Perilous Waters

by Diana Paz

  “The plot twists, romance, and action had me reading way past my bedtime. I couldn’t put Timespell down!”

  -Bethany Wiggins, author of

  Shifting and Stung

  “The strength of Paz’s debut novel, Timespell, derives from her Daughters of Fate. These three teenage girls must manage the catastrophes of adolescence—prom, boyfriends, teachers and bullies—while attempting to correct historical catastrophes that threaten us all. Timespell is a fun and entertaining read because of the irreconcilable differences within the trio, and the danger to the world should they fail.”

  -Jason Beymer, author of

  Nether and Rogue’s Curse

  “Diana Paz enchanted me with her magical and amazing debut, Timespell. The ending left me in awe and craving more. I predict Paz will quickly become a new favorite author of young adult readers.”

  -Karen Amanda Hooper, author of

  Tangled Tides and Grasping at Eternity

  “Timespell has everything to offer—historical upheaval, the trials of high school friendship, heart-pounding romance—all wrapped in a fresh, inspired take on mythology. The result left me holding my breath until the very last page.”

  -Trisha Leigh, author of

  Whispers in Autumn and Return Once More

  DIANA PAZ

  Misted Mischief Press

  First American Paperback Edition

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, dialogues, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Copyright ©2015 by Diana Paz

  Cover design by Melissa Williams

  Cover photograph by Subbotina Anna

  Logo design by Kevin Poythress

  Author photo by Matthew Pierce

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Diana Paz’s author website is www.dianapaz.com

  “Had you fought like a man, you need not have been hang’d like a dog.”

  -Anne Bonny, October 1720

  The last words she spoke to her imprisoned

  husband, the pirate Calico Jack Rackham.

  He was executed the following month.

  Together, the Daughters of Fate can Journey across the world. They can summon the winds of time and Voyage throughout history. They can Vanish from sight and roam unseen. These gifts we bestow to our loyal priestesses and their descendants. But ‘ware the temptation to seek greater power, for even the most innocent of Daughters is not above corruption.

  -The Fates

  ~ Chapter 1 ~

  Angie

  The sheer white curtains of Angie’s canopy moved, as if from a breeze. She sat up in her bed.

  “Who’s there?” she called to the darkness.

  Silence met her. She drew up her blanket, willing the soft fabric to offer comfort. The gauzy curtain billowed out again. She breathed in deep, her mind telling her of the salty air, but her window was shut, and she didn’t live near enough to the sea for the breeze to carry the scent.

  Please, no. Not again.

  She reached out to pull aside her bed curtain, but the curtain disappeared as her fingers touched it, leaving her hand moist and cold. She rose and spun around, realizing the curtain was nothing more than sea foam. She wasn’t in her bed at all. She was on a beach.

  You’re dreaming, she lied to herself. Wake up.

  Her eyes squeezed shut. Oh, she knew better. She wasn’t dreaming. Another vision was imminent, except this time the rapid surge of magic rose so viciously she lost her balance.

  “No—” the word caught in her throat, having no effect on the warped manifestation of magic within her body.

  The world writhed, with ocean bluffs growing taller and wind gusting sand into the air. She flinched, shielding her face with her palm. Why could she feel the sand? Her room had disappeared, which she had expected from a vision, except normally they were similar to out-of-body experiences. No sensation. No feeling of connection to the world around her. This vision was not like the others. It was far more real than anything the magic had ever sent her before. So real, in fact, that she fell physically forward to land at a harsh angle in the sand.

  She blinked against the bright flames that leapt in front of her, unable to make sense of what was going on. She was lying on her side. Her cheek pressed against sand as she tried to move. Her ears pounded with the sound of thundering surf. Panic lodged itself in her chest and she squeezed her eyes shut. It’s only a vision. It’s only a vision.

  She should be feeling her bed, or nothing at all. Yet…

  Her lashes lifted, carrying fine grains of sand with them.

  …only a vision.

  She stood shakily, bile rising in her throat at the realization that she was truly here, at the beach. Her fingers curled against her palms. Visions held no scent of smoking wood or salty sea, and they didn’t bring grains of sand to scratch her eyes and hands. She wasn’t home anymore. Her body had traveled somehow.

  One-TWO-three-FOUR… she called out an eight-count in her mind, repeating the cadence in a vain attempt to stem the rising fear. Thoughts of David swarmed her. Sweet and loving, her best friend and so much more. Was this the night, then? Would the Sorceress’ monsters finally find David and tear him apart?

  “No.” She sucked in her breath, her hand involuntarily covering her mouth. She shouldn’t be able to talk.

  Unsteady after the force of so much magic, she took a trembling step, her throat becoming tighter by the moment. The ground beneath her bare feet sunk with her weight.

  Sand. It forced itself between her toes. She blinked hard, still in a fog, still half-expecting to discover that this was only a dream.

  “Wake up,” she whispered, compelling her mind to free itself from the magic’s powerful grasp. But there was no escaping this… whatever this was. Her hands curled into fists as she faced the cold, windswept beach. A glorious sky of liquid midnight spilled across the world to meet an inky, starlit sea. Waves rumbled their eternal grievance against the shore. Angie moistened her lips, tasting salt on the air. Her loose hair lifted on the chill breeze as the night air found its way through her sheer, summer bed clothes and caused goosebumps to race along her arms.

  Her flesh quivered against her hands as she clutched her upper arms in an effort to keep warm. In her muddled state, all she could think about was finding David. She choked back a sob, spinning around to scan the ocean. Creatures would break the surface, sea-demons from the nether, sent to destroy the world. The creatures would overwhelm David. In her visions, sometimes she saw herself blasting at the demons, other times she was held back as she watched him bleed and writhe against their onslaught. Always, she arrived at his side after it was too late. Always, his hand reached for her, slick with blood.

  Always, she watched him die.

  Except now she wasn’t watching a vision. She had been teleported to this beach. The very beach she had seen countless times in her mind. Her heart galloped against her ribcage as she scrutinized first the ocean, and then the shore, recognizing Marine Park, or Mother’s Beach as it was known by locals. Little more than a waveless bay where mothers often came with their children, knowing they didn’t have to worry about the surf. It was one of the few beaches in Santa Monica with fire pits, so at night it became a more grown-up hang out… one she and Davi
d no longer visited. Not since she started having visions of his death here.

  He was surely here, if the magic had sent her here, but as she approached the clusters of beach-goers she saw no sign of him or his friends. She stared, running their recent conversations through her mind. Wouldn’t he have told her that he was going to the beach? He would have asked her to come with him. The thought brought a measure of relief, but if David wasn’t at the beach, why was she here? How was she here?

  She edged toward the nearest bonfire, hoping for some clue. Glancing about at the various groups of people laughing and roasting hot dogs over their fires, she saw familiar faces from school, but no one that David was friends with. Many were Kaitlyn’s old friends, and that was enough to make Angie recoil from the light. As she did, a shadow shifted, giving the impression of demonic horns on a pointed face flickering through the fire. Her heart crashed against her ribcage, as though it would escape if given the choice. She forced her gaze to remain locked on the twisting shaft of darkness, but it couldn’t be a creature. The creatures of Mythos were unable to breach the present timeline. Not unless she and the other Daughters of Fate left a portal open in the past, and they hadn’t been on a mission since returning from France three months before.

  Angie released another pent-up breath, shivering against the night and wishing she had something on besides her sleeveless, lace-edged pajamas. With a final glance at the faces near the bonfire, she headed toward the parking lot. Whatever had led her here tonight would remain a mystery for the time being. All she could think to do now was find her way home. Maybe there was something in the ancient books about visions leading to involuntary teleportation—

  “Oh my God,” a mocking voice laughed, cutting through her thoughts so abruptly she flinched. “Is it that little cheerleader Kaitlyn hangs out with now?”

  Angie’s teeth chattered and her body trembled, but not because of the cold. One of Kaitlyn’s friends, though she couldn’t tell which one so far from the firelight. Without another thought, Angie dashed away, but an arm shot out in the darkness.

  A whimper caught in her throat. How could she explain herself in nothing but summer pajamas that were little more than underwear? Her face grew hot as she struggled to get away, but the arm that had stopped her now held her firm.

  “It’s totally her,” a voice said as she was dragged toward the light. “Too bad. I was hoping I’d caught a mermaid.”

  “Look at her,” another voice cooed in a fake-bored voice, “in little-girl pajamas. I think my baby cousin has those.”

  Angie shook her head, her throat closing up as a dark face flickered into view.

  Rebecca Johnson. She had taken over the job making Angie’s life miserable when Kaitlyn had given up the post after becoming a Daughter of Fate.

  And if Angie had thought Kaitlyn was cruel, it was nothing compared with Rebecca.

  “Such a pretty little doll,” Rebecca crooned, reaching out for her hair. Angie knew better than to pull away. It would only make Rebecca yank her by the hair, so she stood very still as slow, venomous fingers touched her face.

  “She’s going to be a little girl forever,” Ashleigh said. “Look at her…”

  Angie’s arms came up to cover her chest. Her face burned so fiercely she wondered if she were glowing.

  “Aw, she hasn’t started puberty yet,” Rebecca said, coming around behind Angie and taking her by the arms. “Or has she?”

  “Let’s check,” another girl laughed from beyond the darkness.

  “See if she’s a real blond,” a guy called.

  Angie struggled as someone held her arms back. “Let me go!”

  “She’s so little,” Rebecca said, laughing. Angie could smell alcohol on her breath. “I can pick her up, look!”

  “Stop it,” Angie demanded, feeling the magic build inside her, even as she tried to keep from letting it show. “Put me down.”

  Ashleigh mimicked Angie in a high-pitched voice. “Put me down, put me down!”

  “Even her voice is little!”

  “Let go of me,” Angie said, unused to the ferocious emotions swelling within her. She needed to get away! But her struggles did nothing against the arms restraining her, and her voice sounded helpless even to her own ears. “Stop. Stop!” Why was no one here helping her? Did everyone here think this was okay?

  The things she heard became meaner and more disgusting. She shook her head violently, wishing she could shut her ears to the harsh, sickening words.

  No help was coming. Not from any of them. She would have to help herself. But that would mean revealing the magic.

  She was slammed onto the sand and the wind was knocked from her lungs. Someone poured something cold over her abdomen that smelled strongly of alcohol. She jerked back into the sand, wind picking up as her magic grew.

  Her heart lodged itself into her throat, too thick and hot to allow for speech anymore. Please don’t do this.

  As if in response to this thought, more alcohol was poured over her, this time on her face. She sputtered in the darkness. Harsh fingers bit into her ribs and she squeezed her eyes shut. What she had first thought was a vision had become a real-life nightmare. “No,” she whimpered. Groping hands brought tears to her eyes and she thrashed more viciously. “Don’t.”

  Magic, a voice whispered against her feral, panicked thoughts. The caressing murmur repeated itself, causing her to grow still as she swallowed back a choked cry. Use your powers.

  She could. It was the only way to free herself from this situation, and in that instant, her decision was made. The magic slid through her veins from the mark on her arm, sharp and hot. The force of it caused her to suck air in through her teeth as her fingers grasped at the sand at her back.

  “I’m so recording this,” someone said.

  Video. The magic had to stay secret. No one could know. Not ever. The power of the Fates was supposed to be guarded. If she used magic to blast her way free of the crowd… if someone took video and posted it on the internet…

  She racked her mind for another way, any other way that wouldn’t reveal her magic… she blinked hotly, her audible sniffles sounding fast and choked. Another way. Her dazed mind grasped at the thought. There is another way, but… her fingers flexed and tightened against the sand, finding nothing of substance to grip. Another way.

  There was one way she knew of that would be far more subtle than blasting them all with bolts of energy.

  And far more powerful.

  Spells wrought by dark magic.

  Hands gripped her shoulders. Angie froze. Alcohol-stenched breath floated down from above her. Tears slid from the corner of her eyes as someone held her face.

  Everything became a blur. She couldn’t move. Her mind seemed locked. Her body paralyzed.

  A flash lit the dark sky, making her blink. Briefly, she could see the twisted faces of her attackers. What was she doing? She couldn’t lie here and let them do whatever they wanted.

  Video or not, she had to use the magic.

  Power pooled in her palms. She could sense the glow filtering from behind her back, but the light from someone’s cell phone disguised it.

  Her gaze lifted. She focused on the guy filming her with his camera.

  Persuade, she thought as the mark on her arm grew icy cold.

  The young man’s face hovered above her. Angie could make out very little in the darkness. Shadows had turned his eyes into black caves. The spikes of his hair looked like thorns piercing the night.

  She visualized the young man turning off the video function to his cell phone and deleting whatever he had recorded so far. Angie held her breath, her heart beating so fast and so hard she thought she might scream as she waited.

  The phone lowered as the light disappeared. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” he said.

  “What are you talking about?” Ashleigh said.

  Angie licked her lips. They tasted like beer and sand. With effort she pushed her head back against the pliant, sandy groun
d and looked up at Ashleigh, who held her down by the shoulders. “Persuade,” she whispered.

  “You’re right,” Ashleigh said, almost the moment Angie thought the words. She let go of her. “This… this is wrong.”

  Angie turned to the guy holding her arm and repeated the spell, then stood quickly, nearly losing her balance as she stumbled back. She didn’t have time to catch her breath or steady her racing heart. With so many spells to cast, there was no way to maintain the deception for long. Hurriedly she continued bewitching people, backing away with each new spell in order to put as much distance between herself and the crowd as she could, until at last she regarded a small group of people who were well and truly mind controlled, all of them ready to do her bidding.

  She wiped her beer-soaked face with her arm, scraping herself with sand, gasping for air, her pulse thundering in her ears. She hadn’t told the other Daughters of Fate that they had this ability. It was… it was too powerful. And wrong. So wrong. She hadn’t known what else to do, though. It had felt like her only choice.

  “Dispell,” she managed in a choked voice, freeing the group before she turned on the gritty, night-chilled sand. And without further thoughts, without emotion, she ran.

  It had taken Angie what felt like forever to reach a gas station, begging to use the clerk’s phone. She could hardly imagine what she must have looked like to him, barefoot in soiled pajamas, rushing into his convenience store in the dead of night. Her mother hadn’t asked questions, hanging up quickly and coming to the street where Angie told her she would wait.

  Angie couldn’t force her gaze from the direction of the beach. Her mind felt fractured. Every time she tried to make sense of what had happened, she found herself counting out loud or whispering nursery rhymes, as though her mind would rather forget… or pretend it hadn’t happened. But she had to try and make sense of this night and what it could mean. Involuntary teleportation? Her fingers tapped against her thigh, a relentless drumbeat that both soothed and tormented her.