The Prophecy Read online

  D A U G H T E R S O F T H E M O O N

  Also in the

  D A U G H T E R S O F T H E M O O N

  series:

  Copyright © 2004 by Lynne Ewing

  Volo and the Volo colophon are trademarks of Disney Enterprises, Inc.

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data on file.

  ISBN 0-7868-1891-3

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  For RZl, Sylvia Weiss

  PROLOGUE

  12 4 9 A .D.

  The Keeper pulled the illuminated manuscript from its hiding place and spread it on the stone hearth. The golden border caught the fire's light and its reflection looked like an eye flashing open. At once the illusion vanished, but something else caught the Keeper's attention, and the shock of it took his breath away. Within the enlarged first letter the miniature of the goddess unlocking the jaws of hell had changed; her beauty was gone, replaced by the cruel gaze of a Follower. Was this another change the Scroll had wrought upon itself or had someone tampered with its magic again?

  The Keeper dipped his paintbrush in brown pigment and began drawing a tree on the parchment, curving its limbs over and around the calligraphy until the words were hidden in a maze of twisting branches. For centuries he had devoted himself to uncovering this forbidden knowledge, and now he had assumed the duty of protecting it. He wished he could follow the Path, but the Prophecy was clear; only the child of a fallen goddess and an evil spirit could follow the steps without fear of the Scroll's curse.

  Many had died trying to use its magic, but that wasn't the reason the Keeper now kept it hidden, denying its existence. A dangerous transformation had taken place. The Scroll had somehow come to life, as if the words written on the parchment had infused it with an instinct for survival. He could feel it now, alert and suspicious beneath his fingers.

  When it was no longer watching him, he dropped his brush, grabbed a reed pen, dipped it into the glutinous black ink, and wrote one final instruction on the last page. His deception awakened whatever lived within the manuscript. Intense light shot through him with deadly force, binding his existence to that of the Secret Scroll for all time.

  CHAPTER ONE

  CA T T Y R A N D O W N T H E sidewalk near the La Brea Tar Pits. The air was thick with the odors of asphalt and methane gas. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was following her, then put on sunglasses and a cap before hurrying past two guys listening to thundering riffs of hard rock from a boom box.

  She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves, then pulled The L.A. Times from her backpack and stared down at the photo of an illuminated manuscript. The Los Angeles County Art Museum had purchased the antique document from a man who had bought it at a swap meet.

  Just last week the man had died. Now, the museum curator and a security guard were in the hospital on life support with the same flu-like ailment. The parchment had been examined for radiation and toxins. The newspaper compared what was happening to King Tut's curse, but Catty blamed only herself. If she hadn't spent spring break in San Diego hanging out on the beach with her friends, she might have been able to prevent the man's death.

  Catty had to do something, before another person died. The curse was real, but who was going to believe her if she told them? Then again, it wasn't as if she couldn't prove what she said, because she had a gift. But revealing her power of time travel could be risky. That left her no option. She had to steal back the Scroll.

  She entered the museum through the monumental portal on Wilshire Boulevard and charged up the stairway, the skylight high above her. She turned toward the central courtyard and stopped. The plaza was filled with reporters and cameras. She hadn't expected so many potential witnesses.

  A newscaster from channel seven was staring into the lens of a camera, giving a report. Catty hurried behind her, surprised to hear the reporter utter the word "Atrox." What did the museum people know?

  Head down, she threaded her way through the crowd, then squeezed awkwardly past a man taking down audio equipment. She didn't need someone identifying her later. Still, she fantasized what it would be like to walk up to the podium, grab the microphone, and tell everyone the truth. She imagined their expressions when she explained that the manuscript revealed an ancient path for defeating a primal source of evil called the Atrox.

  She smiled wryly, remembering the prophecy. Only the child of an alien goddess and an evil spirit shall inherit the Scroll. She was that child, the Scroll's heir. Would they think she was evil, too, or would they want to help her? The answer didn't matter. She could never reveal her true identity without putting herself and her friends in danger.

  Suddenly, her chest tightened with new anxiety. The world might find out, anyway. According to the newspaper, Miori Amasaki had begun translating the Scroll. Already, sections of it had been printed in the Times. If Catty didn't steal it before the translation was completed, everyone would find out her secret. The thought terrified her. If government officials knew about the Daughters and their powers, they would assign a scientist to examine them. She imagined herself and her friends locked up on some remote military base, undergoing tests. She tried to brush the thought away as she stepped up to a security guard.

  "I'm doing an internship with Ms. Amasaki," she lied. "Could you tell me where to find her office?"

  "Lower level of the Hammer Building." The guard barely glanced at her.

  Minutes later, the elevator doors rumbled open, and Catty stepped out, her pulse thudding in her temples. At the far end of the hallway the air rippled; it was as if her eyes were going in and out of focus. She took off her sunglasses and slipped them into her backpack. The illusion vanished.

  She thought about the moon amulet hanging around her neck. It had been given to her at birth. Her best friends, Serena, Tianna, and Vanessa, each had one, too. She wished they were with her now, but she hadn't told them what she was doing. They would have insisted on coming with her, and she had been afraid the Scroll's curse might harm them. She couldn't put their lives in jeopardy—at least, not until she had a better plan than this one.

  Satisfied that the charm wasn't alerting her to danger, she stepped off the elevator. If something had lurked at the end of the hallway, it was gone now. Maybe the undulating air had been the effect of her vision adjusting to the dimmer light inside. Still, she stepped slowly forward, listening for the furtive sounds of someone following her. She wasn't the only one searching for the Scroll, and the others were deadly and determined in their quest.

  At last she found the right office. A name plate read MIORI AMASAKI. She stared at the door, her heart pounding wildly. A gash near the lock made it look as if someone had forced something between the door and jamb to open it. She hoped she wasn't too late.

  She started to turn the knob. when footsteps echoed down a distant corridor. Frantic, she looked for a place to hide, then tiptoed across the hall and slid into a restroom, careful not to let the door slam. She braced herself against the cold, tiled wall, closed her eyes, and took several deep breaths to quell her panic. She had never been that nervous defending herself against Followers, but stealing a million-dollar artifact was making her dizzy.

  "Tu es dea, filia lunae," she whispered trying to give herself courage. "You're a goddess, a Daughter of the Moon."

  When
she opened her eyes, she caught her reflection. A bruise streaked her jaw, and a long scrape slid down her right arm. She had made too many trips into the past, hoping to find the Scroll before the man purchased it. Her knees and back still ached from the many landings in a short period of time.

  The footsteps tapped past the bathroom, hesitated, then hurried away.

  Catty let out a sigh of relief, opened the door, and peered out. Whoever had been there was gone now. She slipped across the hallway and tested the doorknob again, expecting to find it locked. Instead, it turned in her hand. She eased inside, trying to push away her worries, and closed the door behind her.

  The room was empty and quiet. Gray light came through a window that looked out on an ivy-covered embankment. Catty walked to a desk, the carpet absorbing her footfalls, and began rummaging through a stack of papers. Atrox was written across one sheet, as if the translator had been puzzling over the word's meaning.

  The desk was locked. Quickly she found a paper clip, straightened it, and slid it into the key hole. The metallic scratching sound made her fearful again that someone would discover her. At last she heard a click, and the first drawer opened. A glint of gold caught her eye. The Scroll lay before her. She admired the detailed artwork on the borders, in which exotic beasts and birds with long feathers hid in twisting tree branches.

  She picked up the manuscript. The parchment pulsed beneath her touch as if she had awakened it. She dropped it and stepped back, rubbing her fingers on her jeans to rid herself of the unpleasant sensation that the parchment had recognized her. She didn't recall having had such a feeling before. Perhaps Gerard de Molaire, the sorcerer who had hidden a spell within the Scroll, had channeled some kind of sinister energy into it. But then another thought came to her. Chris had given her the manuscript before, and maybe he had controlled it then.

  Her heart sank. What had happened to Chris? The last time she had seen him, he had been pretending to be a student at La Brea High School. She shook her head. She couldn't believe the way she was still crushing on a guy she'd probably never see again.

  She touched the parchment with the tip of her finger. The odd sensation was gone now. Maybe she had only imagined the strange stirring.

  She opened her backpack and slipped the Scroll inside, but, as she started to leave, she became aware of someone standing in the far corner of the room, watching her.

  CHAPTER TWO

  "KY L E ? " C A T T Y H A T E D the sudden squeal in her voice. This was all she needed. Now she had a witness.

  "Hi, Catty." Kyle leaned against a bookcase, holding some computer printouts in his hands. He was grinning, and the cuffs of his jean jacket were black with dirt. Kyle had gone to La Brea High until he had been expelled. Now he went to Turney, but she still saw him at Planet Bang, hanging out with all his badass friends.

  "What are you doing here?" she asked, ignoring his smirk. Why wouldn't he stop smiling?

  "You're asking me?" he said, arching an eyebrow.

  She hated his cocky attitude. His gorgeous looks made him a heartthrob, though. Girls were crazy about him, but he was a magnet for trouble. Rumors about him had been going around school even before he had been forced to leave. Then she remembered the deep gashes on the door. Had he broken in? What was his interest in the Scroll?

  "You're prowling around where you don't belong, and you want me to explain what I'm doing?" He brushed his shaggy hair from his eyes. Bruises covered his knuckles as if he had been in a fight.

  "You should have told me you were watching," she said, not backing down.

  "Because . . . ?" He tilted his head, waiting for her to explain. When she didn't, he continued. "Because it's rude to watch someone steal a valuable piece of art? I apologize. I didn't know."

  She rolled her eyes. "You don't understand—"

  "Unlike you, I'm not looking for an explanation." He frowned. "Just put the manuscript back."

  She challenged him with her stare. There was no way she was going to let go of the Scroll now. She started to build her energy, in order to open the tunnel and escape through time, but then a thought came to her with a jolt. "You were going to steal the manuscript, weren't you?" Her eyes narrowed, watching him carefully.

  "Sure," he answered sarcastically. "And that's why you have it in your backpack."

  Anger flooded through her, and at the same time she was annoyed with herself for letting him distract her. If someone had come into the room right now, she would have been the one caught with the Scroll. "I know you broke in."

  "And you didn't?" He looked down at the papers he was holding, as if dismissing her.

  She stepped closer and yanked the pages out of his hand. "Why are you reading translations of the manuscript?"

  He yanked the papers back, rolled them up tightly, then stuck them in his pocket. "Who am I to turn down a pile of cash from a reporter who wants a scoop?"

  "That's why you're here?" Catty asked. His answer seemed plausible, but she didn't believe him. "Someone bribed you to break the law?"

  "I would love to stay and chat, but I, uh, don't really care." He started to walk away, but then his glance caught something below her neck, and he turned back.

  She folded her arms over her breasts, a blush surging to her cheeks. In the dim light, she couldn't tell exactly what his eyes were focused on, but his stare was creeping her out. "What are you looking at?"

  "Your necklace is shining." He gave her a curious look, then grabbed her moon charm before she could move out of the way.

  "Ouch!" He let it go as if the metal had stung him. "What is it?"

  Catty glanced down. Her amulet glowed in warning. Were Followers near? Or was there another reason she should be alert? She looked hard at Kyle. If he was a Follower, then he was only an Initiate—one of the kids who had turned to the Atrox hoping to be accepted into its congregation—because she couldn't feel him trying to control her with his mind. Was it possible that Kyle had planned to steal the Scroll as a way to prove himself worthy of becoming a Follower? He had that kind of bad-boy reputation, but she had never sensed anything evil about him. There was only one way to know for sure. She clasped his fingers to see if her moon amulet had burned his skin.

  "Can I ask what you're doing?" he said, trying to pull free.

  She held on to him tightly, breathing in the faint smell of turpentine and linseed oil from his clothes. His skin wasn't burned. She twisted his hand to force his palm down and was surprised by what she saw. Bruises didn't really cover his knuckles, and the cuffs of his jacket weren't black from dirt.

  "You paint?" she asked, certain that he did. She'd never seen him in one of her art classes, but she recognized the stains of oil paints.

  He snatched his hand away.

  Before she could say more, she heard approaching footsteps on the other side of the door.

  His eyes widened. "We have to hide." He eased back toward the corner near the floor to ceiling bookshelves.

  Catty ignored his outstretched hand. She had what she had come for, and now she was going to travel into the past. Kyle would probably have a flash of deja vu the next time he saw her, but he wouldn't remember what had just happened. When she went back in time, it was like rewinding a videotape and then recording over it.

  He motioned for her to join him in the shadows.

  She took off her cap, crammed it into her backpack, and then concentrated, feeling her eyes expand. Goose bumps rippled over her skin as power surged through her. The air pressure changed, and her hair bristled with static electricity, meandering snakelike around her head. Then the minute hand on her watch began spinning backward.

  Suddenly, Kyle lunged forward and grabbed her wrist. "Are you trying to get us caught? If you stay in the middle of the room, they'll see you."

  She squinted, restraining her power. If she left now, Kyle would go with her, and he would definitely have a memory of that. Without an outlet, her energy prickled painfully along her arms and legs. She sucked in air, then realized th
at Kyle was unzipping her backpack.

  "Don't!" she whispered, too late.

  He pulled out the Scroll and placed it back inside the desk as the doorknob turned.

  She pitched forward, reaching for the Scroll. "You don't understand. I'm not really stealing it."

  He caught her hand, closed the drawer, and yanked her back.

  The door started to open, and the light from the hallway slanted across the carpet.

  CHAPTER THREE

  "TH E R E ' S N O P L A C E T O hide," Catty whispered, feeling panic rise inside her.

  Kyle guided her toward the back of the room, his lips moving against her ear. "There's always a place if you're desperate enough."

  Then, holding her tight, he squeezed between two bookcases, pulling her into a small niche. She tensed her body, trying not to press against him, but the recess was narrow and they were jammed together, his breath tickling her temple.

  The overhead lights buzzed on and someone coughed.

  Catty peered around Kyle's arm, straining her neck to see beyond the edge of the bookcase.

  A woman stood at the desk, sniffling loudly. Catty wondered if the woman had seen the slash marks on the door. If so, she didn't act concerned. Instead, she pulled out a tissue, blew her nose, and then sat down, opening a laptop. Her fingers clicked across the keys. How long was she going to stay?

  Kyle carefully pulled Catty back, his eyes intense with warning. She nodded, suddenly aware of his hands on her back. Her breath stopped. She had never stood this close to a guy before, not even Chris. She wanted to hate Kyle's embrace, but something stirred inside her, filling her with a sudden urge to kiss him. Kyle? Gross.