Daughters of Men: Prologue
April 1977
Forces stronger than hurricanes are at work in the Cape Fear.
For thirty-eight years, Lila has hidden her extrasensory abilities, creating a small life in the same coastal North Carolina city where she was born. But her nightmares have grown worse, her angels still haven’t learned Morse code, and raising a thirteen-year-old genius requires the kind of mental focus that Lila has never quite mastered.
Still, the abnormal seems fairly normal—until a strange young man appears and a new friend confides a shocking truth about her pregnancy.
Sal, on the other hand, has never attempted to hide. In his experience, humans do not see what they do not wish to acknowledge. He moves among them, identifying the aberrations as he always has, as he knows he must. This existence depends upon it. One choice made long ago, one decision born of guilt and fear, is now a secret he must protect—at any cost.
This paranormal-meets-science-fiction novel is Book 1 in the Daughters series. Paid subscribers have access to the entire book.
Wilmington, North Carolina—April 1977
My arm had gone numb a couple of blocks back, but that was a good thing. Mimi’s fingers weren’t cool or soft today. She’d hitched my hand up high and tight to her hip, and I didn’t like her skirt’s bumpy, see-suckers fabric. It was all puckery like her mouth.
She stopped and stood on her tiptoes; but everybody else kept moving. Feet kicked me, legs bumped me, and then a man’s bottom smooshed my cheek. I gagged at the smell of cigarettes and hot wool and he turned.
“Sorry, child!” His dark face drooped over his sweaty, buttoned-up shirt, but a speck of light sparkled near his ear and he smiled as my grandmother dragged me away.
I wasn’t sure why she was so mad. She hadn’t even seen the Push-Up dribble on my dress yet. I licked the last of the fruity stickiness from my mouth and rubbed my face on my shoulder before peeking up. Her hairdo was set in perfect swoops, and her lips were shiny and red—but when she was like this, her beauty was kinda scary.
She pulled me past a tall boy slurping a popsicle, and I ducked so I wouldn’t get slobber in my curls. She always liked to fancy me up for the parade, but it was so hot this year. I wished she’d let me wear shorts like the other kids. They had hineys in their faces, too, but they looked cooler. My new ankle socks were scratchy, bunched around my toes, and already gray from people’s shoes. I imagined my feet free and naked in my sandals and forgot to watch where Mimi was going.
My arm stretched wide as a lady pushed between us, but my grandmother jerked me in front of her and glared at the woman.
“So sorry!” the lady called out, but Mimi had already hauled me deeper into the maze of legs and heat.
I was starting to feel dizzy. What if I fainted and she didn’t stop? I grabbed her skirt with my other hand and kept going.
“Lilith Ann!” I felt her frown, but couldn’t look up. “Lila?”
A little white light popped in front of my nose. Hey, angel. I don’t feel so good.
“Lila, sweetheart, we’re almost there.”
The tiny light danced in front of me, and my eyes crossed.
“Here, honey…this way.” She pulled me between bodies and around feet, and suddenly I felt a hot breeze on my face. Her hands swept across my forehead and lifted my chin. “Better? You’ll be able to see all the floats now!”
My eyes focused, and the angel winked out of sight. I was standing on the curb, above a group of kids sitting with their bare legs stretched out into the street. No sitting for me, but at least my grandmother had found me fresh air and a good spot to watch the parade. I leaned back into the puff of her skirt and her fingers trailed up through my hair, twisting it into a bun. Maybe she wasn’t mad at me after all.
Once the parade started, I was so busy waving at all the Misses and Tiny Misses and the Shriners in their little zoomy cars that I’d forgotten about the heat. I laughed and covered my ears when the marching bands boomed past and clapped and cheered at the twirlers. I wanted to flip batons like that! And the horses! So beautiful with their high steps and smiling riders. The way they could snap around in figure-eights and rear up like that—I wanted to be a cowgirl!
“Look, Lila! The Azalea Belles are coming!” Mimi pointed down the block, and I bounced on my toes to see the frilly float.
The Belles! I wanted to be a Belle! They wore ginormous, poofy crinolines under candy-colored dresses and had fancy hair hanging in ringlets down their backs. They must’ve been picked because they were the prettiest girls in Wilmington, but I still wanted to ride that float and wave to all the little kids like me one day. They were famous!
“Isn’t she lovely?” My grandmother pointed at the Junior Miss Christmas waving from the red convertible passing in front of us. She glittered like a snowflake in her white dress—and I remembered the ice cream on mine. Mimi seemed happy now, but she hadn’t noticed my mess. Yet.
What I needed was water and a rag. What I had was drool and the hem of my dress. I turned and waved at the Belles with one hand, lifting my skirt with the other for a quick spit and rub. Luckily, my favorite flavor was orange and faded away enough to keep me from getting yelled at. I hoped. And I was a lot cooler with—Oh!
I dropped my dress. I’d flashed my panties at the Azalea Belles! Had they seen? Had everyone seen? Please no, please no, please! The Belles were still smiling and waving, and the people beside me were still cheering. And on the other side of the street, they were all smiley and waving, too—except for one man.
He was really tall, his frown easy to see over the crowd, and his curly hair was so blond it glowed in the sun. He reminded me of a picture in Mimi’s big Bible—one of the scary ones with shining, winged angel-men swooping down over the sinners frozen up to their eyeballs in Hell’s black ice.
My angels weren’t scary, but the ones in her Bible always looked that way to me. Like they didn’t care what happened to the people they were supposed to watch over.
He turned in a slow circle and goose bumps prickled my sunburn. I tugged Mimi’s skirt, but she kept waving at the Belles, their float nearly between the man and us.
What’s he doing? I blinked, but no sparkles. Angels? The man stopped. Is he bad? He turned his head toward our side of the street. Where are you? What is he…? I squinted, but didn’t see angels.
“Mimi!” I yanked her arm. “Mimi! Mimi!”
“Lilith Ann! Stop th—”
“That man—”
“Don’t point!”
“He’s—”
“Manners!”
The float stopped in front of us, and I jumped to try and see over it. Where was he? What was he doing? The girls were waving at me, but I couldn’t see! And all the whistles and cheers were too loud! Why wouldn’t she just look?!
And then, even in all that noise, I heard my grandmother say something that would’ve gotten me a mouthful of soap. It just wasn’t fair.