Prophecy Volume Two: Rapture

Prophecy Volume 2: Rapture

By Brenna Lyons

Copyright Notice

This ebook is licensed for a single read. The copyright owner has not bestowed resale rights, rights to reproduce, or rights to distribute this title to any purchaser. No commercial use or alteration of this title is permitted. This book may not be resold, transferred, shared, or otherwise passed along (for free or for sale) without permission of Brenna Lyons, the rightful copyright owner of this material.

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Cover Artist: Brenna Lyons

Logo courtesy of Ann Vremont

Prophecy: Rapture © 2001/2003/2011 Brenna Lyons

All rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition. If you enjoy this work, please look for more of Brenna’s titles on Smashwords.

The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or events is purely coincidental.

Message from the Author

I must apologize for the delay in getting PROPHECY back out for sale. My original intent was to give the entire book a new cleaning edit, but I kept dragging my heels and finding reasons not to do it…subconsciously, of course.

Finally, a friend pointed out to me that the mental block to doing that edit just might be the inherent temptation to rewrite PROPHECY into something more to my current tastes. That having never been my intent, and my friend being, in all likelihood, completely correct about me… She does know me well. I decided to give PROPHECY nothing more than a quick spit polish and send her back out into the world.

That in mind, please remember that PROPHECY was the first novel I ever wrote and the first I edited. I have grown significantly as a writer since those days, but this is a slice in time when I was not so polished.

Happy reading!

Brenna Lyons

Dedications:

Dedicated to my husband, Tamer, and all the guys of the old MSP crew, especially the Roberts. You know who you are.

To Dorothea, my first proofreader; vicious...just for you.

To Dawn and Cecily, my first readers.

To Suzanne, my first editor.

And to Lisa who always believed in me...even when it cost her money.

Chapter Twenty-three

May 26th, 2001

Kyla’s mind and body buzzed in awareness. There was something wrong, but she couldn’t get a handle on what it was. Gram had told Joe she would be safe. Heather had told Kyla they would both be safe. Why couldn’t she shake this feeling?

All of her nerves were on fire with a surge of electricity that kept building as the day wore on. She paced the room. Then she decided to do something to blow off steam.

She went to the wide space they’d created when they’d moved the two beds together and took a stance between the bed and the wall, checking the distances to walls and furniture before she started her kata.

Kyla had learned the beginners’ kata in karate class when she was a child, a whirling dance which took her through all of the basic movements, over and over again. Her movements were strong and fluid. Sweat soaked through her shirt as the concentration required calmed her mind.

Kyla wished that she had been allowed to continue with karate. Even more than dance, it had made sense and order of her disorganized thoughts. She could always lose herself in the concentration it required until nothing broke in. Kyla’s mind cleared, and she found herself moving smoothly around the space, though she no longer registered the walls or the bed.

* * *

Joe opened the door to speak to Kyla and stopped short. He leaned against the doorframe and smiled. He recognized what she was doing, of course. Joe never knew that Kyla had actually studied martial arts, though in hindsight, he should have realized it.

But more than that, he had never seen the movements pass so gracefully before. Maybe it was the years of dance he knew she’d taken. The effect was enchanting.

He sighed. Joe hated to disturb her, but he had to talk to her for a few minutes. He closed the door and crossed the room to her. When Kyla didn’t respond to her name, Joe tapped her on the shoulder.

The effect was startling. Kyla whirled around, and her fist struck him in the chest. Surprised, Joe was fairly lifted off his feet before he landed a foot further back and solidly on his tailbone.

Kyla came to her senses. She bent to touch his arm, and her face blushed a deep crimson. I’m so sorry. You surprised me. She helped Joe to his feet.

He moved slowly, rubbing first the spot on his chest and then his sore tailbone. Why do you need a protector again? he grumbled.

To take care of Harris, she reminded him. Maybe it was a warning to you to stay on your toes.

No. If I would have been on my toes, I would have landed harder.

Kyla tried in vain to suppress a laugh at that one.

Just don’t tell Eric you knocked me on my ass. He’s halfway in love with you now. That would push him over the edge.

You’re kidding, right? she asked.

Sort of. He’s fascinated with you. I think he’s impressed that you’re as hard to call as he is himself.

Kyla relaxed visibly. What did you want to tell me?

We’re getting ready to leave. We’ll be back in two hours.

That explains it.

Explains what?

Why I’m so nervous. We’ve been joined at the hip for the last six weeks. Pathetic isn’t it? I swore I would never depend on anyone, and here I am, practically in a panic because my protector is leaving me for two hours.

Joe smiled. It wasn’t Kyla’s protector leaving that bothered her, and he knew it. It was him leaving. Joe enveloped her in his arms. It’s not pathetic at all. I’m in a panic, and you’re not protecting me. He tipped her face up. I’ll be back soon, and you’re never really alone. I’ll be with you here. He kissed her forehead.

Kyla nodded. I know. In my heart and in my mind.

Joe grinned. Besides, I’m bringing you back a present. No peeking in here. He tapped his temple.

* * *

The trip took longer than Joe had anticipated. The buzzing in Kyla’s nerves got worse with every moment he was gone.

After three hours, she was pacing the perimeter of the library while Gram crocheted in the chair. Kyla muttered curses under her breath as she made the far turn again.

Calm down, Kyla. It will be fine.

I can’t, Gram. I’ve tried. I just can’t.

The older woman shook her head. Why can’t you trust that there is a plan? As long as you’re true to yourself, you can’t help but do exactly what you’re destined to do.

So much for free will.

Not at all. You can choose not to follow your heart, not to adhere to your ethics and morals. That would be disastrous, but you could choose to do it.

So, the texts could be wrong? Kyla asked.

Only if you choose not to be what you are, Gram answered patiently.

I don’t think I understand. Kyla took a seat in the other wingback.

As long as you stand firm and be who you are, no outside force can stop what is to come. Anything they do will only aid in the future the texts portray.

Like Oedipus? If his father hadn’t ordered him killed, he would have known who his parents were. He might still have killed his father, but he certainly wouldn’t have married his mother. But his father brought about the end result by trying to avoid it. Is that what you mean?

"Very good. The texts say you will be of a pagan family. Later, they call you a Child of Christ. They already caused that. When they killed the Parks, they caused that very thing to happen.

There was some question about the priest who baptized the baby, you know. No one could remember his name, though it was immaterial. Some of the relatives were Christians. It was decided that one of them had actually called him in. The police decided an inner-family squabble about religion was the least of their worries. With her breathing problems, they didn’t even check for foul play. Why would they? Everyone trusts a priest.

But how can you be so calm? I know whatever is coming will be unpleasant. I hate the unknown. So, I find it very hard to embrace something that is both unknown and unpleasant.

What will happen, must happen. It all happens for a greater good. The only important thing is to be true to ourselves. Even the Christian Bible says there is a season to everything and everything to its time. So, whatever happens, it is time for it to happen. Remember that.

Kyla nodded thoughtfully. A time to reap and a time to sow. A time to weep and a time to laugh. A time to be born and a time to die. A sudden cold spot settled in her stomach. A time to die. She stopped and replayed the thought several times over.

Gram’s voice was soothing. Dying is a small thing, especially for someone as old as I am. It’s just another stage of life, like learning to walk or falling in love for the first time. It should be embraced with as much zeal and not feared.

Kyla found it hard to meet her gaze. Is that what the texts say? she asked.

Gram smiled. No, that’s what my heart says.

She found it hard to breathe. You’re not going to survive what’s coming, are you?

A new voice assaulted Kyla’s nerves. I guess that depends on you.

Kyla didn’t need to look at him to know who it was. She would never forget his voice, but she wasn’t about to meet him with her back turned. She took to her feet and turned to face the intruder who had surprised them so effectively.

Effectively, hell! Kyla had felt him coming all day. Why didn’t I do something about it earlier? A time to face the music, she whispered. Then, Kyla met his gaze. Hello, Harris.

Harris smiled crookedly. How nice of you to remember me, Kyla. I couldn’t believe it when I heard lover boy left you completely unprotected. I thought it simply couldn’t be that easy, but here we are.

He moved toward her, but Kyla stood her ground. There would be no running this time. I remember more than you’ll ever know, Harris, and believe me, it won’t be that easy. Her voice was calmer than Kyla thought she could manage. It had to be.

Harris threw his punch. She hit the floor hard, and the world careened out of focus. A sudden curious pinch snapped her back.

"Call him. Don’t wait any longer. Call him now," Heather ordered.

Kyla reached out to Joe. Consciousness was slipping away for no good reason. She locked onto Harris’s face as the world disappeared.

* * *

Eric and Joe rode in silence. Joe’s unease had been growing steadily for the entire time they had been in town. What was wrong with him? Was this panic of Kyla’s catchy. Come on, he growled at the slowly passing scenery.

Eric glanced at him. What is your problem?

There’s something that’s not right.

What?

If I knew that, I wouldn’t be so damned irritated, he snapped.

Eric rolled his eyes. Wonderful.

Where’s Stacie?

In the other truck. Why?

Are you sure about that?

I saw her get in just before we pulled out. Believe me, I’m not letting her out of my sight. Why?

I don’t know. I just know that I don’t want to lose track of her.

You think something’s up?

I know it.

Eric nodded. We’re almost there.

Joe heard the cry he had been expecting all afternoon. Kyla was screaming his name. It echoed in his head, and a picture of Harris joined it.

It was gone.

Shit! Joe slammed his hand against the dashboard.

Eric jumped. What is it?

They’re already there.

Who are?

Harris and his guys. We have to get back.

Are you sure? Eric asked him.

Joe glared at him.

Okay, I got it. You’re sure. What is she saying?

Joe tried to reach Kyla, but he felt like he was screaming into the vacuum of space. He tried again with the same results. She was out of touch completely. Off line. Damn it!

What? How? This was supposed to be foolproof, Eric complained.

I don’t know. She just isn’t there.

She’s not... Eric looked a little pale.

I don’t think so. I hope not. The possibility propelled Joe into a different type of panic. Why did I listen to Gram? he berated himself. I shouldn’t have left her.

You know she’s fine. We’ll be there soon.

Can we speed it up?

A little. After that, we’re risking a worse delay. You know that.

Joe nodded. That was a delay they couldn’t handle.

Twenty minutes later, they pulled into Gram’s. The other truck hadn’t caught up with them since they laid on speed at the end of the dirt road that led to the house. The house was quiet, and the kitchen door swung on its hinges.

Eric looked up from the lock. Professional.

Joe nodded and stepped into the kitchen. He motioned to Eric to head to the back of the house, the bedrooms and the basement, while he went forward. The hall and living room were deserted. Joe glanced at the stairs, then decided to finish the downstairs first.

The library doors stood open. Gram’s crochet was strewn across the floor. One ball of yarn had been kicked until it unraveled into the corner of the room.

A patch of color caught Joe’s attention. He bent to the plush peach-colored rug and ran his fingertips over the rust-colored stain that marred it. Blood, but not much. Kyla was out of contact because she was unconscious, and she wasn’t here.

Harris knew we were coming back. Joe holstered his gun. He wouldn’t need it. For now.

How long would Kyla be out of contact? Could she lead him to her when she woke?

"It wasn’t supposed to happen this way," he silently raged at Heather and the gods.

Joe heard footsteps heading down the hall.

Where’s Gram? Jason asked. I’m starved.

The others had no idea what was going on. Except one of them. Joe made it to the door jamb in three long strides. He grabbed Stacie by the throat as she came through the doorway and pinned her against the wall.

Where is she? he demanded.

Jason tried unsuccessfully to peel Joe off the floundering woman. Joe, what the hell are you doing? he screamed. Stop it.

Stacie was scarlet and gasping for breath. Joe considered squeezing harder, until she couldn’t breathe at all, the way her friend Harris had done to Kyla. Stacie’s hands were pulling at his wrist, and her eyes were wide.

Eric spoke softly. Let her down, Joe. She can’t answer anything that way.

His hand dropped onto Joe’s shoulder, and Joe nodded and relaxed his grip. As Joe eased his hand away, Stacie slid to the floor and started gasping for breath.

Liz waved her arms anxiously. What is going on? Where’s Gram? Where’s Kyla? Why are you attacking Stacie?

Joe brought his right hand up to her eye level. The smear of blood on his fingertips stood out in startling contrast to the pale skin of his hand. This is Kyla’s, and if she, he motioned to Stacie with his other hand, doesn’t tell me everything I want to know right now, I’m going to spill a lot more. All hers.

Liz went pale. Her skin was translucent beneath her coal-black hair. But...why Stacie?

Eric dragged Stacie up by the front of her shirt. She stumbled along after him to one of the wingback chairs.

Why don’t you tell them, Stacie? Why don’t you tell them all about your friends Reverend Cole and Simmons? Tell them, or I’ll hurt you in ways you can only dream of. Eric threw her at the chair.

It was Stacie’s turn to go pale. This wasn’t my doing, she protested.

Eric intercepted Joe on his way back to continue throttling the young woman. Let me. He turned back to Stacie, placing his body between Joe and his prey.

Stacie searched the faces of the others, looking for an ally. She needn’t have bothered. Neither of the other two was going to stand between Eric and Joe and the traitor who was most probably responsible for the deaths of Kyla and Gram. Whether or not Kyla was the prophet was immaterial to them. She was a friend. So, when Eric’s fist connected with her ribcage, none of the others even cringed in her favor.

Eric stood over her, flexing his hand. Talk, Stacie. Tell us where she is.

Stacie curled into a fetal position in the chair. She gasped out an answer, probably unwilling to give Eric a reason to do that again. I tell you, it wasn’t me. The plan was that they would raid on Monday.

Why Monday? Eric crouched until he was eye to eye with her.

Stacie gasped for breath, but her eyes glowed with a fierce light. Because I wouldn’t be here. I wasn’t supposed to be here. Get it?

What? You didn’t want in on the fun? Eric’s sarcastic tone wasn’t lost on her.

I didn’t want... Stacie glanced at the others and sighed before continuing. ...to get caught in the crossfire.

So, your buddy Harris is going off half cocked? Eric prodded.

A look of confusion crossed her face. Who’s Harris? I have no connection with anyone called Harris.

Eric glanced up at Joe sharply. Two separate groups?

"Maybe. Nothing Kyla picked up from her mentioned Harris. But we can’t prove that."

Eric ventured further. And I suppose you don’t know anything about Father Johnson either? he snapped at her.

Father? You mean Catholic? You have to be kidding. They’re almost as bad as— Stacie remembered her audience and stopped short.

Joe felt his heart sink. Until Kyla was conscious again, they had lost their last hope. He only prayed he would have enough time to do something once she was awake.

In the meantime, he smiled at Stacie grimly. Too bad, Stacie. You started this game, and now you are stuck in the crossfire. Tie her up. I may figure out a use for her yet.

* * *

Stacie tried to move her hands. Damn. Eric knew how to tie a person up. The zip strips were more difficult than handcuffs. She would never work her way out of them.

She leaned back and took a slow, deep breath, then grimaced. If her ribs weren’t broken, the bruising was severe. Either way, it was going to hurt like hell for awhile.

What were they up to? It was over. Why couldn’t they see that? What could they possibly want with Stacie? They couldn’t even leverage for the return of their precious prophet since it wasn’t Reverend Cole who had her.

Stacie sobered. Even if Rev. Cole did have her, he wouldn’t trade her for Stacie. From his point of view, Stacie was expendable. She would be a casualty of war, a small sacrifice to God and his cause. Wasn’t there something in the Bible about God not wanting human sacrifices?

Stacie sighed and grimaced again. It really was over. She would die here, and no one would lift a finger to save her. Her allies would say she gave her life to God. Her enemies would execute her as a traitor to their cause. There was no way out for her.

Unless… An idea took form. Stacie never heard the voice whispering in her ear. Had she, she would have thought her guardian angel was intervening for her. Divine inspiration would never have crossed her mind.

It could work, but she still had to sell them on it.

Stacie starting yelling for her unseen guard, and Liz entered the room. The look on her face told Stacie that she wouldn’t hesitate to use the handgun she held cradled in her hand.

What do you want? Liz asked.

I want to see Joe.

Liz looked at her skeptically.

I know what you’re thinking. Please. Tell him I may be able to help him find Kyla. The fact that this was the first time she ever said the other woman’s name wasn’t lost on Stacie. But what did it mean?

* * *

Joe paced the room. It had been six long hours, and he still couldn’t reach Kyla. What the hell had Harris done to her? He tried reaching Gram, but she had never connected with anyone but Kyla.

Eric watched, clearly worried. Joe, why don’t you sit down? he suggested.

Instead, Joe stopped at the window Kyla had fled through the first night and stared out into the darkness. Where is she?

I don’t know. If I did, I would have already delivered her back to you.

Along with Harris’s head, no doubt.

You know it. Get some rest. You won’t do her any good if you’re exhausted when she does contact you.

What if I’m asleep when she tries, and I don’t hear her?

Figure the odds. I’ve heard her scream in person, remember? I’m sure she could wake the dead from miles away. Besides, you were asleep when her dream-screaming woke you, right?

Joe cracked a smile. You’re probably right. Maybe I should try to get some sleep. He glanced at the bed. Sleeping there was going to be very hard without her. The knock at the door allowed him another stall.

Joe? Liz called.

Yeah, Liz. What’s up?

Stacie wants to see you.

And? Joe felt his irritation rise several notches. He couldn’t care less what Stacie wanted.

Well, she says she might be able to help us find Kyla.

Joe yanked open the door and stormed down the hall towards the library. As Eric and Liz fell in behind him, he muttered out a solemn oath. If she’s pulling something, she’s going to regret it.

He entered the library and crossed to the wingback chair opposite Stacie. As Joe settled in it, he stared down at the woman across the rug. What do you have in mind?

I use my resources to find her.

How?

I make one simple phone call.

To whom? Joe accentuated that one.

Simmons.

So he can come to your rescue? I don’t think so. Joe started to leave.

Are you brain dead? There’s no rescue for me. Don’t you think I know that?

Joe regarded her coolly and settled back into the chair again. Talk.

I call Simmons and tell him it’s blown.

What good will that do? he asked.

I tell him someone else has stolen his prize. She blushed. Taken Kyla before them. Reverend Cole won’t like that. No one steals his spotlight, right?

Liz snorted. That’s the understatement of the century.

Stacie darkened. Anyway, they’ll find her, and we ride in and get her out.

We? Joe raised an eyebrow at her.

You. We. It’s all a matter of semantics.

Joe started. Semantics? That was one of Kyla’s catchphrases, but they never conducted prophet talk in front of the others. Stacie shouldn’t know to use that word, but she did. So, Simmons is going to call you back with the information?

Well...no... Stacie sighed. It’s not quite that simple. You’ll have to follow him to her and get her out while they fight it out.

He paled. "And get her stuck in the crossfire?" Joe raged.

You have a better option I don’t know about?

Joe sobered. She had a point there. What if Cole sends someone else?

Stacie shook her head. He won’t. They kept the guest list short on this one. Simmons is already briefed. He knows the drill. Cole won’t change up.

Joe nodded. So we just sic Simmons on them and follow his lead?

She nodded.

They have her bugged or something?

No, but we know who took her, right? All I do is tell him that Harris — what’s his first name? — and Bishop Johnson have her, and he’ll find them. That’s what he does.

Bishop? Joe glared at her, his suspicion piqued.

I think I know who you’re talking about, but he’s a bishop now. His name is Brian Johnson.

I thought you didn’t know him.

I don’t, but I heard the name somewhere. Stacie seemed to be trying to access some piece of elusive information. I don’t really remember where, but—

If this is some sort of scam—

Stacie cut him off. It’s not. Look, you want her back, right?

Joe leaned toward Stacie and shot her a menacing look. Yes, I do. But why do you?

The question hung between them for what seemed an eternity, and her attention roamed the room aimlessly. Finally, she met his gaze. I don’t know.

I’ll let you know. Joe disappeared down the hall, leaving Eric and Liz far behind. Eric always knew when he needed space, and Joe needed space desperately.

Joe laid down on the bed. For a moment, he drank in the smell of Kyla on her pillow. He considered changing beds to one of the ones upstairs but decided the sensation was comforting despite the deep loss he felt at her absence. He took the drawing she’d made from the nightstand and ran his hand over the image. Joe read the poems she wrote again.

I should have been here, he whispered.