Table of Contents
Excerpt
Praise for Donna Del Oro
Athena’s Secrets
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
A word about the author…
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
“C’mon, boy.” Kas beckoned
as Spartacus rubbed his fur against his master’s leg. “You’re something else, Athena,” he added, “You’re here three days and already stealing my dog. But you don’t want Alex? Most women I see hate my dog but crush on Alex. You’re a strange one.”
She almost tripped. Somehow his words both pleased and stung her. “Strange, huh? Well, I don’t think I want to be friends with you after all.”
He snorted but kept on walking, leading her down the path. “No danger of that happening. I don’t make friends with tall, pretty blondes, especially if they have ESP.”
He thinks I’m pretty. That thought unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.
“Because of your mother’s precog dream? You’re bothered because she saw you ending up with a tall blonde?”
“Maybe. She said the tall blonde would have the gifts of the ancient Greek priestesses. That kind of narrows it down, doesn’t it? But hell, no one tells me what my future’s going to be, not even my own mother.” He stopped and fixed his gaze on her face. “Anyway, by strange I meant unique, special. What you, your mother, my mother have—this bloodline of females is extraordinary. You need to be protected.” He looked away and continued walking. “Alex and I do what we can for Mom. We guard her secret. We don’t let the outside world exploit her. Your mother has her husband. I suppose you’ll have to find a protector, too.” Kas looked down at Spartacus, who was trotting alongside. Athena heard his implied message: Don’t expect me to be him.
Praise for Donna Del Oro
“The Delphi Bloodline [series] cuts romance with the razor-edged suspense of a great thriller. It gets the blood flowing, the heart pumping, and the pages turning well into the night, while delving intimately into a relationship that echoes back to ancient times.”
~James Rollins,
New York Times bestselling author of science thrillers
~*~
“ATHENA’S SECRETS, about a young woman just coming into her ESP powers, is intriguing. Add in threats to her family and a blossoming love interest and you have a fascinating, fast-paced read.”
~Dee Brice, author of It Takes a Thief
~*~
“The Delphi Bloodline series is thrilling! In ATHENA’S SECRETS, as Athena’s psychometric powers develop, we are treated to her learning to defeat evil while trying to live a normal life. A great story of learning to be an adult amidst supernatural pressures.”
~Philippa Lodge, author of The Indispensable Wife
Athena’s Secrets
by
Donna Del Oro
The Delphi Bloodline Series
Book One
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Athena’s Secrets
COPYRIGHT © 2015 by Donna Del Oro
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by Debbie Taylor
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Fantasy Rose Edition, 2015
Print ISBN 978-1-5092-0366-6
Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-0367-3
The Delphi Bloodline Series, Book One
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
I dedicate ATHENA’S SECRETS,
Book One in the Delphi Bloodline series,
to all those readers who know what I mean by “clairvoyant tendencies.”
May you develop those tendencies
and listen to your inner voice.
Chapter One
The Coltswolds Academy for Girls,
Surrey, England, 1998
Nine-year-old Athena was sitting on the floor, holding hands with her friends in their “Mates for Life” circle. One of the foursome, Cynthia, was relaying a bawdy joke her older sister had told her during her weekend home. All the girls were giggling, their eyes wide with gleeful shock. The next moment, Athena felt the barrage, like a pelting hailstorm in her brain.
I knew they’d be shocked, tee-hee, I haven’t even told them the really naughty ones, such prudes; don’t get your knickers in a knot. No, mustn’t think that, Athena has a brother, why does she look so shocked? She should know what a dingle-bob looks like, tee-hee. It’s so disgusting, like a banger without the mash, funny but disgusting! Will I have to confess this to Father Dillon? Oh bother, I won’t. It’s nothing, just silly words, dingle-bobs, Susan’s brother calls it ‘his Johnson,’ I’ve heard it called Bobby-boy. Oh, lordy! Susan saw her brother and his girlie friend doing it, really doing it! Shall I tell them? She saw him stick it in between the girlie’s legs, it was as stiff as a stick—
The sharp images and intense emotions hit Athena’s mind and sent her reeling in panic. The words and images kept pelting her brain.
She wanted them to stop!
Was she losing her mind? Going mad?
Fear clutched her heart, and she collapsed in a heap, screeching as if a massive headache had struck. She clutched her head on both sides, tried to cover her ears. The other three girls flung apart as if struck. They stared at Athena with looks of horror. Another jumbled mess of emotions swamped her, and she shrieked at each new barrage.
Athena was only dimly aware when the three other girls backed up in their confusion and surprise. One ran off. But every time the other two touched Athena, the frightful barrage of thoughts and emotions overtook her. She screamed, squeezed her eyes shut, and heaved hysterical sobs.
Curling herself into a ball, Athena heard the headmistress run into the girls’ dormitory room. Her three friends clamored for Miss Barkley’s attention. Athena had suddenly flipped-out, one of them cried, had gone mad, and they had no idea why. A few minutes before, Athena had been laughing along with them. Then, suddenly, she started shrieking as though she was in great pain.
Miss Barkley didn’t believe them, said they were exaggerating, or pulling a prank.
Athena felt th
e woman shake her shoulder, and suddenly the barrage struck again. She screamed and curled further into herself. Aware of the commotion she’d stirred up, she knew Miss Barkley could see no physical injuries of any kind. The woman’s thoughts intruded into Athena’s mind as she held her hand to Athena’s forehead. The child’s having a seizure, Good God, I must call an ambulance.
Miss Barkley was quiet for a moment, then, abruptly took her mobile phone out of her pocket. She pleaded with the EMTs to get there as fast as humanly possible.
Athena Butler wondered, was that it? Was she in the throes of a seizure? A seizure of the brain? Any human touch scorched her mind, making her flinch violently from any contact, causing her to shrink from the next round of pain. A seizure? She knew a girl her age who had epileptic seizures, but those seizures rendered her unconscious.
Meanwhile, Athena had stilled into a fetal position and was no longer whimpering, but breathing shallowly. Although cocooned into her ball of blackness, Athena could hear everything.
“Take her to St. Bart’s,” the shaken headmistress ordered the two EMTs who arrived minutes later. “I’ll ring her parents in France. The father’s with the Foreign Service.”
Athena knew the woman found refuge in officiousness. She’d seen the headmistress flustered before. Her response to confusion was action and orders. “Pack her suitcase, children. I do believe Athena Butler may be gone for a while.” They began to weep. “I am so very sorry, but what else can we do? I shall keep you girls informed as to her progress at St. Bart’s.”
“I think she’s catatonic,” one of the two male EMTs said.
The other hushed him before saying, “No, could be a shock of some kind. I’ll start a drip line, hydrate her.”
Athena knew what that meant and didn’t mind. That meant she would fall asleep and the pain would go away. The EMTs strapped her into a gurney before a prick stung her arm. She didn’t squirm or cry out, for suddenly she felt no pain. Craving sleep all of a sudden, she let the medicine or whatever-it-was work its magic, drip by drip through an IV line.
She could hear Miss Barkley helping the girls pack Athena’s suitcase, still interrogating them. What had they been doing when Athena collapsed? Had they drunk or smoked anything?
“No, no, nothing, just telling jokes and holding hands.”
Miss Barkley told the EMTs that she needed to call the Chief of Staff of the psychiatric ward of St. Bartholemew’s, the county hospital less than ten miles away. The woman promised the three girls that she would check in on Athena later the next day. The woman’s reassurance quieted their tears, and for that, Athena was grateful. She hadn’t meant to frighten anybody.
Athena felt herself lifted and carried downstairs. Strange, how clear and still her mind had become. The mysterious images, thoughts, and emotions had disappeared. She wondered how soon her parents would come to the hospital. The psychiatric ward of St. Bartholemew’s sounded frightful. Wasn’t that for people who went mad?
Was that what she was, mad? Mad as the hatter in the Alice in Wonderland book she loved? Good golly! Would they strap her in a straitjacket, like she heard they did with psychos at St. Bart’s?
If so, how dreadful! She’d been so looking forward to playing rounders, hockey, and tennis that spring. She was certain they wouldn’t let a mad little girl stay at school with the others.
She began to weep. Silent tears.
****
Dr. Nasritti, the on-duty night shift physician on St. Bart’s psych ward, led Anna and Trevor Butler down one corridor of St. Bart’s psych ward. A tall, burly orderly stood by a locked door but moved aside when he saw the physician and the couple approach. The physician paused and looked through the door’s steel-grid window.
“Mrs. Butler, we had to restrain the child. She resisted us and I feared she would hurt herself. These restraints were necessary, I confess.” He stopped when Anna sucked in her breath. She looked past him at her child, the girl’s arms, legs, upper torso and head constrained by wide, leather straps as she lay imprisoned on a hospital bed. The bed had no railings or sheets, nothing nearby that a violent patient in the throes of a psychotic break could harm herself with.
A wave of dizziness hit Anna. The physician and the big orderly caught her shoulders as she sagged. She immediately shook them off and glared at them both.
“Take those horrible things off her! I can’t believe you could treat my child this way—” Anna choked up and sputtered into silence. Tears erupted and ran down her heated face, and as soon as the physician unlocked the door, she pushed past him and approached her daughter’s bed. Anna and her husband exchanged a long look as she composed herself, wiped her face with her gloved hands and then, her hands working and tugging, began unbuckling the straps. Trevor stood frozen, shaking his head, overcome, his wife knew, with emotion. With a nod, Dr. Nasritti gave tacit approval to the orderly to help her unfetter the child.
“Please,” Anna ordered the man, “do not touch her, just the straps. Then leave us.” She glanced over at her husband. “Trevor, please wait for us outside. I know what to do.”
“There’s an observation room, Mrs. Butler,” the physician said. “Hospital protocol dictates that I watch and intercede if necessary. Mr. Butler, you’re welcome to join me there.”
Anna nodded distractedly, her gaze never leaving her young daughter. “Fine, thank you.” She turned to give her husband an encouraging smile.
Dr. Nasritti rested a troubled gaze upon the pair, as if waiting for the girl to rise up and attack her mother in a frenzy. Anna noticed that he’d brought a hypodermic syringe loaded with a powerful sedative just in case.
She drew a deep breath to calm herself. It was all she could do to keep from attacking the man herself. Reason returned, fortunately. He couldn’t know. None of them could know.
And if she had anything to do about it, they never would.
****
Athena lay still, her eyes closed, her breathing shallow and labored. Though not yet conscious, she floated in a dreamlike state. Unaware that her own mother was touching her arm and hand, she began receiving images and emotions like a television antenna. At first her body’s muscles contracted and she flinched, began to curl again into a fetal position. But the flow from her mother’s mind into hers continued uninterrupted, like a river that refuses to clog up or detour, and this flow changed everything. This flow slowly relaxed Athena’s rictus of fear.
A warmth born of love and familiarity flowed with those images and emotions and worked like a tranquilizer upon her mind and body. Athena recognized what flowed into her mind, memories from their shared past, images of her favorite dolls, her books and bicycle, her room at their London townhouse, her mother’s warm embrace, her handsome father’s broad smile, the big, brown eyes of her brother, Chris—whom her mother sometimes called Christoforo, in the Italian way. Images flowed of Nonna in Como, her Zio Giancarlo, the mountains and lake she so dearly loved and visited every summer, ever since she was born. These thoughts penetrated her cocoon of defense and reassured Athena that she was indeed very sane.
She hadn’t lost her mind. Indeed, her mind had expanded ten thousand fold. Instead of the gradual onset of her powers from age two to ten, as her mother had often told her would happen, Athena’s powers had gushed forth like water from a burst dam. She remembered that her mother had tried to warn her this might happen. But, holy heck, how could her nine-year-old brain prepare for such a thing?
Our minds work differently than others’, figlia mia. But we can adapt, like all humans are built to adapt. What you feel now, the fear, the pain, will lessen as your mind adapts to the new situation. After a while, this influx of information from the minds and feelings of others will be normal, and your brain will learn to ignore it all, or work around it. Your mind will adjust, and you will learn to shut it off. I learned. You will, too.
Athena’s protective cocoon lifted, and the white noise stopped. Her conscious mind rose up, and her normal senses took over. She hear
d electric buzzing and felt the cool vinyl under her fingertips. Then she heard her mother sigh, followed by a quiet sob. Although not yet fully remembering where she was, or why she wasn’t in her dormitory room, Athena realized for the first time in her life what the powers her mother had told her about were really like. She had a lot to learn, she knew, but she was no longer rigid with fear. And so she opened her eyes and looked at her mother. Her hand lifted to touch her mother’s face.
“Don’t cry, Mummy. I’m awake now. I think I understand.”
“Oh, my baby girl. Figlia bella, I’m so sorry it came on like this.”
Athena nodded. Who could she blame? Certainly not her mother. Her mother had warned her, but how could Athena have understood such a miracle? Such magic? Such a curse?
One thing was clear to her. “Take me with you to France. Please, Mummy. I want to go with you and Daddy and Chris.”
Her mother bent over and kissed her daughter’s hand, which then glistened with the tears she was shedding.
“Yes, we won’t leave you again.” Her mother turned to look in the direction of the mirrored window and her expression became fierce. An explosion of angry Italian followed before her mother settled down. “We need each other to get through this. Your father did not understand, but now he does. No more English boarding schools. They’re not for you, amore mia.”
Athena realized now how different her mother was from her father. The miracle had never come to her father, just her mother, and Nonna, and Nonna’s mother before her. A long line, Mummy had told her, extending all the way back to the ancient world of Greece, to the priestesses of Delphi. Athena wondered about that, but before she could do or say anything more, her eyes drooped. The trauma of the past night had wrung her out.
Miracles and curses were indeed exhausting.
Chapter Two
Ten years later, Washington, D.C.
Athena trudged up the concrete steps of the Art Institute, lugging her weekender bag on wheels. The bag strained to support her painting supplies. A large, gessoed canvas was strapped to its extended handle with bungee cords. Most of the students there had similar devices to transport their work. Not everything fit into a nice, neat portfolio. But the more paint Athena bought, the heavier her bag. Still, hauling the bag was cheaper than renting a locker at the school. As long as her parents were covering tuition at this private school, she would do her utmost to contain costs. It was only fair, after all.
Athena's Secrets Page 1