Eclipsed Legacy (Sentinels Book 1) Read online

  Eclipsed Legacy

  Alex Stone

  Contents

  Eclipsed Legacy

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue

  Stay tuned …

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2020 Alex Stone 2020

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of Alex Stone, except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976.

  This is a work of fiction. All character, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  1st edition published: 2020

  Thank you for purchasing this book. This book and its contents are the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied, and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes.

  Created with Vellum

  In honor of my father who always believed in me.

  Rest in Peace

  A.S.B.

  October 24, 1976-November 14, 2018

  Acknowledgments

  There are so many people that contribute to the publication of a book. The author is one player with a team of superstars working to make dreams a reality. First, I would like to give a huge “thank you” to Chelsea Camaron for giving me the loving and encouraging push off a cliff I needed to write a book. Seriously, without her Eclipsed Legacy would not exist in any form. Thank you, Chelsea, for your patience, guidance, and willingness to answer a million and one questions about this process. Next, I would like to thank my editor, Mandy Smith, at Raw Book Editing. Even with a background in English, I make mistakes. I still have so much to learn and areas where I can improve. Mandy, thank you for your feedback and hard work in making Eclipsed Legacy the best it can be. Thank you to Marisa Wesley at Cover Me Darling for the stunning cover art and branding. Your work is beautiful!

  To my guinea pigs: Kendall, Aunt Sami, and Sokavitch. Thank you, Kendall, for reading and being my cheerleader. Aunt Sami, thank you for finding embarrassing plot holes. And thank you, Sokavitch! Thank you for not only reading but for reading this book as it was written, including when I read and self-edited out loud to you…and then edited and reread. Then for reading each section again on your own. Our writing dates and informal workshops ensured that I finished on time.

  I’d also like to thank my mother and grandmother for their enthusiasm and support. Mom, I did not expect you to read my book in one sitting! Thank you to my husband for telling me to get my butt on the couch and write when I wanted nothing more than to procrastinate. Thank you to my numerous relatives who have taken an interest and shouted their support from the rooftops. You guys are my rock and foundation. I love you all!

  Prologue

  When I was nine years old, I was the only one in my class with what resembled breasts. An early bloomer, Grandma always said. I didn’t realize then what sort of significance that held, nor would I realize it until the greatest change came upon me.

  On Valentine’s day, Aiden Michaels wrote me a note asking me to be his valentine. It was cute, a heart-shaped cut-out of red construction paper with an extra layer of pink. I remember admiring his dark brown hair, the way it was shaved on the bottom but loose and long on the top of his head. Still, I wasn’t interested in him enough, or anyone else, to be a valentine or girlfriend.

  When I turned him down, he pulled my hair and poked my boob. The teacher was helping someone clean up a bottle of glue that had spilled onto the floor, so she didn’t see this. My response to his assault? I balled up my fist and decked him in the nose. The entire room heard the crack his nose made. I felt vindicated.

  Mr. Smith, my principal, called both my mother and Aiden’s mother. My mother didn’t answer, and apparently, calling my emergency contact was too much trouble. I was sitting in the front office waiting for whatever disciplinary action they sought to dish out when Aiden’s mother stormed in, screaming and pointing her finger at the receptionist. “What the hell?” she questioned, not looking for a response. “I am horrified that this school allowed this to happen. Don’t you monitor what kinds of kids you let in here? What kind of monster would ruin my baby’s face over a crush? She should be locked up! You’re lucky I don’t sue everyone here!”

  She either didn’t notice or care that I was sitting three feet away from her. She marched to the back office, chewed out Mr. Smith, and left with her “baby.”

  Thus, my reputation was set, both with the townies and in the family. The former shamed my defense and questioned how anyone could rear a young lady with such appalling behavior. The latter told the former to back the fuck off.

  Grandma Raina said I had the makings of a fierce leader, and she rarely complimented anyone, so what she said must’ve been true. It didn’t matter then that I wondered who or what I could lead. It didn’t matter that her comment made little sense. I couldn’t have been prouder of the acknowledgement of my attributes. I didn’t realize then what it meant for my future or that Grandma would train me to fight. There didn’t seem to be a purpose for it, other than an outlet for my anger. As young as I was, I took it all at face value.

  It started with the basics.

  Don’t put your thumb in your fist; you can break it that way. Always be prepared for the other side to fight dirty. Never go alone to fight someone; they’ll probably have their crew ready jump you. At the very least, tell someone where you’ll be. If you are willing to dish it out, make sure you can take it. And if you’re getting your ass kicked, at least lose with some dignity; don’t cry or let your emotions get in the way, and don’t back down. When it’s over, don’t be a sore loser. Shake the winner’s hand and go about your day. Most importantly, you must always be in control. I would realize later that Grandma meant control of myself.

  My training distracted me, but Grandma had to have seen it coming. I felt a continued rage inside of me that burned at my core. It didn’t stop, no matter what I did. Leading up to each fight, the fire would burn hotter and would dim each time my fists beat into someone else. I didn’t know it at the time, but my rage burned hotter than all of my relatives who underwent the change I would soon experience. The intense anger was extreme even for my kind, and I was at even more of a disadvantage. My mother insisted on hiding the truth about our family from me. She fervently denied I would be part of that world. Looking back, I don’t know how I didn’t realize it sooner, but children often accept the world for how it is. So, Grandma and some of my aunts and uncles went out all night during the full moon? Nothing suspicious about that.

  My mother’s denial and Grandma’s insistence came to a head when I turned eleven. Grandma saw it coming and suggested, then demanded, my mother pull me out of school. I remember creeping out of my bed one night and following their voices to the kitchen. My mother said, “It’s not going to happen that soon.” I had no idea what she was referencing, but Grandma had sighed then slammed the kettle down. “Damn it! Tala does not have much time, and if you don’t do something about it now, Lottie, she’s going to hurt someone. You have to talk to her.”

  I walked back to bed, shocked an
d hurt that Grandma thought of me in such a way. I didn’t seek out a fight, but I wasn’t going to back down when one presented itself either. Did they think talking to me would make me stop fighting? At that time, Grandma’s sense of urgency made little sense to me.

  The next morning, I went to school, sluggish and tired. I felt some dull pain in my lower abdomen and thought I must be getting sick.

  The day seemed to drag. I wasn’t in the mood for anyone’s shit. During lunch, a snooty girl, named Lauren, kept talking about me, loud enough for me to overhear. She had given me trouble before, calling me names, stealing my stuff, and writing notes from “me” to some of the boys. Today, she went on about how it was a miracle I was in sixth grade with the rest of them. “Everyone knows that girl has got issues!” She sang the last word, and I felt the flame inside me rage. I marched over to her, not caring about the new dampness I felt in my underwear. Some of Lauren’s friends were whispering as I passed them about how their older sisters had said never to wear white pants during that time, and now they could see why. I barely heard them. Lauren smiled sweetly at me. “Can I help you?” she asked. “My mom said we should always have sympathy for the insane.” Her friends giggled.

  I growled.

  I grabbed Lauren by the shoulders and slammed her head into the table once, twice, three times. Four. I lost track. Lauren’s friends were crying; people shouted around me. Teachers ran toward me, and a sinking feeling began to overwhelm me as reality started to set in. I looked down, and Lauren was unconscious in front of me. The fire pulsated. And this new feeling consumed me. I didn’t realize what it was at first. Fear. Then fury. I fled, and the school staff ran after me. But I was quick. I cut around a small “temporary” building and into the woods. Then I went full wolf.

  My paws hit the forest floor, and the fire burned bright. Only this time, it wasn’t angry. It was soothing, comforting like a summer’s day. I wasn’t a volcano ready to erupt, searching for the nearest life to snuff out. I was a waterfall, flowing and strong, one with nature. I ran without paying attention to the direction or stopping to take note of my surroundings. I was driven by pure instinct alone.

  I ran until my legs wore sore from the exertion. When I got hungry, I hunted. My nose led me to a burrow, and I sniffed along the ground, seeking my prey. Two baby rabbits hopped out and ran into the bushes. Instinct told me to pounce, but then my mind began to return to me. I didn’t want to hurt the bunnies. As my stomach growled, I turned away and caught the scent of a new trail, something familiar. I sprinted off, farther into the forest, in search of a new quarry. I slowed my pace, padding along through the forest. A flicker from the corner of my eye caught my attention, and I pounced, grasping a squirrel’s back between my jowls, snapping its spine.

  My belly full, I walked on, wandering in the moonlight. My ears picked up the distant howl of a neighboring wolf. I responded in turn, letting it know of my presence. It called to me, friendly and welcoming. I ran toward it, eagerly awaiting the voice that had always guided me. I came to a familiar structure. The light that flashed before my eyes was glaringly bright. The silhouette between the structure and me reached out a hand. As I approached, I felt calm, reassured. Then a slight pain as my body took control of itself.

  I found myself naked on my hands and knees in front of my grandmother. Shocked and unsure if I really was insane, like Lauren had said.

  “Oh, you poor thing,” she said, taking the blanket off her shoulders and draping it around me. I stood and pulled the blanket closer around me as she continued. “We should have better prepared you.” She pulled me close to her chest with a sigh. “I am so, so sorry, mija. I told your mother the first change always comes with puberty. For the girls, that means the period. But…she knows everything, like her mother.”

  “Grandma?”

  “Yes?”

  “Is Lauren okay?”

  Grandma stepped back and looked at me. “She will be. She’s in the hospital now. She’s got a bad concussion, a broken jaw, and quite a few cuts and scratches on her.”

  There was something else. I could tell. I raised my eyebrows and waited for her to continue. She didn’t right away. “W-what else, Grandma?”

  She sighed once more, “I’m afraid you’re in some trouble.”

  “What can I do?” I asked, feeling lost and overwhelmed. If Grandma didn’t have the answer, no one would. A shiver ran down my spine, but not from the cold. I set my shoulders, determined to be strong. It would’ve been easy to get lost in the uncertainly, but even as a child, I had a strong resolve.

  “Tell the truth, most of it, anyway. You can’t tell them what you have turned into; leave that out.”

  I snorted, “They wouldn’t believe me, anyway.” Everyone at school already thought I was crazy.

  Grandma laughed, “You’re right about that. For now, let’s get in the house and get you cleaned up.”

  When we entered the house, my mother was sobbing, hysterical. I saw a bag with my torn and bloody clothes on the table. Two police officers stood in the kitchen with their notepads out. They turned; their eyes wide with shock to see me. I gripped the blanket tighter around my naked form and cowered behind my grandmother.

  “She’s all right,” Grandma said. “She’s all right, just a little overwhelmed with the day’s events.” She patted my back assuredly. “Go get dressed,” she said with a smile, adding, “hurry” with a look in her eyes that told me this was even more serious than I initially thought.

  I hurried up the stairs as quickly as I could while hiding my nudity. Despite the dirt that covered me, I didn’t bathe. There wasn’t time. I had to talk to the police. I dressed quickly in my bedroom, lining my underwear with a thick sanitary pad. When I came downstairs, Grandma was using her serious voice and pointing at the officers. As I descended the stairs, they quieted. “Tala Ward, you are under arrest…” Their voices seemed to fade out. It was all too much. I couldn’t wrap my mind around what was happening. My head swam, and the room spun. My heart pounded in my chest. I wanted to scream, to fight; my body was ready: fight or flight. But I was already in so much trouble. I swallowed the lump in my throat. Grandma shouted as they read me my rights and handcuffed me before leading me outside.

  The back of the police car was cold. The leather squeaked with each subtle move I made, and the scent of booze and cigarettes clung to the backseat. Neither officer spoke as they drove me to the station. When they questioned me, I did what Grandma had told me and stuck as close to the truth as possible. I told them that I wasn’t feeling good, that Lauren had made fun of me in the past and was making fun of me today in the cafeteria. Tears poured down my cheeks when I told them that I just got so angry I couldn’t control myself. I felt like their eyes were searing into me. I was worried they would find out my secret. But what logical person’s first thought would be that a little girl turned into a wolf?

  I spent the next three years at an alternative school for troubled kids, and the following seven years on probation. Despite the fact most of my inner rage had subsided after that first change, in high school I was still known as a menace, volatile, insane. A bomb ready to go off at the slightest provocation. I had no real friends outside of my family, my pack. It didn’t matter, though. People stayed away from me, afraid I would murder them in their sleep like some Hollywood bullshit serial killer. No one gave me trouble, though, which is what mattered. My family was warm, comforting, like my wolf. With the knowledge of my family’s history, I felt even closer to my cousins, like I was finally in on the greatest of all secrets. Thanks to my being a wolf, my little brother wouldn’t be shielded from my family’s heritage as I had been. Everyone else could hate me, spit on me, shit on my name. I didn’t care. I graduated with honors, then kept to myself. That was all I needed. I was content.

  Until a new pack moved in, and my world came crashing down.

  Chapter 1

  An old-fashioned bell rings as I open the door and make my way into Johnny’s Diner at half past
seven in the morning. It’s somewhat light out as the sun hasn’t fully risen above the tree lines, but the diner is well lit with outdated overhead lamps that hang from the ceiling. The only occupants, an elderly couple and a few truckers, sit quietly and whisper to their respective partners.

  I don’t wait to be seated. Instead, I slide into my usual booth. A minute later, my cousin and closest friend, Melinda, approaches my booth without a smile. “I put in your order when I saw you come in. How many cups today?” she asks nonchalantly, moving her head so the end of her dirty blonde ponytail falls off her shoulder. I hold up two fingers then put my head in my hands. She gives a slight chuckle. “That rough of a night, huh?” I nod as she says something about being back shortly and walks away. I consider making a short joke to be punny, but I don’t have the energy. Mel is five-one to my five-three, so she’s one of the few people I can pick on for being short.

  Melinda places two cups of black coffee on my table. “Oh! Sorry,” she says as a few drops spill over the edge of one of the mugs.

  I sit up a little straighter. “No worries, Mel,” I say, stifling a yawn. I roll my shoulders and stretch my arms before pulling one of the mugs toward me with both hands. I breathe in the scent of freshly brewed dark roast and take a sip before putting it down. I take a moment to stretch and undo my own ponytail, allowing my near-black hair to fall past my shoulders before I lean against the booth. I close my eyes and allow myself a moment of peace.