Table of Contents
Title Page
FORSAKE
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
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Discern Teaser
About the Author
Forsake
A Mosaic Chronicles Novel
Andrea Pearson
Copyright © 2017 Andrea Pearson
Book design and layout copyright © 2017 Andrea Pearson
Cover copyright © 2017 Andrea Pearson
Series by Andrea Pearson:
Kilenya Chronicles
Kilenya Romances
Kilenya Adventures
Mosaic Chronicles
Koven Chronicles
Ranch City Academy Series
License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction, and the views expressed herein are the sole responsibility of the author. Likewise, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are represented fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
FORSAKE
Vicious shifters are on the hunt and will devour anything that stands in the way. And getting in the way is exactly what Nicole must do.
Nicole Williams hopes for nothing more than to Restart like any normal Arete and gain access to the magic she’ll possess. But when she does Restart, she’s accused of gruesome murder, and she learns she must travel halfway around the world to save her best friend’s life.
Knowing that the evil Hounds of Tindalos are hot on her tail and that they’ll stop at nothing to kill her before she hides her best friend from them forever, she invites her boyfriend, Conor, to come along as backup. But Conor’s plans may not line up with hers.
Danger, intrigue, and harrowing fights with evil await you in Forsake, a Mosaic Chronicles novel. Start reading now to immerse yourself in the adventure!
Dedication
To Artemis Page and her son Daniel
Artemis, for being a wonderful friend. And Daniel, for being a wonderful son to a wonderful friend. Thank you both. :-)
http://andreapearsonbooks.com/
Chapter One
Nicole wobbled a bit on the wooden platform as the tailor pinned another section of her hem. The bright blue taffeta was beautiful, and with all the flourishes and embellishments he’d added to the bodice, it would make an impressive evening gown. Too bad the event she would wear it for was a complete sham.
She checked the time on her cell phone, eager to be finished before her mother arrived at the store. She and Mr. Finucci had been working for forty-five minutes already, and together they had finally gotten the dress to a length and style that satisfied them both.
Nicole loved the dress, but she was mostly apprehensive about the ball she’d be wearing it to the next evening. Her parents rarely spent money on her unless it was for something that would ultimately embarrass her by putting her on display or by forcing her to do something uncomfortable. Like talk to their snooty friends. Or pretend to be able to do magic, even when everyone knew she couldn’t.
Nicole was an Arete—a fourth-born child. Her magical powers, when they finally came to her, would be elemental, coinciding with the color of her hair. Dark hair, including black, meant the person would control Earth properties. Red covered Fire powers, light brown was Water, and Nicole’s natural blond represented Wind abilities.
The ball was supposed to be in celebration of her eighteenth birthday—the traditional age of an Arete when their powers came to them. She’d turned eighteen two months ago. Tiffany claimed to have forgotten, but Nicole figured her mother was trying to show her who was in charge. Like that was necessary.
She sighed, watching the pins in Mr. Finucci’s hands flash as he continued working on the hem. Tomorrow, her passage into adulthood would finally be recognized. Tomorrow, an event her parents had almost never talked about would be celebrated. An event that still hadn’t happened. That might not happen. Tiffany wanted to stress her, to force it. Nicole couldn’t understand why—Tiffany hated Aretes. She especially hated the fact that her own daughter was one. It drove Nicole nuts because she’d never been able to get Tiffany to tell her why.
The tailor looked at her in the mirror, his brown eyes kind as they appraised her. “Are you well, Nicole?”
She shook her head. “You know how I feel about these events.”
And he did. He had been Tiffany’s tailor for as long as Nicole could remember. The man was probably in his sixties by now. His fingers were starting to bend from arthritis, but he was still quick and agile. And kind-hearted. Nicole appreciated that part.
“You look like you’re ready to throw up,” he said.
Nicole’s stomach did feel upset, but she couldn’t understand why. She didn’t normally get nervous about these balls.
A thought occurred to her. Was her stomach upset because Conor was her date?
Conor was the new guy in school—he’d only been going to Jordan Glen Academy, the private school Nicole attended, for maybe four months. He was also attractive. And smart. And because he was new, attractive, and smart, he was the object of many girls’ crushes. Nicole had been surprised when he’d asked her out. Most non-Aretes were intimidated by her. She’d dated a lot of regular humans but was typically disappointed to find that most were only interested in her because of what she was.
Maybe she was nervous about having Conor around her parents. How would they treat him? What would he think of their indifference?
Maybe she’d get lucky and they’d all just ignore each other.
Her first date with Conor had gone well but hadn’t been spectacular, and Nicole had left feeling unmotivated and uninspired. Then their second date happened, and the sparks had really flown. He’d been sweet, charming, and wonderful. And he didn’t ask a single question about magic or Restarting or being an Arete.
It was so refreshing.
Their third date was tonight. They would be doubling with Nicole’s best friend, Lizzie, and a guy Conor was setting Lizzie up with. Nicole was really looking forward to it. She flushed as she thought of their last date—how he’d kissed her cheek, edging toward her lips, but had left her hanging with a flirtatious wink. She put a hand on her che
ek now, unable to stop the smile that grew when she thought about it.
With a deep breath, Nicole pushed thoughts of Conor from her mind. Tiffany would be arriving soon, and she would need to be on her best behavior. Thinking about a guy wouldn’t help.
The bells at the front of the store chimed as somebody entered. Nicole and Mr. Finucci looked at each other. The place was closed—it always was when he was doing her fittings. Tiffany paid him well to ensure that she was his only customer when she had work for him.
“Is your mother here already?” he asked.
Nicole lifted her phone to check the time again. “If so, she’s fifteen minutes early.”
Mr. Finucci raised his eyebrows. They both knew that Tiffany was never late, but fifteen minutes early was not her style. Exactly five minutes early was how she ran her life.
Nicole broke into a grin when the last person she expected to see stepped into the back room. “What are you doing here?” she asked Lizzie.
Lizzie half smiled, tucking a wayward red curl behind her ear. “I couldn’t leave you alone to deal with both Mr. Finucci and your mother.” The expression Lizzie sent Mr. Finucci showed that she was teasing. Both girls loved him, and he knew it.
“I totally appreciate it,” Nicole said. “But the last time you came to one of these fittings and Tiffany discovered you, she made your life miserable.”
Lizzie waved Nicole off. “She only yelled. It’s not like she hasn’t yelled at me before.”
Nicole smiled. Lizzie had a point. Tiffany and yelling were nearly synonymous most days. “And then somehow, your parents’ subscription to Dad’s magazine got canceled.”
“The customer service rep told us they don’t know how that happened—that it was most likely an accident.” Lizzie slumped on the couch opposite the mirror. “Besides, no harm was done. If your mom did that, it was a completely passive-aggressive thing to do. So don’t worry about me. I can handle myself.” She studied Nicole’s face in the mirror. “Has it happened yet?”
Nicole knew immediately what Lizzie was referring to. “Nope. And I don’t think having you ask me every time you see me will force it. You don’t scare me enough.”
Lizzie chuckled. “You know better than to think being scared would force a Restart.”
Nicole nodded, watching as Mr. Finucci finished pinning the hem.
“Besides, you know I’ll be there for you,” Lizzie said. “If I’m not already with you, just give me a call when it’s about to happen.”
Nicole raised an eyebrow. “Does it work that way? I mean, will I have enough warning for you to come?”
“No. But it’s the thought that counts, right?”
Nicole laughed.
Being a redhead, Lizzie was a Fire Arete. Her Restart had happened about a month ago, and she was Nicole’s source for all things Arete. Her parents weren’t anti-Arete like Nicole’s and actually welcomed discussion.
Nicole sighed, wishing she could talk about these things with her mom and dad. Any time she had ever brought it up, they’d clammed up immediately. It had gotten old quickly, and Nicole had stopped talking to them about what she was years ago.
“How much warning is typical?” she asked.
“I don’t know . . . maybe a couple of minutes? It’s just so different for everyone. Remember, though, you’ll definitely pass out. And some people puke, but not everyone.”
Lizzie hadn’t puked. She’d passed out, yes, but as she said, everyone passed out. The Restart forced it.
Around the time an Arete reaches the age of eighteen, the magic in them begins to build. When their body gets to where the magic can no longer be suppressed, it shuts down for several moments before coming back and allowing them to sense and control the powers that had been invisible to them before. Lizzie’s Restart had been as easy as they come—she’d felt a slight zap right before and had only been out for a few seconds. No vomiting.
Nicole hoped her Restart would be as graceful.
“What are you wearing for the date tonight?” Lizzie asked.
“Does it matter? I mean, we’re going to a thrift store. You know, to try on the most hideous clothes possible.”
“Yeah, but you still want to look attractive for Conor, right?”
“‘Course.” Nicole looked at herself as Mr. Finucci stepped back to get an eye for the overall picture. The bright blue taffeta set off her platinum hair perfectly and made her eyes pop.
Nicole lifted the skirts, standing on tiptoe so she could see where the hem would hit the floor when she was wearing her heels. The pedestal she’d perched on swayed slightly, and she put out a hand to balance herself.
Lizzie chuckled when she saw Nicole’s feet. “Where are your shoes, girl? Isn’t it pointless to have a fitting without the shoes?”
The bell on the door chimed once more, announcing another arrival. Nicole and Mr. Finucci looked at each other again. That would be Nicole’s mother.
Chapter Two
Lizzie saw the expression on Nicole’s face and groaned. “I didn’t get here early enough, did I?”
Nicole didn’t respond. She felt the butterflies in her stomach increase, which surprised her. She hadn’t felt nervous around Tiffany in a long time. The woman was formidable, yes, and unapproachable, but she wasn’t dangerous, and she had never hurt Nicole.
Tiffany swooped in, her arms full of bags which she dumped on one of the extra tables that lined the room. The event planner, a woman with a severe bun, holding a notepad, followed her.
Tiffany’s eyes barely landed on Nicole before dropping to her feet. “I figured you’d forget these,” she said. She tossed a pair of bright blue high heels at Nicole, turning before seeing whether Nicole caught them or not.
Nicole did, and she stepped down from the pedestal and slipped them on.
Tiffany put her purse on the counter and faced the tailor. “I’m sorry my daughter wasted your time by not having her shoes.” She raised an eyebrow at the dress. “That taffeta alone isn’t enough. Finucci, I told you the dress needed the silk organza overlay. The one I brought.”
Nicole sighed. “And I told you I didn’t want the organza. It completely changes the style of the dress.” She knew that any argument would be pointless, but since they were supposedly celebrating her birthday, she felt she should at least have a say in what she wore.
“And those sleeves are horrible,” Tiffany said. “Did Nicole tell you to do them that way? I specifically said no petal sleeves.”
Mr. Finucci gathered up the organza that he and Nicole both had ignored from where it lay on a pile of taffeta trimmings. Nicole knew he disliked the stuff as much as she did.
The tailor started arranging the organza, and Nicole turned when the event planner tapped on her shoulder and began talking. She tried to focus on what was being said—something about arriving at the courthouse with her boyfriend on her arm. She already knew that Conor would escort her down the marble steps while she held a single white rose in her other hand. She’d heard it all several times already.
The planner lacked creativity and organization, which surprised Nicole. Tiffany usually only worked with people who were uber organized, but for some reason, Tiffany kept going back to this lady over and over again. There must have been something about her that made Tiffany want to continue working with her.
Nicole chuckled to herself, wondering if the woman had offended Tiffany at some point and was being punished as a result. That was as good a reason as any. Most people who chose to continue doing business with the Williams tended to share their standoffish ways.
Nicole’s eyes landed on her best friend. Lizzie was busy looking down, messing around on her phone, trying to be as invisible as possible.
“Does the dress have to be so tight?” Nicole asked as Mr. Finucci wrapped the organza around her waist, following Tiffany’s instructions.
Tiffany glared at her. “You’ve gained weight.”
Nicole rolled her eyes. She hadn’t.
Tiffan
y’s gaze slid past Nicole, and she put her hand out to stop the planner who was now going over dinner arrangements. “What is she doing here?”
“She’s my best friend,” Nicole said, not needing to look to know who Tiffany was referring to. “I invited her.”
“I want her out. Now.”
Lizzie got to her feet, stuffing her phone into her purse, not looking at Tiffany. Nicole hated that Tiffany treated her friend that way.
“I’ll see you tonight.” Lizzie gave a small wave as she exited the room.
Nicole watched her friend’s receding back, feeling as if her anchor to sanity was leaving. She and Lizzie had been best friends since first grade—they were the only Fourths in the entire elementary school.
Tiffany had been so angry when she’d found out about Lizzie. The girls had managed to keep their friendship a secret, but Lizzie’s mom once made the mistake of inviting Nicole to a birthday party. Tiffany got the invitation, and after finding out what Lizzie was, had immediately pulled Nicole from the school and enrolled her in an expensive, snooty private school that Lizzie’s parents couldn’t afford. It had taken Lizzie years to earn the money, and she’d finally been able to apply—and was accepted—their senior year. Nicole had been so ecstatic, and Tiffany still didn’t know.
Why Tiffany had gone to all the trouble to have a Fourth was beyond Nicole. She should’ve stopped at three.
Nicole turned to face the mirror, watching as the tailor finished pinning the newly cut organza over the taffeta. With the bright blue of the taffeta now muted, the dress wasn’t nearly as striking.
Mr. Finucci was hiding his emotions well, but Nicole knew he was just as annoyed at Tiffany as she was. The petal sleeves had been his idea, and Nicole loved them. She could never move her arms in the straight sleeves her mother insisted on.
“How is your magic?” Tiffany asked.
Nicole felt her jaw drop. Tiffany never asked about magic. Never talked about magic. Why now? It made Nicole suspicious. “Why do you want to know?”
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