The Prophecy Read online

  Other girls might be in love with him because of his looks, but Kyle wasn't Catty's type. She tried to pull her thoughts back to the Scroll. Then a mischievous thought crossed her mind. Why not indulge a bit? As soon as this was over, she was going to go back in time and erase his memory anyway. Was that wrong? She'd be using him, but at the moment, she didn't care. She closed her eyes and pressed closer to him, enjoying his warmth. Did Kyle know what she was doing?

  Her physical attraction to him baffled her. She didn't really know Kyle. Maybe loneliness caused this feeling. All her friends had guys. Vanessa had been going with Michael for a long time now. Jimena went out with Serena's brother, Collin, and Tianna had a steady boyfriend, Derek.

  Catty was jealous even of the romance between Serena and Stanton, although their relationship was doomed. Stanton was a Follower and had sworn to destroy the Daughters. Only his love for Serena had stopped him so far.

  She sighed. It was hard being the only one in their group who didn't have someone.

  A clattering made her start, and even though Kyle tried to hold her back, she peeked out again. The woman gathered the translations, slipped the Scroll into a case, and departed, locking the door behind her. Catty breathed a sigh of relief that the woman hadn't noticed the jimmied lock on the desk drawer.

  Kyle spoke first. "She's gone. You can stop feeling my butt."

  "I wasn't!" But her hands had slipped down to his jean pockets.

  You were," he teased.

  She yanked away from him, stumbling back. "I didn't have any place to put my hands."

  An easy smile crossed his face as he watched her.

  "All right," she admitted. "But it's not what you think."

  "What do I think?" He stepped closer.

  She backed away. "I don't have a crush on you, like all the other girls."

  "You don't?"

  His stare flustered her. Did he expect her to come back and start making out with him?

  "Bye, Kyle."

  She wasn't going to stay, and she didn't care if he saw her leave. It wasn't as if he would remember it, anyway. She concentrated. Energy exploded inside her, and then a white flash filled the room, and a hollow darkness opened behind her.

  "What the—!" Kyle rushed toward her. "Adios," she shouted, enjoying the fear and surprise on his face.

  She soared into the tunnel. She liked tumbling through the fizzing air, and even the sickly cabbage smell didn't bother her. She felt safe there. She glanced down at her glow-in-the-dark wristwatch. The hands weren't moving. She had probably broken it going back and forth in time so many times that day. She concentrated on stopping, and a slit of light opened in front of her. Immediately, she started plummeting down, bracing for another fall.

  Sunlight flashed in front of her eyes, and the smell of coffee filled her nostrils. Where was she? She had planned on landing in the hallway, but she was outside somewhere. She dropped from the tunnel down to a place in the central court yard at the museum, only two yards from an expresso kiosk. She waved her arms for balance, trying to land softly, and prayed no one saw her appear.

  Her shoes hit the ground with a sharp jolt, pain raced up her spine, and her momentum made her unable to stop. She was going to smash into a steaming coffeemaker straight ahead.

  Suddenly, someone stepped in front of her, and she slammed hard into his back, spilling his coffee.

  "Sorry," she whispered and looked up.

  Kyle stared down at her with his incredible blue eyes.

  Catty looked around. She must have arrived back at the beginning of the press conference that had been breaking up when she had arrived at the museum earlier. She tried to calm herself. At least, no one seemed aware of the reason she had fallen against Kyle.

  "You could have come up with a better way of getting my attention," Kyle said, interrupting her thoughts.

  "Are you kidding me?" Anger bubbled up inside Catty. "You have got to be the most obnoxious—"

  He shot her an insolent look, then pointed down to the stains on his jeans. He grabbed a wad of napkins and began to blot the coffee spills.

  "Whatever." She refused to apologize.

  He tossed the wet napkins into the trash and walked away from her.

  Catty took in a deep breath. She couldn't concern herself with Kyle. She had more important things on her mind. She shoved through the crowd, inching closer to the podium, but something made her glance back. Kyle was staring at her, as if he had known she couldn't resist one last look. Did he really think he was that great?

  Then another thought shot through her, replacing her anger with apprehension. What was Kyle doing in the central courtyard? He should still have been downstairs in the basement office, or at least on his way there, shouldn't he? Regulators sent by the Atrox were also after the Scroll, and they could change their looks at will. Could Kyle be one?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CAT T Y T E N S E D, H E R eyes vigilant, searching the crowd for danger. She remembered her last encounter with the Regulators. They hadn't known then that she was the heir. This time, they would. But she could now recognize the strange static electricity their presence created. That made her wonder if they had become more cautious. Perhaps they had bribed someone like Kyle to follow her and stop her from taking possession of the Scroll.

  The shrieking whistle of feedback interrupted her thoughts. She turned toward the podium. News reporters, photographers, New Agers, politicians, and religious leaders crushed closer, impatient to hear the statement that was about to be delivered.

  A thin man leaned over the cluster of micro phones. "Good morning," he said. He cleared his throat and continued. "We have good news. The health department and the biohazard team have examined the manuscript thoroughly and have come up with nothing to concern us. We simply have had the misfortune of having a flu epidemic hit us at the same time that the museum purchased this magnificent masterpiece. Although talk of a curse is certain to sell newspapers, let me assure you that the manuscript is nothing more than a piece of parchment with exquisite artwork." He held up his hands to fend off questions. "The arts council has decided to put the Scroll on display immediately, to dispel rumors of any curse. Thank you."

  He breezed away and disappeared into the Anderson Building.

  Once the Scroll went on display, it would be surrounded by security guards, motion detectors, closed-circuit TV, automatic locks, and an array of silent alarms. How was she going to steal it now? She rubbed her temples, trying to hold back tears.

  "What's wrong?" Kyle was suddenly beside her, his hand resting on her shoulder.

  "Nothing." She turned away from him, trying to think. Maybe if she went further into the past, she could steal the Scroll, but she felt that her power was too drained for such a long trip; her back still throbbed from the last landing.

  "Catty?" Kyle moved in front of her. "Do you need a doctor? You slammed into me pretty hard.''

  She looked up, expecting to see mockery on his face; instead, he looked at her with real concern.

  "I'm fine." She hurried away from him, anxiety ripping through her. She needed to find a place away from the crowd, so that she could travel forward a few minutes and get the Scroll before Ms. Amasaki took it from the room. She didn't need any curious reporter jumping into the tunnel with her.

  What would happen if she couldn't steal the Scroll back and every word within it were translated? Would people go on a witch hunt for the Daughters?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CAT T Y S L I P P E D I N T O the gift shop, away from the crowd, and focused her thoughts, struggling to open the tunnel. A tickle curled through her fingers, then died. She strained again, her temples throbbing as a headache set in, and tried to use her power.

  Glass paperweights shimmied across the display case as the air around her grew heavier.

  Shoppers turned, their eyes wide with fear. "Earthquake," a woman whispered, pressing a hand over her heart, her face anxious.

  Catty grabbed the edge of the cou
nter, suddenly dizzy, her arms prickling as the energy disintegrated inside her. She had definitely pushed her power too far this time.

  "You must have been in Northridge for the big one," the salesman said. He patted her hand, his manicured fingers cold. "Me, too. Now every little rumble scares the life out of me."

  Catty flashed the man a weak smile, then adjusted her backpack and walked outside toward the Bing Building, her legs trembling and weak.

  Only two hours had passed since she had returned from San Diego, but during that time she had traveled into the past and stayed there for at least eighteen hours, searching for the Scroll. No wonder she felt too jittery to think. She needed to eat and rest before she tried to use her powers again. She stepped into the Plaza Cafe, where the smells of pizza and hamburgers hit her. Only then did she realize how hungry she had become.

  She waited in line. When it was her turn, she ordered fire-roasted veggies with extra olive oil.

  She stuffed a blackened pepper into her mouth, poured a Coke, and went to find a place to sit.

  Reporters crowded the small tables, their laptops open, fingers clattering across keys.

  Then she saw Kyle and a pleasant shock rushed through her. Her attraction to him continued to puzzle her. But it didn't matter. Catty liked it.

  Kyle sat alone near the enormous glass window, his head tilted in a menacing attitude. Black sunglasses hid his eyes and reflected the light from outside. That was the way Catty normally saw him—apart from everyone. Now she wondered how he'd gotten his heartbreaker's reputation. Girls talked about Kyle as if they sensed some thing wild inside him that they wanted to tame, but she'd never seen him with a girl, not even at Planet Bang. When he wasn't hanging out with his friends, he stood in the back, detached and glaring at everyone.

  She started toward his table, her engineer's boots pounding, and wished she had worn sandals, to show off the purple polish on her toes.

  A reporter wearing a wrinkled trench coat reached Kyle first and slipped a wad of bills from his pocket into Kyle's hand. If they'd been in the school cafeteria, Catty would have thought Kyle had been selling drugs, but now she knew that he was being paid to steal information.

  When the reporter walked away, Catty carried her tray over to where Kyle sat and stood next to his table, trying not to blush.

  He glanced up, then kicked back the empty chair with his heavy jackboot.

  She set her tray down uncertainly. Coke splashed over the edge of her paper cup, pooling on her plate.

  Kyle smiled at her clumsiness, then stuffed the roll of bills into his jeans pocket.

  "I'm sorry I stumbled into you." She sat, suddenly wishing she had applied some lipstick. Where had that thought come from?

  Kyle stared at her, or at least she thought he did. She couldn't see his eyes, only her own reflection in the black lenses.

  "So what's your interest in the manuscript?" she asked

  "Same as anyone else's." He took a French fry from his plate, doused it in ketchup, and pushed it into his mouth. "Some lucky guy buys a piece of parchment at a swap meet for fifty bucks and then sells it to the museum for millions."

  "He's not so lucky," Catty reminded him. "He's dead."

  Kyle nodded.

  "It's curious that the papers never mentioned which swap meet he went to," Catty continued, prompting Kyle for information.

  "Rose bowl, maybe," Kyle offered. "You can buy anything there."

  Catty nodded, but she had gone back to last Sunday's flea market in Pasadena, spending hours in the past, walking up and down the endless rows of stalls selling new and used items, collectibles, and antiques. She hadn't seen the Scroll or the man. "I wish I knew which one."

  Kyle leaned forward. "I don't think he bought the manuscript at a swap meet."

  "You don't?" Catty wondered if the reporter had told Kyle something.

  "It's just a cover story." He bent closer, his fingers playing over her arm.

  "Why do you think that?" She glanced down at his hand, remembering his touch on her back. Then she noticed his silver ring, she had never seen a stone like the gray one set in the intricate, filigreed circle.

  He pulled his hand back. "Because the person who sold the manuscript to the man hasn't come forward," Kyle answered. "And everyone is trying to find the vendor and offering big bucks for the story—you know, 'How does it feel to let a million dollars slip through your fingers?'"

  "Maybe that person died, too." Catty picked up her plastic knife and fork, then started to cut her potato. She pressed too hard and the fork snapped in two, splattering oil. She grabbed a napkin and wiped her cheek, then glanced up.

  Kyle's glasses were spotted with oil. "Sorry." She handed him the napkin.

  He snatched it from her, wiped the lens, then pushed back his chair. "I gotta run."

  Catty picked up the potato with her fingers and stuffed it into her mouth, watching Kyle walk away. She liked the way he carried himself, his head high, body moving slow and easy down the ramp. She wondered if he were going to break into the office now.

  A reporter's loud voice, talking animatedly into his cell phone, interrupted her thoughts.

  Catty's stomach tightened. No one was going to let the story about the curse die. People were too interested in the supernatural. She couldn't wait for her energy to return. She had to do something now. Maybe if she followed Kyle, she would find another entrance into the curator's office. She cleared her tray and went back outside.

  She hurried down the ramp, then turned toward the Japanese gardens, pretending to study the hummingbird nests, but her eyes wandered, looking for another way in.

  When she was certain no one was looking, she ducked around the side of the building next to the embankment and stopped abruptly.

  Kyle stood pressed against a window, looking inside.

  She stepped on a twig, and the snapping sound made him turn.

  He stared at her as if she were the only one trespassing. "Are you stalking me?"

  "I know you're trying to get information on the manuscript." She fumbled for words. She wanted to suggest stealing the Scroll together, but then she remembered how he had stopped her from taking it before. Maybe thievery was relative, and it was all right to steal information, but not a million-dollar artwork.

  Kyle started toward her. "I'm looking at the hummingbird nests."

  He stopped and boldly leaned over her. He seemed so different now from the way he had been when he had caught her stealing the Scroll. Something about him made her uneasy.

  For a moment she thought he was going to kiss her, but then he whispered against her cheek, "What's your interest in the Scroll?"

  She pulled back and stared at him in challenge. "None."

  "Then you are stalking me," he teased.

  He smiled brazenly at her and took her hand.

  Catty snatched her hand away and walked off, determined not to let him see how he had affected her. When she reached the spiraling stairs, she felt foolish for running and wished she had stayed, but she wasn't going back at that point. She tried to convince herself that it didn't matter. It wasn't as if she were ever going to get a guy like Kyle, anyway. She wasn't like her friends. She didn't have their confidence with guys.

  "Get over it," she whispered to herself as she climbed the steps. But she knew she couldn't.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ON TH E B U S C A T T Y found a seat and settled back, the motor rumbling beneath her. At one time she had thought the evil stirrings she sometimes felt were only her imagination, but now she wondered. Her father was a member of the Atrox's Inner Circle, the Cincti, and her biological mother had been a Daughter of the Moon before becoming a Follower. How could she overcome such a birthright?

  A devastating feeling of grief enveloped her. She had always thought her mother had abandoned her because she hadn't loved her enough to stay. But learning the actual reason hadn't eased the pain. Catty often speculated as to what her life would have been like if Kendra hadn't found her
wandering down the highway that day. Kendra had made many sacrifices to rear Catty and keep her safe. Kendra was her real mother, the only one she had known, and Catty loved her dearly.

  The bus pulled to the curb, swaying back and forth before it came to a stop. Catty swung her backpack over her shoulder and started toward the front. She didn't like going to Tianna's house anymore. She felt an odd presence there, as if someone were watching her. But she tried not to worry about that now. She had to get the Scroll back, and she hoped Tianna could use her telekinetic powers to help.

  Catty jumped from the bus, then dodged through traffic to the other side of Wilshire Boulevard and started walking. Four blocks later she stared up at the huge Tudor house with its elaborate chimney, steeply pitched roof, and tall, narrow windows. Tianna lived there with her foster mother, Mary.

  A loud thump sounded inside as Catty reached the porch. She rang the doorbell, and, moments later, footsteps hammered down the stairs.

  Derek opened the door, breathless, his red hair tousled, as if he'd been in a fight. An angry welt marked his nose, and a roll of paper towels was tucked under his arm.

  "What happened to you?" Catty stepped inside. She didn't have to be guarded with Derek. He knew about the Daughters.

  "You'll see, soon enough." He laughed, his eyes filled with excitement. "Tianna is up in her room."

  Another loud crash came from upstairs. "What's that?" Catty followed Derek to the staircase.

  "Tianna!" He started running up the steps. "She's got major pom-pom pain."

  Catty took the stairs two at a time, then followed Derek into Tianna's room and stopped. She caught her breath. A book rocketed at her. She ducked, and it smashed into the wall above her. The binding broke apart, the pages fluttering to the floor.

  "Sorry," Tianna yelled from the bed. Her long, silky, black hair was rolled into three snake like coils on the back of her head and held with diamond clips. Her eyes looked red, and her fingers twitched with uncontrollable spasms.