Desolate (Desolation) (32 page)

Michael will come looking for me, but he will never find me. Even the Ascended Ones, even Aaron and Lucy, will search tirelessly for me. And will not find me.

I am beneath them all.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

First and always, I have to thank my husband, David. Truly, every book I write is co-authored by him. He brainstorms with me from the earliest conception through the entire process. He’s the first one to read my books, the first to guide me past the pitfalls and help me climb the mountains.

And tripping on David’s heels is my dearest friend, C.K. Bryant (
check out her books
—they’re awesome!). She hangs out with me on MSN every day, keeping me sane and laughing at me when I’m clearly not. She pulls me through the sluggish days when writing seems like a chore, and is the first to cheer for me when I reach happy milestones.

My critique group,
Elana Johnson
,
Sara V. Olds
and
Stacy Henrie
(all published authors—check out their books, too!) are the bread in this ali-sandwich. The ply me with chocolate even while slashing my prose and making my pages bleed. I let them because, well, the chocolate is good, but also because they work magic with my words and help me become something better—something I could never reach without their help.

My friends L.T. Elliot and Jill Smith help ground me and remind me that there is a life to be lived beyond my words on the page. My children are the happy recipients of their encouragement!

And thank you, dear reader, for choosing to read my books, for taking the time to leave reviews and to email me. I love hearing from you. You teach me what I can do better, what more I should strive for. I wish I could give every one of you a great big hug—even though I’m probably the world’s worst hugger and would probably stick my nose in your eye or elbow you in some inappropriate way.

Life is good. And as long as I have the love of my family, the camaraderie of my friends, and awesome stories to tell, I think I will be (as I am now) the happiest girl alive.

About the Author

Ali Cross is the sensei of the Writer's Dojo where she holds a black belt in awesome. She lives in Utah with her kickin' husband, two sparring sons, one ninja cat, two sumo dogs and four zen turtles.

Find Ali online at
www.alicross.com

Proud member of
The Indelibles
.
To read more awesome YA novels from
this incredible group of authors, click
here
.

Page through to read the first chapter of Artemis Writing

by Indelible Cheri Lasota.

On the voyage home to the Azores Islands, Eva accepts the pagan name of Arethusa but learns too late that her life will mirror the Greek nymph’s tragic end. Her mother reveals that her destiny lies with Diogo, the shipowner’s volatile son. But Eva has a vision of another...

When the ship founders in a storm off the coast, Tristan, a local boy, saves her life and steals her heart. Destined to be with Diogo yet aching for Tristan’s forbidden love, Eva must somehow choose between them, or fate will choose for her.

To purchase ARTEMIS RISING by Cheri Lasota for your Kindle,
click here
.

24 August 1893

Strange how our names become our fate. No matter my fate, given a choice, still I would choose that name:
Arethusa,
nymph of the old world, daughter of the moon. Is the name a curse or a blessing? Perhaps neither. Perhaps my mother has merely destined me for a love of watery things. It is true. The sea is in my blood, slipping quicksilver through my veins. And the Moon Goddess is to be my mistress. No more
Eva
now. No more a daughter of God.

Eva’s fingers shook as she held the match to the candlewick. The chill night air seeped through her thin shift. Even in deep summer, Massachusetts still clung to the remnants of spring when the sun sank below the foothills. But it was not the wind that gave her shivers.

“Calm down,”
Mãe
said, laying her hand over Eva’s to still them. “Your
Pai
will be gone for hours and Artemis will rise soon enough.”

Eva held the match closer to the candle. The wind snatched out the flame with a huff. Her hand trembled when she drew another match, and she hated that her mother saw it.

With the changing of her name, she would deny her father’s faith and embrace her mother’s. A simple choice. And a dangerous one. A pagan in a Catholic world had need of secrecy and courage. But for her it was more than a question of faith. This choice would direct her destiny. Her namesake was a nymph devoted to Artemis, Goddess of the Moon. A nymph who was chased by the obsessive river god Alpheus into the depths of the sea and back. Yet in the end, Alpheus found Arethusa and merged his waters with hers until they became one.

She knew that this would be her fate. But it was not the Catholic fate of heaven or hell. It was a kind of immortality. A deathless death. She feared this most of all. When she was joined to Alpheus, would she cease to exist? Would her soul be lost?

For many years, she had known this day was coming. Her mother had taught her the old sabbats and rites and, for Mãe’s sake, had practiced these secret rituals over and over. At first, Eva felt torn—it was so different from Pai’s strict Catholic sacraments of the Eucharist and Confirmation—but over time, Mãe’s beliefs had become her own. Despite her fleeting doubts, she knew she would not hesitate when it came time to give her promise. It was not in her nature to falter. And she dared not falter now.

Mãe laid the matches next to the other items on the makeshift altar, a boulder hidden in a copse behind the farmhouse, and took Eva’s hands in hers. Her mother’s fingers were warm despite the sharp coil of the night wind.

“What is it?” Mãe’s eyes penetrated hers even in the murky hour before moonrise. “When you come before Artemis, you cannot doubt her.”

Mãe knows me so well.
Eva glanced down at their clasped hands, unable to look at her mother.

“You have to stay strong. The Goddess has very few followers left in the world. Certainly none that I know of among the Azoreans, save my mother, and she herself was guided into the old ways by a pagan traveler from Europe.”

Eva considered this. “What will it feel like when I make my vow?”

“It will be a sea-change. You think that you understand, that you believe. But when you give your promise, when you change your name, your belief will be just the beginning. You will be transformed. You will see with new eyes.”

“I will turn to water?”

“Yes, in a way. I, myself, do not fully understand how the goddess’s powers work.”

“And this river god... Who is he?”

“He is both a god and a man. And he will be someone different for you than he was for me.”

“Were you afraid of him?”

“At first.” Mãe smiled and shook her head. “But I grew to love him and I love him still.”

“What about Pai?—”

“You hush about Eduardo. He...” Mãe didn’t finish, but smoothed her nightgown absently.

Eva
peered at her mother. She could only wonder at her mother’s marriage to such a cold, disagreeable man.

“I’m not sure I understand—”

“Take your vow, Eva.” Mãe stopped her with a squeeze of the hand. “Take your new name. We’ll soon be sailing back to the Azores Islands, and there—where I was born, where you were conceived, where all of this began—your fears will pass into understanding.”

This was some comfort. The doubt in Eva’s heart seemed to bend now, allowing her space to breathe and think and let go. And she did breathe, deep and full. Then she struck a new match. The spark kindled a bit of hope in her heart as she lit the candle. Yes, she would take her name, her vow. She would accept and follow.

She felt Mãe’s hand on her shoulder.

“Look.”

Eva glanced up. Though she hadn’t broken the tree line yet, the Goddess had already fired the tops of the distant maples and pines with the spindly orange flames of her moonlight.