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SEER'S CHOICE (Book Three of The Seer Trilogy)

Ryley has traveled across worlds and discovered his soul mate living in the Earth town of Seaview... his mother's hometown. Watching Rowan from afar is one thing, but actively interfering in her destiny? That's against "the rules" in so many ways—especially when your mother is the most powerful Sehan in Dayamaria, and your grandmother happens to be a goddess. If anyone discovers where he's been disappearing to—and why—there'll be big trouble. But he can't give Rowan up, especially now her strange powers have spun dangerously out of control. And when Dayamaria is threatened by a deadly predator immune to magic, Ryley must choose between the woman he loves and the people he left behind.

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Copyright 2013 by Maree Anderson

Published by Maree Anderson

License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy.

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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SEER'S CHOICE (BOOK THREE OF THE SEER TRILOGY)

By Maree Anderson

PROLOGUE

He was so deep in thought he didn't notice he'd reached the water's edge, and continued strolling across the surface of the deep pool. Romana snatched the opportunity to observe him with impunity. The object of her scrutiny had shaggy, sun-streaked blond hair. He was tall and tanned, with muscles in all the right places. Aside from his startling golden eyes he could have blended with the crowd on any popular surf beach. Pity Dayamaria didn't have any surf beaches. Or any beaches at all, for that matter.

Mid-way across the pool he paused, brow furrowed, obviously struck by some insightful revelation, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from giggling. He muttered something beneath his breath and then sighed as he stretched the kinks from his spine. Because she was only human she admired the peep-show of washboard abs as his tattered t-shirt crept up, flashing his bare abdomen. She'd had a slight teenage crush on Marc when they'd first met, but those days were long gone. Now she valued their friendship above all else. Besides, a couple of decades ago she'd pretty much ensured Marc was romantically unattainable by accidentally killing him.

He clasped both hands behind his back and performed a pretzel-like contortion that made her wince. "You're such a show-off," she grumbled, making sure her voice carried.

He untangled himself and straightened. "Hey, babe," he drawled. "Didn't see you there."

"Yeah. Kinda got that."

His brows creased at her sour tone. "What's up? Hopian giving you a hard time about something again? Want me to have a word?"

"You're doing it again." She snapped her fingers at his feet.

Marc stared at her, uncomprehending, and then cast his gaze downward. The instant he realized where he was standing he began to sink. "Shit."

She snickered. "You really need to watch where you're walking."

A flush stole across his cheekbones. "It's all right for you," he said. "You've got your powers under control. I'm still learning mine."

Her snort was too soft for even him to catch. If only he knew the truth.

He floundered for a few moments in the now shin-deep water, and then cast a pleading glance her way. "Any suggestions?"

"Prepare for a dunking."

"Gee. Thanks heaps." He screwed up his face—a picture of fierce concentration—and rose to the surface of the water again. Then he tip-toed gingerly to the bank and morosely contemplated his sopping wet sneakers.

"Would you like me to—?"

His shoulders sagged with relief. "Please."

He opened his mind to her but allowed her to draw the merest trickle of power before he slammed up an impressive mental barrier and shut her out. She didn't take offence. Marc was a god, and despite their friendship he wouldn't risk her drawing too much power from him. They both knew how thoroughly the lure of unlimited power could corrupt those who'd had a taste of it. She concentrated, fine-tuning her will until steam rose from his wet footwear.

"Thanks," he said when she'd finished drying his sneakers to her satisfaction. "If I'd tried that myself I'd probably have set light to myself or made them explode. I'm always overdoing things. Wisa says I lack finesse."

Laughter bubbled to her lips but she hurriedly swallowed it when she noted the distress grooving harsh lines on his face. "Is it really so hard for you?" she asked.

He slumped and heaved a gusty long-suffering sigh that tugged her heartstrings. "Wisa assures me I've only got a few more millennia of lessons to catch up on before I know everything I need to about being a god."

"Marc. I—"

"Don't sweat it, babe. Godhood has its compensations. For example—" he eyed her in a lazy, half-unfocussed fashion "—I know you're wearing red undergarments. Hot stuff. Color suits ya, babe."

Too late she halted her instinctive reaction to cover her breasts and groin with her hands. He caught the movement and leered at her but she could tell his heart wasn't in it.

"You're impossible." She punched him on the arm. Hard.

He rubbed his biceps. "Didn't anyone tell you you're supposed to revere your gods, not bruise them?"

She stuck out her tongue. "What are you going to do? Put me over your knee?"

"Unh unh." He shook his head. "Too risky. Hopian might take it the wrong way. And as much as I'd love to experiment with chastising you in a suitably godly fashion, I'm not willing to risk that, either. Too many weird things could go wrong."

"It'll get better." She ruffled his hair until he batted her hand away.

"Yeah. Shikari's pleased with my progress at least. Reckons I should be safe to take on my full powers in no time. Like, in a couple of centuries or so."

Romana bit her lip. Shikari was a grounded, solid sort of a god—the antithesis of his male sibling, the mischievous, smart-mouthed Kunnandi. And Shikari never gave praise lightly. Marc must have been working his butt off and then some. "Well that's good, isn't it? Two centuries will fly by for you."

"I dunno. Kunnandi keeps insisting Shikari doesn't know what he's talking about. And I'm never sure when Kunnandi's serious or when he's being sarcastic."

"Marc?"

"Yeah, babe?"

She had to smile at his insistence on using Earth-style slang. Marc would always be a born and bred Earth-boy at heart—much to Wisa's everlasting despair. As the only female of the four deities, Wisa considered it her duty to nag her siblings about displaying at least a modicum of decorum in public. The Elder Gods, Shikari and Kunnandi, paid attention some of the time, but when it came to convincing Marc to act like a god, Wisa hadn't had much success.

Marc waited patiently for her to get around to voicing her thoughts. Romana knew he could have read her mind but aside from being highly rude, he valued their friendship too highly to resort to such tactics. "I'm glad you're still... you," she finally said. "I couldn't have lived with myself if you'd changed."

"No chance of that, my lovely." He waggled his eyebrows and while she was busy being impressed by their antics he goosed her butt.

She squealed, slapping at his hands. "Hands off or I'll tell Hopian."

"Oooh. I'm sooo scared!" He mimed fainting at the prospect of her Sehani life-partner coming after him. "Now I've got your attention, will you stop distracting me so I can tell you why I asked you to meet me here?"

She rolled her eyes skyward. "My abject apologies, oh great Fourth God of the Dayamari." She added a florid genuflection just to rub it in. "Please impart your gem of wisdom and enrich my impoverished intellect." And she finished her little display by prostrating herself at his feet.

"Yeah. Yeah. All right, smartass, you win. Have you quite finished?"

She peered up at him and fluttered her eyelashes. "Actually...."

"What?"

"Have you thought about changing your name?"

"Why the heck would I do that?"

"Ohhh." She covered her face with her hands and pretended to cringe. "I knew I shouldn't have brought it up. Now I've offended you."

"Cut the crap. You know you can tell me anything."

"If you insist." She fussed with her clothing, drawing out the moment. "I've always thought the name 'Marc' is a bit common. It doesn't seem godlike enough. Even Chryss was only a shortened version of his true name, Merchryssi. Perhaps you should consider changing your name to something more imposing. Like... Balthasar. That's got quite a ring to it."

He gawped at her. "Balthasar? You cannot be serious."

"What do you think?"

He blinked, and then flung himself on the ground next to her. "You win again," he said.

"I win what?" she asked.

"The game we always play to put off discussing any of the serious stuff."

"Ohhh. That game." She climbed to her feet and wandered off to sit on a large rock and hug her knees—defensively, Marc thought.

 "Listen up, sweets," he said. "I don't hold a grudge about what you did. It was two decades ago for gods' sakes. You were high on power and totally out of control. You didn't mean to kill me."

 She sniffed and gave a watery-sounding chuckle. "And that's supposed to make it all better? Because it was merely manslaughter instead of murder? Right."

Marc ignored the weak attempt at sarcasm. He had a shot at putting the past to rest once and for all, and he didn't want to blow it. "Thanks to your brother and your mom resurrecting me, I was given a second chance at life. And I made my choice. I chose to take Chryss's place. I wasn't forced to do it. And although it hasn't been easy—" he even dredged up a wry smile "—I know I did the right thing. I couldn't have lived happy ever after with Merryn knowing what Chryss had to give up. He'd sacrificed too much already and he'd only just found Kirstyn. They deserved a chance."

She slanted him a gaze from beneath her bangs. "Are you sure? You really loved Merryn. Because of me you'll never be together."

He rubbed his nose. Why was this still so hard to admit even to himself? "I've Seen the most likely future I would have had with Merryn. We wouldn't have lasted. We'd have made each other miserable." Ain't that the truth.

"But you were so much in love!" Her big eyes conveyed shock and disbelief.

"Yeah. But it takes more than passion to make a relationship work for keeps."

She must have caught his thinly veiled allusion to her relationship with Hopian for her cheeks went pink. "True. You know what, Marc?"

He pretended to examine his cuticles. "Yes—if I could be bothered reading your mind."

Her answering eye-roll and exasperated huff were exactly the kind of reactions he'd hoped for. He exhaled slowly and silently, releasing the tension. It was going to be okay.

"I was about to say you're pretty insightful for a self-involved young puppy who acts like he's the gods' gift to women."

He mock-gasped. "You mean I'm not the gods' gift to women?"

She shook her head, biting her lips to keep from laughing. "Not even close."

"Gutted!" He flopped backward, moaning as he draped an arm over his eyes. "What'sthe point of godly powers then?"

When she'd quit laughing at his antics he scooted over to sit next to her on the rock, and got down to business. "I asked you here because your brother's causing me a bit of a dilemma. Seems he's gotten so damn powerful he's found a way to skip back and forth between worlds without causing himself lasting harm."

"Shikari's hairy paws!"

Marc snorted inwardly. Good try. She'd sounded almost convincing."Dayamaru is the most pathetic language for swearing," he said. "Why don't you resort to our native English? Just say fuck and be done with it."

"Hopian doesn't approve of me swearing in English. He hates not knowing what I'm saying when I'm insulting him."

"You two are so well matched it's frightening. Look, Romana, this is serious stuff. No Sehan has ever been able to do what Ryley's done. Not even your mother."

"We all knew very early on he'd outstrip Mom," she said. "So this is hardly new and surprising."

"Perhaps this, then. One guess which world Ryley's chosen to make these regular little visits."

She wriggled and fussed with her clothing as her gaze slid from his. "Um, I have no idea."

"Earth. And it gets worse."

She paled and swallowed, had to clear her throat before she could speak. "H-how much worse?"

"After sojourning all around our former home-world and doubtless having a great old time sampling all manner of exotic treats, he's fallen for a woman hailing from a little place called Seaview."

Her thoughts came through loud and clear. She was making no attempt to veil them. Shock could do that.

Seaview. Her mother's hometown. Her own hometown. A town that figured largely in Marc's past, too, considering that's where his parents had retired to.

Seemed Ryley had never gotten around to telling his sister whichtown he'd been visiting. "Fuck." She moaned and buried her face in her hands. "What the hell was he thinking?"

"My thoughts exactly," Marc said. "Better warn your brother Wisa's looking for him. And I'm not going to be able to put her off for much longer."

~~~

CHAPTER ONE

Rowan's vision shimmered. Her mind filled with hazy images. Crap. Not now—please! Her hands shook as she carefully replaced her cup on the saucer. She fixed her gaze on a smudge on the wall and tried to blank her mind. Breathe. Just breathe. In and out. In and out. That's it....

Didn't help.

Slowly, carefully, she pulled her focus from the smudge to glance around the café and gauge her chances of escape. Might be a better option to stagger outside than stick it out here. Either way, chances were high she'd be making another public spectacle of herself.

Her vision fogged and the café patrons blurred. And then it was too late to choose. She'd have to stay put and ride it out. Maybe this time no one would notice.

She curled her fingers around the seat of her chair and held on tight as jerky images flecked with odd-shaped spots flickered through her mind. It was like watching an old black-and-white movie through a camera lens that needed a good polish.

The "movie" slowed. Some images wavered and then scattered. The others faded. She released the breath she'd been holding, pried her numb fingers from the sides of her seat and flexed them to get the blood circulating again. And she'd even been foolish enough to dare to believe it was over when one fading image abruptly sharpened and flared into full blazing Technicolor.

She bit back a whimper. Don't look. Don't look. No one will die this time if you don't look. If you don't see it, it'll have no power.

Inevitably, the tragedy unfolded in her mind. On the floor of a kitchen Rowan had never seen before, a woman she had never met lay dying. A phone receiver dangled above her, ceaselessly beeping a disconnected call signal. The woman couldn't speak but her mouth worked, struggling to get the words out. And Rowan heard her thoughts.

Please Lord, please let her get here soon. I want to say goodbye to her. Please! Tears trickled down her wrinkled cheeks. And Rowan felt the hot tears spilling down her own cheeks.

As though she was actually there, inside the woman's house, she heard a key in the front door and footsteps rushing toward the kitchen.

"Mom? Mom!"

Through the old woman's rheumy eyes, Rowan watched a younger woman kneel to clutch her age-spotted hand.

"Mom? Can you hear me? Mom!"

Heather. Thank you, Lord.

Rowan heard the thought, felt the old woman's relief that her daughter had arrived. Now she could let go. Now she could die. She had only one regret—that it was too late to tell Heather how much she loved her. So Rowan helped her say it, mouthing the words she heard, sending the thought and the emotion the dying woman was no longer able to convey directly into Heather's mind.

I love you, Heather.

The woman stared into her mother's fading eyes. "I love you, too, Mom. I called the ambulance before I left. The EMT will be here soon. Just hang on. Please!"

Both Rowan and the old woman knew it was too late. Her heart stuttered. Her chest rose one last time. And Rowan's world went black.

~~~

The sharp prick of a needle piercing her skin jerked Rowan to consciousness. She pried open her eyes to gaze at the medic through a blurry golden haze. Everything lurched as she was lifted. She squeezed her eyelids shut against the onset of dizziness and the nightmare pounced.

She stood at her front door, hand outstretched, keys dangling from her fingers. A powerful sense of dread crawled down her spine. Something awful had happened, she knew it.

Before she could unlock the door it swung open. She crept inside and plastered her back against the wall, waiting for her eyesight to adjust to the darkness. And then she systematically checked each room of the small, tidy residence. Nothing had been disturbed. So far as she could tell not a single item was out of place. Her mind was playing tricks on her.

She switched on the bedroom light and stood blinking in the harsh light.

Her husband lay on the bed. Harrison's eyes were closed, his handsome face serene, his hands clasped across his stomach. Blood spattered his crisp white shirt. It soaked the bed. So much blood.

A blink and she was standing by the bed with no recollection of having moved. She stared down at Harrison. A hand—her own—reached down to check the pulse at his neck.

His eyelids flew open. One hand snaked out to manacle her wrist and he smiled up at her. There was so much love in that smile. "Rowan, darling," he said. "Don't. It's too late."

She crumpled to her knees.

"I'm sorry, darling, but this was the only way. I wanted to die with dignity. I knew you wouldn't help me when the time came. You're strong, determined—a fighter. You would have fought the inevitable to the very end."

His cultured English voice pierced her heart as surely as a blade. "I know it's the coward's way out but I've never been as strong as you. I couldn't stand the thought of more treatments. And for what? A few more months of either fighting the pain or being spaced out of my mind on drugs? We both knew it was useless. And I couldn't bear the thought of being incapable of making love to you, too weak to even hold you in my arms. Don't blame yourself, darling. It's not your fault. It's not your fault. It's—"

Your fault!

She swam up from the murky depths of her nightmare. Her cheeks stung. Her skin felt raw. She'd been crying in her sleep again. She reached up to wipe her face but her arm felt cumbersome and heavy. She jerked fully awake and realized she was lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to one of those automatic blood-pressure monitor things. Hospital. Wonderful. How much of a spectacle had she made of herself this time?

The stark white tiles of the hospital ceiling gave no real answers. She shifted to ease the dull ache in her back and winced. Her body felt as bruised and battered as her soul.

The curtains around her cubicle yanked back without a by-your-leave. A harried-looking doctor stalked to the chart hanging at the foot of the bed without even registering that she—his patient—was fully conscious. Auburn hair framed a pleasant face sprinkled with freckles. Must be an intern. Good. Should be able to talk him into discharging her no problems.

"When—?" It came out as a croak. "When can I go home?"

"Eh? Um—" He scanned her chart. "Ms Havers. You're awake. Wonderful. I'm Dr Kearney." He whisked around to the side of her bed and started doing doctor-ly things, like shining a little light into her eyes and checking her pulse.

"I—" She coughed painfully.

"Here, have some water."

"Thanks." Gratefully she took a sip through the straw and tried again. "I want to go home."

"There're more tests we'd like to do first. And I've a few questions I need to ask."

He had more than just a few questions. Rowan answered as best she could. She was painfully aware her answers were unsatisfactory but she could hardly tell the truth without him thinking she was a nut-job. By the time he'd finished with the inquisition she felt limp as a dishrag.

"There's nothing wrong with me," she said, and hoped she didn't sound like a mutinous child. "I fainted—no big deal. I've been working too hard lately—you know how crazy it can be at this time of the year. When can I go home?"

"Do you live alone?"

She'd nodded before it crossed her mind to lie.

The young doctor frowned at her. "Then I'd feel better if we kept you in overnight. Just to be on the safe side. I see from your records you've been admitted before with similar symptoms, so I'd like to investigate what's causing these blackouts. Okay with you?"

Too tired to muster a convincing argument Rowan gave in. "Okay. But only overnight. I'm going home tomorrow."

"Anyone you'd like us to call?"

"My neighbor. James Woodford. He's got a spare key to my house and he'll feed Laptop for me."

"Feed your laptop?" His eyebrows tried to crawl into his hairline.

Before she got fast-tracked to the psych ward she hastened to explain the whimsical name her husband had come up with. "Laptop is my dog. She was always crawling onto my lap when she was a pup. The name's stuck with her even though she's far too big for laps now. She's a Malamute," she added by way of explanation.

He nodded. "I'll have our receptionist contact Mr Woodford for you. Anyone else? Relatives? Boyfriend?"

"No." She struggled to sit up and he showed her how to adjust the back of the bed to a slightly more comfortable position. Whoever had invented hospital beds needed a smack upside the head.

"Um, Doctor?"

"Yes?" He blinked when he noticed her flaming face.

"It's a bit, uh, breezy. Could you please fasten the back of my gown properly? I can't reach around to do it while I'm hooked up to this monitor."

She bent forward to allow him to tie the laces of her gown, and held herself very still. He was a professional. He would hardly be ogling her butt.

"Sorry about that," he said. "Preserving your modesty wasn't much of a priority when you were brought in."

"Thanks, Doctor." Was that a slight flush staining his cheeks? Yep. Poor guy.

"I'll check on you later Ms Havers." He bolted, yanking the curtain shut behind him.

Rowan searched the cubicle for something to read. Of course there was nothing. She lay back and resigned herself to spending the night in the worst place imaginable for someone with her, uh, issues. In a hospital with a whole bunch of sick people. Chances someone was going to die? Pretty damn good, unfortunately.

Please, don't let anyone else die today. I don't want to have to watch anyone else die today. Please.

~~~

Copyright 2013 Maree Anderson

www.mareeanderson.com