agrees—that eventually, the book will sap my energy completely if I don’t address it. I’d rather do that while I’m still strong.”

  “Hey! You could sign up for your classes again. You were only gone a week.”

  Nicole shook her head. “No, I’m going to Ohio first. I fly out tomorrow. And after that, Austin has promised to help me. It’s time I learned how to defend myself.”

  Lizzie knitted her eyebrows. “You’re right. It’s better to be prepared.”

  Neither spoke for a moment, and then Lizzie returned to the movie she’d been watching. Nicole sat next to her, staring at the TV, not seeing what was playing.

  She couldn’t wait to get started with Professor Nielsen.

  “Ohio, here I come,” she whispered.

  ###

  Would you like to know what was on Austin’s mind when he first met Nicole—why he was so upset when she talked to him? Austin’s Perception, a short story, is available only to members of Andrea’s readers group. Receive it for free when you join. Enjoy!

  http://katonuniversity.blogspot.com/

  Note from the Author:

  I hope you enjoyed reading Discern, Mosaic Chronicles Book One! It was so much fun to write. :-) In fact, that part about Nicole tripping over the vacuum cleaner and having it break open, allowing spiders to escape, actually happened to me. Here’s how it really went, though:

  Like Nicole and Lizzie, I kept a small vacuum cleaner around to suck up things I didn’t want to kill with my bare hands. :-) When my husband and I were first married, we lived in an older house, and no matter how clean we kept the place, creepy-crawly critters loved to explore it. On a daily basis, I would suck up spiders or insects or other gross things, including once a weevil worm.

  Well, we ended up moving to a brand new place that never has had bugs or spiders in it (thank goodness) and I forgot all about my vacuum cleaner. That is, until my thirteen-month-old little girl pulled it off a shelf, accidentally breaking it apart. Spiders and carcasses spilled out everywhere. And what's worse—the weevil worm had multiplied. There were hundreds of them all over inside the vacuum cleaner, trying to wriggle their way out of the thing.

  I still can't think about it without cringing. This was one of those experiences I knew I'd need to share in a novel someday.

  Poor Nicole. :-)

  Anyway, if you’d like to know when I release more books, consider joining my email newsletter list by clicking the link above.

  And if you’re interested in helping me increase awareness about this series, feel free to post a review about Discern on Goodreads, Amazon, Nook, or anywhere else readers hang out.

  Thank you!

  - Andrea

  Books by Andrea Pearson

  The Kilenya Series:

  The Key of Kilenya

  The Ember Gods, Kilenya Series Book Two

  August Fortress, Kilenya Series Book Three

  Rise of Keitus, Kilenya Series Book Four

  Eyes of the Sun, Kilenya Series Book Five

  The Golden Symbol, Kilenya Series Book Six

  The Key of Kilenya: Special Edition with Illustrations

  Grail Bestiary Volume I: Creatures of Grail and Kilenya

  Kilenya Romances:

  Samara, A Kilenya Romance

  Midian, A Kilenya Romance

  Shirley, A Kilenya Romance (coming soon!)

  Kilenya Adventures:

  Dmitri, A Kilenya Adventure

  Mosaic Chronicles:

  Discern, Mosaic Chronicles Book One

  Praxis Novellas, Mosaic Chronicles Book Two

  Perceive, Mosaic Chronicles Book Three

  Observe, Mosaic Chronicles Book Four

  Reclaim, Mosaic Chronicles Book Five

  Ranch City Academy:

  Bezza’s Book of Enchantments

  About the Author

  Andrea Pearson, author of the Kilenya Series, Kilenya Romances, and the Mosaic Chronicles, lives with her husband and daughter in a small valley framed with hills. She is the executive director of the Indie Author Hub group and creator of the writing application, Writer’s Progress Bar. She is an editor for the website Gather.com.

  Andrea spends as much time with her husband and daughter as possible. Favorite activities include painting, watching movies, collecting and listening to music, and discussing books and authors.

  Connect with her Online:

  Facebook

  Facebook Fan Page

  Twitter

  Blog

  Website

  Join her email mailing list for news on upcoming releases

  (She values your privacy and doesn’t sell or misuse email addresses)

  Acknowledgements

  Many thanks to my husband for his love and constant support, and our daughter for bringing her cheer, hugs, smiles, and kisses to our home. I love you both!

  I also want to express gratitude to my parents and in-laws for their support and friendship. Thank you for always being there for me. And a big hug to Dad and Lon Pearson for finding those little things that most others don’t.

  Much appreciation goes to the following people: James Curwen for his input and help while I tried my hand at cover creation, Emily for modeling as Nicole, Glenn Pearson of Pearson Photography for taking Emily’s pictures, and Tristi Pinkston for her superb editing skills. Also many thanks to Rachel Ann Nunes and Catia for taking care of the printed book typesetting. I can’t wait to show it off!

  Last, I owe my wonderful and dedicated readers, proofreaders, and beta readers an enormous hug. I’m excited to start a new journey with you!

  Sneak peek at The Focus from Praxis Novellas, Mosaic Chronicles Book Two:

  The Focus

  Nicole lugged her suitcase and cello up a steep, narrow street in Hoglin, Ohio. She blew a strand of blond hair out of her face. Only ten more steps and she’d take a break.

  Biting her lips, she heaved again, grunting with the effort and forcing the wheels of both cases—suit and cello—to grind against the cobblestone. She couldn’t believe the stupid rental car wouldn’t fit on the stupid street. Who had the dumb idea to build a street this cramped?

  If she’d been able to Channel properly, she would’ve at least lifted her suitcase with wind, making it feel lighter.

  At nine steps, she stopped. “Okay, call me a wimp,” she whispered to herself, staring at the buildings surrounding her. Like the street, they’d been poorly built. In fact, most of them should have been condemned. They were coming apart, leaning over, with fallen
bricks and shingles littering the ground around them.

  At least the smell of the canal she’d been forced to cross was fading. Brown, murky water that stunk of sewage and rotted fish—yuck.

  Nicole pulled a slip of paper out of her jeans pocket. The address she looked for was seventeen Ginley Street. She looked up—the house closest to her was number eleven. She was a little more than halfway.

  Taking in a deep breath of humid air, Nicole continued forward again, wishing the cases were lighter.

  As she glanced at another house, she forgot about the steepness of the street and the heaviness of her suitcase. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed the people earlier.

  An older couple sat on a pair of rocking chairs at house twelve. She smiled at them, about to set down her case to wave when both glanced away and avoided further eye contact. Rude. The man next door doing yard work also refused to look at her.

  Turning, she saw others—all acting the same. Older, not talking to each other, and definitely not looking at her. Nicole realized that at eighteen, she was the youngest person on that street by forty years at least. That wasn’t very unusual, except for the fact that Misto University was nearby. Surely there were young couples living here, or students, at least?

  After another ten minutes of heaving her things up the steep street, she arrived at number seventeen and paused to catch her breath while checking it out.

  “How am I going to live here for three weeks?” she whispered.

  The edifice was tall, badly built of course, and okay, more sturdy than many of the other buildings on the street, but still! Her mother would have a cow if she saw it. “Good thing she won’t.” Nicole smiled.

  Her parents were so proud they’d been able to have a fourth child—an Arete—which meant magic in the family. Their family! Imagine that! But she intimidated them, and they pretty much let her do whatever she wanted. After she’d graduated from high school and been accepted into Katon University, they’d maintained contact only through email and occasional cell phone conversations. Except for one visit by her mother . . . which Nicole would rather forget.

  Nicole was fine with the arrangement. And anyway, she’d recently found out that the only reason they even had an Arete in the first place was to keep up with appearances.

  Just then, the front door opened, interrupting Nicole’s thoughts. An elderly black man with a thick head of white hair limped out. He approached her with caution, then rested on his cane. “Ms. Williams?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m Mr. Landon, the building manager. Welcome.” He bent over and, with some struggling, picked up her suitcase. She hesitated, watching him, but once he got it off the ground, he handled the large luggage just fine, maneuvering it into the building. He held the door open for her and she jumped to follow, pulling her cello along behind her.

  Mr. Landon led her to an elevator, hit the up button, then turned away and stared out the front window while waiting. The expression on his face, while not unfriendly, showed he didn’t want conversation.

  Nicole fiddled with the strap on her cello case, wishing the elevator would hurry. It was stuck on floor three. Should she say something, maybe about the weather? Ask him about his family? No—many people considered that rude. But she did notice a wedding band on his left finger. Would it be safe to talk about his wife? She glanced around the lobby, looking for signs of a womanly presence. The decayed walls and old, eighties-style pictures didn’t give her much information.

  With a rattle, the elevator door opened. Mr. Landon entered, then held the door for her again and pushed the sixth button.

  After a hard jolt, the elevator started rising. Nicole jumped into the corner, bracing herself against the sides. Wow! She was jumpy. A little giggle escaped from her mouth. She clamped a hand over her mouth, her face flushing. She was more embarrassed about the giggle than her reaction to the jolt.

  Mr. Landon acted as if nothing had happened.

  Finally, the thing came to a stop and the door rattled open. Nicole followed Mr. Landon down the hall to the right.

  Outside room 602, he stopped, opened the door, and dragged the suitcase inside. He gave her the key, then left, pulling the door shut behind him.

  Nicole stared at the thin piece of wood and flimsy lock that separated her from the rest of the building. Not very reassuring.

  She took a deep breath and turned, deciding to explore. But what she saw definitely wouldn’t take much time to investigate. The place was small. And maybe she was used to having a huge home—her parents were anything but poor—but the room in front of her was tiny. It could barely pass as an apartment.

  The main room was made up of a kitchen and living area. An old TV—probably black and white—with an antenna faced an orange-and-green plaid couch. The kitchen was more of a kitchenette: a small, two-burner stove, barely existent sink, and a table with one chair. No counter.

  Nicole opened the door on the right, revealing a bedroom half the size of her bedroom at Katon University, and a fourth the size of the one at home. Maybe even smaller than that. There was hardly enough space for a twin-sized bed and dresser, which were crammed in together. There were two doors to the right of the dresser—one for a closet with three shelves and the other for the bathroom, which, of course, was tiny, and had only a toilet and sink.

  “Where’s the shower?” Nicole asked herself. She felt panic rise up in the back of her throat. She couldn’t possibly go three weeks—let alone a day—without showering!

  She searched the entire apartment again. Which, of course, only took twenty seconds. With relief, she discovered a shower head above a drain in the corner of the kitchen. A shower curtain hung from the ceiling and swiveled around the head, allowing privacy. Nicole had assumed the curtain covered a window. Which it did. She’d have to be careful to keep the window covered while not splashing water all over the kitchen during her showers.

  “This is ridiculous.”

  She sat on the edge of the couch and pulled her phone out of her purse.

  Lizzie, her best friend, picked up on the first ring. “Hello? How are you? Did you finally get there? What’s it like?”

  Nicole smiled with relief at hearing Lizzie’s familiar voice. “You’ll never believe this place . . .”

  ***

  Nicole was awakened in the middle of the night by strange music drifting through the vent in the ceiling of her bedroom. The harmonies sounded off, the beat different from anything she’d ever played. It took her several moments to realize it was coming from a cello, which surprised her. She’d played the cello for years—she should be able to recognize it, regardless of how it sounded.

  After identifying the instrument, she switched to guessing the composer. But after several moments, she gave up—the music was so off from what she’d heard before. She fell back asleep.

  ***

  Nicole woke up early the next morning, eager for her first lesson with Professor Stephen Nielsen, a Wind Arete who used the cello as a medium. He was supposed to be one of the most powerful in the country.

  As she was leaving, she ran into Mr. Landon and decided to ask him about the cellist from the night before.

  “That’s Mrs. Anna Morse, an old British woman. I hope she didn’t disturb you. She chose the top floor because she likes playing late into the night and it’s farthest from my office. Let me know if she causes too much of a distraction and I’ll move you.”

  Nicole nodded and left, pulling her cello down the street. She crossed the canal and passed her rental car, deciding to walk and save the gas money. Besides, the weather was so nice! Seattle was beautiful in its own right, but she really missed seeing the sun regularly.

  The stroll to campus took twenty-one minutes and, once she was past the smell of the canal, was refreshing. She was used to walking that far with her cello, and she daydreamed the entire way about a particular guy she’d started liking—and had even kissed—since moving to Seattle. His eyes, smile, laugh. How it would fee
l to have his arms around her again . . .

  Austin had kissed her while on a Katon University expedition to Arches, but he hadn’t touched her since that day, except for holding her hand once. She chose not to dwell on that, though, remembering his promise to help her Channel when she got back from Ohio. They would have plenty of opportunities to kiss later. She hoped.

  Thoughts of him left her when she got to campus. It was breathtaking. Late-blooming flowers lined the cobblestone walks. Ivy grew on the buildings. Tall, magnificent trees—so unlike the trees on campus in Seattle. Or even Texas, where she’d grown up. She had no idea what they were, but the bark appeared smooth and nearly free from blemishes.

  Other students—a few of whom were Aretes—lounged on benches, studying from books or laptops.

  After finding the correct classroom, Nicole explored the art and music building. Guided by the sound of music, she wandered down a long hallway and into an auditorium where a symphony was rehearsing. She sat in the back, wondering if any of her fellow students from high school were there. The piece was one of her favorites—Smetana’s Moldau—and she closed her eyes, feeling herself pulled along with the rolls and flow of the song. The musicians were pretty good, actually.

  Ten minutes later, the rehearsal ended and students filed from the auditorium. The conductor, a silver-haired gentleman, walked toward the top of the auditorium where Nicole sat, followed by a few violinists.

  “Yes, yes, that’s fine. We’ll take it a bit faster next time.”

  Nicole thought she could see him roll his eyes as the violinists left. He spotted her and smiled. “Violinists. Rare to find one who isn’t a diva.”

  Nicole grinned. She couldn’t agree more.