Alessandra (#1, Omega Beginnings Miniseries) Read online

  Mismatch was quiet. He swept hair from my face and gazed at me through his gemstone eyes. I shivered in the cool night air, and his wings closed around us. I snuggled into the plush wings.

  “Oooohhhh!” I ran my fingers through the soft fleece covering the inside.

  You will need a protector before this is done.

  I smiled at him without understanding. “So you will stay in my closet?”

  No, little one. But I will be here at night looking over you.

  “We can have midnight tea.”

  If you wish it. He set Mrs. Nettles on the ground and reached for the gem at his neck. If you should need me, I will come. He handed it to me.

  “This is beautiful,” I murmured and accepted the gem. It appeared small on him but took up most of my palm. “I will take care of it.”

  I know you will. His wings swept away from me as he rose. I must go, little one.

  “So soon?”

  Yes. I have been asleep for a very long time and have forgotten this world. There are people and places I must visit. But I will return to you soon.

  “My birthday is in two days. Will you be back in time?”

  Yes.

  “We’ll have cake, and you can take me and Mrs. Nettles flying.”

  I do not feel Mrs. Nettles wishes to fly.

  Mrs. Nettles hid behind my leg, her face pressed to my thigh. “Well, you can take me flying,” I decided. “Mrs. Nettles will make us tea.”

  I agree, little one. I must go.

  “Okay. Goodbye, Mismatch.” I curtseyed to him once more.

  Goodbye, little one. I will see you on your birthday. He bowed and then stepped back from me to unfurl his wings.

  He leapt into the sky. I watched him, enthralled and delighted by the sight of my gargoyle flying in the night. He disappeared into the clouds rolling in for another spring storm. I stood in the backyard, gaze on the sky.

  My gargoyle. He was beautiful. I closed my hand around the gem and swept up Mrs. Nettles into a hug before dashing back to my room.

  Chapter Three

  I missed my bus the next morning, and it was raining. Not that I wanted to go to school anyway. I had an appointment with the principal to discuss my outburst at the temple.

  I had thought Wednesday was my worst day ever, but Thursday was, too.

  Watching my bus turn a corner, I debated going inside and telling my dad I needed a ride to school. Mama was always good about it, but she went to work early today, and Daddy would lecture me.

  If I ended up late, I was going to be in even more trouble. Upset already, I turned around and trudged home. Wet and shivering in the spring weather, I started up the sidewalk to our house when I heard the sirens. I turned to see several police cars, trailed by a large black van, barreling down the street.

  “Lyssa, what’re you doing?” my father asked, emerging from the house.

  “I missed the bus,” I told him and pointed towards the vehicles. “Do you think someone is hurt?”

  He approached and rested his hands on my shoulders. When he didn’t answer, I peered up at him.

  “Daddy, do you think someone is hurt?” I asked again, shouting to be heard over the sirens.

  Daddy didn’t seem to hear me. He was staring at the oncoming cars the way I did Halloween masks at the store. I hated Halloween. The more scared I got, the more monsters left my nightmares to roam around the neighborhood, and the longer I was grounded for not controlling them.

  Daddy’s fingers dug into my shoulders the nearer the vehicles came.

  They whipped by our house and screeched to a halt three houses down, at the Adderleys, where my nightmare monsters went to hide last time.

  “Daddy!” I complained and wriggled.

  “Sorry, Lyssa.” He released me and smiled without taking his eyes off the emergency vehicles. “Let’s get you to school.”

  The day went as badly as I expected. Hours later, I made tea while filling in Mrs. Nettles about the principal, getting teased by a stupid boy, Shelby Lane stealing my crayons and having a runny nose after the rain that morning.

  Listening, Mrs. Nettles sat on the counter while I microwaved my tea. I helped her down and let her grab our pudding. Then we both climbed up the stairs to my room with snacks and tea. I turned on the television.

  “Look, Mrs. Nettles! American Oracle is on!” A spinoff of the singing competition, American Idol, the talent show was about teenage girls who thought they could be the next Oracle of Delphi. I sat too close to the television, not caring if I was caught or not. Mama had refused to let me watch this when it came on Sunday night, and it was all the kids at school talked about. Even our teacher had seen it.

  I punched buttons on the remote control until the DVR came on so I could record it.

  “Who will be the next American Oracle?” the host asked, facing the screen. “Judges have selected the most promising young women to replace the dying Oracle of Delphi. Ten hopefuls are present for our debut season, but only one will be chosen by you to represent America to the gods in Greece! If she wins, she will become the voice of the gods, the opener of the gateway between heaven and earth … and so much more! Are you ready to meet the candidates?”

  “YES!” I screeched along with the crowd.

  Ten teenaged women were led onto the stage, and each was told to give her name and what her magical power was.

  I strained to see the ribbons around each girl. Some said they could read minds or move objects with their thoughts. Others claimed they could give inanimate objects life or absorb magic or other magical powers I didn’t understand.

  “No, no, no, no, no,” I said, pointing out each girl. “No, no … maybe.” I tilted my head. Only one girl had four ribbons. The girl labeled Lilian had a green ribbon so faint, I could barely make it out. “Mrs. Nettles, what do you think?” I twisted to see her lapping up the creamer at the center of our tray of tea. “Mrs. Nettles! Pay attention!”

  I took the pot of creamer away.

  She joined me.

  “Her.” I pointed once more.

  Mrs. Nettles shook her head.

  “Hmm. They all look normal,” I said. “Maybe the Oracle has normal ribbons, too?”

  Mrs. Nettles shook her head again. She climbed to her feet and waddled to the scrapbook collection I had hidden away about the Oracle of Delphi, the only human in the world with the power of a god. Once found and tested, she disappeared. Mama said she went to work with the gods doing good. Daddy said the Oracle should never be spoken of.

  Which was why I hid the newspaper and magazine clippings Mama brought me, so he wouldn’t find them. He always got upset when I mentioned the Oracle.

  Mrs. Nettles brought me one of my scrapbooks and set it down. I picked it up and flipped through it to find pictures of the current Oracle of Delphi. She hadn’t been seen in thirty years. The pictures of her were all older and her clothing was funny. Normally, I wasn’t able to see ribbons on pictures, but I saw hers, because she was magical.

  “Six,” I said and counted. “I guess you’re right. None of them have six.” The Oracle had a green ribbon like mine. I put the book away. “But maybe they still can do wonderful things.”

  Mrs. Nettles brought me a toy dragon.

  “You want to play?” I asked.

  She set it down on the scrapbook.

  “Okay, but don’t bite his tail off this time. You really hurt him.” I brought the dragon to life for her to play with and returned to watching the show. “I bet the Oracle never gets yelled at by the principal,” I said grumpily.

  I watched the two-hour American Oracle premiere over. And over. And over. Four times total, before Mrs. Nettles’ snoring jarred me out of my utter fascination with the girls.

  Pushing myself off my belly, I looked around my dark room briefly before crossing to turn on the lights. It was nine o’clock. My parents hadn’t yelled up at me to say they were home. Mrs. Nettles was lying on her back, the toy dragon curled on her stomach. Both were aslee
p.

  I left my room and stood at the top of the stairs. The house was completely dark. Flipping on the lights of the stairwell, I held the railing as I made my way to the bottom floor. This had happened once or twice before. My parents sometimes had to work late. They usually called and left me a message when they did.

  Turning on lights as I went, I returned to the kitchen and climbed on top of a chair so I could reach the answering machine on the counter. The light was flickering. I pushed play.

  “Baby …” Mama’s voice was hushed. She almost sounded sad. “I need you to do two things for me. One, delete this voicemail when it’s over. Press the button with the red x like I showed you that one time. Two, you remember the special hiding place we send you to when bad storms come? Grab your emergency bag out of the pantry. Take Mrs. Nettle and go hide in the storm center the moment you receive this message. Don’t come out until Saturday morning. The storm will be over by then. Call your grandma from the cell phone in your emergency pack and tell her to come get you. Okay? Listen to this again until you’re sure you know what to do and then delete it. We love you, Baby, so much.”

  At first I was worried about the storm, and then I recalled that tomorrow was my birthday. My parents were planning something huge for me – and it involved my grandma. Excited, I listened dutifully until certain I understood exactly what Mama wanted me to do before I deleted the recording.

  Darting to the pantry, I found the emergency pack labeled with my name. It was a small backpack I was supposed to take with me if there was a bad storm, which happened often in spring. My parents took storms and tornadoes seriously. We practiced hiding in a safe place once a month.

  We all had emergency packs, and theirs were present still. I didn’t think twice about it. They had packs in their cars, if there really was a storm. And if not, if they were planning a surprise party for me, they wouldn’t need them anyway. I put the backpack on eagerly.

  Assuming their absence was tied to them waiting for me to hide so they could plan, I hurried up the stairs to my room fast enough that I tripped and banged my shin. Ignoring the pain, I made it to my room.

  “Mrs. Nettles! We have to hide!” I exclaimed. I picked her up quickly and descended to the main floor before heading to the basement and the storm shelter. The hidden underground space was half the size of the ground floor of our house. It had a small kitchen, a big bed for my parents, a bunk bed for me, a bathroom, and even a television in the living area. The entrance was hidden under a tile in the floor.

  I put Mrs. Nettles on the floor. Placing my hand on the secret panel to open the door, I was barely able to stand still. Mrs. Nettles pawed at me and pointed towards the upstairs.

  “Oh! We left Thor out!” I said, recalling the dragon. “It’s okay. Mama and Daddy can make sure he stays in my room. I’ll turn him back on Saturday before my parteeeeeeee!” The last word ended in a squeal.

  Mrs. Nettles lifted her arms so I could carry her down the ladder into the storm shelter. I reached the bottom and closed the door. The lights went on automatically, and I sighed, happy and exited about my party after my bad day.

  Chapter Four

  I went to bed soon after arriving in the shelter. Mrs. Nettles and I lay down in my parents’ bed to be sure I woke up if they came down.

  They didn’t.

  During our monthly drills, they sometimes told me I might be alone for a long time down here but that they’d always come find me. I was supposed to sit put and watch my favorite movies and drink tea until they returned.

  It was Friday, my birthday. I was a little disappointed to wake up and find they weren’t there, and Daddy hadn’t made me my birthday waffles. The knowledge they were planning a surprise party soon swept away my concern.

  I spent the morning watching movies, the American Oracle premiere again and drinking tea. Mama had taught me how to microwave food and make sandwiches, so I did both for Mrs. Nettles and me while we waited for the day to pass.

  I followed Mama’s instructions and knew they were planning something for me, but I still felt lonely. I hadn’t brought down any other stuffies aside from Mrs. Nettles. They were my favorite to play with, my only friends.

  After an afternoon nap and two more Disney movies, I was bored. I dumped my emergency backpack onto the bed to see its contents. Sorting food from toys and the phone, I smiled as I saw the card my mama had included. She hadn’t written anything except for a heart on the inside.

  Pulling out my notebook and crayons, I practiced drawing hearts. I was learning to write but wasn’t very good at it.

  I wasn’t very good at anything in school, even arts and crafts. My teacher said I’d grow out of my temper and impatience and not to worry, because one day, I’d catch up to the others. Until then, I was special in my own way.

  “What do you think, Mrs. Nettles?” I asked and pointed to the heart that took me a long time to complete. “It almost looks like Mama’s.”

  Mrs. Nettles shook her head.

  “Okay. I’ll keep trying.” I scribbled over it.

  Mrs. Nettles picked up a crayon and drew a diamond. She tapped it.

  “What?” I asked, gazing at it.

  She drew the moon, a bird, a house …

  “Oh!” I sat up quickly. “Mismatch’s gift!”

  She nodded.

  “But Mama said …” I drifted off, beginning to panic about the gift I’d left upstairs. What if it was swept away in a storm? It was so beautiful, and it was from my gargoyle. “Mrs. Nettles! Mismatch is supposed to be here tonight! I can’t tell him I lost it.”

  My mind decided, I put on my shoes and tied my hair into a sloppy ponytail. Mrs. Nettles appeared to be trying to tell me something, but I swept her up in my arms and dashed to the ladder. She squirmed.

  “Stop, Mrs. Nettles. We have to be quiet, in case they’re planning,” I reminded her.

  She went still. I climbed the ladder slowly and reached the top. Placing my hand against the pad in front of me, I waited while the door overhead opened.

  There was no sound of rain or a storm, and I finished my climb in excitement, now firmly convinced my parents had asked me to hide so they could plan my party. It didn’t matter that it was happening the day after my birthday. It was going to be my first birthday party ever that I could remember. We’d always had quiet, family gatherings. I didn’t have any friends at school, but I had cousins who lived out of town who were my age. I went to their parties. Maybe they were finally coming to mine.

  I closed the entrance to the shelter behind me the way I had been taught before setting down Mrs. Nettles. Blinking in the dark basement, I experienced a strange sense, one I had never felt before.

  It was the fear from a nightmare, but I was awake. I would later learn to identify the uncomfortable instinct as one of danger. Soft ribbons outlined my surroundings. None of them were out of place, even if I couldn’t see the objects they floated around in the darkness.

  I went up the wooden stairs to the door leading into the house and pushed it open.

  The ribbons in the kitchen were out of place. It was chaotic, as if there really had been a storm, and it blew over everything inside the kitchen. Pacing to the living room, I was upset to see it in the same condition. In fact, everything on the ground floor was in a similar state of disarray and none of the lights worked.

  My hope about having a birthday party began to fade at the damage done to the first floor. I hurried upstairs, to my room, and was pleased to find all the ribbons where they were supposed to be. Except …

  “Thor?” I called quietly. “Are you here?”

  Everything in my room gave off two ribbons – inanimate objects. I had left Thor out and alive. He should have stood out easily with his three ribbons. But he didn’t.

  “Mrs. Nettles, can you find him?” I called behind me. I went to the bottom drawer of the dresser where I had hidden the jewel Mismatch gave me and other treasures. Relieved to find it safe, I slid the glowing gem into my pocket. Mama
and Daddy had made me stash flashlights all over the house in case of a storm like this, and I pulled out a small one and flipped it on. “Mrs. Nettles!”

  Her purring came from under the bed. She poked her head out.

  “He’s not here?”

  She shook her head.

  “Weird. Where could he have gone?” I searched the room quickly but already knew from the ribbons he wasn’t present. “The storm messed up the living room and kitchen. Maybe it swept him away?” I was grateful it had passed over my bedroom but also worried about Thor. Mama said I had to take care of my friends, and I had never lost one yet.

  Picking up my pet, I walked to the hallway and my parent’s room. I knocked as they had taught me before walking in. Their room, too, had been hit by the storm. Thor wasn’t present either.

  The instinct I didn’t like was tickling the back of my neck like I had left the window open. Shivering, I scratched my neck, puzzled, and returned to the top of the stairs.

  “Something isn’t right,” I whispered to Mrs. Nettles. I was starting to feel scared.

  Hoping my parents left me a message, I returned to the messy kitchen, righted a chair and checked the answering machine. It was off, like the lights. Their emergency packs were in the pantry. They had left no notes on the fridge, and their cars weren’t in the garage or in the driveway. A black van was parked out front. It was big like the one I saw go to the Adderleys the other day, but it meant nothing to me at that time.

  Ribbons. They were everywhere, jumbled and out of place, distressing me. My eyes settled on one in the living room that didn’t fit in, and I went to the doorway to get a better look. Something was behind the overturned couch. Something with three ribbons, but it wasn’t the right pattern and colors to be Thor or my parents. Shining the light on the couch, I wasn’t able to see what was behind it.

  There was another set of three ribbons in the formal dining room, behind the toppled table.

  I turned off my flashlight and listened for anything indicating what – or who – was in my house.