The Light of the World

The Light Trilogy

A novel by Tara Brown

Copyright 2012 Tara Brown

http://TaraBrown22.blogspot.com/

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may
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copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher,
addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the email
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This series is dedicated to my fans, thank you so
much. The interest and support has been amazing. I also must thank
my husband and children. You supported me even when I was in my
writer's frenzy.

I have enjoyed writing this series and hope you enjoy
reading it as much.

Thank You Nick J (sexiest proofreader ever, most
efficient no, but in uniform yes)

Special Thanks to Amanda and Katy, my ninja
witches!!!!

Other books by Tara Brown

Cursed - (Book #1 of The Devil's Roses)

Bane - (Book #2 of The Devils Roses)

Hyde - (Book #3 of The Devils Roses)

Witch - (Book #4 of the Devil's Roses

A New Dawn- A Short Story

Born (Book #1 of The Born Trilogy)

Dreams speak to you about the things in your day
that your brain feels are unfinished. I know this because my mom is
a dream analyst.

If I ask her about my dreams she always tells me
something crazy, like the bear in my dream tells me that the female
side of my body lacks something in some way.

It's not about sex or wearing perfume though.
It's always something mysterious and intangible, like I avoid being
a woman and need to make womanly decisions because I still act like
a girl. A bear wants me to know this. Apparently in dreams bears
are girls. They are also incredibly judgmental.

If I could 'le sigh' and move past it, I would.
But I can't. She is relentless.

Instead of acknowledging she is crazy, we make a
dream board-which is essentially pages cut from a magazine glued to
a poster board. This tells her my fortune. She is a picture reader
too.

When I was eight she was a palm reader. Several
times she has toured with groups of psychic spiritualists. I don’t
believe in a lot of things, but I swear the things I saw with those
women have still not started to make sense. They're always with us,
her spiritual friends.

She isn’t a bad mom and she isn’t a flake or a
fake. I just am not entirely sure I believe the things she might
be. The things people, who want to see and need to see, see.

Which is why instead of backpacking across
Europe for the year, like she suggested, I chose University. The
battle over university was brutal. To the point of me nearly
running away, to school. What kid runs away from home to go to
university? Deep down I wonder if there are other kids out there
like me, kids of the flower children and hippies. Kids running away
to school. Overprotective isn’t the right word for her. Security
detail might be a better way of saying it.

Like I said she isn’t a bad mom. She just isn't
much like a mom. She's more of a spiritual guide. She felt
spiritually I needed Europe and to be with her. I think she just
wanted to meet up with me in Italy or Norway. She has friends
everywhere. Followers. Like Gandhi. With my luck and her attitude I
think she might have actually come for the entire trip. Fun.

I climb the stairs with my box of belongings in
my hand and try to ignore her rambling on behind me.

"Nene this place has no sauna, no steam room,
and no pool. There isn’t a yoga studio for twelve blocks. How are
you going to get there six days a week if it's that far? I think
you should rethink school and start next year."

I glance back at her and run into something with
my armload. "Stop. Just stop. This isn’t the place for this
argument. Please. They have a vegan menu and reusable water bottle
fountains. It's just like home. We talked about this. You can't
keep controlling my choices. Remember the bear told me to make
womanly choices?"

She shakes her head, "The energy in here is bad
kid. Really stuffy. I have some white sage in the car. I'll be
right back."

She turns and runs back down the wide stairwell.
I try to shove forward but the box is still stuck. I heave again
and try to peer over the edge of the massive box. Fortunately it's
light.

A muffled voice speaks as I push forward once
more. "Please for the love of god, stop shoving that into my
back."

I lower the box and lose my grip. It tumbles
from my hands and takes a blonde girl to the ground. Her hands are
full too. I drop the box and put a hand out. She looks annoyed.

"I'm so sorry."

She takes my hand and raises an eyebrow at me.
She stands and gives me the up-down. Dropping my hand she sneers. I
haven’t seen a sneer in forever. Hers is a decent effort.

She disapproves of me for whatever reason. She
bends and picks up the things she dropped. She scowls and moves to
the side of the hall. I grab the box and squeeze past her.

"Sorry."

She blows her blonde bangs out of her perfect
oval face and glares at me with dark blue eyes. Great, a mean girl.
Nothing like pissing the mean girls off on the first day. I've seen
this movie and am fairly certain I will be hazed savagely.

"Nene come hold my hand. It's stronger if we
both do it." I hear my mom calling me from the bottom of the
stairs. I cringe and wonder how bad the hazing is going to get when
my new dorm-mates see her? I suspect she's filling the halls with
white sage smoke and waving her hands around in circles. I suspect
this because I've seen her do it a millions times. I'm not even
exaggerating. Well maybe by a couple thousand.

I walk/run down the hall, struggling with the
gigantic box. The numbers fly past me. Finally, I arrive at my
room. I drop the box and slide the key in and trip over the box
trying to slide it. I fall into the room. A girl with dark hair and
a somber look scowls at me from the bed on the left side of the
room. She is prim and proper and I suspect she already hates me.
Her and the blonde mean girl. Great first day.

I hear people in the hallway with my mom. I
don’t dare poke my head out and look. She either has them all
waving their hands and smudging the air (like in a musical) or she
is being laughed at. If it's the latter, she will shake her head
and tell them how she just saved them from wicked karma and bad
juju. She doesn’t care when people laugh at her. I wish I had
inherited that from her. Instead my face is flaming red and my
stomach is aching.

I lean into the box and sigh. "Shit."

The moody looking brunette gives me another look
and then pulls her headphones over her ears better. She doodles
like all angst-ridden people of my generation. Only the truly
misunderstood know how to be sullen and doodle, like Bella Swan. In
reality, she looks a lot like Blair from Gossip Girl. She is
evidently my new roommate.

I blow my hair out of my face and push the box
into the room, sliding it along the hardwood floor.

The room smells. It's not the Gossip Girl look
alike that stinks. It's an older smell. Something that only happens
after floors and walls are lived in for hundreds of years. Beer has
been spilt and food has been heated in microwaves and all of it has
left a scent in the walls and floors. Like decay.

"Nene come on out into the hall. I have a few of
the others doing a meditation to clear the air and change the
vibrations of the building. We need to create a harmonious space
for you all."

I look back at her standing in my doorway. I
cringe when I notice how unbuttoned her shirt has come with all the
smudging she has been doing. She has mad cleavage everywhere. It's
appalling there are stores called Forever21 for cougars like her to
shop at, but to wear it around twenty-one year olds is horrid. I
know she didn’t mean to wear a tiny button top t-shirt, from that
store, to my new university. She doesn’t mean to be sexy ever. It
just doesn’t change the fact that she is sexy.

Had I not been near vomiting with nerves, when I
left our house, I might have noticed our t-shirts matched? God
hates me, I am convinced.

We match.

My t-shirt is light blue and hers is lilac. Her
jeans are nicer than mine though. So she actually looks better than
I do. She is fit for forty, but she is forty. It's not fair.

Blair Waldorf's stuntwoman loses her glare as
Willow leaves the room. Yes, I call my mother Willow.

Gossip Girl raises an eyebrow, "Is that your
mom?"

I want to say no. My lips form the word but my
head nods, dejectedly.

She takes her headphones off and raises both
eyebrows, "Damn dude. I thought I had it bad. My mom's a gyno."

I grimace and like her instantly.

I kick the door closed and stand up.

"She looks like she could go here."

"Yeah." I sit on my bare bed and wonder what
kind of perversions have occurred on it before I got here. "She's a
vegan. They don’t age fairly. All the healthy eating and water and
steam baths have pretty much stopped her from aging. In fact she
could be getting younger looking instead of older." My voice is
exhausted and hollow.

"She could be your sister. Is she for real
leading mediation out there?"

I shake my head and lick my lips, "No clue. Most
likely."

She puts her headphones down and looks out the
window. I can tell she wants to go see. Everyone wants to see what
Willow is doing. She has a way about her. You can't help but like
her, love her even. People follow her and stare at her beauty and
enjoy the feeling of her energy. They can't fight it.

"I'm Rayne."

She laughs and nods, "Of course you are."

I glare.

She puts her hands up defensively, "Sorry it's
just your name is Rayne and your mom is leading group meditation.
Is she wearing your clothes?"

I laugh with her. "Yeah, we share clothes. This
is nothing though. Wait till Halloween. She'll come here and try to
party with us. She has no concept of age. She loves clubs."

She laughs and I laugh and we never mention the
'us' I threw in there. I'll admit it was premature, but I like her.
Even if she is trying to look like Blair Waldorf. She even has the
headband and the lip-gloss.

"I'm Mona." She stands up and opens the door a
crack. She peeks and shakes her head, "Amazing."

"They sitting cross legged?"

She nods and closes it. "Wanna go get a drink so
no one knows that fiasco belongs to this room?" I don’t have hurt
feelings. As far as parents go, Willow is more than a fiasco. She
is crazed when it comes to being away from me or me leaving the
house or me having friends she doesn’t approve of. But then in the
same breath she is mellow and calm and totally a hippie. Her garden
is insane. She actually grows weed but we aren’t allowed to smoke
it. It's for medicines.

I stand and pull my phone out. I text Willow and
let her know I forgot some crap at the house and went to go buy
replacements. I'll stop and buy something up on the way back. If
she's still here. I'm scared she's going to move in.

Mona sneaks out the door and I follow. She
creeps to the left, not the way I came in with the box. Apparently
a fire exit is three doors away from our room. We run down the
stairs like we have escaped prison. When we leave the hall and the
fresh air hits me, I feel it.

The freedom. Finally. It's blowing in the air
and dusting the control off of me.

I always imagined it would feel amazing and it
does. More than amazing. It might be my first spiritual moment.

Ever.

Well except when Willow's friends make me
channel, but I pretend that never happened. I pretend I can't hear
them. I don’t talk to the dead anymore. Willow doesn’t ask and I
don’t tell. Even when I don’t mean to hear them and they tell me
something crazy and then it happens. Sometimes they make the air
sparkle but I ignore that too. Willow's weird spiritual blood flows
in my veins. As far as possible outcomes are concerned, I will take
hearing the dead every now and then. It could be so much worse. I
could read palms or pictures or hear live people's thoughts.

Mona is funny and sarcastic. She tells me about
her parent's divorce as we cross the greens to College Street. Her
step-dad sounds like a real treat. I'm glad I don’t have
stepparents. I don’t even have a dad. Willow says he is a man she
would rather not discuss.

The pub we go to is hopping. Back to school
means chaos and constant noise. I don’t mind it, but I can't focus
on one thing. My eyes dart constantly. I've never been exposed to
this much chaos in my life.