I read on. The next passage was about the purple stone. The stone of protection. Finally. It was all there in black and white. Nexis knew where all four amethysts were—under Guardian control, of course.
Centuries ago, when Nexis started organizing, there was opposition. Naturally, because their plan was crazy. The Guardians came together to protect the world from Nexis. While Nexis combed the earth for rubies, the Guardians searched for the amethysts. From this record, Nexis believed they’d hidden one stone in each of their four primary locations, America, Europe, the Middle East, and Asia.
Over the centuries Nexis tried to steal the amethysts, without success. They’d sent spies into the Guardian ranks, learning approximate locations for each stone. In the 1900’s, a spy reported the American amethyst was in New York, but Nexis still hadn’t found it yet. The last search was dated a year ago. A spy had heard rumors that the amethyst was hidden in the neutral zone, Montrose Academy. He searched the chapel but found nothing. No notes about any more rumors.
“I’ve got something,” Will said a little too loudly.
“Quiet,” I hissed at him. “There could be someone here.” Nonetheless, I rounded the table and read over his shoulder.
“Look here,” he pointed at a passage. “It’s a record of the amethyst at Montrose. Crazy, huh?”
“Yeah, crazy,” I whispered. My eyes landed on the passage. Sure enough, a record of the American amethyst. I stopped in my tracks. My heart punched against my ribcage. I was so close to finding it, but I had to be sure.
I skipped to the most recent entry—from six months ago. A rumor of the amethyst buried somewhere in the Montrose chapel library, or a hidden tunnel below it. The next entry was the Nexis plan to dig under the chapel. To get permits.
“A hidden tunnel?” I asked silently.
Click, clack, click.
I froze. Looked at Will. “Go to the door,” I whispered. “Check if someone’s coming.”
My fingers itched. I knew this page was important, so I kept reading. Nexis bribed cable companies and city officials, but each time the city denied their permit. At the end, there was a strange note. A reference to another page in another book.
“Someone’s coming,” he hissed across the room. “Let’s get out of here.”
Voices floated down the hall. They sounded far away. Far enough away to give me time to do what I knew I had to do.
Sticking the flashlight in my mouth I scanned all the titles on the table until I found the book I needed. Adrenaline pumped through my body as I sliced through the pages at lightning speed, looking for the right one.
The voices were louder now. Closer. My heartbeat skyrocketed, fingers flying in overdrive.
“Hurry up,” Will said, hands flailing like a madman. “C’mon already.”
Eureka! I found it. Something about St. Lucia and the stones. This better be it.
“Just take the book and let’s go,” Will hissed, grabbing my collar.
“And have them find a sacred book missing? Not a chance,” I hissed back, my heart pounding. No time to read. I grabbed a few pages…and ripped. I ran toward the door, stuffing the pages in my hoodie.
“What did you do that for?” Will held the door open, staring at me.
I ran past him. “No time. Let’s go.” I took off running up the hall. Churned my legs as fast as they would go.
Will was right behind me. But he wasn’t the only one. Someone chased us in the dark.
My brain kicked into panic mode as my legs found a new gear. I rounded the corner and sprinted for the front door.
Then Will yelped. “Hey, get off me.”
An old priest had one gnarled grip on the hem of his jacket.
“Keep going.” I yanked on Will’s arm so hard the priest dropped it.
In a flash, we took off down the steps and raced up the street.
Footsteps echoed behind us. Slowed, then stopped.
Two seconds later we rounded the block. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the priest in his black garb, keeled over, hands on his slacks. Wheezing like crazy as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.
“That was close, man,” Will gasped between breaths.
“Too close. But It’s not over yet,” I breathed as we jogged up the sidewalk to the nearest subway station. Tumbling down the stairs, we hopped on the next train.
“I can’t believe we didn’t get caught,” he slumped lower on the bench across from me, “and you ripped the pages out of a hundred-year-old book. Must be something good, right?”
“I hope so,” I said, stuffing the crumpled pages deeper into my hoodie.
When I saw Lucy tomorrow, I’d warn her. Tell her everything. Until then, I had twelve hours to come up with a plan. Before I turned eighteen and her cover was officially blown.
LUCY
Tick, tock. Tick, tock. The rhythm pounded into my brain until I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to look. My eyes popped open and I glanced at the clock. Midnight. It was only midnight.
Huff. Burrowing under the covers, I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. For the umpteenth time tonight. A nervous energy coursed through my body at the thought of tomorrow.
Tomorrow I’d fly to New York City and see James graduate from Montrose Academy. The same high school I’d be attending next fall.
I could almost picture it now. Against the backs of my eyelids, the scenario played out like a movie. James smiling at me with his big goofy grin as he showed me around campus, all around New York City.
The scene disappeared, cut to black, and morphed into something else. An inky fog that moved and breathed with a life of its own.
Hazy shapes emerged from the shadows. I tried to pry my eyes open. But I couldn’t.
Two figures came into focus, in some sort of library. One of them was James. I stood across from him, on the other side of a giant mahogany table, and noticed a wall of bookshelves behind him.
“Since when do you like to read?” I asked. James didn’t look at me, didn’t respond. Neither did his friend. “Hey, guys. Can’t you see me? Am I invisible or something?”
Quick as lightning, they split up, scrambling to the opposite ends of the dark library. They yanked books from the shelves, piling them on the table. The stack grew higher and higher. I reached for the top book, but my fingers swiped through thin air. Like a ghost.
“Okay, this is getting weird now,” I said to their backs. “Isn’t this my dream? I’ll admit, I do have a strange love of books and libraries. But c’mon, if it were up to me I’d be swinging around the stacks on a rolling ladder with enough daylight to at least read the books.”
James sat down and pulled out a flashlight. Maybe he could hear me after all. He opened an ancient text, scanning each page with one finger. Finally, he stopped and read a passage.
Words sprang off the page, like an invisible sparkler drawing in the air.
Sacred stones. Guardians. The Seer.
What could that mean? The words swirled around James as he read. Flickers of flame reflected off the mahogany, lighting up the darkness with tendrils of fire.
And suddenly I could see.
A strange purple light emerged from the center as the flaming words swirled around. The light took shape, budding into a gemstone. Like a raw, uncut amethyst nestled in a bed of rock.
The stone glowed with a light of its own. Growing bigger and brighter as its smooth planes glittered.
The other guy said something, and James looked his way.
The glowing stone disappeared, leaving only blackness in its wake.
“Where’d it go?” I asked.
James walked over to his friend and read over his shoulder. Still ignoring me, of course.
Cold crept in, wrapping icy tendrils around my limbs. I shivered as if those fiery words and that glowing amethyst were the only way I’d ever be warm again.
Letters danced from the pages, tracing fire in the sky. Another chrysalis formed, birthing the gleaming amethyst once
again. My body tingled—alive and warm. Welcoming back an old friend. Except this time the words were different.
Gratiam Coram Domino.
The burning words reflected in my brother’s eyes. Then James looked directly at me.
“Gratiam coram domino,” he whispered. “Maybe that will keep her safe.”
Was he talking about me? Why did he need to keep me safe?
Whoosh. The blazing amethyst rocketed straight toward me. Oh, that’s why. I pedaled my feet, dodged, ducked, and tried to run away. But the stone zinged behind me. Tracked my every movement. Hurtling toward me.
“Someone’s coming,” James said to his friend.
Riiiip. My jaw dropped. I couldn’t believe it. Did James just rip the pages out of a hundred-year-old book?
With a blinding flash of light, the gemstone barreled straight into my chest.
Bam! The impact knocked me flat on my back. A great ball of purple sparkles exploded around me.
Patting my chest, I glanced down. Nothing. The stone was gone.
Phew, I breathed, dropping my hand. And my t-shirt lit up. With the imprint of an amethyst glowing through the white cotton. Okay, now things were getting weird.
Slowly, with no sudden movements, I touched the spotlight on my chest. The light dimmed. When I peeled back my hand, the light shone purple again. As if the stone was now lodged in my chest. Forever.
James and his friend started running. So I ran, too.
Voices hissed in the darkness. I couldn’t see James anymore and my heart sank. Shadows blew in like storm clouds, chasing me with their fury. My legs churned, running and running and running. But I couldn’t outrun the darkness. I was all alone.
Suddenly, a light bloomed in the darkness, tinged with purple. A spotlight directed right at me. I wiggled my fingers in the beam. They were lavender, too.
The light surrounded me now, warm and comforting. So I stopped running. That’s when the real picture came into focus.
Around me, the light had its own shape, with crystalline planes on every side. Like a multi-faceted piece of quartz encasing me in its epicenter.
Eeooww. Eeooww. Eeooww. The darkness screeched and shrieked, stabbing my eardrums. Pain throbbed through my head.
I dropped to my knees, slapping my hands over my ears.
But the ground beneath me was translucent—an amethyst hexagon glistening below me. Wraiths of fire and shadow flung themselves at the hexagon, only to bounce off the outer rim. Exploding into a thousand orange sparks. Gone like a puff of smoke.
My heart slammed against my ribcage. I stood up, my legs shaking.
More shadows pounded against the sides of my laser-light crystal, only to burst into fireworks. Shooting straight back to the hell they came from. Never touching me.
I blinked and blinked, not sure what to make of it. Then the truth sank in. Whatever James was doing in that library, it was all for this stone. To protect me. To keep me safe. A lump lodged in my throat. Relief and wonderment and confusion choked me up inside, mixed with utter gratitude to the great power that stood between me and the hounds of hell.
“Thank you, James,” I whispered into the darkness as tears trickled down my face. “I don’t know what just happened or what you did. But thank you.” It was truly awe-inspiring.
With a start, I woke up. Hands shaking, clutching my pillow. Tears damp on my cheeks.
I yanked the covers back and clawed at my t-shirt. My breath hung from a trapeze in my throat. No glowing purple symbol emblazoned on my chest. I sank back onto my pillow. Disappointment tasted bitter in my mouth.
It was only a dream. One I’d remember for the rest of my life.
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
No writer is an island, and I am no exception. For you, my faithful reader, thank you so much for taking the time to live alongside my characters in this story. It truly blesses me to know you’re out there, reading my words. Many thanks to my husband Sam who encouraged me to keep going even when I couldn’t see the light of day. I’m so grateful you understand how an artist works, that when inspiration strikes at one in the morning you just rub my shoulders and tell me to do what I need to do. Your love and constant support buoyed me up more than you’ll ever know.
Thanks to my editor, Grace Bridges of Splashdown Books, who believed in me and my story enough to put it out there. After a year of struggling to find the right home for my book, I’m so glad I finally found the perfect place to spread my wings. Special thanks to Liberty Speidel for her brilliant notes in the proofreading stage. Also for Deb Raney, who encouraged me when I was down and was excited enough about my writing to show an excerpt to her editor. You have no idea how much that meant to me, so thank you.
Stephanie Morrill, thanks for being my sounding board when I was struggling through all the ups and downs of publishing. Your advice and encouragement meant more than you know. To all of my fabulous ACFW KC West writer friends who critiqued my work and brainstormed with me, Lora Young, Susan Hollaway, Donna Geesey, Sally Bradley, Christina Rich, Dan Schwabauer, Susan Mires, Holly Michael, and Bob Johnson. Thanks for being my writing support system.
Much love to my first readers, Kelly Irwin, Darci Webster, Whitney Potter, Jr. and Mary Potter. I cringe when I remember the rough drafts you had to read. Your ideas and encouragement ultimately made this story into a novel. Thanks also to Allison Jones Choate for being my character psychologist and plotting czar.
For my family, without whose support I may have given up long ago. My mom, who provided me with the resources I needed to keep writing and is now as excited as I am that I finally got published. My dad, who always believed in me, even in the early days. My in-laws, Lloyd and Bunny Hartzler who love me like their own and encourage all my creative endeavors. Nick and especially Lindsay Hartzler, I love having another YA reader in the family to discuss books with. Brett and Joan Nelson, for understanding the writing process and taking beautiful author photos. Thanks for making me look good.
I’m blessed with such fabulous forever friends like Allison Jones Choate, Kelly Irwin, Allie Peak, Sarah Atkinson, and Tena Redenbaugh. Walking alongside you in this journey has been a joy. Thanks so much to my CBC buds who got excited about my early work and inspired some of my characters. A big shout-out to Rachel Pyles Worley, who read the early chick-lit short story and was the first to beg for more. To Michael “Boston” Brown, for lending me his sister’s name for one of my favorite characters, and to his sister Shanda, who unwittingly is the coolest girl in this book. For my drama teacher, Glenda Mohr, thanks for believing in my writing from the get-go. The tortoise girl is finally in the zone. Also to my Called to Write crew, Corrie Lawrence and Carol Sharp, for taking the time to encourage me right when I needed it.
Many thanks to ACFW for being a place that nurtures budding writers. If I hadn’t finally joined, I know it would’ve taken me a lot longer to get here. Finally and above all, my heart belongs to the light of my life, my Father God, my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. I am humbled by the call you’ve placed on my life, and pray every day that I will live it out in a way that pleases you.
MORE BOOKS BY BARBARA HARTZLER
THE NEXIS SERIES
Book 1: The Nexis Secret
Book 1.5: The Nexis Awakening
Book 2: Crossing Nexis (Fall 2019)
Book 3: The Nexis Conspiracy (2020)
Book 4: The Nexis Crusade (2020)
DEVOTIONAL
Waiting on the Lord: 30 Reflections
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The Nexis Secret: YA Fantasy Romance (The Nexis Angel Series Book 1) Page 32
