The Thirteenth Read online

  The Thirteenth

  A girl, a Number, a Destiny...

  THE FIRST BOOK IN THE THIRTEENTH SERIES

  by

  G.L.Twynham

  Details of copy right;

  Copyright © 2009 by G.L.Twynham

  The moral right of the author has been asserted

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Cover design by: J.Davey/G.L.Twynham

  All rights reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, Stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior Permission in writing of G.L.Twynham, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser

  ISBN: 978-1-907211-13-3

  www.thethirteenth.co.uk

  [email protected]

  Tel:01673 849 813 Media Contact.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated with love to:

  Chyna and Jason for inspiration and patience,

  Mum and John for believing,

  Paula and Lucy for listening,

  Paul and James for making me dream big dreams,

  & Chris for the magic.

  Thank You

  CHAPTER 1

  The Tattoo

  A young woman stood alone looking up at the night sky, a cool breeze effortlessly caressing her slim frame as darkness closed around her. At long last it would be her turn to be part of something that had been her destiny since birth.

  She moved on, passing the pond; she caught her reflection in the water and smiled. The time had arrived; the moon had reached the tops of the trees. On this particular evening, the shadows of the dense woods, mixed with the bruised sky made the adventure that lay ahead seem all the more exciting.

  As she left the village behind and made her way into the woodland, her body filled with anticipation. She began to run.

  Knowing instinctively where to go, she weaved like a needle in and out of the undergrowth, dodging the trees as if they were merely smoke trails rising in front of her.

  She was moving swiftly when an unfamiliar sound suddenly stopped her dead in her tracks. A strange crackling in the air made every hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Something was very wrong. She span around, trying to find where it was coming from, but soon realised it was everywhere. Then, as suddenly as it had started, it stopped.

  She had cautiously started to move forward again, when the silence was shattered once more by another wave of sound. In the confusion, her foot caught under a loose tree root, causing her to fall awkwardly into a pile of leaves. Before she had time to stand up, she heard violent screams coming from the distance. These weren’t joyful cries; the cries of pleasure and happiness she had been expecting. These turned her blood cold and left her paralysed where she lay on the wet forest floor, her heart pounding.

  After a few seconds, she gathered enough courage to slowly lift herself up and move forward again. She was suddenly very frightened, aware of the risk she was taking just by being there. She darted to an old oak tree, hiding for a moment in the shelter of its huge trunk. Cautiously, she edged around it. Everything was quiet again so she leant the top half of her body out, to see if it was safe. In that split second a ball of light came towards her, travelling at amazing speed and growing as it came, until it seemed to be the size of a mountain. When it hit her, its power engulfed her whole body and she was instantly lifted off the ground. She screamed helplessly as it raised her into the treetops.

  Her ears filled with a piercing noise, like nothing she had ever heard before. Her whole body felt like it was burning up, yet still she kept rising and rising, until she was high above the trees.

  Then the light and noise stopped as quickly and as it had started. Her upward flight came to a violent halt, and she began to fall. As she tumbled through the trees, the thick branches scratched aggressively at her clothes and face. The ground came towards her at terrifying speed. The scream that was struggling to escape her was silenced when she hit the ground with tremendous force. Her body filled with pain, the taste of warm blood filled her mouth, and she slipped into unconsciousness.

  Sweat covering her face, Val Saunders snapped upright like one of those cheap Chinese dolls that only bends in the middle, as she woke from yet another crazy nightmare.

  “This has got to stop,” she thought. She had been suffering from these dreams for a few weeks now, each one growing in intensity. After several repetitions of the same nightmare, Val was trying to deduce who this strange woman was. She could tell by the wooden houses and the lack of hygiene that the images in her dream came from several centuries earlier. What Val couldn’t understand was that she seemed to be able to feel, hear and see everything the woman was going through, as if it was actually happening to her.

  Val had given herself a checklist to try to rationalise this. In her dreams, the woman had bare feet and was wearing a long sackcloth dress. Her head was covered by a hood attached to a floor length cloak. Val knew she wouldn’t be seen dead in a dress, she wouldn’t wear a wizard’s cloak and open toed sandals weren’t allowed within two miles of her very ugly feet, so bare feet would definitely be out of the question.

  What she genuinely couldn’t understand was why this was happening to her. Although now wasn’t the time for a full analysis, she was sure of one thing: it was very real, because this morning, as on all mornings after the dream, she could feel deep pain in her upper left arm.

  Making her way to the bathroom, she bumped into her mum.

  “Are you excited honey? One day to go. I can’t wait for your party tomorrow,” Susan said squeezing Val vigorously.

  Susan Saunders was a petite woman with a mass of jet-black hair, that now had flashes of grey in it. Val often joked that she looked like the bride of Frankenstein’s monster.

  “Yes, I can’t wait either,” Val smiled pulling out of her mother’s grip and backing into the bathroom. The smile was wiped off her face when she saw her reflection in the mirror.

  These dreams made such a mess of her hair; she looked like a teenage troll. As Val started untangling the unruly dark brown mass that matched her eyes, she thought it needed cutting, but who had time to sit for an hour while some strange woman told you all about her last client’s terrible bowel disorder?

  She headed back to her room to get dressed. Preferring the casual look, Val jumped into her jeans, sweater and pumps and headed down for breakfast.

  As always, Susan had made far too much. Sometimes Val wondered if her mum had wanted fifteen kids not just one. Her dad was sitting chewing on a piece of bacon, a greying mop of brown hair sticking over the top of a book as normal.

  Val ruffled his hair. “Hi Dad. Anything good?”

  He grunted and she understood this to mean ‘Yes, if you get excited about how buildings are put together’.

  Mike Saunders was a reputable builder and although he was a great dad, he was also the most mind-numbingly boring person to get into a conversation with. Watching paint drying would be fun compared to being trapped in an elevator with him. Val filled her plate with bacon and a few slices of toast and sat down to eat.

  “Are you looking forward to starting your summer job today?” Mike asked, lowering his book and smiling at Val. “What is it you’re doing again?”

  “I told you, I’m working in a bookshop, Dad,” she answered.

  “Any particular reason for that choice?” her father enquired.

  “Yes, because I have a deep passion for the classics, and the stunt woman’s position was filled,” she said cheekily.

>   He frowned and she quickly became more serious.

  “To be honest, Dad, I’m not really sure.” She fumbled with her bacon. “I think I’ll be able to cope. I’m just glad to have got a job round here.”

  Val had been fortunate to find a summer job in the nearby town of Arcsdale, just a short bus ride away. Although working in an antique and first edition book-shop didn’t scream out, ‘I want to meet new and exciting people,’ it fitted Val’s personality like a glove. She was certainly not attracted to the position by the money, but she had seen the opportunity for a peaceful summer blending into the wallpaper of existence before deciding what to do with her life.

  Val had known from a very early age that she didn’t want to be popular, she was just happy being Val. Her school reports had always said “hard worker but keeps herself to herself”, never “popular, makes friends easily, will be missed”.

  Finishing her breakfast, she got up and placed a kiss on her dad’s forehead.

  “Here you go,” Susan said, handing Val a huge bag containing the lunch she had made for Val and her fourteen imaginary siblings, then kissing her on the cheek.

  Val took the bag, pretending to sag under its weight.

  “The day will come, Valerie Saunders, when you will be grateful for the food I prepare for you,” Susan laughed, wagging her finger at her daughter.

  “Ah, now I know who packed lunch for Jesus the day he fed the five thousand,” Val grinned, dancing out of range as Susan made as if to swipe her with the a towel.

  Val laughed all the way down the hall, grabbing her jacket as she passed the coat stand. Opening the front door, she called back, “Bye, I love you both.” Swinging the door shut with a resounding crash, she set off for what she hoped was the first of many uneventful days.

  Stepping off the bus, Val had a short walk to her new job and, as she strolled along the path, she allowed the warmth of the day’s sun to embrace her. She stopped and closed her eyes for a few short seconds raising her face towards the sky and breathing in the summer air, attracting an amused glance from a woman who was coming towards her.

  As she opened eyes again, Val felt a shooting pain go down her left arm. “Not now,” she said aloud. Grabbing her arm she started to rub the patch; as she did, she felt a sharp burning sensation in the right side of her head.

  She felt uncontrollably driven to spin around and look in the direction of the pain. That’s when it caught her eye. Across the street was a tattoo parlour; your typical dive, or so Val thought. There were several bikes parked outside and men and women loitered on the pavement. It was not a place Val would normally frequent, but today was different. Nothing was going to stop her from crossing the street to investigate.

  She moved swiftly towards the window, her eyes transfixed by an image that she couldn’t remember having seen before, but something in her gut told her she had a connection with it.

  Val’s reached a hand out to touch the glass that separated her from the image. Then, all of a sudden, she felt a presence behind her. It threw her and the image in the window into shadow. Her heart banging with fright, she turned, and found herself facing a very broad chest. Slowly Val looked up into the eyes of a very tall man.

  “Can I help you?” he grinned.

  Val tried talking, but nothing seemed to be coming out of her mouth, other than “ah” and that really wasn’t what she wanted to say. She wondered if she could run away, but her legs were firmly rooted to the spot. “I’m Shane and this is my tattoo parlour,” he said slowly, as if Val wasn’t quite with it. He offered his hand and she shook it, thinking how small hers was in comparison.

  “If you ever want to come in please feel free.” Shane released her hand and started to walk off just as Val managed to get her voice back.

  “What is it?” she blurted.

  “Sorry?” Shane said turning back towards her.

  “What is that tattoo?”

  He pointed to the zodiac and she nodded. “That, my friend, is a zodiac circle.” Shane raised an eyebrow. “People say it bestows on the owner the power of the universe, to rule over all mankind and bend minds to your will.” Shane nodded at her with a completely serious face.

  “Really?” said Val dubiously, searching his eyes for the truth.

  “No, it just costs £50 and hurts a lot.” Shane laughed and walked off.

  Val was blushing; she could feel the heat in her cheeks. How could she have made such a fool of herself?

  Val knew that her parents would be devastated if she came home with an atrocity like that on her arm. So why did she feel so drawn to it even now as she walked away?

  Although seeing the strange image had allowed her to forget the pain in her arm for a few minutes, it was still there. She tried to push it to the back of her mind and started to walk briskly to work.

  On a bronze plaque on the splendid front wall of the bookshop, were etched the words ‘Established by Mr Wallace Frederick Gallymore 1945’. She imagined that the shop, like its owner, had looked the same since the beginning of time.

  Val rang the bell and waited patiently while Wallace slowly opened the door’s many locks. He seemed like a nice man although definitely elderly. Val wasn’t sure how old he was. She had made a bet with her mum that he was at least a hundred.

  “Good morning,” she wished him in a singsong voice.

  “Not on time; not a good start,” Wallace grunted.

  Val apologised as she moved past him, noticing that he smelt, as well as looked, a hundred. “The bus was delayed; I promise it won’t happen again.”

  Wallace huffed as he walked back past her. She repaid him with her famous please let me off smile.

  “Don’t make a habit of it. Now, I have to go away for an urgent meeting for the next few days so I need to trust you to run my business efficiently and with the same capability as you offered in your interview, Miss Saunders.”

  “Please, call me Val, Mr Gallymore,” she said in the hope that this would break the ice.

  “No thank you, Miss Saunders. Work is work and first names are for family only.” Wallace smoothed his perfectly groomed white hair with a crooked hand.

  “Yes, Mr Gallymore.” Val gave up at this point, knowing she was onto a loser.

  “You know what is expected of you. I have a very high turnover for an establishment of this calibre so prepare to be busy.” Wallace walked around her, eyeing her up and down. She felt like a soldier on parade.

  “Ready to go.” Val moved behind the high wooden counter pretending to bow. Ignoring her attempt at humour, Wallace passed her the biggest bunch of keys she had ever seen; she would need a new handbag if she was expected to carry these around.

  “Lock up at five p.m. exactly. The code for the alarm is sixteen forty-five. Can you remember that?”

  Val wondered if this was Wallace’s date of birth. “No problem,” she responded, unsuccessfully trying to choke back laughter.

  “No there won’t be,” he said in a very firm voice.

  Doing her best to compose herself, she wished him a good journey and told him not to worry, she was a very trustworthy person.

  Wallace nodded, and then walked out of the shop, looking behind him and giving her a look that said ‘set it on fire and I will find you.’

  As the bell rang behind him, Val felt the excitement of having her first paid summer job. Relieved that Wallace had gone, she let out a little squeal and she started spinning around like a very clumsy ballerina.

  Then it dawned on her she had just been dumped on, on her first day, in her first five minutes. She pulled the phone out of her pocket and called her mum.

  “Mum, he’s left me on my own,” Val whined. “Yes I know I will be okay, but what if something goes wrong?” She nodded as Susan gave her the responsibility talk. “Yes, I will call you if I have any problems. Okay, bye.”

  Feeling a bit better, Val put the phone back into her pocket. Her mum was right. What could possibly go wrong in a bookshop?

  As she m
oved up and down the aisles investigating, she noticed how deceptive the shop was from the outside. It was a true Aladdin’s cave and seemed to go on forever. The wooden counter seemed to melt into the shop and every shelf and door seemed to fit together perfectly, almost as if it was all from one tree. Val was sure that there must be ecological repercussions from the amount of wood that surrounded her.

  As she walked down the aisles, she passed her fingers gently over the top of the books. Suddenly she felt a sharp stabbing in her hand. When she looked down, she was shocked to see her finger resting on a book with exactly the same symbol as the one she had seen in the window of the tattoo parlour.

  She took her finger away, feeling quite unnerved to see the same image twice in one day. She reached forward to pick it off the shelf, but stopped when the silence was broken by a sharp, trilling sound. It was her mobile. She pulled it from her pocket, giggling to herself when she saw the name Delta flashing on the front.

  “Bonjour,” Val chirped, opening the phone.

  “Don’t be silly!” You don’t sound authentic at all. You would just be kicked out of France, no questions asked. Stop, while you still have some dignity left.”

  Val laughed and started to make her way back to the desk, where she could see if any customers arrived.

  “Now then, my British friend, how are you?”

  Val had missed Delta and her wonderful American accent so much. Delta Troughton was an exact replica of Barbie and had been Val’s best friend since her father had purchased a summer home that Val’s dad had built. It was just down the road from Val’s home so every summer holiday, Val and Delta spent time together. Slowly they had become inseparable summer pals.

  Val always felt a warm glow when she spoke to Delta; it was like being wrapped in your favourite blanket and eating marshmallow. She leaned on the till and asked, “OK, pretty princess, when are you getting your Yankee butt over here?”