by C C Daniels
Goddess Girl Prophecy
CC Daniels
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, media, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2019 by Charlotte Clare Daniels
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover design by Charlotte Clare Daniels
Edited by CJ Skye and Laura LaTulipe.
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In loving memory of my ex-Amish grammy.
I’m remaking my bed in your honor.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
PEDIGREE SNEAK PEEK
SNEAK PEEK: PEDIGREE
CC’S INSIDERS
About the Author
Chapter 1
Ella’s hooves dug into the red dirt the morning that I met both my past and my destiny face to face.
Spires of rocks in the same red hue soared over us, radiant and majestic against the blue Colorado sky. That legendary blue would be, forever and always, my favorite color. Garden of the Gods was our lobby, a park we passed through to get to Pike National Forest.
Burnt orange outlined the sturdy leaves of the scrub oak. Reddish rust kissed the tips of the wild grasses.
Up in the high country, aspen leaves twinkled at the sunrise. The golden groves of aspen ran like living veins through the forest of green pines. The fall air was pure, crisp, and crystal clear.
Overhead, a red-tailed hawk, which had been patiently circling, dove for its breakfast.
Nourishment.
That’s what the place was for me too. Why I was drawn back to it again and again. Why I always inhaled so deeply.
MawMaw supposed that the morning rides were my way of dealing with the grief, that the quiet helped me mentally. She was right, of course. But there was more to it than that.
The Garden had a unique kind of energy, a kind of earthy radiance. That morning the vibe felt more potent than usual.
Waves of soothing bliss gently settled over me. Something tender wrapped around my body—an odd sensation, but not unpleasant. The impulsive thought that came next threw me out of that lovely state of bliss.
For the first time since the funeral, I actually considered riding the route that would take me past my parents’ burial ground.
The familiar lump—a thick obstruction that wouldn’t let me breathe—welled up in the back of my throat. It choked everything. Every thought and every desire, except one—the primal need for oxygen.
My seized-up lungs burned. I forced a swallow and then managed a shallow inhale. And another.
By the fifth breath, I was able to inhale completely and though the debilitating lump softened, it didn’t go away. I wondered if it ever would.
Psychology was going to be my college major. I had already taken a few high school classes and read enough books to know I needed to cry. I couldn’t. Not after the shooting. Not at the hospital. Not even at their funeral.
My attention went to the tribe’s burial ground, a natural ledge halfway up the mountainside. Was I really ready to go there? The tender vibe intensified. Yes vibrated delicately in my mind. A barely whispered euphony but I heard and felt it.
Mom used to say that I could handle anything as long as I set my mind to it properly. But the need to take burial trail overwhelmed any real logic or mindset. It was pure emotion and there was nothing I could do except give into it. Right then and there, I tugged the reins left at the fork in the trail.
Ella tossed her head high, and instead of veering left, she kept going straight.
“Hey,” I admonished her and reined to turn her around. She pranced her irritation but obeyed. Again, I steered her toward burial trail, and again, she refused.
“What is wrong with you?” I tried one more time.
Ella bobbed her head, stomped and whinnied, and wouldn’t budge an inch. Maybe there was a predator. Mountain lions and bears weren’t uncommon in the Garden.
“Okay, girl.” I dismounted. “Let me go take a look.” I looped the reins over a scrub oak.
I walked down the trail, yelling and whooping and clapping my hands to scare away any lurking mammals, all the while scanning the ground for rattlesnakes. I got a little louder in the narrow section and looked up to check the red rocky overhangs too. The coast was totally clear.
I turned around to go get Ella. “Nothing to be afraid of,” I told her. She stomped a back leg and swished her tail like she didn’t believe me. “It’s true.”
I put myself back into the saddle and nudged her forward. She hesitated, but she took a few steps. “Good girl.” I cooed and gently urged her to keep going with my heels. She wouldn’t. Those few steps were all she would take.
I blew out a frustrated breath.
Patience was a skill my parents had always urged me to develop, so I did my best to tuck away my natural impatience. It wasn’t easy. The determination to go the burial trail route had come on sudden and oh so strong.
“Okay. Let’s try this.” I dismounted again.
I stroked Ella’s nose to help calm her and gathered her reins to lead the way. Together, we passed through the narrowest part of the trail and into the pretty meadow. Once through, Ella nudged my shoulder.
“See. I told you there was nothing to be afraid of.” As a reward, I let her nibble on the tender grass and the abundance of sweet wildflowers for a minute or two.
MawMaw gave me Ella for my twelfth birthday, just before my parents and I moved to New York City for Dad’s new job. Ella was enticement, MawMaw had said, to lure us back home as often as possible, as if we needed it.
Dad had already promised we’d come back every summer, and we did. On school breaks, I flew back on my own. If I wasn’t spending time with MawMaw or my friends during those trips, I was riding Ella in the Garden.
Eager to get going, I remounted her and galloped her around the picture-perfect meadow several times with no problem. So, still in a gallop, I brought her back onto the trail.
Ella cried loud and fearful. She pulled up short and over her head I went, screaming at the top of my lungs. Then, my ears popped, and I knew what was coming next.
My scream froze on my vocal cords.
The wind stopped.
The leaves stilled on the trees.
A bird, its wings in freeze-frame, hung in midair.
And, me. I hung in mid-air too.
The world and time had stopped.
All of me was frozen in mid-somersault. Well, most of me. Like always, I could breathe, move my eyes, and
blink. Nothing else, though. It would’ve been nice to be able to cover my head with my arms before time unfroze and I hurtled to the ground.
Out of the corner of my eye, I tried to see where I’d land and what I’d hit. I wanted to judge how much it was going to hurt. All I could see was hard red dirt. Oh, it was gonna hurt all right…a lot.
A whimper actually rippled up my throat. An actual sound. That was a first. Usually when the world froze, there was utter silence. The next sound was my gasp.
Most shocking of all, I was able to move an arm. Just one, the right one, and it moved slowly. But it was another first. I was in the process of lifting it to protect my head when the world whooshed back to life. Just as I knew I would, I thumped to the ground hard.
The air knocked out of me and seeing stars, I couldn’t breathe for long moments. I just lay there, staying just as I fell, waiting for the shock to my body to pass. When I could finally breathe again was when I felt actual pain.
My right side had taken the brunt of the impact. Slowly, I inhaled fully to test my ribs. It hurt like heck, but none felt broken. And my shoulder was still in its socket, thank goodness.
I rolled onto my back and tested my toes. They wiggled and my knees bent on command too. I wasn’t paralyzed. That was good. The right sleeve of my jacket had shredded. Underneath, my arm was skinned up just as bad. Blood rose to the surface in tiny scarlet beads.
“Ella.” I wailed to the blue sky. “MawMaw is going to ground us.”
I rolled to my left side, figuring I’d use my uninjured arm to push myself up. That’s when I came face to face with it—a skull half buried in the dirt.
I screamed.
Jumping to my feet much faster than I should have, I got woozy. I planted my back firmly against the wall of rock on the other side of the trail and stared at the skull that protruded from the earth. It had a shiny opalescent sheen, like it was carved from a giant abalone seashell.
I blew out a breath and looked around for my horse. A shadow moved to the right of my peripheral vision.
“Ella?” Her answering whinny came from the left. I turned to look in that direction leaning to see through the red spires framing the trail. She was back at the fork and seemed to be okay. That was a relief.
The amped-up vibe in the Garden that morning increased even more. My attention came back to the skull. The blissful aura came from it. As ridiculous as that was, I knew it was true. From what I remembered from anthro class, the size and shape was typical of a human skull. But the color sure wasn’t.
What I should have done was left the skull right where it was, respectfully covered it, and let it rest in peace. But I couldn’t. Curiosity aside, I felt responsible for it—as if I had an obligation to it somehow. Like I said, pure emotions ruled that morning.
So, I didn’t bury the skull. Against all my better judgment, I was going to take it with me. But I knew better than to touch strange objects with my bare hands.
On the ground at my left was a sturdy looking twig. I picked it up and walked the few steps back across the trail to the skull. With the stick, I poked at the red dirt around it. It only took a few digs to free it. The colorful skull slid right to my feet.
I poked it with the stick and scraped it with the toe of my cowboy boot. The shiny finish didn’t come off. If it was paint, it was high-quality paint.
I took off my jacket, wrapped the skull in it, and walked back to the fork in the trail to get Ella. The closer I got to her, the more violently she stamped her front legs. She pounded the trail furiously.
“What is wrong with you?”
The jacket rubbed the fresh road-rash injury on my right arm. It hurt, so I shifted the skull bundle to move it to my left side. When I did, the skull slipped and almost fell to the ground. I caught the edges of my jacket just in time. The skull, face up in its hammock-like bed, stared at me.
That’s when Ella, eyes and nostrils flared in absolute terror, bolted.
Chapter 2
“Ella!”
I ran after her. “Ella!” She was moving faster than I’d ever seen her move. I caught sight of her tail going around a corner way down the trail. Fabulous. At least she looked like she was headed home.
So was I, walking by myself with a weird skull wrapped in what used to be my favorite jacket.
MawMaw’s truck wasn’t in the driveway when I finally got back to the house. Ella was home, though, thank goodness. There she was, inside the barn munching on what was left of her breakfast. She whinnied at me, but otherwise seemed fine.
I closed the gate and kept going to the back door of the house.
Inside, I laid my jacket—the skull still wrapped in it—on the old wooden bench by the back door. I reached into a sugar jar MawMaw kept on the peg-rack shelf above the bench. Just a few cubes, a small treat, while I made sure Ella wasn’t physically hurt.
Since I was afraid I’d spook her again, I approached the barn slowly. I clucked my tongue and cooed softly. She responded with her normal happy head bob.
“Are you feeling better now?” She came to me and nudged the hand that held her treats. Perfectly normal. I led her into her stall. There, I gave her just one cube and checked her over. She really was fine. What a relief.
I was putting away the saddle when Amaya poked her head in the doorway.
“Hey.” She smiled and came on in.
Amaya Bell had been my best friend forever. I couldn’t remember not knowing her. Our parents went to Manitou Springs High School together—the original high school in the old part of town. Even when I moved to New York, we stayed besties. Amaya came to visit us in the city and, of course, we hung out every time I was home. We were virtually inseparable every time we were in the same place.
“Long ride today?” Amaya stroked Ella’s nose.
Even if I hadn’t been able to feel her vibe, Amaya’s touch alone showed how much she loved Ella. Ella returned the affection and nuzzled her back.
Amaya helped MawMaw take care of Ella—like coming by to feed her and riding her on a regular basis.
“A crazy ride. Ella threw me,” I admitted.
Amaya’s jaw dropped. “You’re joking!”
I shook my head and showed her my arm.
“Wow. What happened?”
“I wanted her to go down burial trail.”
Amaya tilted her head sideways. “She loves that trail.”
“Not this morning.” I gave Ella the last sugar cube. Then, Amaya and I went into the house.
While I turned on the water at the kitchen sink, Amaya hung her jacket on the peg-rack. She unrolled mine to hang it up too. The skull fell out and rolled along the bench before falling off. When it hit the floor, it didn’t clunk like I assumed a human skull would. It sort of clanged, like metal.
The water good and cold, I stuck my blood-crusted arm under the stream.
“What is this?” Amaya picked up the skull and turned it around in her hands to get a good look at it. “A Halloween decoration?”
I shrugged. “That’s what I landed beside when Ella threw me.”
She knocked on the skull. “You don’t think it’s real, do you?”
“Real, as in human?” I shook my head. “No, I don’t think so.”
Wound cleaned, I turned off the water and wrapped a clean kitchen towel around my injured arm. Amaya followed me upstairs to my room bringing the skull with her. I made a quick dart into the bathroom for a tube of antiseptic ointment, and then we sat on my bed.
I loved my room. At first, MawMaw balked when I wanted to paint it charcoal.
“No way.” She had shaken her head. “No black walls in my house.”
“Not black,” I assured her. “Charcoal…and the ceiling, too.”
One of the things I had always been really good at was getting people to see my vision. I described what I saw in my head, how the dark background would make everything else—my posters and collection of dreamcatchers—pop.
MawMaw gave in pretty quickly, although,
she still shook her head at the paint store. The color I chose was the same gray as my room in New York, only shades darker. Many shades darker. Once it was done, MawMaw praised it.
Done with the kitchen towel, I put it aside.
“Maybe its someone’s craft project,” Amaya mused.
“Maybe.” However, the vibe it put out told me otherwise.
Amaya had always been an open book. If she had felt that vibe, she would’ve said so, and it would’ve showed in her expression.
As I dabbed ointment on my scraped-up arm, Amaya kept turning the skull around in her hands. She scratched her fingernail across the forehead, scraping off flakes of the shimmering abalone-like material. Underneath it, the skull was an opalescent pearl-like ivory.
“Why bury it in the Garden of the Gods?” Amaya tilted her head.
I shrugged and put the cap back on the ointment.
It was then that the scratch on the skull sparkled like animated glitter. Both of us screamed. Amaya dropped the skull like a hot potato and we scrambled off my bed.
After ten seconds or so, when the glittering stopped, the scratch was totally gone. The original abalone sheen had been completely restored.
“Did that thing just heal itself?” I whispered not believing what I just saw.
Amaya nodded slowly with a dropped jaw. But the sparkling wasn’t over.
The brilliant flakes on my bed did the exact same thing. Glittered and sparkled until they were gone. The flakes vanished without a trace, not even a dusting left behind on my bedspread.