Title: The Prophet
Author: Jo Michaels
Series: The Hate Apocalypse #5
Genre: Urban Fiction/Apocalyptic Fiction
Genre: Urban Fiction/Apocalyptic Fiction
Editor: Tia Silverthorne Bach with INDIE Books Gone Wild
Publication Date: December 3rd, 2018
Blurb
It’s one year until the apocalypse of 12.21.12 is supposed to take place.
Burning buildings, screaming babies, and death will surround us.
It will be the end of the world.
That can’t be allowed.
When six powerful women come together with one goal—to save humanity—they’ll get much more than they bargained for. They join forces and learn to use the gifts hidden within themselves to battle a monster feeding off something too many of us feel in our souls: Hate. But they must first learn how to forgive—themselves as well as others.
Hate is birthing a creature dwelling under Central Park in New York, and the fiend is eager to burst forth and sink his fangs into the Earth.
The Fury, The Visionary, The Beguiler, The Siren, The Prophet, and The Mystic are our last hope, and even they aren’t sure if they can win.
The end is coming, but with it, there may be a new beginning.
Buy Link
Buy Links
The Fury: https://amzn.to/2PeXS63
The Visionary: https://amzn.to/2RXtH4W
The Beguiler: https://amzn.to/2qvmdtj
The Siren: https://amzn.to/2RZsVn7
Chapter One ~ Death
Bronya
lifted a hand. “Shhhh, I hear something.” Turning her head to the side
so she could pay attention to the noises reaching her ears, she noticed
Shelia crouching and staring straight ahead. Soft sobbing sounds were
coming from inside the car parked across the street. Bronya’s eyes
followed the line of Shelia’s gaze and fell on two figures, both male.
“I see you,” whispered Shelia. Before she could be stopped, she took off like a flash and ran straight for the men.
Cursing,
Bronya followed; already igniting the power in her hand. Red sparks
flew as she knocked the figures aside so Shelia could get to the car.
Another red flash and the door flew off the hinges, revealing a third
form huddling inside.
At once, the woman scrambled out of the car and fell to the asphalt.
Shelia stopped running and took a defensive posture, creeping slowly toward the mass of hair and limbs tangled on the ground.
Bronya could hear soft words being spoken. “It’s okay. We’re here to help.”
A
shrill scream pierced the night air, and both girls put their hands
over their ears to shut it out. Then, everything went quiet. It seemed
the city hushed to listen to the momentary scream of the woman now lying
silent and prone on the road.
“Shit!” Shelia ran forward and put her fingers to the young woman’s neck. “Call an ambulance! No pulse! We’re too damned late!”
“Hello?
Operator? I need an ambulance!” Bronya rattled off the names of the
cross-streets and approached the girl at the operator’s request. “Yeah,
she has no pulse. There’s blood everywhere.”
Footfalls echoing in the distance signaled the retreat of the two men. Everything was quiet except Shelia’s heavy breathing.
She
was frantically doing CPR, via instructions yelled out by Bronya, as
the whining siren of an ambulance shattered the new quiet. Tires
squealing, the vehicle pulled up and two EMTs leapt out, equipment in
hand. Bronya clicked her phone off, pulled Shelia back, and stood
nearby, watching.
After
working furiously over the girl for a number of minutes, the medics
lifted her onto a stretcher and everyone climbed into the ambulance. The
two girls shrank back against the walls, trying to stay out of the way.
Dark
hair, matted with blood, fell around the pillow and framed the girl’s
face. She had a nasty bruise below her left eye and red welts here and
there on her arms. But there was still no clue as to where the blood was
coming from. Bronya scratched her head and chewed the inside of her
cheek while her eyes roamed over the mess in front of her. One of the
medics was suddenly in her face. “Do you know who did this?” he asked.
Bronya and Shelia both shook their heads.
His voice dropped to a low growl. “Are you the girls that called nine-one-one?”
Taking
point, Bronya lifted her hand into the air. “I did that. We found her
this way. There were two men, but they ran off when we got here.”
“Two men? Can you describe them?”
“No.
It was too dark. I only saw silhouettes and figured they were men
because of the way they were standing. You know, leaned to one side,
hands in pockets, kinda puffed up like they were big, bad dudes.”
“Do you know this young woman?” He gestured to the girl.
“No.”
Bronya shook her head. “We were just walking by and heard crying coming
from the car. When we checked it out, we found her and called you
guys.” She knew damned good and well who the girl was, but explaining
how they knew where she was going to be would take too long and raise
too many eyebrows. Playing dumb seemed the best option.
~~~~~
Coralie
smiled. She’d been friends with Regina for years. Another search and
the name of the understudy for the part of Elphaba made Coralie groan.
Fawne Holt! Why did it have to be her? Their long-standing rivalry was
just going to get in the way and cause tension on stage.
Damn.
A
split-second decision was made to speak with the director about
choosing a new understudy. Coralie headed off to see if he was in his
office.
She
walked up the stairs, knocked on his door, and waited. Just as she was
turning to leave, the door flew open and a young-looking man with hair
standing on end, a loose tie, rumpled clothing, and no shoes was
suddenly staring at her. All ability to speak was stolen as she looked
at him. This guy is the director?
“Well?” He held his hands out to the sides.
“Um, I seem to have caught you at a bad time. I’ll come back later.” Again, she turned to go.
“Bad time?”
She spun back around to find him scratching his head.
“Oh!” His face lit up. “You mean the way I look!”
Coralie nodded and gave a nervous giggle.
“No, no, this is the way I always look. I sleep here most nights when a production is in the works.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Well, come on in! I’m sure you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want to talk to me.”
Stepping
through the door, she was overwhelmed by the mess in front of her.
Clothes were strewn all over the furniture, empty pizza boxes covered
the tops of tables, and paper was scattered everywhere.
“Sorry about the mess.”
“No problem,” she lied.
He stuck out a hand. “Trenton Harris, nice to meet you.”
“Coralie Meyers. You, too.” She wiped her hand on her jeans when he released it.
“Ah, one of my leading ladies! Here, have a seat!” He tossed a jacket and pair of shorts off the couch into a pile on the floor.
Carefully,
she lowered herself to the edge of the cushion and perched there. He
plopped down on the chair across from her and leaned forward with his
elbows on his knees and his hands clasped. “Now, what was it you wanted
to talk to me about?”
“It’s my understudy…” She trailed off, not sure if she should even mention it.
“What about her?”
“Well, it’s just that… See, she and I have had…”
“You don’t like each other; right?”
“Yeah.”
It was a lame excuse and she knew it. Trying to recover, she added,
“I’m just afraid it’s gonna cause unneeded tension on stage.”
Nodding like he agreed, he asked, “And you’re playing the part of Elphaba, right?”
She nodded.
“I have to tell you, I don’t usually make changes once the cast has been chosen.”
“Mr. Harris, I completely understand where you’re coming from, but—”
He lifted a hand. “Changing a casting after it’s been posted is like cutting off and re-attaching a limb. It’s painful.”
“I understand. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”
Shifting
in his seat, he narrowed his eyes at her. “If I accommodated your
request, I’d have to do things for other people, too. It’s better to not
set any kind of expectation. But I thank you for the warning that
things may get difficult.”
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry I bothered you.” She stood up to leave.
Trenton
rose with her and opened the door. “You didn’t bother me. I want you to
feel comfortable coming to me with anything, okay?”
“Okay.
Thanks.” Halfway down the stairs, she heard the door close. “Fat lot of
good it did me. Now I just look like a damned diva,” she muttered.
Jo Michaels is...
Hi, I'm Jo. Let's forget all the "Jo Michaels is blah, blah, blah" stuff and just go with it. I'm a voracious reader (often reading more than one book at a time), a writer, a book reviewer, a mom, a wife, and one of the EICs at INDIE Books Gone Wild. I have an almost photographic memory and tend to make people cringe at the number of details I can recall about them and/or their book(s). My imagination follows me around like a conjoined twin and causes me to space out pretty often or laugh out loud randomly in completely inappropriate situations.
I have a degree in graphic design, and my journey to the end was one few students who begin that program ever complete. However, this was one case where my memory and OCD tendencies helped me. Graduation was one of the most amazing days of my life. But, my most amazing day was when my now husband proposed. Every little girl dreams of being Cinderella someday, and he pulled off the proposal of fantasies.
At the risk of sounding cliché, I'm going to let it out there and say how much I absolutely adore the man I'm married to. Along with my children, he's my whole world.
I've lived in Louisiana, Tennessee, and Georgia, but I've had my feet in almost every state. Traveling is something I adore, and have plans to someday see the Mongolia I've written about in Yassa.
One of my favorite things is hearing from fans! You can find me on social media most any day of the week. Connect! I'd love to hear from you.
Author Links
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