Birthrights

Book One of The Awakening Trilogy

Christine M. Butler

and

Jennifer L. Oliver

***

Birthrights

Christine M. Butler and Jennifer L. Oliver

Copyright © 2010 Christine M. Butler

Book Cover art © 2011 Christine M. Butler

Smashwords Edition

***

Disappearances & Discoveries

Caislyn had been reading the newest best-seller that
she grabbed from downstairs in her family's bookstore, Hidden
Dimensions, when she nodded off. At first her dreams were filled
with thoughts of Jack Kanon's loss and his travels to find his
daughter's killer, but soon the images in her dream began
to swirl together like a watercolor that had been submerged.
Images grew darker and then as they began to clear she found
herself in the bookstore downstairs. Of course, she wasn't
physically there, she was seeing Hidden Dimensions as if she were
floating above it all, watching the drama unfold.

Vesta whispered to Mac, “This is it, we've found
it.”

“Vesta,” Mac started to say to his wife as he looked
toward the front door of Hidden Dimensions, “they're here.” Caislyn
watched as her father began chanting incantations to set powerful
wards of protection on the book store, concentrating most of his
energy on the upstairs apartment.

Vesta began an incantation of her own. Whispering the
words under her breath, Vesta flicked her wrist toward her
assistant Melina, throwing her weight behind the spell. Melina
was caught up in a cyclone of power and thrown from the store
by the force of Vesta's will and the power of her words. As soon as
Melina was clear of the place the doors slammed shut once more.
Vesta took one last glance over at her husband who was still busy
setting wards, then she took her athame from a special pouch that
hung about her waste. The silver of the ceremonial dagger glinted
in the soft light of the book store. The jeweled handle that held a
sapphire moon sparkled dimly, in search of the right light to
present itself in all it‘s glistening glory. Vesta poked the sharp
tip into the middle of her index finger letting fly a droplet of
blood before she held it over the book that was still sitting in
front of her, as she began to softly chant once more.

“Revealed only to the blood of my blood, seen only
through her eyes. Secrets remain hidden until a need arise. Away
you go to lands afar, a house in the hills, behind the scar.
Blessed be this book of ours, hidden amongst a house of charms,
until powers overcome their binds, truth be kept, for her to
find.”

With a touch of her finger and a droplet of her blood
the book disappeared from the room in a quick, bright, flash of
light. Vesta looked to her husband as he walked toward her, putting
himself between her more fragile body and the front door just
seconds before it imploded on them allowing an army of dark robed
figures to pour through into the store.

Caislyn watched as both Vesta and Mac flew across the
room, thrown by a magic pulse that knocked them off their feet and
left Mac crouching protectively over Vesta. “Don't fight,” he
whispered to his wife with a look of confusion. “It's not who we
thought, they were here for something else.”

“The book?” Vesta questioned, but not in time to hear
the answer. Caislyn was aware of the torment on her mother's face
as she watched her husband fly through the air, landing on the
opposite side of the store. A bookshelf exploded beneath him in a
flurry of loose pages and bindings. Tears streamed down Vesta's
cheeks as one of the robed figures bent over her and placed a metal
collar around her neck and shackles around her wrists. Caislyn
caught the look in her mother's eye as Vesta let her head hang
against the thick metal collar cutting off the oxygen supply to her
brain. She drooped limply in the arms of the robed man who had been
escorting her.

“This one's gone and passed out.” The robed figure
shook Vesta a bit to demonstrate. As he did so, Caislyn watched
from her dream state, as another man walked over to them and lifted
Vesta's head, then her eyelids, seeing that she was indeed
unresponsive he simply shrugged.

“She's done our job for us, toss her in the van while
we look for the book.”

“Sir,” the man said in affirmation, as he picked
Vesta up into his arms and carried her to the van. As the robed
figure placed Vesta into the vehicle, Caislyn could see that her
father was already lying unconscious and shackled in the van. “Make
sure these two get knocked back down if they appear to be waking,
we can't take any chances. I'm going back in to help locate the
book.”

The rear doors of the filthy, white van closed
softly as the man who had taken Vesta backed away and returned to
the store. Caislyn watched in silence as five men in robes searched
tirelessly, quickly, and efficiently through every book in the
store, until the man who had checked on Vesta came forward to the
others.

“They seem to have hidden it elsewhere.” He slowly
removed the hood of the robe from over his head revealing locks of
dirty blond hair that draped into his crystalline eyes. Those eyes
were penetrating, as they were almost

colorless. “It's not here at all, the witch has sent
it off somewhere.” He looked at his brothers gathered around him.
“Any luck breaching the upstairs?”

“Sir, they must have had someone particularly adept
come and set up security at some point. We can't breech the spells,
nor the wards that have been placed.”

“Yes, I sensed Fey magick, but I was hoping it was
just a prankster residing in the shelves.” Those cool eyes settled
on each of the brothers in turn as they removed their robes and
tucked them into the brown leather satchels they all carried. “It's
time to get back, we will report what we have seen and they will
decide.”

“What about the two in the van?”

“They come with us. We will use one against the other
until someone can tell us where the book is, and what they found in
it.”

It would be hours before Caislyn would awaken to find
her parents missing from the apartment and the shadowy images from
her dreams would come back to haunt her. Caislyn was an
auto-sketcher, and oddly enough instead of sleep walking or some
other embarrassing sleep ailment, she would sketch her dreams. She
only sketched those dreams that would end up coming true. Caislyn
immediately ran back to her sketch pad to see if she had drawn
anything and there on the table beside the couch her worst fears
were confirmed. Right on top was a sketched picture of her father
huddled over her mother in the corner of the bookstore. Caislyn
knew instantly that she had to get downstairs to see for herself.
Her auto-sketching, while showing future events, did not come with
a time line. Her hope was that it had not yet happened and she
would still have time to warn her parents.

“Let it have been a dream! Let it have been just a
dream!” she kept chanting over and over to herself, knowing as she
went that the sketch was proof enough that if it was not real
already it soon would be. Auto-sketching was one of the gifts she
had been given since early childhood. It came in useful at times,
because usually the sketches appeared long before the incident that
was predicted. So, if she didn't like how it turned out the first
time, she could change things up. Though, she knew from experience
that even though you change a small thing, it didn't necessarily
change the outcome. The big events in life happen for a reason, and
there really was very little you could do to stop it. You can
change their purpose, even minute details, but the end result would
always be the same.

Caislyn rushed past the threshold into the downstairs
bookstore that she had helped her parents with since she was a
little girl. A whirlwind of memories assailed her as she remembered
being five years old and running into the book stands with her big
wheel. Her father, who had always coddled her, thought it was cute
while her mother stood chiding her. Then she flashed to a few years
later when she brought Eddie Montgomery home to meet her parents
before the dance. She remembered the sickly look on Eddie's face as
Mac asked him what his intentions were for his daughter. She caught
the wink her dad threw at her, even though Eddie didn't and the
giggle that escaped her mom as she tried to look as serious as Mac.
Another memory flashed before her of Vesta teaching her how to
intone a spell with her voice alone, so that she didn't always have
to rely on casting a circle and drawing power from it. Caislyn
would one day learn the power of words, but it wasn't that day. She
remembered Vesta upset with her for not catching on, but at the
same time laughing with her when odd things came of her
incantations.

This rush of memories was nothing more than a ploy
developed in Caislyn's mind to keep her from seeing the truth that
she knew was before her. The bookstore was in shambles, her family
was gone, and she was heart broken as she fell sobbing to the
floor.

***

New Beginings

In the capital city of North Carolina, Jasmine Jaxon
Delaney sat amidst the broken ruins of her porcelain angel
collection her mother had started for her when she was a baby. She
was aware that some of those shards were still nestled tightly in
her flesh as the police officer tried talking to her. It wasn’t
that she didn’t want to answer his questions, it was that she
couldn’t find her voice. Everything seemed so muddled up and far
away to her.

“Get the EMT in here right now,” the officer shouted
to his partner who was out of site, “I think she’s going into...”
everything faded away from Jasmine as her vision began to darken
and she felt herself falling.

It would be a full day before Jasmine would regain
consciousness, awaking in the hospital. She sat up too quickly in
the squeaky hospital bed and felt nausea build up in the pit of her
stomach. She waited out the moment as still as she could make
herself and then slowly, she opened her eyes once more. Jasmine
began to look around and take in her surroundings. “How the hell
did I get here?” The question rolled off her tongue in a harsh
sound that she didn’t recognize and her throat hurt with the
effort. Slowly, she lifted herself up the rest of the way and
glanced to the right at the mirror sitting there above the sink.
She managed to get herself upright on her feet slowly. She shuffled
the couple steps it took to get to the sink and there she hung on
for dear life as another wave of dizziness and nausea rolled
through her. Heat rose through her body right along with the sick
feeling, making it ten times worse than before. Jasmine couldn’t
take it this time, she began heaving into the sink, cursing each
time as the movement jerked and pulled at her ribs. The bandages
wrapping them did not stop the pain the heaving caused, which was
compounding all her other problems. A nurse passing by in the
hallway heard the commotion and walked into her room. She began
chiding Jasmine immediately for being out of bed.

“What on earth are you doing, child?” She tsked as
she tried to put Jasmine back into her bed. “Girl, you don’t need
to be getting out of that bed for a month. I don’t know how you
were managing as far as you did.” She tucked Jasmine’s legs back up
on the bed and under the covers. “I’ve been working here 15 years
and never seen someone in your shape try to get out of bed, let
alone accomplish it.”

Knowing she would regret speaking once she did it,
Jasmine answered her, “please, I need to see.” She managed to
scrape out as she pointed toward the mirror on the wall.

“Oh, sweetheart, I don’t think that’s such a good
idea right now.” Where Jasmine was pale as a ghost this woman was
dark as midnight with a nasty scar running from the corner of her
left eye down to the bottom of her ear, ruining the otherwise dark
perfection of the nurse’s face. She had a honey sweet voice that
helped to put Jasmine at ease, “you just sit tight sugar. I’m gonna
go get the doctor to come talk to you. The police are out here
waiting on you to wake up too. They weren’t sure what happened at
your place. If you feel up to it, I can let them know, or if you
don’t I can get the doctor to stall for you a bit longer.”

Jasmine could feel the sincerity in the woman’s
voice. She knew she would do whatever Jasmine needed her to do and
yet, at the mention of the police panic overwhelmed her. “He will
kill me this time,” she took a breath trying to calm the burning
ache in her throat, “if I say anything, please, help me.” If her
raspy words hadn’t gotten the message across the frightened look in
her eyes certainly did. Jasmine looked past the nurse to a cop who
was watching through the door. “His friends,” she motioned to the
door. The nurse turned to look and saw the cop taking interest in
the fact that Jasmine was awake. “Please,” she pleaded.

“Alright sweetie, we will get you straight soon
enough. Give me just a minute to call the doctor in here.” Instead
of leaving the room as Jasmine thought the nurse would, she pulled
out a cell phone and dialed a numbered. She spoke in a hushed
voice, but Jasmine was able to hear every word. “He beat her near
to death, we gotta help her. No, of course he didn’t admit to it,
he's a cop. They are saying something about a burglar or random
break-in…” she was cut off as the person on the other line spoke a
moment. Then the nurse with the honey voice spoke again, this time
with a hint of desperation in her tone, “I remember being the one
to wake up in the hospital.” She was quiet for a moment, listening
to the person on the other end. Jasmine could hear the voice, but
not well enough to make out what was being said. Something in her
ears was still ringing. “Yes, I understand. I’m calling the doc
now. We’ll get her set up, where can we meet you?” The nurse smiled
toward Jasmine. “Okay, I will get her there. Thank you.” She hung
up and made another quick call. This time it sounded like she was
talking to a doctor. Within minutes one showed up in the room,
fending off the cop who was still haunting her doorway.