Prologue
I always used to dream about being lost in the woods. I was having difficulty walking over the rugged earth trying to keep up with my older sister Carrigan. She looked back at me every now and then to make sure I was still there, I suppose. But there were people in front of her and she was trying to keep up with them. And then there was a noise. And the boy said something teasing like, "That's a bear. It's going to come and eat all you little girls."
For some reason I was fascinated by this dream. It seemed too real for merely a dream. I'd often wondered if it had actually happened. But at no time in my life could I think of a time for me and Carrigan to possibly have become lost in the woods. We lived in the suburbs, and we had no family in rural areas, and my parents weren't the sort to vacation in places like that, either.
I asked Carrigan about it once and she said she didn't know what I was talking about. One of life's mysteries, I guess.
I loved mysteries. I loved figuring out how things worked, how people worked, how things came to be. Instead of watching MTV and WB like other girls my age I watched the History Channel and Court TV. History's Mysteries and I, Detective were my favorites. That made me weird, I guess. Not that I cared. Really.
There were a million and one mysteries in my house, for instance. Carrigan was only my half-sister, and we weren't allowed to ask about her mother. Well, I should say 'weren't allowed.' If either of us did, my parents changed the subject. Why, I had no idea. Why my mother didn't like to be touched and I don't remember her ever hugging me; that was another mystery. And above all, where my name came from.
Anastacia Angelique Morrow. Or just "Anastacia Angelique." I loved my name. I had tried in vain to get everyone at school to call me Anastacia, but it was Stacey my parents had dubbed me with and it was Stacey I was stuck with. But Stacey suited me better. Anastacia Angelique was such a lovely name and it was wasted on an ordinary girl like me.
My sister Carrigan however was all but ordinary. She was beautiful. Her face had diminutive features and large dark green eyes which were complimented by her bronze skin. But it was her hair that really got her noticed. In the summer it appeared a fiery array of orange and red, and in winter it became a ruby so deep it almost appeared black in low light.
I was my father's daughter. The same light brown hair, the same light green eyes, and the same complexion that was just dark enough not to freckle. However I had my mother's build and similar facial features. I was pretty enough, but no beauty like Carrigan. Not that I minded.
I had that dream again. The one where I was walking in the woods with Carrigan and two other people. I was sure there were at least two others, but I doubted there were more. The dream always made me feel sad. Like childhood was getting farther and farther away, escaping me more every day.
I sat upright. It's my birthday. I'm twelve.
I thought so anyway. I glanced at the clock. Twelve-thirty-two. Yep. I was twelve. This was a birthday I'd been looking forward to for a long time. This was the birthday I was officially in my teens. Since eleven is still a little girl's age. And I was a little girl no longer.
I wanted so badly to wake Carrigan and tell her, but she'd just tell me I was being an idiot, that it was nothing to get so excited over, and to go back to sleep. I wondered if I would be like that when I was fifteen. Somehow I doubted it.
I layed back down. There was no reason to stay awake. But I was too excited to sleep. After tossing and turning for a bit I glanced again at the clock. Twelve-forty-five. I sighed. I was never going back to sleep.
I stood and walked to the dresser, intending to grab the book I was currently reading and head out to the living room so I wouldn't bother Carrigan. I didn't really need to worry. Carrigan slept like the dead. The only thing that ever seemed to wake her up was the light. She's a vampire, I mused. I smiled at the thought.
I'd just grabbed my book when something caught my eye. The edge of a picture sticking out of one of Carrigan's keepsake boxes. She had about four of them stacked up on the dresser.
I knew I shouldn't look because that would be like going through her things and she did not like people going through her things, but curiosity got the better of me. If I were a cat I'd be long dead, me and all my nine lives.
Stealing a quick glance at Carrigan I gently opened the box and took the picture out, trying to make out the details in the dim light. My eyes widened in surprise. The girl in the picture looked so much like Carrigan, but she was…different. It wasn't that old of a photo, but it had been done in sepia tones. The girl was young, no older than Carrigan was now. The same eyes, similar face, same build, and hair that looked a few shades lighter than Carrigan's.
Could it be…
I turned the picture over to look for a name. And there was one in the right hand corner.
Anastacia Angelique Roberts 1982.
"What…"
It was Carrigan's mother. It had to be. It looked too much like her to be anyone else. But Anastacia Angelique? Was that her name? Was I named after her? But that didn't make any sense…
I quickly put the picture back and went to the living room, turned the light on, and sat with my book open. But I didn't read a word. Again and again my mind came back to the picture with my name on the back.