Read Online The Prophecy (Daughters of the People Series Book 1) by Lucy Varna - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lucy Varna
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where it wasn’t
such a worry.
The thunderstorm
petered out during the drive and ended completely by the time Maya rolled past
the city limit sign for Tellowee and parked in the still-damp driveway of her
two-and-a-half story American Queen Anne style home. The previous owners had
maintained it in close to its original condition, expanding and modernizing it
over time, sticking to the original style whenever possible. She’d fallen in
love with the intricate design, with the two round towers, the sweeping
staircase leading to a rounded side porch, and the crenellated eaves, and with
the interior rooms that were by turns spacious or cramped, depending on the
function and exterior design. The house had an almost haphazard feel to it that
most people never associated with her reserved personality, but it suited her
family’s needs well. When she’d bought it a few months prior to Dierdre’s
birth, it had seemed like the perfect home. She still felt that way, even after
a grueling month overseas dealing with red tape.
Maya spotted a
section of loose shingling and cursed inwardly. Well, it was mostly perfect.
Dierdre ran out
of the house, all gangly arms and legs. Maya opened the car door and stepped
into a full-bodied hug, holding her youngest daughter close for a long moment.
At last Dierdre
stepped back. Maya caught her hands and held them out so she could look her
fill. “You’ve grown. Again! Look at you.” She smoothed a hand over her
daughter’s curls, far tamer than her own kinky brown mass.
“Well, geez,
Mom. You were gone forever.”
“Hardly, sweet
girl.” Maya squeezed Dierdre’s hands and turned toward the trunk of her car. “It
feels like it, though, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah.” Dierdre
heaved the kind of heartfelt sigh only a fourteen-year-old girl could make. “I
hate it when you have to leave.”
“Me, too,
Squiggles.”
They emptied Maya’s
baggage out of the trunk and walked slowly into the house and up the stairs to
Maya’s bedroom where they dropped the entire load. Dierdre chattered on about
all the latest happenings, who was dating whom, which teachers were on the outs
with the students, the A+ she’d received on her end-of-year history essay.
The fact that
Johnny Linton had tried to sneak a kiss from her after their mixed martial arts
class.
Maya made a
mental note to speak to Johnny’s parents. Her eyes narrowed to slits. No, she’d
speak to Johnny himself. Nothing like a centuries-old warrior to dampen a young
man’s hormones.
Her daughter had
plopped onto the bed and was still chatting away. Maya realized she’d lost part
of the conversation with her motherly thoughts. “I’m sorry, what?”
Dierdre rolled
her eyes skyward. “I said, then I put him on his hiney ‘cause he didn’t ask.”
“Johnny?”
“Yes, Johnny,”
Dierdre repeated patiently. “Honestly.”
Maya leveled a
steady look on her daughter. “Be respectful of the old woman.”
Dierdre hid her
grin behind one hand. “Yes, ma’am.”
“So you took him
down for kissing you. Then what?”
Dierdre
casually buffed her nails against her shirt, then flicked her fingers outward.
“I hauled him back up and laid a big one on him.”
Maya scowled.
“Whatever for?”
“’Cause I wanted
to. Why else do you kiss a boy? Geez, Mom, are you feeling ok? Like, maybe you
left part of your brain in Sweden or something?”
“Very funny,
young lady.”
Dierdre grinned,
bounced off the bed, and threw her arms around Maya. “I just love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too.”
Maya drew back and slid her hands over her daughter’s shoulders. “Movie night
later or do you have homework?”
“Just a little.
Should I start supper?”
“Homework
first.”
Dierdre nodded,
not questioning the priority. Self-discipline was taught at an early age to the
children of Daughters, usually by necessity. It rarely failed to blossom.
“I have to talk
with Director Upton first, but that shouldn’t take long,”
such a worry.
The thunderstorm
petered out during the drive and ended completely by the time Maya rolled past
the city limit sign for Tellowee and parked in the still-damp driveway of her
two-and-a-half story American Queen Anne style home. The previous owners had
maintained it in close to its original condition, expanding and modernizing it
over time, sticking to the original style whenever possible. She’d fallen in
love with the intricate design, with the two round towers, the sweeping
staircase leading to a rounded side porch, and the crenellated eaves, and with
the interior rooms that were by turns spacious or cramped, depending on the
function and exterior design. The house had an almost haphazard feel to it that
most people never associated with her reserved personality, but it suited her
family’s needs well. When she’d bought it a few months prior to Dierdre’s
birth, it had seemed like the perfect home. She still felt that way, even after
a grueling month overseas dealing with red tape.
Maya spotted a
section of loose shingling and cursed inwardly. Well, it was mostly perfect.
Dierdre ran out
of the house, all gangly arms and legs. Maya opened the car door and stepped
into a full-bodied hug, holding her youngest daughter close for a long moment.
At last Dierdre
stepped back. Maya caught her hands and held them out so she could look her
fill. “You’ve grown. Again! Look at you.” She smoothed a hand over her
daughter’s curls, far tamer than her own kinky brown mass.
“Well, geez,
Mom. You were gone forever.”
“Hardly, sweet
girl.” Maya squeezed Dierdre’s hands and turned toward the trunk of her car. “It
feels like it, though, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah.” Dierdre
heaved the kind of heartfelt sigh only a fourteen-year-old girl could make. “I
hate it when you have to leave.”
“Me, too,
Squiggles.”
They emptied Maya’s
baggage out of the trunk and walked slowly into the house and up the stairs to
Maya’s bedroom where they dropped the entire load. Dierdre chattered on about
all the latest happenings, who was dating whom, which teachers were on the outs
with the students, the A+ she’d received on her end-of-year history essay.
The fact that
Johnny Linton had tried to sneak a kiss from her after their mixed martial arts
class.
Maya made a
mental note to speak to Johnny’s parents. Her eyes narrowed to slits. No, she’d
speak to Johnny himself. Nothing like a centuries-old warrior to dampen a young
man’s hormones.
Her daughter had
plopped onto the bed and was still chatting away. Maya realized she’d lost part
of the conversation with her motherly thoughts. “I’m sorry, what?”
Dierdre rolled
her eyes skyward. “I said, then I put him on his hiney ‘cause he didn’t ask.”
“Johnny?”
“Yes, Johnny,”
Dierdre repeated patiently. “Honestly.”
Maya leveled a
steady look on her daughter. “Be respectful of the old woman.”
Dierdre hid her
grin behind one hand. “Yes, ma’am.”
“So you took him
down for kissing you. Then what?”
Dierdre
casually buffed her nails against her shirt, then flicked her fingers outward.
“I hauled him back up and laid a big one on him.”
Maya scowled.
“Whatever for?”
“’Cause I wanted
to. Why else do you kiss a boy? Geez, Mom, are you feeling ok? Like, maybe you
left part of your brain in Sweden or something?”
“Very funny,
young lady.”
Dierdre grinned,
bounced off the bed, and threw her arms around Maya. “I just love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too.”
Maya drew back and slid her hands over her daughter’s shoulders. “Movie night
later or do you have homework?”
“Just a little.
Should I start supper?”
“Homework
first.”
Dierdre nodded,
not questioning the priority. Self-discipline was taught at an early age to the
children of Daughters, usually by necessity. It rarely failed to blossom.
“I have to talk
with Director Upton first, but that shouldn’t take long,”
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