That was closer to the truth.
“So don’t worry about it,” she said.
But he was already looking back at the ocean. The waves called. Morgan was forgotten.
“Let’s go.” He picked up his board and started walking.
They slipped through a narrow opening in a fence. She took off her blue sandals and walked down the spongy ice plant that covered the sandy slope, then followed Collin to the shoreline. Sand squeezed through her toes. She kept glancing at her moon amulet. It was no longer glowing. She wondered what it had picked up earlier.
At the water’s edge Collin slipped the Velcro strap around his ankle that leashed him to his surfboard. A wave fanned across the sand and Serena felt the cold water gather around her ankles with a shock.
“Damn,” Collin muttered.
She looked at the sets rolling in. Two other surfers rode the waves. Collin liked time alone.
“Be careful,” she said.
“No fear,” he whispered. He hesitated a moment as if he were uttering a prayer to the great Kahuna, the only true surf god. Then he charged into the waves, slipped the board into the darkening water, slid on top, and paddled over the next wave.
She waited in the foam and backwash until he caught his first wave. The setting sun glowed through the wave and silhouetted him. He was phenomenal. Hanging ten was his specialty. It wasn’t easy. To do the move he had to abandon the usual sideways stance that made it easier to control the board. He stood on the tip of the nose, all ten toes hanging over, knees slightly bent, arms balancing out to his sides. Sometimes crowds gathered and watched his nose-riding.
She walked along the wet sand over broken clam and cockle shells. The soft roar of surf and the constant hum of traffic on Pacific Coast Highway were a pleasant relief from the noise that usually filled her mind. The water rolled over her feet and the backwash pulled the sand beneath her steps back to the ocean.
She wished she could tell Collin the truth. She hated keeping so many secrets from him. If only he knew, then her behavior wouldn’t seem strange. But would he believe her even if she did tell him she was a goddess, a Daughter of the Moon? And that she was here to protect people from the Atrox, an evil so ancient it had tempted Lucifer into his fall? He’d probably think she’d become a druggie or gone mental.
She glanced back at the waves. Collin caught another, then kicked off as the wave broke into frothy whitewater. What would he do if she did tell him? It wasn’t as if she couldn’t prove to him that what she said was true, because she also had a gift. She could read minds.
She hadn’t understood her power when she was little. She only knew then that she was different from everyone else. Sometimes in the excitement of playing, she’d forget her friends weren’t speaking and she’d answer their thoughts. Even now, if she became too happy or excited, she’d answer people’s thoughts as if they had said them out loud. That was one reason it was difficult to have a boyfriend. It wasn’t just Collin who had freaked out the last guy. She’d done a good job of that herself. She had been sitting in his car, listening to him say all these nice things about her. She had nodded her head and said thank you and I like you, too. Then she had looked at his face and known immediately from his puzzled expression that he hadn’t uttered a word; she’d been answering his thoughts. It had definitely been bye-bye time after that. She had been too embarrassed to see him again. She still blushed whenever she saw him in the hallway at school.
She climbed over barnacle-covered rocks exposed by the low tide and walked around a pile of yellow-brown kelp. The seaweed had washed to shore and now smelled like the fish trapped in its ropy coils and strap-shaped blades.
She gazed up at the first-quarter moon. She loved the pallid luminescence. She arched her back and slowly opened her arms to receive the moon’s light. So much had happened to her. It was still hard to believe. Who she was had remained a mystery to her until she met Maggie Craven, a retired schoolteacher with magic of her own.
“Tu es dea, filia lunae,” Maggie told her at their first meeting. “You are a goddess, a Daughter of the Moon.” Maggie had explained that in ancient times, when Pandora’s box was opened, the last thing to leave the box was hope. Only Selene, the goddess of the moon, saw the demonic creature lurking nearby that had been sent by the Atrox to devour hope. Selene took pity on humankind and gave her daughters, like guardian angels, to perpetuate hope. Serena was one of those daughters. Then Maggie told her about the Atrox. The Atrox and its Followers had sworn to destroy the Daughters of the Moon because once they were gone, the Atrox could bring about the ruin of humankind.
The words still stunned her. How many people even believed in the mythical world? She had read a few myths in sixth grade, but she didn’t think goddesses really existed. And if they did, they wouldn’t look like her, funked-out in her great-grandmother’s pointy-framed sunglasses, a green stud piercing her nose, a stainless-steel barbell through her tongue, and a hoop through the skin over her belly button. Maggie had laughed and said people judged too much by looks anyway. It was other things that made a goddess, like magnanimity of spirit, courage, and a deep willingness to put one’s safety aside to save others. Maggie assured her that Selene had bestowed many gifts on her, but Serena had a bewildering feeling that a darker goddess had also gifted her.
The punkers who had been bothering Morgan today were a new kind of Followers. They weren’t like the ones in Hollywood who tried to conceal their identity. These flaunted their allegiance to the Atrox. They were punks with pierced lips, rat’s-nest hair, and goat tattoos on their left arms. They used mind control, sucking hope and dreams from their victims. Worse still, they liked blood sports.
She’d ask Maggie about them when she saw her on Thursday. Maggie had become her mentor and guide and Serena loved her like a grandmother or a favored aunt. Before she met Maggie, she had been like a receptor, receiving random thoughts. Sometimes she went days without hearing anything. Other times it felt like there were three radios turned full blast in her head with everyone’s thoughts jumbling inside her.
Maggie taught her how to go inside a person’s mind. It wasn’t easy. The first time she’d tried, she and Maggie had walked over to the Beverly Center. They sat in the food court at the top of the mall, eating California wraps. Maggie pointed to a young boy and told Serena to concentrate, and in her mind’s eye to ease her way into the boy’s head.
She did as Maggie had told her and suddenly she was inside the boy’s thoughts.
His mind was cluttered. Baseball, soccer, and video games played around her in a dizzy swirl. Then TV shows, movies, and a golden retriever name Harry. Just when she wondered if she was going to be lost forever inside the boy’s head, she felt Maggie’s hand clasp hers and she was back in the mall, her wrap poised near her mouth.
“Wow” was all she could say.
“That’s just the tip of the iceberg.” Maggie had smiled. “Wait till you see what you can do.”
Even now, when Serena practiced reading a person’s mind she would sometimes get caught in their thoughts like a fly in a gluey spider web and panic, thinking she was going to be trapped forever in another person’s psyche.
Maggie thought she had mastered her mind-penetrating skill, not perfectly, but well enough to go on to the next level of power. Now Serena was learning how to take a thought and tuck it deep inside a person’s mind so they wouldn’t remember it. She called it zapping.
Serena felt a chill and realized she had been wandering aimlessly down the shore for a long time now, enjoying the phosphorescent beauty of the waves. She hurried to a seawall, climbed it, and looked back. She could no longer see the stretch of highway where they had parked the van. She turned to go back when a wave hit the wall and splashed over her. If she went back the way she had come, the incoming tide would cut her off near the rocks. She didn’t want to get caught in an unexpected wave, especially in the dark and fog, so she decided she’d better find a way up the bluffs.
By the
time she found a path, the fog had pushed into shore, wet and cold. She set down her sandals, untied her sweatshirt, and pulled it over her head. It did little to stop her shivering. Her back ached from the cold and her bare legs were covered with goose bumps. She trudged slowly up the hiking trail through the chaparral. The scrub oaks took on a twisted, haunted look in the darkness.
She walked with care, her uneasiness quickly turning to alarm. She had gone only a little way when she heard a sound as if someone were running in the path ahead of her. The fog was too dense to see.
“Hello!” she yelled.
She cautiously stepped forward.
That’s when she heard voices, faint and far away, like a church choir. Singing? No, more like chanting.
She walked quickly now, wanting more than anything to be out of the cold and back in the glare of city lights. Ahead she could see a glow in the fog, and stepped faster. Soon she could make out the cloudy images of people standing around a fire in a clearing ahead. She couldn’t imagine anyone having a campfire party on a cold night like this one, but she was grateful she had found them.
Only a few more steps and she could see the fire clearly, with about thirty kids standing in a circle around it. She’d get warm, then ask them the way to the highway. As she walked around the group, no one seemed to notice her. There was a strange tension in the air, as if something important were about to happen.
A girl with long blond hair stood too close to the fire. She wore a low-cut, iridescent black dress; the flowing sleeves reached the tips of her fingers, a gold boa circled her neck, and glittering bracelets curled around her arms. She looked more like she was dressed for a prom than an outdoor party. Flames radiated from the fire and seemed dangerously close to her. Her skirt kept flapping into the blaze.
No one seemed alarmed.
Then the girl smiled, turned, and stepped into the fire.
CHAPTER TWO
NONE OF THE KIDS standing near the fire seemed concerned. Were they all blasted on forties or high on ’shrooms? Why wasn’t anyone doing anything?
Serena dropped her sandals and barreled through the crowd. Her heart raced as adrenaline pumped through her.
The girl’s dress billowed, then whipped around her as if she had been caught in a maelstrom. Flames screamed, wrapped around her long hair, and carried it skyward as a log rolled to the edge of the fire with a hiss.
The kids stepped away from the rolling log, but no one made a move to help the girl.
Serena was close enough to the raging flames to hear the crackling logs, but she still couldn’t feel the heat. She should have been able to feel its warmth by now.
And then she saw something that made her stop abruptly. Flames seethed around the girl’s arms and face in wild delight, but she wasn’t burning. She didn’t even look like she was suffering. She looked euphoric. Awestruck, Serena stepped closer. It had to be her imagination, but the air seemed colder near the fire.
She hesitated, then brushed her hand through the fire. It flared up. Flames licked the tips of her fingers, and it felt like ice. She pulled her hand back and brushed a thin frost from her skin.
A cold fire? That was impossible. She stared in wonder at the girl in the inferno.
The girl lifted her head to the night sky, spread his arms wide, and smiled.
“Lecta! Lecta! Lecta!” the others were chanting. Was that the girl’s name?
The flames flickered around the girl’s face. She inhaled the fire, then opened her eyes. They shone, phosphorescent. The blaze screeched into the night sky and the girl stepped out.
Serena felt a thrum against her chest. She didn’t need to look down to know her amulet was radiating a white light. Its power was like an invisible wave pushing against her in warning. She took an involuntary step backward and quickly looked around. She had stumbled into a gathering of Followers. But why hadn’t her amulet warned her earlier? And why weren’t they trying to destroy her? They weren’t even trying to use their mind control.
That’s when she saw Karyl on the other side of the fire. He smiled at her through the sparking flames. Even at this distance she felt something creepy about him, the way he looked at her. The last time she had seen him his mind control had come screeching at her in hellish waves as she faced him in battle. That was the night Karyl, Tymmie, and Cassandra had tried to destroy Catty and Vanessa and steal their powers. She and Jimena had almost been too late to rescue them, but in the end they had saved the other girls.
She turned and bumped into Tymmie. He was tall, his hair dyed white-blond, the black roots showing. His lips curved in a crooked sort of way. His nose hoops reflected the orange-and-red flames.
“Hey, Goddess.” He stepped aside. His thin face still looked haunted but didn’t pose a threat.
Cassandra stood on the other side of him, her eyes reflecting the fire. She was wearing stretchy black capris under a black tulle skirt, and silver studded cuffs with a black tank top. Thin white scars on her chest made an S, a T, and an A. She had been madly in love with Stanton, the leader of the Followers, and had tried to slice his name on her chest with a razor blade.
Cassandra looked Serena over. “Cute outfit,” she said sarcastically.
Serena glanced at the kids standing around her. They were all dressed as if it were prom night.
Cassandra gave her another venomous glance, then ran her fingers through her marooncolored hair and stared back at the fire.
Serena backed away, more shaken than if Cassandra had slapped her.
She felt bewildered. She had battled these people once. So why didn’t they challenge her now? Was this some kind of trick? A trap?
Then she saw Stanton walking around the fire toward her. He was handsome in a dangerously sexy way in his silky black tuxedo. She knew not to stare into his blue eyes, but there was something compelling that made her eyes linger. Maybe it was the reflection of the fire that made his eyes sparkle with such tenderness. Usually there was a darkness and faraway coldness about them that threatened to drag people into his evil world.
Before she was even aware of it he stood beside her, his eyes inviting and seductive.
“I’m glad you came,” he said softly, and stroked her hair sensuously. His eyes held hers. It wasn’t terrifying, but comforting and lovely, and that was more frightening than if he had tried to push into her mind and control her.
Her heart began to race painfully in her chest. She staggered backward and stood precariously close to the fire. The smoke billowed around her. She breathed it in. The pungent smell made her dizzy and a little sick to her stomach.
She grabbed her moon amulet and felt an immediate comfort. Maggie had told her that she would always know intuitively what to do, especially when the moon was full. The moon wasn’t full, but at least it wasn’t a dark moon, which was when she was most vulnerable. Her powers were weakest during those three nights when the moon is invisible from the earth. She tried to clear her mind to think. She felt like running.
A baffled look crossed Stanton’s face. “Serena, are you all right?”
“How do you know my name?” she asked as new apprehension filled her. He had never used her name before. He had always called her Goddess, the way someone spits out the name of an enemy.
“You told me,” he said and circled closer to her. He reached out to touch her again when panic took over and she ran.
“Serena!” he shouted after her.
She crashed through the kids standing near the fire.
Stanton kept calling her name. His footsteps pounded the ground behind her.
It was dangerous to run so near the edge of the bluffs. She ran anyway. Terror shuddered through her and her breath came in rasping draws. Her hands were still quivering, but not from cold now. She was dripping with perspiration. She tried to think. Most of the Followers standing around the fire were probably initiates. Kids who had turned to the Atrox, hoping to be accepted into its congregation. They would want to prove themselves worthy of becoming
a Follower. They would have some powers of hypnosis, but her skills were far greater than theirs. They would be no threat, unless a large group of them caught her.
Tymmie, Karyl, and Cassandra had been accepted by the Atrox and were apprenticed to Stanton, learning to perfect their evil. She might be able to fight them off, but Stanton was another matter. He could read minds, manipulate thoughts, and even imprison people in his memories.
She ran more quickly now, arms pumping at her sides. The footsteps behind her were gaining.
That was the last thing she remembered.
Serena awoke with a start on the beach near the seawall. She looked around her, astonished. A moment ago she had been running on the bluffs above the water and the next she was on the beach, lying in the sand. “Stanton?” she called with dread. Her hands were shaking and she felt unbearably cold. When he didn’t answer her, she stood slowly, feeling dazed.
She looked in the wet sand. She saw only her own footprints. Could she have fallen asleep and dreamed about the cold fire? She didn’t remember resting or even sitting down. She lifted her hand to brush back the hair hanging in her eyes and felt a sharp pain. Her palms were raw and scratched. She stepped down to the water and let a wave wash over them. The salt water stung. Could she have fallen over the bluff, tried to grab hold of something, then slipped and lost consciousness when she hit the sand?
She started walking down the beach. After some distance she heard music coming from Collin’s van radio. Relief flowed through her. Never had his irritating, bad-to-the-bone surf guitar music sounded so heavenly.
She turned toward the music and ran up the sand, kicking through discarded cans and the charcoal remains of a long-ago beach fire.
Strong hands grabbed her.
She let out a startled cry.
“Serena?” Collin said in a bewildered voice. His flashlight shone in her eyes, then away. “Where’ve you been?”