Timespell Read online

  “The plot twists, romance, and action had me reading way past my bedtime. I couldn’t put Timespell down!”

  -Bethany Wiggins, author of

  Shifting and Stung

  “The strength of Paz’s debut novel, Timespell, derives from her Daughters of Fate. These three teenage girls must manage the catastrophes of adolescence—prom, boyfriends, teachers and bullies—while attempting to correct historical catastrophes that threaten us all. Timespell is a fun and entertaining read because of the irreconcilable differences within the trio, and the danger to the world should they fail.”

  -Jason Beymer, author of

  Nether and Rogue’s Curse

  “Diana Paz enchanted me with her magical and amazing debut, Timespell. The ending left me in awe and craving more. I predict Paz will quickly become a new favorite author of young adult readers.”

  -Karen Amanda Hooper, author of

  Tangled Tides and Grasping at Eternity

  “Timespell has everything to offer—historical upheaval, the trials of high school friendship, heart-pounding romance—all wrapped in a fresh, inspired take on mythology. The result left me holding my breath until the very last page.”

  -Trisha Leigh, author of

  Whispers in Autumn and Winter Omens

  DIANA PAZ

  RHEMALDA PUBLISHING

  Rhemalda Publishing, Inc. (USA)

  P.O. Box 1790 Moses Lake, WA 98837 USA

  First American Paperback Edition

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, dialogues, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Copyright ©2013 by Diana Paz

  Edited by Diane Dalton

  Text design by Rhemalda Publishing

  Cover design by Rhemalda Art Department

  Cover photograph by Conrado

  Author photo by Matthew Pierce

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  ISBN Paperback: 978-1-936850-21-1

  ISBN eBook: 978-1-936850-78-5

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2013933382

  The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of the American National Standard of Information Services - Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ASNI Z39.48-1992.

  Diana Paz’s author website is www.dianapaz.com

  QED stands for Quality, Excellence and Design. The QED seal of approval shown here verifies that this eBook has passed a rigorous quality assurance process and will render well in most eBook reading platforms.

  For more information please click here.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  When this story took shape in my mind—epilogue first, as it were—I had a sneaking suspicion it would be different from the novels I’d written before. Boy was I right. Timespell was the most complicated, frustrating book I’d ever finished. I’d written historical before. I’d written magic before. But I’d never combined those two elements and added in time travel, along with three alternating female points of view. The fact that I’m not in a padded cell is a testament to a multitude of understanding friends, family members, and writerly people who somehow knew when I needed space, when I needed a cookie, and when I needed a swift kick in the pants.

  Let me first say thanks to everyone who has put up with me in the mayhem of writing, rewriting, revising, and editing this novel. I’d also like to say thanks to all my hilarious, supportive, and genuinely caring online friends.

  Thank you to my dear friend and critique partner, Amalia Dillin. I don’t know where I would be without your kind truthfulness, your unwavering confidence in me, and your incredible ability of knowing my characters better than I do. Someone was looking out for me when our paths in life crossed, and I will be forever grateful for our friendship.

  Thank you to my lovely cheerleader and friend, Tina Lynn Sandoval. Through all the self-doubt, insecurity, rejection, and criticism involved in the writing process, you’ve always found only the good in my work. Your belief in my work motivates me even through my toughest days.

  Thank you to my fabulous critique partner and friend, Natalie Murphy. You have always given me fearless, no-nonsense honesty, and as I write, I often think to myself, “STOP. What would Natalie think about this scene?” Thank you for expecting only the best from me, and for not being satisfied until I give it. I am a better writer because of you, which is what makes you critique partner GOLD.

  Thank you to an epically talented author and man of many hats, including writer, editor, artist, but most of all friend, Adrien-Luc Sanders. While I was in the midst of rewriting this book, no matter how many times I told you I couldn’t do it, I didn’t have it in me, I had reached too far, you would calmly let me know that I could, I did, and I hadn’t. There aren’t words enough to express my gratitude for the confidence you’ve inspired in me, not only as a writer but as a person.

  Thank you to author of awesome, Jason Beymer. Timespell became a polished, publishable manuscript because of the feedback you gave me, line by line and scene by scene. Your forthright opinions on crucial events in the story helped me take my novel to the next level. That sounded fancy, but the bottom line is, you rock!

  Thank you to Clara Balderrama for never doubting that my dream of becoming a published author would come true. Your enthusiasm for my work reminded me of why I wanted to pursue publication in the first place, and I hope you like this story as much as you liked the first one.

  Thank you to those who read my work along the way, whether it was in draft form, beta form, or advanced reader form: Bethany Wiggins, Karen Amanda Hooper, Trisha Leigh, Wendy Sparrow, Dana Elmendorf, Janelle Alexander, and Erica Chapman. I appreciate your time, encouragement, and effort in helping me achieve my goals.

  Special thanks to everyone at Rhemalda Publishing. In particular, I’d like to thank my savvy, spectacular editor, Diane Dalton for seeing my vision and giving me a chance to prove myself. I’m in awe of your ability to catch things I didn’t even know my sub-conscious had snuck into the story and tell me to let those things shine through. And to the dream-makers, Rhett and Emmaline Hoffmeister, thank you for believing in my story enough to give it a home. I couldn’t have hoped for a more supportive publisher for Timespell.

  Thank you to my mother, Olga Cedeño, the loveliest and most joyful person I’ve ever known. You let me practically live at the library growing up, you always encouraged me to write my stories as I grew older, and you have been a huge support for me now that my dream of publication has become a reality. I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done for me, most especially for helping make me who I am today.

  Finally, thank you to my amazing husband, Carlos Paz. I’ve read more than once, that it takes a special kind of person to be married to a writer. I am lost in my own mind more often than I’m here in the real world. I despair over people I’ve made up and agonize over things that aren’t technically happening (they are totally happening, it’s just that I’m the only one who knows about it). Thank you for always supporting me in my goals, and for creating a life that gives me the chance to live my dream.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8
<
br />   Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  “I forgive all my enemies the harm they have done me.”

  -Marie Antoinette, October 16, 1793

  From her final letter, addressed to her sister-in-law, Madame Elisabeth. The letter was never delivered.

  The Daughters of Fate share vast power. They can speak through their thoughts if connected by touch. They can move objects and spark flames with their will. To each, unique gifts are bestowed. They cannot be used alone, for the power of the Fates is too great for grasping mortal hands. But together, a fierce and wondrous magic can be achieved.

  -The Fates

  Chapter 1

  Julia

  Julia stepped from the soft sand and onto the Venice Beach boardwalk, her flip flops scuffing along the gritty path. Cyclists crowded the palm-lined walkway, along with rollerbladers and skateboarders and giant beach taxis only tourists would pay for. All of them managed to get in her way as she crossed to the pedestrian-only side of the path.

  The frantic chime of bells caused her to turn. A pair of girls in an out-of-control pedal cart squealed in horrified delight as they gained momentum, and they were headed right toward her. She leapt out of the way, losing a flip flop and crashing into a vendor’s table.

  “Sorry,” the girls called over their shoulders, not sounding sorry as they sped past.

  Julia bit back a groan. Embarrassment poured out from her, as hot as the sun roasting her back. She stood, wincing at the sight of her scraped palms and knees. “Oh, gosh,” she said, surveying the damage to the booth she had crashed into. The shopkeeper glared at her and she hurried to scoop up the pile of wrecked magnets, each made from tiny, hot-glued seashells. She set them on the table and pushed a display upright. A cascade of postcards showered to the ground.

  “Sorry,” she said, scrambling to gather the fallen postcards.

  “Just go,” he snapped, tugging at the cards in her hands.

  She backed out of his space and went back onto the boardwalk.

  Angie, where are you?

  A quick scan of the crowd showed no sign of her, and they were late for training. Not that it mattered. They had been practicing their magic for almost a year. Until they found the final Daughter of Fate, there wasn’t much more they could learn. Absently, she ran her fingers over her mark of magic. The golden designs encircled her upper arm like a tribal tattoo.

  The mark glowed a faint white and immediately she regretted touching it. The magic was always there, inside her, but if she focused on it, the power began to grow. It had to go somewhere, because the feeling of expanding energy inside her could become overwhelming. Everything would sound too loud and her body would feel too warm. Pressure would fill her chest until she was breathless, and her only thought would be of how to release the magic as quickly as possible.

  She exhaled slowly, getting a handle on the magic. She needed to let it out, and quick. She found a safe patch of grass beneath a palm tree and examined her wounds. The girls who had run into her in their beach taxi zoomed by again. Her hands glowed with white light, but she resisted the urge to send a bolt of magic blasting their way. Instead, she cupped her hands. The magic pooled in her palms like white mist. “Restore,” she murmured. The soothing light became a balm, sealing her scraped skin and smoothing over the scratches until it was as if she had never been hurt.

  Julia examined her hands, still covered in blood. She wiped them on the grass. Angie was the best at healing. The best at all the magic, really. Her family had passed down the secret of their inheritance for generations. They had hundred-year-old books with leather covers and worn, yellowed pages filled with the missions of past Daughters of Fate. Her parents had known that Angie would be marked when she had her surge of light.

  Meanwhile, Julia had been shocked when Angie told her they had a magical connection. Julia’s grandmother died when her mom was still little, so whether her grandmother knew about the powers or not was a mystery. Her mom didn’t know, and there definitely weren’t any magical books in her home about ancient priestesses fighting an epic war against the power of the Sorceress.

  “Julia!”

  Finally. Julia peered through the crowd, picking out her friend easily among the suntanned bodies on the boardwalk. A decade in gymnastics hadn’t done Angie any favors in the curves department. Tiny and pale, she looked closer to twelve than her actual sixteen years. Julia dug through her bag and found a tank top to put on over her swimsuit, not wanting Angie to feel bad about nature’s unfair lottery system.

  “There you are,” Angie said, her enormous sunglasses making her look like a little kid playing dress up with her mom’s things.

  “I’m usually the late one.”

  “Yeah, I told you to meet with me an hour earlier than our time to meet with Indira.” Angie smiled, toying with the tip of her white-blonde ponytail. “That makes us half an hour early.”

  “Wow, lying?” Julia teased as she got up.

  Pink crept up her friend’s milky complexion, making it look like rose petals. “It wasn’t a lie, was it? I just didn’t tell you what time Indira wanted us to meet.”

  “Sneaky, then,” Julia said as they started down the walkway. “Either way, I approve.”

  Angie didn’t respond, getting the distant look that often took over her delicate features. Julia twisted her mess of brown hair in a knot high off her neck. Her gaze wandered ahead to the mish-mashed vendors lining the walk. A Hawaiian shaved ice would be absolute heaven, but all she saw were merchants selling crystal jewelry and energy bracelets, and an artist drawing sketches of people with curvy, oversized heads. Something flickered into view. Julia squinted past the glare of sun and sand. A tent had appeared among the vendors that hadn’t been there a moment before.

  Indira’s tent always showed up at a different spot. With gold tassels and symbols, it looked like something someone had swiped from a Renaissance fair.

  Julia moved toward it, but Angie’s hand on her arm held her back.

  “Listen,” Angie said. “Before we go to training, there’s something I wanted to tell you.”

  “Okay,” Julia said, shielding her eyes. “That’s cryptic.”

  Angie let out a deep breath. “David asked me to prom.”

  She had to laugh. “Like you’d go with him after what he did.”

  Angie pressed her lips together.

  “You’re not going with him ... right?”

  Angie’s big blue eyes became shinier by the second.

  “You caught him kissing Kaitlyn Tesoro!”

  “I know, but—”

  “But nothing.” Julia gripped Angie’s arm, letting the magic flare to life between them. She dug through Angie’s memories, bringing forth images of Kaitlyn smiling up at David, reaching for him, pulling him into a kiss.

  Angie’s rage erupted between them. “Stop it,” she cried, breaking their connection. “How dare you?”

  “What am I supposed to do? Stand by and do nothing while you let him break your heart again?”

  “I’m going to prom with him,” Angie said in a low, simmering voice. “I didn’t ask for your approval.”

  “Fine. Catch Kaitlyn-herpes. It’s your life.” Julia stalked ahead before Angie could answer. How could Angie go back to him after what he did? For someone so
smart, she could be borderline stupid.

  “Will you slow down?” Angie called.

  She stopped, telling herself to get a grip. It was Angie’s decision.

  One look at Angie’s face made Julia’s heart lurch with remorse. Angie’s mouth was set in an angry slash. Julia cringed. Crap. Had she just used magic to tear open Angie’s thoughts? That was kind of a cardinal rule. Thou shalt not dive into thy friend’s brain and drag out hurtful memories. Crap, crap, crap.

  “I’m so sorry,” Julia said. “I had no right to do that.”

  “No. You didn’t.”

  Julia’s throat turned to ash.

  “Listen,” Angie said, her tone softening, “you can’t do that kind of thing. We have way too much power to use it against each other. Ever.”

  Julia shook her head. “I’m sorry. I suck.” Worst-friend-ever guilt washed over her in sickening waves.

  “I understand why you’re worried. It’s just that, David still matters to me.”

  “No, don’t explain,” Julia said, rubbing the mark on her arm again. She had felt how much her friend loved him. Of everything that happened because of the magic, those split seconds of shared emotion, flipping on and off like a broken TV, had been the biggest shock of all. She tried to block Angie’s feelings when they used their powers—the honesty of them was too raw, too embarrassing to feel—but she couldn’t block out everything.

  She bit her lip, forcing herself to meet Angie’s eyes. She couldn’t decide which was worse, the awkwardness of reading her friend’s emotions or the humiliation of Angie reading hers. “I know how much you love him,” she finally said. “It was wrong of me to flip out on you. But it’s hard.” The crashing waves, barely background noise before, seemed louder now. When Julia spoke again, her voice dropped. “I felt the pain, too.”