The Black Gem (Book 1 in the Mind Weavers)

Prologue

Two little girls, five and seven years old, watched as their father moved the gravestone over their mother’s body below. The cold winter air blew the girls’ red hair around as they stood, the older one crying, and the younger one confused.

Their father covered the grave with his hand, his head down towards the ground, as if in a prayer. The youngest girl wanted to run up and hug her sad father but knew not to. He had just told his girls a few minutes earlier that their very sick Mum had died overnight, in her sleep. She hadn’t even been able to say goodbye.

Finally, their father stood up and made his way over to where the girls stood. Not saying anything, he picked up the youngest one, took the hand of the older girl, and slowly walked away from the grave.

The youngest girl looked over her shoulder at the grave of her mother.

“Why isn’t Mum coming with us?” she asked her father as he continued to walk onward.

Her father didn’t answer. He just kept on walking, the cold wind whipping his dark jacket. The little girl looked back at her dad.

“Daddy?” she whispered.

Her dad looked over at the youngest girl. He could feel how scared she was for him, the fact that he wasn’t being his fun self. He tried to smile, through all the pain. “I'm okay Olivia.”

Olivia, happy with herself for hearing from her father, silenced again as they walked onward.

As they walked, Olivia’s father thought to himself. Their mother had asked him to bring Olivia to somewhere safe, where she could understand herself better. But that would mean giving up his little girl. He did not want to lose her like he had lost his wife.

The oldest little girl had been silent. Or at least, until that moment.

“Daddy! Behind you!” the little girl yelled.

Her father, surprised, jumped and turned around quickly, to nothing. He dropped Olivia to the ground in surprise. If his little girl had seen something, it was always good to check it out. He took a few steps backward, but, seeing nothing, returned to his children.

The older girl’s blue eyes dropped. “Sorry, Daddy. I thought I heard something.”

Her father smiled sadly at his daughter. “It’s okay Fiona, we all make mistakes.”

With that, he picked up young Olivia, looked behind him one more time.

“Let’s head home girls,” he whispered to them, before taking off.

Little did they know that Fiona had been right. A stranger lurked behind the trees, watching and waiting as the family of three walked off.

Chapter 1

(Ten years later)

The ground underneath my feet was cold and bumpy as I made my way back in the frozen tundra I called home. The sun hung just barely over the bare trees around me, the temperature dropping along with it. I knew that later tonight, it would drop close to zero, just like it had the night before. I pulled my dark blue colored scarf over my mouth, stuffed my hands in my pockets for warmth, and walked briskly on. Just a little bit further, I had to keep reminding myself.

As I walked, a log cabin came into view. I could see the two windows which faced my way, light shining through them into the cold world. It was my home. The house all together was two levels, even though you couldn’t see the bottom level from the outside, except for small windows at the bottom of the house, covered in snow. I could see the edge of a garage on the other side of the house, it empty since Dad was in town at his bookstore. Smoke came out of the top of the house, probably from my older sister making a fire in the fireplace. Dad didn’t like to use the heat in the wintertime, except to keep the house above freezing. I walked up to the door, my head still burrowed in my scarf. As I grabbed my keys to unlock the door, loud barking was heard from inside the house. I stopped, listening to it for a second, before finally opening the door.

To greet me at the door was my dog, Teddy. As a ten-year-old black lab, you would have thought that he would have been starting to settle down a little bit into the old age. But no. Teddy jumped and barked as I closed the door behind me, reaching down to pat his head. Even as a ten-year-old, his face didn’t show his age either. It was still as dark and as playful as the day we found him. Teddy reached up, licking my fingers as I dropped my bag onto our old couch, which was right in front of the door.

My house was laid out pretty easily. As soon as you walked in, you were in the family room. There was a wall separating the family room from the kitchen, with an opening on the left and the right of the house leading around to the kitchen. In the wall were the stairs downstairs, to where mine and my sister’s rooms were, right next to each other. On the other side, next to the garage, was Dad’s room, along with a bathroom. It wasn’t a big house, but it worked nicely for us. Not too much space, not too little.

I sat on the couch just as Teddy jumped up next to me. Hearing all the commotion, my sister Fiona walked into the room, her arms crossed and her eyes mad.

If I had to describe Fiona in one word, that would be persistent. She was always trying to keep everything the way she thought they were supposed to be, no matter what the case was. With her bright red hair and blue eyes, we looked almost exactly alike, the only difference being was that, even though she was seventeen and I was fifteen, I was taller than her by an inch, which was saying a lot.

“I see you're home early,” Fiona noticed, standing in one spot next to the wall.

I shrugged, reaching over to scratch Teddy’s stomach. “I finished my book.”

Fiona raised an eyebrow. “Reading again?”

I pulled my bright red bag across my lap and dragged out my book. Fiona snatched the book from my hand, flipping through it. She looked up at me a look of surprise etched across her face.

“What?” I asked her, taking the book back before pulling myself off of the couch. “I like to read.”

“I told you to stop going there,” Fiona warned me once again.

I sighed, heading towards the kitchen, passing the fireplace on my way. A warm fire was burning there. It felt nice. “I know. But I can’t help it. It’s just so peaceful.”

Fiona shook her head at me. “Dad told you to stop going there, so-”

We both heard the sound of a car driving up the driveway. As if a switch had been flipped, we knew that Dad was home.

Teddy began to bark, racing to the window to look out into the woods. I followed my dog and looked out. Sure enough, an old dark red mini van bumped along the way, all the way back home, my dad sitting in the front seat.

Teddy was still barking when Dad shut off the car and opened the door from the garage.

“Hi girls!” he called into the house. Fiona and I went running to his side to say hi.

My Dad, Scott Baker, had always been a character of his own, ever since I could remember. He was always bright, always cheery, always involved with everyone around him and laughing. He always knew what we were feeling too. On days where I felt sick and couldn’t go to school, Dad would have hot chocolate and wild rice soup as soon as I made my way upstairs. He had always been my dad, no matter what was happening in the world. With his red hair and green eyes, he looked very much like us.

Dad hugged each of us, starting with Fiona, before sitting on the couch, Teddy next to him.

“How are my two favorite daughters?” he asked us, stroking our dog.

Fiona gave me a long look, before sitting in the chair next to the fireplace. “Fine.”

Dad’s smile was replaced with concern. “Fiona, I can tell it isn’t fine. What’s going on?”

Fiona looked over at me quickly, our eyes locking before turning back to Dad. “Nothing.”

Teddy barked once. The dog looked in between Fiona and me as if trying to tell which one of us would get blamed. He finally decided, jumping off the couch and sitting by my feet.

Dad noticed. He looked over at me. “Liv?”

I looked down at my dog. The black lab was sitting at my feet, panting happily and tail wagging. I gave him the stink eye. Even as a dog, it seemed he thought just like Fiona and me.

“I read today,” I told my Dad. It was true, I had read all day.

Dad raised an eyebrow at me. I could tell he was trying to tell if something was up. But, 

finding nothing, he just smiled at me, leaned back into the couch, and turned on our old 

TV.

Chapter 2

That night, I sat in my bedroom, my book open in my lap. Okay, it wasn’t really a book. It was more of a scrapbook.

It had a light blue cover, the word Olivia was etched across the fabric. Underneath my name, sat a picture. The picture was of a woman and a girl, both smiling at the camera, the little girl sitting in the woman’s lap. They were both red headed and had the same light blue eyes. The little girl was laughing, smiling up at her woman. The woman was smiling at the camera, her eyes lighting up. It was a picture of Mum and I, just before she got sick and died.

On the inside, each page was a different color. They showed pictures of Fiona and me as little girls, of Mum and Dad on their wedding day, of Halloween costumes and Christmases at our house. But the last page was the one that I was drawn to the most.

It was a handwritten note, written in a beautiful handwriting that I had come to know as Mums. I smiled to myself, brushing the dust off of the note, reading it silently to myself.

My dearest Olivia-

I know you are an amazing little girl. Nothing can stop you from being who you are. In your time, you will face some hard changes. Don’t be afraid of them. Just keep on being who you are, my daughter. Someday you will make me proud. I love you, Olivia Nicole Baker.

Signed, your Mum

Sometimes, if I tried hard enough, I could still hear her English accent reading this very note to me. If I try even harder, I could hear her repeating her story back to me.

You see, Mum was on the run (or so she told me). She had to be hidden away. So when she was born, her parents brought her over to England, to keep her hidden. That was why she spoke with an English accent because that was what she grew up with. Dad used to say that at one point while Mum was alive, I spoke with the accent too, but it’s been gone for many years. Sometimes I could still hear it in Fiona’s voice though.

I silently closed the scrapbook, placing it on my nightstand. Just as I did, there was a sound at the door. A scratch, then another, followed by a long whine.

I pulled myself out of bed and opened the door. In trotted Teddy, as happy as could be, 

before jumping on my bed.

Teddy had always been my dog, no matter what happened. He would always choose my side, always sleep with me (for nearly ten years), would always sit next to my chair at dinner. I didn’t understand why.

I remember the day I met Teddy. I was getting home from school, on the bus, with Fiona. The bus always dropped us off at the very edge of our driveway, so we had to walk the mile by ourselves. I remember we were walking up the driveway, when a dog came out of nowhere and started barking at us, running to us. I remember screaming and ducking behind Fiona. Fiona was screaming too. But then the dog stopped barking. There was silence, except for the thumping of a tail. I looked out from behind Fiona, to see a black lab sitting a foot in front of us, panting, his tail wagging.

I slowly walked up to the dog, sticking my hand out. Fiona had told me not to, but I did anyway. The dog just sat there, until I touched his head. He then reached up and licked my face hard. I giggled, and hugged the dog, screaming “Mine!”

Since that day, almost ten years ago, Teddy had been with us. He hadn’t left my side since. Okay, he had once, but I didn’t like to think about it.

I closed my door, and climbed into bed, pulling the covers around me.

“Move,” I mumbled to the dog, pulling the covers out from underneath him.

The dog grumbled back at me but moved just enough to where I could get the covers out. I turned off the light, settling into bed, just as Teddy curled up right in between my legs. Great. I knew he wouldn’t move the whole night, so I fell asleep like that, my legs pulled apart.

I woke up around one in the morning, when I finally noticed Teddy was gone. I looked around the room, calling his name into the darkness, before hitting the light next to my bed. The wind hit the top of my window, the only part uncovered by snow, making a whistling noise.

Outside my bedroom, I could see a light on, and hear noises. Whispers from somewhere in the house. Someone was awake. 

I opened my bedroom door slightly, to see the light coming from upstairs, in the kitchen.

“She isn’t ready!” I heard a man whisper. It sounded quite a bit like my father.

“The change was last week, she has to be ready by now!” someone else, a girl, whispered. Her voice I hadn’t heard before.

“I still have so much to teach her!” Dad whispered again.

I was starting to get worried. Something was up.

“There’s not enough time!” a new voice whispered. It was a boy's voice, and not one I had heard before.

I wanted to creep up the stairs to see who was there with my father. It wasn’t every day that we had kids in the house in the middle of the night. Heck, it never happened.

But just as I took a step up the stairs, the lights shut off above me. I immediately froze.

From upstairs, I heard someone say, “Well crap.”