Tabitha Caplinger - The Chronicle of the Three: Bloodline

The Chronicle of the Three: Bloodline

Tabitha Caplinger

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.

Published by Blue Ink Press, LLC

Copyright 2015 Tabitha Caplinger

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

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Smashwords Edition

Printed in the United States of America

Cover design by Greg Simanson

www.blueinkpress.com

You are powerful. You are chosen. You are loved.

You are never alone.

H is body was heavy against the doorframe, and his eyes blinked rapidly to adjust to the darkness of the nursery where his young wife rocked their new baby back to sleep. The little girl was a bundle of pink skin in pink blankets, cooing along with her mothers lullaby. She had his amber eyes and her mothers pinched nose. A slow yawn morphed into a smile as Emmas sweet singing floated into his ears, punctuated by the slow creak of the antique chair moving in rhythm against the wood floor. Fatigue retreated, pushed aside by a contented sigh and the sweet talcum scent in the air. Baby powder... and something else. Something that didnt fit. Ash . The familiar hint of coal burned his nostrils, muscles that had been conditioned years before tensed. His bare feet moved quickly, silently, across the pine planks. He peeked behind the floral curtains out into the yard. The faint light of the sun emerging over the eastern horizon revealed a shadow that prowled across the manicured lawn before it disappeared into the neighboring tree line. A shiver crept up his back and down his arms.

What is it? Emma looked up with concern.

Garrett turned to her for a moment. The words stopped in his throat and he couldnt will them out; he paused, letting his eyes look back out into the slowly breaking day.

Theyre watching her. The words tasted sour in his mouth, and he wanted to swallow them back down, away from her.

What could they want with Zoe? Emma clutched the baby tighter to her chest.

We knew this was a possibility... the prophecy.

Claire is the chosen one, not Zoe. The guardians are sure of it, Emma spit out, the sudden outburst making the child in her arms squirm briefly before settling back to a peaceful sleep. Her voice returned to a desperate whisper. She wasnt supposed to be a part of this.

I know. But what if the guardians were wrong? What if its not Claire? This is in her blood. He felt his face grow warm.

I wont sacrifice my daughter. Emma adjusted the soft pink fabric a little tighter around the baby.

We may not have a choice. Garrett rubbed a calloused hand through his dark hair, his shoulders lowering with a defeated sigh as he made his way over to his wife and daughter. The wood floor in front of the rocking chair was cold and hard against his knees. His fingers gently traced the outline of Zoes sweet face and small nose before he placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

Emma looked him in the eye. There is always a choice.

Can we change her destiny? Tears fell down his cheeks and dripped from his chin onto shaking hands.

Emma reached out a hand to wipe them away, letting it come to rest on his neck. We have to try. Her own tear traced the contour of her face, and she leaned her head to rest against his as the two encircled the infant between them. We have to protect her from this.

Z oe stepped onto the smooth wooden floor; her delicate hand gripped the barre. The soft music echoed off the mirrors and over her skin, propelling her into movements that matched its grace. First position, second, pli. Stretching, swaying and then stepping away from the barre, she let the music move her across the floor.

She began to spin, turning over and over, the mirrors and floor now swirling around her until they became rain-spattered windows against the dark night sky and flashing blue and red lights. The music was now replaced by sirens and screams all swirling in her mind as she turned and turned and then crashed into a heap on the dance floor, her head falling in her hands as she cried.

When her tears stopped, she looked up to catch her reflection in the mirrored wall, approaching it with caution, like a stranger. The girl staring back at her was wearing the same pale pink tights, black leotard and leg warmers she always rehearsed in. Her sandy hair pulled away from her heart-shaped face into the same messy bun, but her hazel eyes were darker, skin paler. Was she still only seventeen? She touched the bandage on her forehead, wincing slightly at the memory.

It had been three weeks since the car accident. Her bruises were fading, but not the memories; instead, they haunted her dreams. Last night she woke up screaming and walked down the hall only to remember, when seeing her parents empty bed, that it wasnt a nightmare at all. She curled into a ball on their comforter, inhaling deep breaths of them, trying to hold on to every morsel of their memory that she could. But they were gone and life would never be the same.

Sorry, kiddo. Claires brunette head peeked in the doorway. But we have to finish packing.

Okay. Zoe grabbed her bag and glanced back once, for just a second, before she followed her aunt to the car.

Claire was petite, like Zoe. It was strange to see her that way now when, as a child, Zoe had thought her aunt bigger than life. The woman always dripped confidence and adventure whenever she came to visit. She was just in her early thirties and had seen the world as a journalist, following the breaking news. Claire was always so glamorous and heroic, but she seemed so much smaller now, dwarfed by her grief.

* * *

C laire said she had been chasing a story in the Middle East when she got the call that her brother and sister-in-law had died in a car accident. She took the next flight out to sit by Zoes hospital bed, waiting for her to wake up. It would be another 36 hours before Zoe would slowly open her eyes.

Everything was fuzzy, and Zoe blinked a few times before it came into focus. Then she shut her eyes tight again, squeezing them so hard that tears slipped out and down her cheeks as she let out a quiet whimper.

Hey there, kiddo.

Zoe recognized Claires voice and opened her eyes once again and saw the heartbreak written on her aunts face. Red eyes and dark circles revealed the truth. What if Im wrong?

Mom and Dad? she croaked, her throat dry and sore.

Im so sorry, sweetie. Claire shook her head, her own voice breaking.

The sob rose up from Zoes stomach and clenched her chest before being choked out of her throat, followed by more tears. Her aunt pulled her into a hug as her body wracked with sobs, and she gripped the woman so tightly that her muscles ached even more, but she couldnt let go. She had no one else left in the world. Only Claire . Her fingers clutched Claires black sweater and her breathing labored until exhaustion took over, and she fell back to sleep.

She didnt know how long she had been unconscious. They told her it was just over a day and a half, but it felt like weeks or years. Or was it mere seconds? After crying until she passed out again, her body just felt numb. People had stopped by to check on her, and many brought flowers and offered condolences. They were her friends, but she couldnt really remember their faces or names at the moment. They had joined the blur of doctors and nurses who had been in and out of her room, checking this vital and that chart. The conversations were equally muddled in her memory, intermingled with her aunt making funeral arrangements over the phone.