Free The Prophecy (Daughters of the People Series Book 1) by Lucy Varna Page A

“Always so formal.”
    “It sets a good
example,” Maya said with a small smile.
    “Go on then.
I’ll see you Tuesday morning and not a moment earlier.
    Maya bowed and
left the room, her heart still skittering over the director’s little joke. She
must be mellowing, Maya thought as she made her way out of the building. A
hundred years ago, the slightest hint of someone manipulating her would’ve had
the director reaching for a weapon. Maya shook her head and bounded down the
outside steps. Must be the husband’s influence.
    She fell into a
jog and tucked the incident away for another day’s worry. Right then, she
wanted to spend some q.t. with her daughter and catch up on the exact nature of
Dierdre’s relationship with young Johnny Linton.
     
    * * *
     
    After Maya left,
Rebecca resumed her seat behind her desk and lost herself in thought. Shadows
lengthened across the room as the sun slipped behind the surrounding hills,
cloaking the office in a deepening darkness.
    She’d propped
the photograph of the armband up against a framed picture of her family. It was
one of her favorite portraits, taken weeks after her son turned five years old
and a mere eight years after she’d surrendered her immortality by trusting
Robert. No, that wasn’t quite right. She’d loved him enough to trust him, and
that had been the key she’d needed to finally break the curse of immortality.
    Her gaze
lingered on the portrait. In it, she sat facing her husband with their son
between them and her youngest natural daughter standing behind them. It had
been a happy day, though she’d forgotten exactly why, and they were all
smiling, even Jerusha. Four of her daughters yet lived with the curse, including
her youngest. Rebecca leaned forward and picked up the photograph of the
armband. Would the texts found with this innocuous adornment lead them to a way
to break the curse for all of the Daughters?
    There were
rumors that there was a way, always rumors. The Daughters had been chasing them
for millennia. For nearly thirty years, the task of heading that search had
fallen to her. Was there hope at last or were they following yet another dead
end?
    “You have found
her.”
    The voice
startled Rebecca out of her reverie. She hadn’t heard anyone enter her office.
A figure stepped from the shadows into the light cast by her desk lamp and Rebecca’s
heart skittered and sank. The woman in front of her wore a hooded, knee-length
leather jacket over a plain cotton tank top tucked into jeans, with lineman’s
boots laced up to her knees. Her face was fully hidden behind a mask, save for
eyes as black and cold as midnight. A thin, white scar circled her neck, the
only skin showing on the woman’s entire body.
    To the People,
she was the Woman with No Face, an almost mythical figure of doom and death. Most
people, mortals included, believed she was an assassin. Very few saw her and
lived to tell the tale, but she was known widely by the mark she carved into
her victims, a triangle set on one point with a half circle hanging from the
top line. No one knew her true identity. None was brave enough to pursue such
information, though whispered tales found their way into plenty of ears.
    Rebecca had met
her once before, in 1939. Fear had etched the incident into her memory with a
clarity few other emotions had the power to convey.
    She had never
wished to see the Woman again.
    The fear rose,
clogging her throat, stultifying her breath. Rebecca gathered her will and
shoved the emotion aside. “Who have I found?”
    The Woman raised
one gloved hand and pointed at the photo of the armband. “Her.”
    “Who is she?”
    The hand dropped
and the figure stared at Rebecca, eyes unblinking behind the mask.
    Silence stretched
between them. After a moment, Rebecca cleared her throat and tried again. “Is
she important?”
    “You will see.”
    The mask muffled
the Woman’s voice, unnerving Rebecca. She stifled a shudder and trained her gaze
carefully on