The Fallen Stars (A Star Child Novel)

  The Fallen Stars

  A Star Child Novel

  Stephanie Keyes

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, places, or events is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  If you purchase this book without a cover you should be aware that this book may have been stolen property and reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher. In such case the author has not received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  The Fallen Stars

  Copyright © 2013 Stephanie Keyes

  All rights reserved.

  Paperback ISBN: 978-1-939590-02-2

  ePub ISBN: 978-1-939590-01-5

  Inkspell Publishing

  5764 Woodbine Av

  Pinckney, MI 48169

  Edited By Deb Anderson.

  Cover art By Najla Qamber

  You can visit us at www.inkspellpublishing.com

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. The copying, scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions, and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2013902794

  PRAISE FOR STEPHANIE KEYES AND THE STAR CHILD:

  “Stephanie Keyes is a wonderful voice for a new generation of YA readers. She has skilfully blended mythology and faerie-tale into an original and enthralling story. Pure magick! I’m looking forward to more.”-Helen Hart, author, The Black Banner

  "The main characters were wonderfully created, enchanting and loveable. I became submerged in a whole other world, a world of make believe and fantasy, a place where the outside world didn't exist. I found myself thinking about the story and the characters when I was away from the book, which I always think is the sign of a cracking book."-Kim Nash, reviewer, Stafford FM Book Club

  "This well-written and intriguing fantasy was a delight to read. It will appeal to all ages if you enjoy escaping into a land where anything can, and does, happen. At each twist and turn the plot carries you along, as Kellen discovers the truth about his past, present AND future. I can't wait to read the second novel in this series!"-Linn B. Halton, author, Touched By the Light and The Restaurant @ The Mill

  DEDICATION

  To my boys, you are my reason for everything good in my life.

  To Aaron, thanks for helping me create a real-life love story every day.

  PROLOGUE

  THE POWERFUL ONE

  Dusk crept up on the Irish countryside. Despite Cana’s anger at her brother, Lugh—anger over his inability to save herself and the rest of the Children of Danu from their imprisoned fate—the pristine beauty of the lush green hills, even as day faded into night, was not lost on her.

  Cana had once been a goddess, with extraordinary powers that could bring any man, mortal or immortal, to his feet. Arawn stole them from her. The bastard had sucked out of her body the only thing that had ever mattered to her, the one thing that Cana prized above all else: her beauty. When she and her brothers and sisters had been captured, they’d lost everything.

  When the St. James boy destroyed Arawn, the very lord that had forced all of them underground after a lost battle, Cana had expected both she and her family freed and her beauty restored. For a time, she’d actually championed St. James in her mind, though she’d never have admitted it. Cana didn’t believe in standing up for anyone other than herself.

  Still, when Arawn fell under the hand of Kellen St. James, the American teenager destined to save the world from darkness, she’d done little to conceal her joy. Perhaps now, the spell that Arawn had placed upon all of the Children of Danu would lift. Cana would like nothing more than to see the dreadful single eye in the center of her forehead disappear. Each of the Children of Danu had been cursed with a similar physical characteristic, a reminder of a weakness that he or she had demonstrated in his or her former life—though it seemed to Cana that hers was the worst.

  Why should she not have suffered from vanity? After all, she’d been hailed as the most beautiful immortal ever to roam Heaven or Earth. She should not be punished for supporting fact.

  Cana sighed. She wanted nothing more than to look into the mirror and see again two blue eyes resting on porcelain skin, not a single eye on the frog-like green skin that currently covered her body.

  But alas, when she peeked in the mirror, she still looked the same.

  She and The Children of Danu were enjoying their newfound freedom. Under the cloak of darkness, they had snuck out the past two nights and played all sorts of vile tricks on the mortals. It had been amusing, but in the back of Cana’s mind, she wondered when things would return to normal. Would she ever be able to go home? Would she ever look like herself again?

  Cana had come out this morning to hunt for the very herbs that she hoped would change her back, help her regain her splendor. Coming aboveground during the daytime had become a luxury that she couldn’t have indulged in freely under Arawn’s rule.

  Now that Arawn had been destroyed, his curse no longer forced her below the earth when the mortals were out of bed. Still, she wore a thick cloak that was effective at hiding her eye. She refused to tolerate humiliation resulting from any unwelcome stares by passing mortals.

  Movement in the road ahead made her halt. She pulled her cloak hood tighter around the sides of her face. In front of her, a man stepped out onto the path.

  Cana placed a hand to her throat. “You startled me, Wil’k.”

  “I don’t believe that for a minute,” the man called Wil’k said.

  Huffing, Cana continued then, passing him, unwilling to be deterred by his arrival. He had surprised her, and this unnerved Cana.

  “What brings you here?” she asked as she continued on, though truth be told she didn’t care.

  “I know why you have not yet seen your loveliness return.” Wil’k stayed in one spot, as though willing Cana to stop walking and return to him. She did just that.

  “What do you know?” Cana stared hard at him.

  “That we are still prisoners. Kellen St. James has the amulet that controls us all. He is closer than you think.”

  “I am listening, Wil’k,” Cana assured him, her interest piqued, all plans to dismiss him immediately brushed aside.

  “If we work together, we can bring him down, but it has to be done in a certain way. No random killing.” Wil’k sounded adamant.

  Cana drew back. “Random killing? Wil’k, how can you even suggest—”

  “I do not need to suggest anything, Cana. Your exploits from last night are proof enough,” Wil’k said, his voice managing to sound accusatory despite its even tenor.

  Cana sighed. How was she to know that the livestock would crush the men? “It was an accident.”

  “You do not care about anyone but yourself, Cana. Everyone knows that.”

  She raised an eyebrow, saying nothing. Cana had never particularly taken to Wil’k. He had developed an attitude while she, Cana, had retained her perfectly pleasant personality without fail.

  “Besides, if you kill the St. James boy, you’ll lose any chance at regaining your looks forever,” Wil’k said.

  “What is in it for you, anyway? Why would you care about my existence?”

  Wil’k glanced around, as if checking to make sure they weren’t being overheard. “Let us just say that I have a vested interest in what happens to the boy. But you…you could have your legendary beauty back. We
just need to get to Kellen St. James.”

  Cana sucked in a breath. “Keep talking.”

  CHAPTER ONE

  KELLEN—THE WEDDING

  The sun shone brightly on my Gran’s lawn in County Clare, Ireland. The combination of the sea air and the rain that had come down in a fine mist, even as recently as this morning, had washed everything clean. The purity of it burned my lungs with each breath, making me lightheaded.

  I’d dreamed about this day only last night. Imagining how it would be, how she would look. However, no dream could have prepared me for the day as it played out in real life.

  Calienta, my bride, walked down the hill toward me. Her gown flapped behind her in the breeze on the glorious October day. Despite the sun, the classic Irish chill to the air made me feel for Calienta in her sleeveless dress, its shimmering skirt covered in a million tiny gemstones.

  The wind tugged playfully at my longish brown hair that just reached over the collar of my suit jacket. It had grown during the months that we’d been gone. Yesterday, Calienta had insisted that I have it cut, so that everyone would see what a “cute guy” I was. At least that’s what she’d said.

  My best man and best buddy, Gabe, stood alongside me as Cali approached. “Kellen, I can’t believe you’re getting married. You’re like, only seventeen.”

  True. Most seventeen-year-olds wouldn’t have been getting married, but things with Calienta and me had never been normal.

  “She’s the one,” I said, sounding like a cliché from every cheesy romance novel ever written. Not that I read them. I was just guessing.

  However, my answer couldn’t have been more appropriate. There’d been little point in pretending that Calienta and I weren’t going to end up together. Especially when a prophecy that involved the pair of us decreed otherwise. Though I would have proposed to her without it.

  I’d gotten down on one knee, taken her hand, and asked her to marry me. It didn’t matter that I’d only reached my seventeenth birthday and she’d just turned four hundred and fifty last year. Truthfully, she didn’t look a day over eighteen. We were right for each other. We fit.

  Calienta could never have been described as the average girl. She was a goddess, a title that she’d been born into. Calienta planned to give up her immortality to be with me. She had voluntarily chosen to relinquish a shot at never-ending life for just a short blip of time. With me. Her father would be performing the ceremony that would change her into a mortal immediately after our wedding.

  Gabe whispered in my ear. “What’s up with her having only one name? That’s like…”

  Watching Calienta, I couldn’t speak as I half-listened to Gabe’s verbal vomit.

  “…Beyoncé.” He made this wondrous proclamation in his usual surfer-style vocal cadence. Although I would normally have laughed at the delivery of his words, he’d picked a terrible time and place.

  Trying for a measure of nonchalance, I inclined my head backwards and to my right slightly, rather than turning around to talk to him. The late afternoon sun temporarily blinded me. “Gabe, do you mind? I’m kinda in the middle of my wedding.”

  Even from my peripheral vision, I could tell that Gabe appeared contrite, lowering his head slightly as if in prayer. “Sorry, man. That was way uncool.”

  Moving back to my original position, I watched Calienta, who walked alone down the aisle. Her father didn’t accompany her, perhaps because they hadn’t attended many mortal weddings. She would have a last name soon enough. Before the day ended, she would be my wife. Calienta St. James.

  Calienta beamed at me. Her delicate veil, thin and made of lace, whipped around her thick locks. Braids ran through her hair in all directions, culminating in some sort of fancy creation with a poufy clasp in the back holding it all together. Calienta took my breath away.

  She reached the end of the aisle and came to stand directly in front of me. An involuntary smile lifted up the corners of my mouth as it shoved its way onto my face. Before she existed, I’d had nothing. Now I had everything.

  The vicar intoned the ceremony, giving a brief lesson before directing his attention to me. We’d opted for the shortest version of the ceremony. Only one part mattered to the two of us.

  “Kellen, repeat after me. I, Kellen, take you, Calienta,” Vicar Winslow said.

  “I, Kellen, take you, Calienta…” Good, one line down. I could catch my breath. Inhaling, I looked at the ground for a moment.

  Calienta’s simple ivory skirt lifted in the wind. Her ankle peeked out beneath, showing her pale skin in contrast to the stones on the gown that glistened in the sun. My gaze returned to my bride’s face. Calienta’s smile provided tacit encouragement.

  “To be my wife…” The vicar prodded me along, bringing me back from my reverie.

  Nodding, I repeated the phrase. “To be my wife.” Wow. I’m going to have a wife. Cool.

  Having a wife would be an entirely new experience, though Calienta herself had been in my life since I was six years old. I’d first met Calienta when we’d come to Ireland to visit my Gran. She had shown up with her father at the cove where I hung out one night. We’d immediately formed a connection.

  After that first meeting, I’d woken up alone on the beach, completely alone. I’d believed at the time that my meeting with Calienta had been a dream. When Gran told me that Calienta only existed as a local legend, a “Star Child,” I knew it had been a dream.

  I tried to forget about her when I went back home. Yet the memory of Calienta haunted me. After that, I’d dreamt about her every night for eleven years, without fail. Even when I’d been sent to boarding school in England at age eight and college at age fourteen, my early identification as a prodigy advancing me in school well beyond the norm.

  “To have and to hold from this day forward…” the vicar said, a bit of sternness in his voice.

  Clearing my throat, I repeated, “To have and to hold from this day forward.”

  Vicar Winslow glared at me. This guy seemed ticked off. Had anyone else noticed the short delays in my responses caused by my mental ramblings? Sneaking a glance, my gaze roamed over the small party of wedding guests.

  Brigid, Calienta’s mother, smiled. Lugh, Calienta’s father—who looked more like a California surfer than a god—gave me a thumbs-up. Gabe’s family, the Stewarts, sat apparently blissfully unaware of anything unusual about this gathering. Finally, I came to my grandfather, Alistair, who winked at me.

  The vicar cleared his throat. “For better or for worse…”

  Without hesitation, I brought my gaze back to Calienta. “For better or for worse.”

  “For richer or for poorer…”

  “For richer or for poorer.” How could I be any richer? I have the girl of my dreams, literally. I stared down into Calienta’s eyes.

  “In sickness and in health…”

  “In sickness and in health.” Can she get sick? Has she ever been sick? So many questions I’d need to understand the answers to.

  “Kellen?” I looked at the vicar, who’d spoken my name, and flushed. Caught daydreaming at my own wedding.

  Clearing my throat, I said the words. “To love and to cherish…”

  Calienta smiled. Our eyes connected and chills ran through me, as they always did, until a sudden crash of thunder forced me to raise my eyes to the sky. The air cooled instantly and in a matter of seconds I practically shook on the spot. The sky, which as recently as ten seconds ago had been uncharacteristically bright, now rapidly moved into pre-storm mode.

  Dark clouds roiled. The sea sounded like a hungry monster. It slammed against the rocks below and inched its way up the cliffs, though it should have been low tide. In front of my face, my breath hovered in the air like smoke. Goosebumps raised on my flesh under my suit. Some of the others in the group looked up at the sky, but otherwise no one appeared too bothered by the abrupt change in the weather.

  Dismissing the weather, I looked back to the vicar.

  “From this—” the vicar
began.

  The next voice that spoke seemed out of place, menacing, but with a girlish whine. “Sorry to interrupt, but there is little point in continuing this wedding. You will all be dying today anyway.”

  My eyes scanned the area until they fell upon a small woman who’d appeared behind the seating area. Hideous, she bore a single large eye in the center of her face. The intruder stood alone, wearing clothes which revealed way too much of her sickly green skin and unappealing wart-covered cleavage—kind of gross in a Yoda sort of way.

  In the blink of an eye, Lugh had positioned himself between this stranger and Gabe, Calienta, the vicar, and me. The muscles in his back seemed to strain through his suit. “Leave the mortals alone. They have nothing to do with this,” Lugh spat.

  His words jolted me and I looked at the other “mortals” in the group: Gabe’s family, Alistair, and Vicar Winslow all gave the appearance of being frozen in place, as if some sort of magick had locked them into a single moment in time and thrown away the key. Whether Lugh or this intruder had done this to them, I didn’t know.

  Gabe, however, had not been frozen. Neither had I, apparently, which perplexed me. Why were we still able to move around? Were we supposed to do something to help? Those questions faded into the background as a large army of faeries filled in behind Ms. Yoda.

  Lugh stood to his full height. With the mortals at risk, he had no need to hide his true identity. Easily ten feet tall, he continued to apply himself as a blocker between the group of would-be attackers and the altar where we stood.

  Looking around his legs, I searched the hostile faces, scrutinizing each one, looking for someone familiar. They were all members of the group known as the Children of Danu. The C.O.D., as I had taken to calling them, consisted of a family of gods and goddesses forced underground by their enemies and turned toward…well, I called it the Dark Side.