RYLEN (The Tangled Web Book 1) Read online

  CONTENTS

  Title ebook

  Copyright Ebook

  Thank You

  Intro

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Stay Tuned

  Also By

  RYLEN

  The Tangled Web Book 1

  By

  Morgan Wylie

  RYLEN: The Tangled Web Book 1

  Published by Red Cabin Publishing

  Spokane, WA

  Copyright © 2015 Morgan Wylie

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events; to real people, living or dead; or to real locales are intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and their resemblance, if any, to real-life counterparts is entirely coincidental.

  E-book edition 2015

  RYLEN edited by Maria Pease, The Paisley Editor

  Cover Art by Emma Michaels

  Thank You…

  Thank You, to YOU, the reader!!

  My husband, Steven. You inspire me, challenge me, and encourage me to be the best version of me I can be even when I struggle to remember who that is. You are my hero and my partner. You are your own badass and you are mine. Thank you. And to my daughter, you wanting to pursue your dreams at such a young age, continues to inspire me to keep pursuing my dreams. My family, you have been an incredible support and encouragement. I love you all.

  And my mom, for believing in me and actually reading and enjoying my books, lol. It means more to me than you know. I also appreciate the text comments as you read and the typo updates ;)

  To my critique partners and friends, Gaby and Kallie, your critiques, insights, challenges, and encouragements have been invaluable and I am a better writer and person because of it. #LoveWriteCreate all the way baby!

  To the #Dynamis crew, thank you for all the writing sprints and encouragement!

  To my beta readers: Tina, Barb, Jackie, Jessica, Jamie, and Julia R., thank you for your thoughts, opinions, excitement, and all the spreading the love that you do! You are my rock stars!

  The creative genius behind the face of this book: Thank you, Emma Michaels!!

  Thank you to my editor, Maria Pease with The Paisley Reader. Rylen wouldn’t be what it is without you! Your insights and knowledge of words are invaluable.

  Writing can be a solitary and lonely endeavor at times, but it doesn’t have to be. I am extremely grateful to have a team and community of people that can inspire me to be the best version of me as I continue on my journey, and that can help me make my book and my story the best it can be. THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart.

  “Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive!”

  Sir Walter Scott, Marmion, Canto vi. Stanza 17.

  Prologue

  At thirteen years old, Gracie Stevens was not about to waste was one of the few days of sun that Seattle, WA had seen this spring. She put on her light sweater with a tear in the sleeve, and her coveted crocheted hat that she found left at the park. Quickly she pulled on her old rubber boots that were a size too big, but she could tuck her leggings—the ones with only one hole in the knee—in to keep the spring air out. She crept across the cold, hard, chipping asbestos tiles to the doorway where she ever so quietly leaned out the frame and listened. No sounds of approaching steps reached her ears, so she quickly crossed back through the large sparse room she shared with eight other girls toward the windowsill. Slowly, she pushed up the heavy window pane. It took her a couple minutes to properly get her grip on the old window with peeling white paint. Quietly, she heaved it above her shoulders until it was wide enough for a small person to get through. She snuck out of her second story window and climbed down the fire escape with practiced ease. It was not the first time Gracie had escaped the doldrums of life in the girls’ home, and it probably wouldn’t be her last. She was thirteen after all, finally a teenager, and she needed to find her independence; however, most people mistook her for a nine or ten year old. She was petite and scrawny for her age. Her ribs could be seen through her thin rag of a shirt and her elbows and knees were knobby. She had lovely smooth, creamy skin with high cheek bones but her blue eyes were sunken and dull. Her hair was ratty, but short and straight so she was able to get the mats out most days with her own fingers. The color was best described as dirty blond, but somedays in the light it looked like it could be beautiful. She hadn’t always lived in the girls’ home; every now and then she received glimpses—memories—of a house, a mom and a dad. They were few and far between, fading even more in memory the older she grew.

  Once she reached the bottom of the fire escape, she did just that… escaped to find her freedom, even if it was just a few blocks away at the nearby neighborhood park. She could easily run away and try to make it on her own, but she always went back to the girls’ home because she had nowhere else to go. At least the home sheltered her from the elements and fed her—maybe not well, but it was something. Gracie started to run when she saw her best friend, Charlotte, already perched on a swing, gliding back and forth. Nice as it was out, this was Seattle and it could rain at a moment’s notice and she didn’t want to waste her freedom.

  A man was running with his little white furball of a dog at the far end of the park, and an older woman sat on one of the benches near the parking lot. Other than that, the park was practically a ghost town. It made sense, other kids would still be at school. Gracie got some learning; she could read and write at a base level and do basic math. It was homeschooling, if you could call it that—some school and in a home. Apparently it was enough for the state, but she wasn’t sure how it would help her when she was old enough to be on her own.

  But for today, Gracie was simply happy to see Charlotte.

  “Charlotte!” she yelled as she waved.

  Charlotte smiled and waved back at her. She lived on the other side of the park… the nicer side of the tracks, so to speak. They had met at the swings a couple summers ago and had become fast friends. Charlotte was eleven and went to the grade school not far from the park, but she hated it so she would skip when she felt like it. She live
d with her family, but it didn’t seem that they paid too much attention to her whereabouts or her school attendance. Last summer, Charlotte tried to rescue Gracie from the girls’ home and snuck her into her own house. Gracie stayed at Charlotte’s for two whole days before Charlotte’s parents found her and sent her back. It was awesome and worth the seclusion punishment.

  “Gracie! You made it,” Charlotte replied.

  “Of course, I did. You didn’t think I’d miss this sunshine or my best friend did you?” Gracie hopped onto the swing next to Charlotte. She began to pump her legs as she attempted with all her might to reach the sky.

  “Let’s fly!” Charlotte shouted as she too began kicking her legs to the front and then back behind her. Gaining momentum, she wasn’t far from catching up to Gracie’s height when she heard Gracie’s scream.

  “Gracie! What’s wrong?”

  Gracie said nothing, but garbled sounds came from her throat like she was choking. Their swings slowed down and Charlotte grabbed the chain of Gracie’s swing, jerking her to a stop. Gracie looked at Charlotte with eyes filled with terror, but she didn’t look like she was really seeing Charlotte. Her eyes looked like one of those spinning wheels of sparking colors seen on the Fourth of July. Gracie fell to the ground and curled around herself. Charlotte ran to her and tried to get Gracie to respond.

  “What’s wrong? Can you breathe? Are you choking?” Charlotte’s voice was full of panic and fear. She didn’t know what to do. She saw the old lady on the bench look their way.

  “Can you help us? Something is wrong with my friend!” Charlotte shouted.

  The old woman moved toward them, quicker than she appeared able to do. Charlotte looked at her with wide panicked eyes. “I don’t know what to do. She seems like she’s choking, but she didn’t have anything in her mouth. We need an ambulance. Do you have a phone?” Tears were falling from Charlotte’s eyes.

  “She will be fine. I promise,” the old lady said as she looked back into Charlotte’s eyes. “She is just coming into the fullness of her destiny. It is time.”

  “What? Are you nuts lady? She needs a doctor! Help! We need help!” Charlotte began to shout. But the old lady pulled little Charlotte down to the ground where she was kneeling beside Gracie. “Look,” the old woman snapped.

  Charlotte studied Gracie and saw that her shaking had subsided and color was slowly returning to her face. Her body relaxed right in front of their eyes. Gracie’s eyes shot wide open, and she sucked in a deep breath as if it was her first. Her eyes first found Charlotte and then landed on the old woman.

  “Who… who are you?” Gracie stuttered out, her voice hoarse and dry.

  “Oh Gracie!” Charlotte threw herself at Gracie and hugged her neck tight. “Are you ok? I was so worried, I yelled for help,” Charlotte said with short breaths as tears continued to stream down her face. She pulled away and pointed to the old woman still beside Gracie. “This lady came over to help. She said you were fine, but you were choking and shaking, Gracie,” Charlotte cried again. “I don’t think you’re fine. I think there’s something wrong with you!” On the verge of hyperventilating, Charlotte swallowed tightly and sat back on her legs, keeping one hand protectively on Gracie. “I want to go home. Maybe someone will be home to take you to doctor.” Charlotte was beside herself with worry.

  “I am your predecessor, Grace Stevens, and I am here to ensure you come into your destiny,” the old woman said confidently as she looked directly into Gracie’s wild eyes which were shifting between the old lady and her friend.

  “I didn’t tell her your name, I promise,” Charlotte said as she crossed her heart and shook her head.

  “What did you see, child?” the old woman asked searching Gracie’s eyes.

  “How did you know?” she asked with terror-filled awe.

  “Because I, too, can see, and now, it is your time.” The old woman leaned forward and touched Gracie’s forehead with her index finger.

  Charlotte just stood there with her mouth open and looked back and forth like she watched a ping pong tournament.

  “Ouch. You shocked me,” Gracie said as she touched the spot on her head the old lady had.

  “No, I passed the fullness of my gifts to you. Now, it is your turn to see. My time is finished.” The old lady continued to gaze into Gracie’s eyes as if she was peering into her soul. “Believe what you see. Trust the foresight you are given. They are visions; sometimes of the future, but sometimes of what has already happened. It will take some time to decipher what you see.”

  “I saw my death,” Gracie interrupted, her face deadpan with shock.

  The old lady nodded in understanding. “That happens. There are ways to prevent what you are shown. You have the power to change what could be if the right steps are set in motion. Sometimes it is better left alone and not meddled with. There is a fine line between redirecting paths and altering them. One is acceptable, and one is not. It is not for you to tell others of their destinies but to help escort them along the way.” The old lady, once alive with a vibrant and youthful spark in her eyes, was now suddenly dulled and wearing her age honestly. She looked around to ensure no one else approached them. “Remember, you are not a god, but a deliverer of the messages.”

  “But I saw myself die. I could feel it,” Gracie hiccuped and wrapped one arm around her middle and the other clutched at her neck.

  “Did the vision tell you what you should do? Or where you should go?” the woman asked.

  Gracie nodded reluctantly then glanced at her friend who was now sitting right next to her on the ground holding her own hands tightly. Gracie looked back to the lady with a question in her eyes.

  “There are ways, child. I can help before I go,” she said as she started to move toward Charlotte.

  “Wait, please,” Gracie whispered. She wrapped her arms around Charlotte and whispered in her ear, “Thank you for being my friend. I will always remember you. Live your life and be happy.” As soon as she released her, the older woman put her hand on Charlotte’s forehead. “Go home, Charlotte. Finish school and find a life that is happy and full of love.” Just like that Charlotte got up without another word and walked back toward her school and home, not once looking back.

  Gracie began to cry as her heart broke.

  “She will not remember any of this. I am sorry it has to be this way.” The old woman stood up and reached down for Gracie’s hand and pulled her up. “You must go where you will be protected. Do you know where that is?”

  “I saw him here in Seattle. I think I can find him. I can’t go home, someone will be there looking for me soon.” Gracie swallowed slowly and looked up at the woman.

  “You are born for this, Grace Stevens. It is who you are meant to be, and you will be given every ability to become her,” the woman said with a confident smile as she began to walk away.

  “But who is that? Who am I?” Gracie asked quietly fear engulfing her eyes, seeing the old lady leaving her alone.

  “The next Oracle, child.”

  The woman faded right before Gracie’s eyes until she was no more. Gracie stared at the spot where the old woman had last stood for longer than she should have. Suddenly feeling a panic in her chest, she knew she needed to find him and soon.

  ~~~~~

  Rain was dousing the area of Seattle once again, and after hours of walking around the city, Gracie looked like a drowned rat. Several times, she thought she’d found what her vision had showed her only to realize she had not. Gracie didn’t know exactly what she was looking for, but she followed a feeling in her heart. The sky was already dark from storm clouds, but night was beginning to fall and so was the temperature. She was cold, tired, and hungry. Her feet hurt and blisters had formed from her too-big-for-her boots rubbing against her heels. Just when Gracie didn’t think she could go much further, a tug inside her pulled her toward a large opulent hotel inside an historic building made of light brown cobblestones of various shapes and sizes. Even an old bell tower sat high
on the top of the roof. From across the street, she could see lights on inside through the windows and people milling about. Butterflies swarmed in her stomach. Could he be in there? Without thought, she ran across the street dodging scattered traffic and up to the double doors with large shiny brass handles. Gracie reached for one just as a man in a stark blue uniform with gold buttons and a silly-looking matching hat stepped out of a little closet cut out by the doors. A doorman. He eyed her carefully and with compassion. She had seen people look at her like that before and bile formed in the back of her throat. It was pity. It made her feel small and less. She didn’t need his pity, but she did want the warmth his building provided. She could almost feel it through the closed glass doors.

  “I’m sorry miss, but unless you have a room here I cannot allow you in,” the doorman said.

  Gracie frowned, but sighed.

  “There is a shelter not far from here,” he called after her, but defeated, she was already walking away.

  Gracie thought for sure that her instincts—or something—was pulling her to this very building. Curious, she walked around the building, and hesitantly peered into the alley. She wasn’t stupid, she knew bad things could happen in dark alleys, but this one appeared to be vacant. Her instincts screamed at her not to go down the dark, scary alley. But something else, something far more compelling prodded her forward. Hungry and weak, she couldn’t fight it… Gracie stepped into the alley, one step at a time. For such a nice hotel, the state of the alley was surprising. Garbage littered the ground, overflowing from the dumpster and the smell was almost unbearable, but she saw nothing that lend itself to what she saw in her vision. Distraught, she didn’t know what to do but find a box in the alley to cover her head and sit down while she figured out where to go next. Something near the end of the alley caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. An impression of a door was set into the stones of the building. To Gracie’s surprise, the outline of the door began glowing with a light that called to her. The door itself was hard to see to the naked eye if you were to just look at it; it was camouflaged the same as the surrounding exterior. A symbol of an hourglass was etched above the doorway. Gracie practically fell into what was revealing itself to be a hard, wide-planked wooden door. Her spirit lifted, but her body crashed with exhaustion. She knocked and sagged against the door until it opened inward and she fell into large strong arms.