The Lightning Prophecy (The Lightning Witch Trilogy Book 1) (3 page)

I WAS RUNNING
. Darting under the brush, dodging trees. My heart was about to pound out of my chest. Something was chasing me. I couldn't seem to focus enough to look behind me and run at the same time.

My skin and fur started to generate their own electrical charges and sparks started to fly. The scent of wild things and dirt flooded my nose, but there was a third scent I couldn't quite place. My thoughts were so foggy and drenched with the need to run I couldn't focus on anything. All I could hear was the rush of wind, my erratic pounding heartbeat, and the snaps of electrical charges my fur was producing.

Wait, my fur?

I took a frantic heartbeat to look down at my running feet and saw large, white, fur-covered paws. Paws? When the fuck did I get paws!

Fear. The third scent that filled my nose was fear. It was my fear and someone else’s fear and it excited me.

I woke up with a start and sat straight up in bed. My room was pitch black, but for the small red number radiating from my bedside clock. It read 4:35. The hell was that dream all about? I had been having weird dreams since I was little, but this was the first time I wasn’t human in one.

I laid back, trying to get my heart rate down. I lifted up my hands just to be sure they were, in fact, hands. Thank God, two hands. I rested them on my chest, fingering the small hole in my shirt. Hole? Shit, did I smell burnt feathers?

I put my hands in my shirt and inspected the damage. Great, another shirt Swiss cheesed. I blindly stumbled to the light switch. After my eyes adjusted, I saw the real damage. See, this is why I can't have nice things. Or sleep with anyone.

“Ugh,” I groaned at the sight of my outline burnt into the bed. Crisped feathers littered the bed and surrounding floor. I pulled open the window to vent my tiny apartment of the smoky burnt smell. This just wasn’t normal. Nothing about me was normal. I wanted normal! Even if I were still a witch, couldn’t I be an Earth witch? Or Air? No, I was the freak among freaks. I got lightning.

Three sharp knocks sounded at my door. I about peed my pants at the start of the intruding noise. Who the hell was at my door at this hour? I mean, really? I stumbled up, throwing my shirt off and tossing a dirty one on. Hey, at least there were no holes in this one. Right?

I looked through the peephole to see two armed police officers. Oh shit! How did they find me? I began to feel the lightning dance inside me. I held up my hands to see arcs of lightning dance from one finger to the next. Okay, hot sauce, calm down.

Two more short raps sounded at the door. Take a deep breath. I opened the door to see one rather stocky pale man who looked to be in his late forties. Was that mustard at the corner of his mouth? The other man was a serious-looking tall man who seemed to be in his thirties. He had beautiful skin the color of rich chocolate cocoa.

“Sorry for the bother, ma’am, I know it’s late, but are you,” the tall man paused, looking at a piece of paper. Finding what he was looking for he continued, “Delaney Hagen?”

My heart was about to pound out of my chest. I shakily replied, “Uh, um, y-yes.”

“Do you know a Miss Sierra Pierce?”

My mouth fell open. This wasn’t about me at all. Worry for myself was quickly replaced with worry for my friend. Eyes wide in shock, I said, “Yes, she’s my best friend; is everything okay?”

The two officers exchanged a look that clearly said no, she was not all right. The short man started with a gruff tone, “Ma’am, I am sorry to be the one to tell you, but Miss Pierce was in an accident and…”

I wasn’t sure if he stopped talking or if it was the shock of it. But, the next thing I knew, I was sitting on the floor with the taller officer hovering over me. He asked in a relatively calm voice, “Ma’am, are you okay?”

I looked up at him with tears streaming down my face. I didn’t say, “No, you moron. Does it look like I’m okay?” but I thought it.

I shakily said, “I’m okay, you just caught me off-guard.”

“Ma’am, Miss Pierce has no family in the city that we can tell. You are the only person we can find with connection to her. We need you to come with us to identify her remains.”

Remains? What the hell did that mean? When the hell did accident turn into remains? “Remains? What do you mean remains?” I questioned while trying desperately to wipe my nose on my dirt-smeared hand.

“Um, ma’am, we aren’t really at liberty to say other than we need someone to identify the remai- er, I mean Miss. Pierce,” the short man quickly stated. I knew whatever it was had to be bad because he wouldn't look me in the eye. My opinion of the stocky man dropped drastically. Coward.

I started to get up and a big hand grasped my elbow in assistance. I gave the tall man a weak smile. That was the extent of the emotion I could grasp at that moment. I began walking to their car when the other one cleared his throat, making me turn to him.

“Um, ma’am, you may want to get dressed before we head to the station,” he suggested with a tentative smile.

I looked down to see a dirty shirt that hung down to my mid-thigh and no pants. Shit, had I been talking to these men this whole time without pants on? What the hell was wrong with me! God, oh god, please let me have had underpants on. I did a fast assessment of the situation and, yes, I indeed did have panties on. Oh god, Sierra, and I’m worried about underpants.

“Oh, yes, please give me ten minutes to get ready,” I finally said.

Numb. I was just numb. Each hallway I was pulled though seemed to pass by me in slow motion. Hell, I couldn't even recall the drive there. In my head I was there for three hours walking through the sterile hallways.

“Wait here,” an official-looking woman said. I looked up at the tall officer and glanced at his nametag; it read P. Marshall.

“Would you like me to stay?” Officer Marshall asked, the sound of his voice breaking the serene silence and making me start.

“Oh, yes please,” I replied in a shaky voice. I wrapped my arms around my middle and faced the large window and waited. The heartbeats raced by. What do we have to wait for? I mean, my God. It wasn’t her. That’s all there was to it. It could not be her.

The woman who asked me to stay here went through a door off to the right of the large window. She walked up to the window in a manner that showed she had clearly done this before. She pressed a button on the wall. Her voice sounded slightly robotic over the speaker. “Miss Hagen, are you ready?”

I looked around, trying to find the damn speaker, but couldn't locate it. I swallowed the lump in my throat and closed my eyes. I thought about Sierra, her bright smile and bouncing blonde curls. Tears pricked my eyes and my throat got tight.

I remembered our first meeting five years ago. We met in the fruit aisle of the local grocery store. The memory made me smile.

“Hey, there!” Sierra said.

“Oh, hi,” I replied with a shy smile.

“Look, you don’t want that lettuce. See how it’s browning around the edges? It’s so going to be nasty in like two days,” Sierra said with a knowing smile. She took the lettuce from me.

In the process, she grabbed my hand and a small jolt of electricity leapt from my hand to hers. I just knew I was going to have to move now. Damn it, I was always so careful. Here I was with someone I didn’t know and I couldn't control my damn power! She could be anyone and I had just outed myself.

“Ouch!” she yelped.

“Oh my goodness, I am so sorry! Dang static electricity!” I said a bit too hurriedly, even for my ears.

She raised an eyebrow at me and put her hands on her narrow hips and began tapping her right foot. I think she knew. I looked around to see if anyone was listening. When I saw it was all clear, I said in a whisper, “Look, I know you know I’m a witch and no I’m not registered and I have the freakiest power you have ever seen. Can we maybe keep this between you and me? Please?”

She gave me a big smile and put her arm around me and said in a bright tone, “Oh thank god! I am unregistered as well. And your power is cool as shit. I think I’m going to like you! I’m Sierra. What’s your name?”

I felt a tight grip on my shoulder and it jolted me back to the present. I opened my eyes to find everything blurry with tears. I took a deep breath and reminded myself. This isn't her. It can’t be. I looked at the woman though the glass. She seemed to have a tight, annoyed expression on her face. I gave her a stiff nod.

The woman walked over to the table and pulled the sheet down. She did this with brisk practicality, a motion all too familiar for her. My eyes reluctantly slid from the woman to what lay beneath the sheet. I had to step closer to the window to make out that it was indeed a person.

The person on the table was missing her right arm at the shoulder; it was ripped out of its socket. It looked as though someone had been gnawing on her. Her face was a mess of what looked to my untrained eye to be bite wounds and deep gashes. Her throat was simply gone. And her beautiful bouncing blonde curls lay lifeless and matted with blood. Knowing without a shadow of a doubt it was her, I turned quickly away from the gruesome sight. Bile rose. Oh god, I was going to lose it right here on this guy’s shoes.

My eyes darted quickly about the sparsely furnished room. My mouth began to water, knowing what was coming. Chairs, tissue, table, ah! Trash can! I darted for the trash can, tripping on the rug and nearly falling into the damn thing. I dry heaved twice and then I lost it. I threw up until all I had left in me was the air in my lungs and the lightning behind my eyes.  

BY THE TIME
I got back to my apartment it was bright out. My head was reeling with thoughts of Sierra, so sleeping was out of the question.
What now?
Sierra didn’t have family for a funeral. I sat on the edge of my bed with my head in my hands and heels of my palms pressed into my eyes.
What would Sierra want?
Sierra was a Water witch, and a powerful one at that. An image of her trying to help me control my power popped into my head.

“Look, see right here?” Sierra said, pointing to the golf-ball-sized orb of water in her palm. “Your focus needs to be on the element, not what you want the element to be,” she calmly said

“What does that even mean?” I question.

Sierra rolled her eyes while saying, “Call up your lightning.”

I closed my eyes and focused on my core. I centered my thoughts and focused on pulling the lighting that danced inside me. I opened my eyes and my palms, not having to look at my hands to know the lightning arced and popped between my fingers.

Smiling, Sierra said, “Okay, first of all that’s just about the coolest thing I have ever seen. Second, putting your element in the form of a ball is one of the first things we learn. You need to think of it like an extension of yourself. Feel yourself in the lightning. Feel yourself move and form into the shape.” She motioned for me to try it.

I thought just like she said. I focused my intent and will into myself, pulling myself into a ball and focusing on forming the lightning into a bright sphere. I opened my eyes and saw a sparking ball of lightning. There was a faint scent of ozone becoming ever more present as the sparks and arcs popped and crackled. I looked up to Sierra’s bright, smiling face saying, “She can be taught!”

Tears were streaming down my face at the memory. I couldn’t just sit here and do nothing for her. She did everything for me. She taught me when no one else could or would. She was so much more than a friend; she was a sister. She was part of my whole, and now here I was trying to find a way to fill the void she left behind.

I am not religious; well, not really anyway. But, there was one prayer that I knew and maybe by saying it, it would be enough to soothe the ache I had in my heart. I stood up, trying to gather my resolve
. I would
do this. I would do this for Sierra. I grabbed my keys and walked out the door.

My car was a dark-green 2000 Toyota Corolla. The damn thing was falling apart around me. It had so many dents and dings, I lost count years ago. Thank goodness the internal parts all still worked.

It only took me about twenty-five minutes to make it to Tybee Island then walk to Little Tybee. I picked Little Tybee because it’s a place only locals really know about and Sierra and I went every chance we could get.

The sun was setting and it cast an orange hue on everything, making it look otherworldly. The sun gave the waves a slight burnt-orange tone and the sand looked almost brown. I looked down at my sand-covered feet and thought they, too, looked orange in the strange light. The lightning inside me stirred at the setting sun
. Oh, that’s right, yesterday was a full moon
. A witch is at their most powerful on the day when the moon is at its fullest.
No wonder I blew the damned register up
.

I reached into my pack, getting out a large clam shell. It was my mother’s and was used at her and my father’s Requiem. I went to the shore and placed the shell at the surf, letting the waves lap over it. Once the shell was filled I made my way back over to my towel and other things. I gingerly set the shell full of water down as not to spill it and pulled out a picture of Sierra. It was my favorite picture of her, from when we went camping two summers ago, both of our smiling faces completely drenched. I laughed, Sierra the selfie queen. That trip had been one of the best moments of my life.

I was always complaining how it was easy it was for normal witches to be surrounded by their elements. But, for me, it was impossible.

One rainy Sunday, Sierra drove me about an hour outside of Savannah. After questioning Sierra within an inch of her life, we pulled up to a field of pretty much nothing. It was covered in mostly dead grass. Upon further inspection of the area, it was really quite pretty. The field with dead grass was surrounded on two sides by huge green oak trees. Protruding from the ground, placed about twenty yards from us, were two huge metal rods.

“Okay it’s pouring out and you bring me here. Uh, why?” I questioned. I was honestly baffled.

With a knowing smile she turned to me and said in her thick southern accent, “Because, goof bucket, we are camping here.”

I looked at her and raised my eyebrow in question. It was pouring rain, and while I could survive a lightning strike I had serious doubts that she could.

“We will set up here and those rods, my dear, are lightning rods. And this is a lightning storm. Well, in two hours it will be. You know lightning can be hard to predict.”

I just sat there, dumbfounded. And my eyes were most definitely filling up.

That night, I was struck by lightning. And it was the most amazing feeling I have ever had. With every strike, my core filled with untapped, raw power. Every inch of me tingled. I walked up to the tent after about two hours and just stood there, looking at Sierra thought the open flap. I’m sure I had a big, goofy grin plastered on my face.

“Girl, I’d hug you, but I’d be afraid to electrocute you.”

“Ha! Yeah, it’s a power surge. Focus on your core and pull the power from your fingertips, toes, and top of your head and compress all of the power to your core.”

I closed my eyes and focused on pulling the power inward. Lightning sometimes had a mind of its own. Imagine training a tiger to do a back flip into a pool whilst singing Yankee-Doodle-Dandy. That’s about how easy it is to control lightning. While it’s under control most of the time, it had the ultimate power and was capable of reverting back to its nature.

“Is this what it feels like when you're near water?”

“Like you’re so full of power you could explode? But, the mere fact that you can control something so wild just grants you such happiness and peace?”

“Yes, exactly!”

She smiled. “Yes, and now, padawan, you can harness the force too.” And with that, we both cracked up laughing.

I sat the photo next to the shell and next pulled out a pair of leopard-print high-heeled shoes and a T-shirt that belonged to Sierra. I closed my eyes and thought of Sierra and concentrated on slowing my breathing. Out loud, I said, “Sierra was a witch of the water, thus to water I bring her.” I took the shell and dropped three drops of water on each item. “Go easy, Sierra. From water we are born, and from water we die. Go now, and find peace in the great land. Your loved ones surely await you. Go easy, and know I loved you.”

And so it was done; with the release of the water she was free. I think she would be happy it was me who performed her Requiem.

The drive back to my apartment was long, mainly because I couldn't get my power to settle down.
What now?
I couldn’t help but feel mad. Hell, mad? Mad was too meaningless a word. I was furious. Something had tried to eat her and whatever it was, I was going to find and turn to ash.

By the time I made it to the parking lot of my apartment, my hands were shaking and lightning was sparking and crackling in my hair. I had to calm down. I took the keys out of the ignition and set them on my lap with a jingle. I closed my eyes and thought of Mil, then opened my eyes with a start. That’s it! I’ll go talk to Mil. God, she knew everything. That’s where I would start, then to the police station. I would not let this go. I calmly opened the door and got out of my car, feeling better knowing I had a plan set in my head. I could do this. I would do this.

My mind was on that plan, so I didn’t see the giant wall that blocked my path and I barreled right into it. Trying to not fall on my ass, I sent my hands out, searching for something to grab onto. I found nothing, but a strong arm grabbed me around the waist, steadying me. Arm? Wait, I didn’t remember there being a wall here before.

Before I could think clearly I backed away from the stranger and called the lightning to my hands. I looked up to see this person more clearly. In front of me stood a man. A rather large, muscular man. His short, blonde hair was mussed and his caramel-colored eyes were trained on me with the focus of a laser.

With a short, audible “pop,” I forced the lightning back into my body. A shiver ran down my spine. All the while, this hulking brute of a man stood staring daggers at me. Another shiver went through me that had nothing to do with my power. Wow, this man had a strong, square jaw with light-brown stubble shadowing his cheeks. He looked as if someone had fashioned him from stone with a chisel. His full lips were set in a flat white line and his brow was furrowed in contemplation and assessment.
Is he seriously measuring me?
With a flick of his eyes he completed his assessment and looked as if he found me wanting.
Well, if this ass thinks he knows me, he’s got another think coming.

I raised my eyebrow and squared my shoulders with my own assessment. Other than the waves of cocky and asshole this guy had wafting off of him, he was sexy as hell. He had muscles for days. Wait, make that months. He had broad shoulders that beautifully cascaded into a chest most men and women would kill for. Then there was his stomach, and I would be willing to bet all the king’s horses hid a 266 pack. The black, silk button-down shirt and charcoal-gray slacks hugged him in all the right places and then some. My eyes may have lingered on the apex between his legs a fraction longer than they should have. But, God himself wouldn’t blame me, because this dude was built like a brick house and it had been a long time. A really long time. Like forever.

I realized a little late his eyes were fixed on me. He had an amused expression plastered on his face. In fact, he looked down right smug. Well, I guess he has a reason to be smug. There he stood, looking like a GQ ad, and I had on blue jeans with a pale-yellow ribbed tank top. I looked like an ad for a K-Mart blue light special. I narrowed my eyes to his and gave him my “I’m so not impressed” look, and opened my mouth.

Instead of saying something polite like, “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry. I didn’t see you there,” my mouth bypassed my mental filter and, well, words started falling out.

“Look, Macho Man Randy Savage, I’m sure it’s polite to stand in someone’s way in the cave you oozed out of, but it’s not polite in this world. So, how about you let me pass.” No, I did not just say that. God, I didn't even know this guy but he rubbed me the wrong way. A small voice in my head felt the need to chime in,
“I bet he could rub you the right way.” Go shove it, horny voice!
I felt my cheeks turn a warm shade of pink.
Great. I’m such a moron.

Macho Man’s eyebrow raised and the corners of his mouth twitched upward. I narrowed my eyes at him and spat, “Do you speak English or caveman?”

“I speak English just fine,” he said with a slight southern accent. Just the sound of his warm liquid voice seemed to caress my skin and settle inside me. I swallowed down the rush of heat his voice brought and gathered my too-fast waning resolve and attacked again.

“Well, could you move? All of you,” I gestured to him, “seems to be blocking me from getting to my apartment.” God, why did this guy seem to bring out the hostility in me?

“Macho Man Randy Savage? Really? I like to think I’m more of a blond Rock if indeed I had to pick one,” he said with an annoyingly chipper tone.

I paused to think about it. No, Chris Hemsworth. Now that I really considered it, he did remind me of Thor. Lord help me, the man was beautiful. I shook my head, trying to extricate my libido from the current situation.

“Look I've had a shit day and I would love to go to bed. You’re literally standing in front of my door. See my problem?” God I even sounded bitchy to myself, so that must be bad.

“Look I'm not sure who you are but…”

“Reid,” he said, cutting me off.

“What?” I replied, blinking up at him. Good lord how tall was this guy? I didn’t think of myself as short, but next to Macho Man here, I was a damn child’s dolly.