Unveiled: A Paranormal Urban Fantasy Novel (The Dark Skies Trilogy Book One)

by Lysa Daley

  "Betrayed?" I repeat. "Betrayed by who? Who was right?"

  "We should already be gone," he continues, ignoring my question. "I should have made sure we were already gone."

  "I'm sorry. I should have told you about the store."

  "The store?" he asks confused, swiveling toward me, and I realize he has no idea about the mall.

  "I'll, um, explain later," I say.

  "My job is to protect you." My uncle pounds the steering wheel with his left hand. "It's my only job. And I’ve failed."

  My body feels shaky. My mind races a thousand miles an hour. "But why... why is a small army of evil Chad Olsons trying to kill me?"

  "They’re called the Grail. They’re highly effective shapeshifting bounty hunters. Those copies of Chad are -- how do I explain this -- they've imprinted off of him. If they saw you two together, the prime Grail probably figured you would trust Chad, so she took his form.”

  "But how is that possible?" Chad asks numbly.

  "They're not from this world," my uncle replies.

  "Not from this world?" I repeat. "You mean like monsters, aliens?"

  "Alien to this world, yes."

  "Aliens from outer space?" I feel ridiculous even having the words come out of my mouth.

  “Yes,” he says, flatly.

  “Are you crazy?” I spit out.

  “I wish I were.”

  I suppose I always believed, deep down, that life exists outside of earth. But I believe in aliens the same way I believe in molecules and Tom Cruise and Australia. I know they exist, even though I've never actually seen them.

  This is too much to process.

  "Whatever they are, and wherever they’re from, they're trying to kill me."

  "No. They want you alive," my uncle says, an unsettling edge in his voice. "Someone else is waiting to kill you. Someone much worse."

  Chapter 11

  I'm stunned silent. Someone worse than these creepy clone red-eyed monsters wants to kill me. Finally, I find words, "Did I… did I do something wrong?"

  "Wrong?" My uncle sounds shocked by my question. He reaches over and puts a gentle hand on my knee. "No. You were born, child. That is your only crime."

  Meanwhile, Chad is freaking out in the seat next to me.

  "This is bad. Really bad. Really, really bad," he repeats, staring blankly at the world going by outside the car window as we speed away from my school.

  "It’s okay, young man. Those creatures won't look like you for much longer," my uncle explains, in a calm, even voice, like all of this is no big deal. "They’re shapeshifter, but they can't retain your image from a distance. Once we're far enough away, the clones will vanish, and the Grail will revert into its true form."

  I hesitate, afraid to ask, "And what exactly is its true form?"

  "You don't want to know," my uncle replies as he accelerates, running a yellow light a split second before it blinks red.

  "No, actually, I do want to know," I say, finding an unexpected courage. "I want to know what exactly is going on."

  A long dark silence follows until my uncle lets out a long, low sigh.

  “Okay. It’s time you knew all of this anyway,” he says with regret in his voice.

  “Knew what?” I ask as a bad feeling wells up inside of me.

  “Long past time, probably. You were being pursued by the Grail. The Grail are big scary reptilian aliens with incredible strength and speed. They’re mercenary bounty hunters for hire to the highest bidder. They’re expensive because they’re effective.”

  Great. Nice to know that the shapeshifting intergalactic bounty hunters sent to capture me are really, really exceptional at their job.

  “There were so many, so many…” Chad mutters.

  “Actually,” my uncle corrects him. “There was only one. The prime. The rest were clones.”

  I am almost certain I have lost my mind. I pinch myself to see if I wake up from this bizarre nightmare. Nope. I’m still here.

  My uncle glances at Chad, then back to the road in front of him. "We'll talk more once he's safely out of the car.”

  He obviously doesn't want to say too much in front of Chad.

  I nod and sit in stunned silence for a long moment.

  A troubling thought fills my brain. If those things are aliens, and they’re after me, does that mean I’m an alien?

  Except, of course, that might explain why I’m so different; why I’m such a freak. It might be the reason I’ve never felt like I fit in.

  My uncle pulls the truck over in front of the local StarCoffee where kids from my school hang out. He reaches into his pocket and hands Chad three $20 bills. "Get something to eat and find a ride home."

  "Yes, sir," Chad nods numbly, "Thank you, sir.”

  "Look at me," my uncle commands in his quiet but firm voice. Chad obediently turns his blue-green eyes toward my uncle.

  My uncle locks Chad in his gaze. I've never seen him look at someone like this before. It's both powerful and a little frightening.

  "Young man, you will keep the memory of today locked in your brain as a warning of what may come. Share your experience with no one. Do you understand?"

  His wide eyes glazed, Chad nods.

  "Good. You have done well. You can not fully appreciate the importance of keeping Astrid safe," my uncle tells Chad. "And you too will be safe now. Those things will not return for you. They will not take your form again. You can be sure of that."

  This seems to comfort a still shaken Chad. “Thank you, sir.”

  "Go now," my uncle looks away. Breaking his gaze seems to release Chad from some invisible hold. "Remember, don't speak of this to anyone."

  The way my uncle is talking sounds different. Oddly formal.

  Chad smiles, back to his regular easygoing self, as if none of this happened. "Bye, Astrid. See you tomorrow in bio."

  "Right," I nod, but my heart is breaking. I know I’m never going back to Oakdale Prep. Which means I'll likely never see Chad Olson again. But I smile anyway and say, "See you in bio."

  Chad closes the truck's door and breezes into the coffee shop. I watch him probably walk out of my life forever.

  As we pull away from the curb, a tear rolls down my cheek and a heavy sense of dread fills my heart. "Did you hypnotize him or something? Can you do some sort of mind meld?"

  My uncle nearly chuckles. "The human brain is relatively uncomplicated. I simply planted a firm suggestion in his head. A suggestion he wanted to hear so, he will obey."

  At the end of the block, the white truck makes a U-turn sending us back in the direction we just came from. There's a knot in my stomach as I wipe away a few stray tears. "Are we leaving? Moving again?"

  "No."

  "Really? We're staying?"

  "No," he says flatly. "We're going home."

  This confuses me all the more, because when you've moved ten times you don't actually feel like you have a home. "And where exactly would that be?"

  He's quiet for a moment then replies, "A thousand light years from here."

  "Is that like some sort of metaphor?" I ask. "Cause I don't know how to pack for a thousand light years. Winter clothes? Summer? Boots or sandals?"

  He frowns at my sarcasm. ”You don't need to bring any of your Earthly possessions," he says. "Except your father's weapon."

  "My father's weapon?"

  We don't have any old family swords or daggers. Sure we have a bunch of old beat up karate equipment -- kali sticks, tattered bow staffs, and cheap steel replicas.

  "It's at the studio," he says. "Give me your phone."

  "Sword? You mean one of those cheap samurai replica swords at the studio?" I ask, as I pull my cell phone from my back pocket and hand it to him.

  My uncle turns my phone off, rolls down the window, and throws it into oncoming traffic.

  "Hey!" I yell just as a UPS truck runs over my phone shattering it into a gazillion pieces. “Why did you—“

  "You can be tracked with your phone. And, you w
on't need it anymore. Not where we're going."

  "We could have just taken out the SIM card! You didn’t need to--" I slump helplessly in my seat. "You have officially lost your mind. This whole thing is crazy.”

  "This is not how I wanted you to find out." We stop at a red light, and his hands drop from the steering wheel into his lap. "Leaving has always been a last resort."

  “Please tell me what is going on?”

  “You’re special, Astrid.” I can tell by the look on his face that this is a conversation he doesn't want to have. When the light turns green, he says, “I’ve always told you that you have royal blood in your veins. This is true. But we are not of this world.”

  I’m so stunned my ears are ringing. In fact, I’m not sure I heard him correctly. “Wait… You’re not actually saying that we’re… aliens too?”

  “I know this is all a lot to take in.”

  I bark out a nervous laugh. “You think?”

  “I’m saying we are not originally from this planet,” he tries to explain. “But you truly are a princess, of sorts. Not from Ivalo, but from a multi-star system about 450 light years away called the Pleiades.”

  “The Pleiades star cluster?” I ask, thinking back to English class and Greek mythology.

  I had a strange encounter with an English substitute teacher at my last school who was obsessed with the mythology of the Pleiades, so I’m pretty familiar with it.

  “And the Greek myth of the seven sisters of the Pleiades?” I add.

  “Tell me what you know about them.”

  I stumble through what I remember. “After their father Atlas was forced to carry the heavens on his shoulders, Orion began to pursue his seven daughters.”

  I pause thinking. “So, to help the family out, Zeus turned the seven girls first into doves, and then into stars, placing them in the night sky, in order to comfort their father. Which doesn’t seem like a good solution to the problem, but whatever...”

  My uncle nods, then I add, “Even though the seven sisters became seven stars, only six stars of the Pleiades are visible in the night sky. One sister is lost.”

  “Nearly ever civilization on Earth has some version of the seven sisters story,” my uncle begins. “The Vikings called them the hen and the chicks; the Navajo called them the seven sparkling suns. The Japanese call them subaru and gave that name to their car company using the symbol of the six stars. The Hopi believe they are descended from the Pleiades.”

  “That’s crazy,” I laugh.

  “No. It’s not,” he says flatly. “It’s all part of a larger prophecy.”

  “I don’t understand. Prophecy?”

  “An ancient promise thousands of years old is now coming to pass,” he replies.

  “Why are you talking so funny?” I ask, then mimic his deep voice, “An ancient promise come to pass. You sound weird, and it’s kind of freaking me out.”

  “I’m sorry, Astrid,” he says with a sad smile. “I think it’s actually the other way around. All of my years on Earth have changed the way I naturally speak, and you’re used to that.”

  “Well, go back to talking normally. I like it better.”

  “If you don’t want to hear about the prophecy…”

  “No, I want to hear,” I snap back. Then, I soften my tone and add, “Just tell me, you know, in a regular way.”

  “I’m not sure how to explain in a normal way that the stars were aligned on the day you and six other girls were born to seven powerful Pleiadian families -- just as the prophecy foretold.

  “Each of those families holds a seat on the Pleiadian Council of Light that governs a peaceful alliance of hundreds of different worlds. You come from the royal family of Asterope.”

  “So I really am a princess?”

  He nods, then continues, “You seven girls are collectively known as the Seven Sisters of the Light.”

  “There are six more like me?” I begin, trying to make sense of this information.

  "One of you seven – the Lost Star – is destined to fulfill the ancient prophecy and become the savior of the Pleiadian Alliance by defeating a terrible enemy known as the Swarm."

  "The Swarm?" I repeat, feeling a ripple of fear trickle down my spine. "That's a pretty scary name."

  "There is no enemy more frightening or dangerous," he says flatly. "Our civilizations, made up of hundreds of planets, lived peacefully for tens of thousands of years until we were invaded by a massive dark empire from the Draco star system.

  “These Draconians are a warlike race, who rob every planet they invade of all its resources, leaving it drained and dying. They are called the Swarm because the skies grow dark with thousands of their warships when they infest each new world.

  “An alliance was formed to stop the Draconians. We, who are loyal to the Council of Light, have tried to stop the Draconian Swarm from swallowing up planet after planet.

  “The people of Earth do not know it yet, but we have included them in our alliance. If the Draconians are not stopped, this world will also be destroyed. And soon."

  “So, you’re saying no one on earth knows this?" I ask.

  "There are some who know," he says, "A small group here has assisted us. And they watch the skies.“

  "But if there were seven girls born, how will you know which girl is this lost sister of light?" I ask, feeling like I missed something.

  “No one knows who among of the seven is the prophesied Lost Star. She alone will be able to defeat the Draconian Swarm. Each of you has inherited your father’s royal weapon. They are ancient weapons forged from the dust of the seven original Pleiadian stars. They say each weapon is as different as the girl who wields it.”

  "Well, I’m obviously not one of these seven sisters," I say with a nervous laugh. "I can barely use my bow staff, let alone some ancient magical sword."

  "Don't say that," he barks at me. "This is very serious, Astrid."

  “I’m sorry. This is completely and totally insane. The whole thing is all a little much to swallow.”

  “The seven of you have been scattered across the galaxy for safe-keeping. Each was sent with their father’s weapon and a guardian.”

  “What do you mean by guardian?”

  “Astrid, I’m not your uncle. Not by blood, at least. I am your chosen guardian and teacher. I was a general of the Pleiadian Alliance. I have sworn an oath on my life to protect you. This assignment has been my greatest honor. My most treasured duty.“

  We ride in silence for a moment as my head swims with all of this information.

  My uncle regards me with a solemn expression I have seen a thousand times, except now I wonder if his always-serious mood comes from the burden of hiding the truth about my past all these years.

  He parks the truck a block from the karate studio, around a dark corner on a dead end street.

  Turning the engine off, he quietly asks, "Do you still dream of the hooded figure in the dark red cloak?"

  I tense up. How could he know this?

  "Sometimes," I confess.

  "Those are not dreams," he replies.

  “Then what are they?”

  "That is the Draconian supreme warlord, Ciakar Rigel, trying to reach out to you through time and space. He's known as the Crimson Lord because they say his once white cape is now soaked in the blood of those he has conquered. He searches the galaxy for you. And your sisters. To put an end to you before you can begin."

  Somehow, as he speaks, I know this is true. I’ve felt an evil force trying to take hold of me while I sleep. Sometimes, even after I wake, a dark shadow seems to cling to me.

  "Where are the others?" I ask. "The other six?"

  "Each has been sent to a far corner of the galaxy. Only you and I live in this star system," he says, as he gets out of the truck. "Your existence worries the Crimson Lord. Your encounter with the Grail means he now knows you are here. It means we must leave this planet. As fast as possible."

  I'm out of the truck, meeting him at the back as he
pulls his bag from the flatbed. Trying to put the pieces of the past few days together, I blurt out, "The meteor. The Grail came in the meteor."

  “Yes, their small craft entered the atmosphere disguised as a meteor.” A dark wave washes over his face, and he shakes his head. "I don’t understand. I thought I had destroyed it before it could confirm your location.”

  Now it makes sense. The bundle that looked like a dead body he was carrying last night in the canyon was a Grail.

  "The Grail are trackers, bounty hunting, mercenary scum who work for the Draconians,” he says darkly. “Now that they know you’re here, they won’t stop until they catch you."

  "They sound impossible to defeat."

  "No. Kill the prime," he says, handing me a short, thick kali stick. “And you kill the hive. The Grail are shifters and splitters. From their prime, they divide into exact replicas. Whatever form the prime takes, the second follows and so on. Destroy the prime and you kill all the clones."

  "How can you tell which is the prime?"

  "Did you see a mark?" he asks. "Like a living tattoo?"

  "On the neck," I say, realizing I know exactly what he’s talking about. "The salesgirl and the Chads had a swirly tattoo thing on their neck."

  "The prime does not carry the mark." He gestures to his neck. "The mark on the neck is what connects her to her clones.”

  "How many clones can one prime make?" I ask as we head toward the studio.

  "Potentially hundreds. But each new one saps a little strength from the prime. And each new clone weakens the whole group."

  The gloom of the moonless night hangs heavy over the town as we approach the dark karate studio. It's almost 6 p.m. Something seems to crackle in the air like a weird living energy, and it's making me nervous.

  As we hurry toward the studio, a beefy figure approaches in the shadows. I’m ready to turn around and run away, but my uncle recognizes the figure and smiles. "Hey, Jonas. You get everything locked up?"

  "Yes, sir," Jonas, the assistant teacher, replies as he passes us. "Cleaned the mats and washed the windows too."

  I fight the urge to roll my eyes. He’s such a kiss up.

  "Excellent. Have a great night." My uncle nods and gives him a wave. I'm amazed at how calm and cool he's being.