Goddess Girl Prophecy

by C C Daniels

  Kai fell to the floor first. Followed by his mom.

  Amaya screamed, high pitched and as scared as I ever heard her.

  Toci was the first to act. I felt her in my head rummaging around in my memories and emotions. But that time her energy just bounced around inside, harmless to me.

  MawMaw’s eyes found me and as soon as she saw I was safe, turned her attention to the Bell kids.

  I let Toci deal with the chaos with her mood-altering skills and followed MawMaw’s lead, putting all my focus on hiding the skull as fast as I could.

  Blocking the view of it with my body, I stretched my arm down and reached under the sink for a paper sack.

  Sirens blared in the distance outside. A neighbor must have heard the gunshots and called the police.

  I popped the bag open with a shake and quickly grabbed the skull—getting one last vision of my baby dreamcatcher being assembled—to plop it in the bag. Rolling the paper bag closed, I stuffed it as far back under the sink as it would go and piled the other bags on top of it.

  On an exhale of relief, I shut the cabinet door.

  That was when I saw the tiny blood splatters. The dots, almost microscopic, were all over the cupboards. The wall too. My eyes moved to the bigger blotches of red on the side wall dividing off the tool alcove. Some of the blobs were so heavy that they dripped down the wall.

  Oh no.

  My eyes were drawn lower where a sliver of ruby liquid oozed along the crevice of the baseboard. The blood flowed from the tool alcove. No, please.

  I didn’t want to look. My heart in my stomach, I took a step toward the alcove anyway. Someone was lying down. And when I recognized the fancy athletic shoes…

  “Kanaan?” I whispered, hoping my intuition was wrong.

  My gut curdled.

  I didn’t want to know—didn’t want to see. And when I saw all of him, my entire body went cold. My throat closed up and my lungs refused to work, but somehow I could scream. And scream. And scream.

  I tried to shrug off the hard hands squeezing my shoulders.

  All I could see was the gaping hole in the back of Kanaan’s head and the empty lifelessness in his eyes.

  Another pool of blood.

  I squeezed my own eyes shut.

  Wray! Toci’s mental shout cut through the red haze in my head.

  She shook me. My head bobbed back and forth. That’s when my vocal cords finally ran out of oxygen. I felt Toci’s hands cradling my face. Firmly she held my head and, as I opened my eyes, she turned it.

  Her face was close, right in front of mine, forcing me to look directly into her eyes just inches away. Behind Toci, MawMaw and the others were all frozen in place again. That time they were on the ground holding their ears, no doubt from my scream. I tried to wiggle my head out of Toci’s hands, but she held firm.

  “Don’t,” she pleaded.

  But not allowing me to look at Kanaan didn’t make what I saw go away.

  “It was that second shot, when I was wrestling Mrs. Bell for the gun.” The words burned my esophagus raw.

  Toci nodded. “Most likely.”

  It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have attacked her. I shouldn’t have. That was when the backward jet-engine sound began. It was just the slightest whisper in my head but I recognized it. I latched on to that sound like the life raft that it was. If I could reverse time—

  I focused all my attention on it, willing it to grow, putting all my energy into spurring a backward time shift. Go back, time, go back.

  The backward airplane noise whooshed past.

  In the next moment, Toci and I stood next to a frozen Mrs. Bell. I held the grip of the gun out to Toci. The skull, too, was back on the other side of the garage.

  Toci’s eyes widened. “Backward?” she whispered.

  I didn't take time to answer or explain. I needed to go back farther, back before the second gunshot. I closed my eyes and put my all into it again.

  Another rushing sound whooshed through me and then we weren’t in the garage anymore. We were just leaving MawMaw’s, running to the Bell house. And there was Kanaan, alive and well taking off to run ahead of us.

  “It worked!” I hissed out loud.

  I saved him, Toci! Going back in time saved him!

  Chapter 32

  As we ran up the street behind a living, breathing Kanaan, my thoughts went to my parents, and what the possibilities were of that particular time-shifting quirk of mine.

  “How far back can I go?” I murmured low. It was a question more to myself than to Toci.

  “Be very careful, Wray.” The warning tone in Toci’s voice was unmistakable.

  I slowed my pace and let her catch up. When she did, she motioned at my necklace. I took it off and at the same time asked her to turn off the sonar, which she did—again.

  If I can go back far enough, I can reset everything back to the way it was. The possibility that I could literally bring Mom and Dad back from the dead filled my heart with a bold confidence.

  But Toci shook her head. Your life can never go back to the way it was. Your family and friends will have no memory of the events that happened here, but you always will.

  So what? I shrugged. No one but me knew about any of time freezes either. I can fix everything.

  She glanced sideways at me. A what-if glint in her eyes dimmed what had been a worried expression. I didn’t need to see into her mind to know she was thinking of the possibilities too.

  When we got closer to Amaya’s house, the shouts and cries coming from inside the garage were identical to the first time. But neither of us paid much attention to it.

  How many times have you reversed? Toci asked.

  Twice. Here with Kanaan and once for MawMaw.

  MawMaw’s hand-cut fiasco was center in my mind, so I shared that memory with Toci.

  That second time arriving at the Bell house, Toci and I went immediately to our spot behind the wall.

  She nodded slowly a few times. There are always consequences to time shifts, especially big ones.

  Such as?

  Toci snorted. Making things worse for one.

  What could possibly be worse than gunmen murdering my parents?

  Déjà vu, the gunshot rang out again and MawMaw’s truck window shattered for the second time.

  I might be able to prevent all of this. I added a hand wave at Amaya’s garage. I’ll chance whatever repercussions there could be.

  At Toci’s slow nod, I stopped talking. Why her consent was so important to me I didn’t know. Because I was ready, so ready to embrace at least one of my quirks—and I’d do with or without her okay.

  The first time I’d gone back in time was when I remembered Dad’s death and the second was Kanaan’s lifeless body. Pure trauma and absolutely devastating emotion seemed to be the connection and the only way I knew how to make it happen. So, I went there in my mind, pushing past the instinct to block the most agonizing memories.

  From the cubby-like space behind Mom and Dad’s bed, I had heard more than witnessed the home invasion. I closed my eyes to concentrate better.

  The heart-stopping sound the doorframe made when it was kicked to bits.

  Mom screaming.

  Dad shouting “cover, cover, cover” at her.

  The reverse airplane sound began as a low, low hum. With each horrifying recollection, I nurtured it louder.

  The gunmen yelling “hands up” and shouting orders at one another. The banging of drawers, of furniture being rummaged through.

  From my hiding spot behind the bed, I could see the floor into the hall—combat boots running—and Dad fighting the intruders in the threshold of the very room I was hiding in.

  And the butt of the gun whacking the side of Dad’s head. I saw that too. Heard the skull-cracking wallop and his thump to the floor as if I were right there.

  Mom’s terrified shriek.

  And as he died, Dad’s eyes finding mine.

  I whimpered out loud.

  There’
s a less painful way, Toci murmured low in my mind and stroked my cheek with her hand like MawMaw would’ve done.

  I opened my tear-filled eyes and searched Toci’s. “Show me,” I whispered.

  “Palms together.”

  I did as instructed putting them in prayer mode.

  “No. Touch your palm-Tris.”

  Palm-Tris? I didn’t understand.

  Palm triangles. Tip to tip. She held up her hand and pointed out the triangle with the index finger of her other hand.

  I copied her demonstration of hovering one hand over the other so that fingers splayed across the wrists and the triangles joined in a hour-glass type shape.

  Surprise gun fire went off in the garage. That was different. Kanaan and I had entered the garage the first time.

  Hurry, Toci’s mental voice sped up. Right on top of left for this application.

  I quickly swapped my hands, trying hard to block out Kai’s and Amaya’s screams. Mrs. Bell had just shot MawMaw. I was sure of it.

  Flesh must touch flesh, Toci shouted in my head. Press and go.

  Like Toci showed me, I slid my hands together and pressed my palms together. The jolt of energy was instant. So was the yank backward.

  In a millisecond, I was back in Soda Springs working the T-Shirt Tom’s tent. Another millisecond, and I was paying for my meal at Gertie’s—Kanaan smiling at me. Each scene flew by faster and faster.

  I went back months and months.

  In one nanosecond, I was registering at Manitou Springs High and sweeping dirt on burial ridge at the exact same moment. That split-scene flashback tried to broil my brain. I groaned under the crushing torment and my hands slipped.

  Time warped and waved until I pressed my palms tighter together. That’s when I whirled back at what felt like the speed of light. It was breathtaking in that it was impossible to breathe. Going at that breakneck speed, I hissed by the murders so fast that I almost didn’t see them.

  I screamed out loud for time to stop and wrenched my hands apart.

  “Wray, Wray. Wake up, honey.” Mom gently shook my shoulder.

  I was in my old bed in New York. My hands wrapped around the brass rungs of my headboard.

  “Aw, my poor darling, you had a nightmare.” Mom smoothed my hair and smiled at me.

  “Screaming at the top of your lungs.” Dad looked in from the hallway of our apartment. “Is that any way to act on your seventeenth birthday?”

  With a start, I sat upright in bed.

  THE END

  PEDIGREE SNEAK PEEK

  Read on for a sneak peek of Pedigree, book two in the Goddess Girl series

  SNEAK PEEK: PEDIGREE

  I woke up screaming the morning of my second seventeenth birthday.

  The nightmare was over. That’s all I knew at the time and all I cared about. I clung to my mom like she just came back from the dead. And to me, she had.

  “Oh, honey, it’s okay.” Mom laughed lightly. “We’re here and always will be.”

  But in my nightmare, they weren’t always there. In my nightmare, they were murdered just a few days after my birthday. Mom hugged me back with an extra squeeze. I guessed she sensed that I needed her. Over her shoulder I took in my room—dark gray walls, dreamcatchers, posters of space. Everything was how and where it was supposed to be.

  “C’mon, now. Get up. You’re the last one in the bathroom this morning.” She broke the embrace. “And you’ve got some super bad morning breath, princess.”

  “Mom!”

  She laughed.

  Bad breath and hot eyes. I rubbed them trying to loosen the sleep-grit stuck in the corners.

  Dad danced a dorky dance from the hall toward the kitchen. “I’m outta here in twenty. If you want a ride to school, bust a move.”

  I bounced out of bed and crossed the hall into the bathroom. Reaching for my toothbrush and the tube of paste, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

  What is wrong with my eyes?

  In a panic, I wiped the fog that still clung to the mirror from Mom’s shower and looked again. My eyes were their normal blue. I laughed through my paranoia.

  For a moment, I thought they glowed gold just like in my dream. Though dream wasn’t an accurate description. It was a nightmare—a horrible nightmare. In that horrible nightmare, my parents had been dead for a year and my best friend’s mother shot the boy I loved in the head. Crazy!

  My heart rate accelerated. It was just a dream. Relax, I whispered to myself, relax.

  It wasn’t unusual that the dream was still fresh in my mind. Remembering too much of everything was a quirk of mine. Two things were unusual, though—one, it being a nightmare, and two, it was a totally new scenario. Most nights I dreamed the same recurring dream.

  Gunk rinsed from my eyes and pale blond hair in a single long braid, I went back to my room to get dressed. The zipper on my old school uniform skirt wouldn’t close all the way. I set it aside and reached into the back of my closet. Mom had bought the next size up when they were on sale. Glad for her pragmatism, I unwrapped a brand-new set. Everything—skirt, shirt, and blazer—fit perfectly. Then, I hurried to the kitchen to eat breakfast.

  Mom had the morning news on the little TV she kept on the counter. “Next on New York News This Morning, parents struggle with hospital bills; terrorists threaten the city; and the mayor’s failed homeless initiative. Stay with us for today’s top stories.”

  I hit the power button while Mom put eggs on a plate for me.

  “Wray,” Mom admonished me.

  “The news will rot our brains,” I countered. It was an argument we had a lot. I hated watching the news.

  “Bad stuff happens whether it’s on the news or not.”

  “Okay. So, it’s not the news that’s rotting my brain. It’s the horrible state of society.” I shook a little salt and pepper on my eggs and turned to sit at my usual spot next to Dad at the breakfast bar. There on my placemat was a tiny gift, beautifully wrapped in pink paper with pink ribbon.

  I squealed in delight. “Can I open it now?”

  “Well, yeah.” Dad mimicked the way my girlfriends spoke. “We didn’t put it there to tease you. What kind of parents do you think we are?”

  “The awesome kind,” I said.

  Mom tilted her head. “Aw.”

  I carefully took off the pink wrapping. Under it was a small cream-colored box with a gold hinged lid. I lifted the top and immediately lost my happy mood. I stared at the handmade suede pouch, my stomach turning at the sight of it. It was smaller but otherwise identical to the one in that horrible, horrible dream.

  “Not the pouch, silly.” Mom misread my reaction. “Open it.”

  As I did, Mom and Dad shared one of those parental looks.

  The drawstring opened smoothly. Tucked inside the pouch was a delicate silver chain just like Mom’s necklace. Hers held a small silver star pendant that Dad made for her in a high school shop class. Mom said she hadn’t taken it off since he gave it to her. The necklace in the pouch had the same chain, but instead of a silver star, it was strung with two stone beads—one blue and one green. I held my hand over my mouth. Those nondescript, matte stones were in my nightmare too.

  Mom and Dad shared another look.

  “I know they don’t look like much,” Mom said misreading my reaction again. “But they came with you.”

  “What?” Panic squeezed my heart with dread. For the third time, Mom and Dad glanced at one another. “Please stop doing that. It’s freaking me out.”

  “Sorry,” Dad said, but they did it a fourth time. He lightly tugged on my braid. “The beads were in a small case given to us when we adopted you.”

  “I thought I came with nothing but a diaper and a white woman’s idea of a dreamcatcher.” That’s what they had always said in a joking kind of way. If the beads came with me, then maybe that’s why I recognized them. I must have seen them at some point in my early childhood. And my imagination must have found that memory in my brain and includ
ed it in the stupid nightmare.

  “The chain is from the same vein of Colorado silver as your mother’s. It’s very old Ute silver.” Dad smiled. “The stones are said to be ancient and powerful. Together they’ll keep you safe.”

  “Safe from what?” I whispered. My mind raced through the images of my nightmare.

  “Goblins and ghouls,” Dad joked. He chewed his last bite of bacon and slid off his stool. “May I?” He took the necklace from me and opened the lobster clasped.

  “I’d rather not.” But I stood still as he put it around my neck.

  Done, Dad faced me.

  “Never take it off, okay?” Mom’s eyes darted to mine. “It’s important to me and your father that you never take this necklace off.”

  My parents shared their fifth parental look of the morning. I pursed my lips and shook my head more at that than the request that I wear the necklace.

  “Humor us, okay?” Dad kissed the top of my head. “We don’t ask you to follow too many Ute traditions, but this one is important to us.”

  I’d never heard of such a Ute tradition.

  Dad cupped by face with both of his hands. “Promise me you’ll keep this next to your heart always.”

  I stared into his eyes and pushed away the nightmare. My mind was just playing tricks on me. It had to be. Me and my stupid quirks. “I promise,” I mumbled.

  “Good.” Mom sighed and smiled with relief, and turned to put the egg carton back in the fridge.

  “Thank you.” Dad kissed my forehead, cleared his breakfast dishes, and while I ate my eggs, went to get his briefcase.

  I ate in a hurry swallowing to get the food past a lump forming in my throat.

  “Leaving now,” Dad shouted from the front door.

  I shoveled one more forkful in my mouth and lifted my plate intending to scrape it and put it in the dishwasher.

  “I’ll get it.” Mom took the plate from me. “Your father and I have a meeting this afternoon that might last awhile. Go shopping with your birthday money after school and we’ll see you tonight.”