The Seer’s Legacy
CHAPTER 1
SOPHIE
WOULD THIS day ever end? Staring out the window of my thirdfloor classroom, I counted down the minutes until school let out. Normally, I loved my chemistry class because it was a key component in my quest to become a forensic scientist. But not today. Today was the much anticipated Guardian Council elections. Every four years, my grandfather—the great Thomas McAllen—was up for reelection as the Guardian’s Supreme Councilor. Honestly, it was part of my life that I hated. All I ever wanted to be was normal—not a member of the Seer’s bloodline in a secret society. The lastsecret society left after the other two had been stamped out in brutal wars. Wars that had to be covered up as terrorist attacks to keep the media, and local governments, from catching onto our secret societies.
And now there was only one secret society left. The Order of the Guardians, or just the Guardians for short. Peace had reigned for twenty-five years now.
Maybe that’s why I chose to go to a normal(ish) prep school that wasn’t part of the Guardians.
I just wanted to live a simple life where I’d become a forensic scientist or maybe a crime scene investigator. And I definitely didn’t want to get some crazy powers dropped on me for my eighteenth birthday, like the prophecy foretold.
But I only had two months left of normalcy. In January, on my birthday, we’d see if any powers to see angels and demons suddenly appeared. Who knows. Prophecies could be wrong, right?
Tapping my pencil on my textbook, I watched passersby on the street below. There was always someone interesting walking the sidewalks of New York. I preferred to observe and analyze from my safe little perch. For as long as I possibly could.
The bell rang, and I bolted out the door, racing through the front lobby to the town car waiting out front.
“Hey, Julio.” I waved and climbed into the backseat.
Yeah, I know. Having a bodyguard/chauffeur wasn’t exactly normal. But it was the only way my parents would let me attend Brighton Prep.
Julio dropped me off in the alley behind our cute little West Side brownstone. I waved goodbye to him, hopping the five steps up to the back door.
The minute I walked in, I knew something was wrong. Mom and Dad were just sitting at the kitchen island in the middle of the afternoon, staring at their laptop.
“Hi, Sophie. Welcome home.” My mom’s smile was a little too bright. And wilting at the edges.
I set my book bag on the nearest bar stool. “What’s up, guys?”
My dad ran a hand through the sandy blonde scruff at the nape of his neck. “More lies about your grandfather. This Guardian Council campaign is getting out of control.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, studying his face. A muscle in his cheek twitched. Aha! He wasn’t telling me the whole truth.
“Okay,” I hedged, sitting next to them on the empty stool while shoving my bag onto the tile floor. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Mom downed her coffee and rose to her feet. “It’s nothing for you to worry about, sweetie.”
She ruffled my hair as she passed behind me, heading toward the coffeepot.
“If they’re saying bad things about my grandpa, I have a right to know.” I wanted to stamp my foot, but I was too old for such childish things. Especially while sitting on a tall bar stool.
Dad swiveled the laptop to face me. “See for yourself, if you want. But it’s all lies.”
I leaned forward, elbows on the granite countertop as I scanned the webpage on the Worldwide Guardian, our special Order of the Guardians super secret intranet. He had a news page pulled up with an article entitled CouncilorMcAllenFunnelsMoneytoShroudcliff Prison.
I furrowed my eyebrows at Dad. “What? That doesn’t make any sense.”
Mom stood beside me, flipping her dark hair behind her shoulder. “Friedrich Vanguard’s camp is saying my father is wasting money and doing some sort of experiment at Shroudcliff. It’s kind of insane, honestly.” Her fingers curled into a fist and she pounded the counter. “I wish the Vanguard family wasn’t in such high standing with the Guardians. They’re ruthless and will do anything to gain power.”
“It’s all just conjecture.” Dad loved to throw out legal terms, even in everyday life. “They have no proof it was him. The only proof they have is that someone in the Guardian ranks sent extra money to Shroudcliff. They haven’t traced it to anyone yet and have no idea what it’s being used for.”
“But Grandpa is the Supreme Councilor of the Guardian Council. If he’s improving the prison system, isn’t that part of a Council initiative?” I tried to keep up with Guardian politics, since my parents were so involved. But it was a convoluted mess to me half the time.
“Very astute, Buttercup.” Dad glanced at me, eyes brightening with a little extra glimmer.
I cringed at his use of my childhood nickname, but let it slide. Just this once.
Mom sucked in a breath. “Unfortunately, this was definitely unsanctioned spending.”
“Wow.” I blinked, staring at the screen. My life was all about the politics of the secret society of the Guardians.
My mother, Lucy McAllen, was the infamous Seer who had stopped the Nexis Ruby War and been instrumental in helping my Aunt Paige end the Watcher Sapphire War.
That was back in the time of the Three Societies—three secret societies that each protected a line of Sacred Stones and had their own Chosen Ones with special powers.
My mom was from the McAllen family line. Once a century, their bloodline produced a Seer whose powers were drawn from the Guardian Amethysts, of which only three still existed. She had dreams and visions of the unseen world of angels and demons, and the ability to see that world at any time.
Ever since the secret wars ended, I wondered if she retained her powers. She always told me that her powers had gone dormant when I was born, but I wasn’t so sure about that. Every now and then she’d have way too much insight into something she shouldn’t know, like how that boy in middle school only liked me because of my Chosen One bloodline.
It was infuriating.
But my mom wasn’t the only Chosen One in my family.
Once upon a time, my father, Will Stanton, had his own powers too. The Stanton bloodline produced another Chosen One—the Interpreter. He could interpret my mom’s visions and had his own invisibility powers to protect the Watcher Corps’ Sacred Sapphire.
There had even once been a third Chosen One, my Aunt Felicia, the Messenger. Her powers were drawn from the Nexis Society’s Sacred Ruby and she had the power to see the future, in all its multiple versions. She also had some cool lightning powers that she used to make herself levitate. Pretty badass.
But all the Sacred Rubies and the Sacred Sapphires were destroyed in the wars, rendering both the Watcher Corps and the Nexis Society obsolete, even if old loyalties secretly remained to this day.
The Nexis and Watcher wars left my dad and Aunt Felicia without any powers of their own, since all of their sacred stones were destroyed.
The only line left with any Sacred Stone powers was through my mother.
Ever since I was born and her powers went dormant, both watched me like a hawk. As if they expected me to sprout wings or something.
Never before in the history of the Guardians had there been a child born of two Chosen Ones.
But there had also never been more than one set of Chosen Ones with active powers less than a hundred years apart. And yet, Aunt Paige, who was the secondborn in the chosen bloodline, had received powers only a few years after her older sister. Highly unprecedented.
For all we knew, I was only destined to carry on the Seer’s line. And yet, there was this unspoken expectation that I’d somehow have some sort of special power.
I’d turned eighteen in a few months. Hopefully, nothing happened and I’d end up as just an average teenager with a cool family legacy.
Only time would tell.
Dad bumped my shoulder. “Why don’t you go upstairs and change? Then we’ll head over to headquarters for the election watch party.”
“Ugh, fine.” I groaned, rolling my eyes and trudging up the stairs to my room.
That meant putting on a nice little dress and pearls to look the part of a perfect family. A part of politics I’d rather pass on, thank you very much.
I usually hated these election watch parties. Grandpa always won by a landslide. But this year, his opponent had waged a nasty smear campaign against him with all of those prison funding allegations.
And this was the first year our family actually seemed nervous about the results.
The only reason Shroudcliff Prison existed was to keep the ringleaders of the last wars locked away for life. Even if one of those baddies happened to be my paternal grandmother.
My father never talked about his mother, the infamous Rosalyn Stanton. But I’d heard Mom and Dad whispering about her now and then when they thought I wasn’t listening.
I shut the door to my room and shrugged off my blazer. At least I could get out of this stupid prep school uniform. Why did all the elite college prep schools in New York have to have ugly uniforms? It was obnoxious.
Aunt Paige had helped me add some pizzazz to the hideous monstrosity, but there was only so much we could do without breaking the dress code. She was a busy fashion designer with a husband, my Uncle Eric, and two little kids to wrangle.
But there was one good thing about having a fashion designer aunt. At least when I put the Paige Morales label in a discreet corner of my blazer, the popular kids pretended like they could tolerate me.
I slid the awful plaid skirt to the ground and put on my favorite teal dress with leggings. November in New York definitely had a bite to it, so I added my favorite black boots to complete the ensemble.
Then I slipped on a gold bangle with a peacock clasp. Aunt Paige would surely give me a hard time if I didn’t make an attempt to be stylish.
Election night did come with one perk. My whole family would be there. Including my best and only friend Patrick who was also my cousin. We’d probably have to babysit our younger cousins, which usually made the whole night fun but exhausting.
I hurried downstairs to the living room, where Mom was fixing dad’s collar. They both looked like they were about to run for president. Mom in her crisp navy blue dress and Dad in his matching suit, sans tie. Win or lose, we’d all be carted out onstage for a speech. And probably a few interviews too.
Even though the Order of the Guardians was a secret society, they had four sectors across the globe—North America, Europe, Africa, and Asia. This event would be televised in all four sectors, on the Worldwide Guardian closed network, of course.
Dad’s phone dinged. “The town car is out front. We better get going.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Really. I did.
Normally, we took the subway when traveling around the city. But whenever Guardian business was involved, the Order sent a town car. Especially on election night.
Outside, the cold air nipped at my nose as the sky turned dusky. The leaves had turned vibrant shades of yellow, orange, and red. But I didn’t have time to admire the view from our stoop.
“C’mon, sweetie. Don’t dawdle.” Mom ushered me down the concrete steps of our family’s brownstone.
Dad held open the door for me, and I scooted to the far side. Mom slid in next to me, as Dad took the front seat.
“Hi, Julio.” He smiled at the driver. “You know the drill.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Stanton.” Julio tipped his cap at Dad and flashed a grin toward the backseat. “It’ll be a few minutes to Midtown.”
“No worries.” The muscle in my dad’s cheek twitched again.
Yeah, right. The whole family would be on pins and needles tonight until the results were announced.
SOPHIE
JULIO PULLED the town car up to a bland-looking office building in Midtown. I’m talking peeling paint and cracked sidewalk kind of bland.
But the windows were heavily tinted for a reason. From the outside, you’d never know this was the headquarters for a secret society.
The moment we stepped through the foyer doors and made it past security, we were ushered into the main lobby of Guardian Sector One Headquarters. Our security team flanked us on both sides as they led us down a roped-off aisle. A horde of reporters with microphones and cameras were lined up behind the barricades all the way to the elevator bank.
At least the Guardian paparazzi had enough sense to keep their chaos indoors.
Lightbulbs flashed and microphones were shoved in all of our faces as Julio and a trio of other bodyguards bulldozed a path through the crowd to the elevators.
“Mrs. Stanton, as the Captain of the Sector One Intelligence team, did you have any knowledge of your father’s secret prison experiments?” One reporter asked, shoving a mic in my mom’s face.
“No comment.” She glared daggers at the pushy man, then dipped her head politely and kept walking.
“Mr. Stanton, as the Attorney General, do you have any defense for the allegations against your father-in-law?” Another reporter angled a video camera at Dad.
“No comment,” Dad barked in his clipped lawyer voice.
A perky young woman with a blonde bob had the nerve to shove a microphone in my face.
“Miss Stanton, are you the next Seer or Interpreter? Or Seeterpreter?” She shot me a pointed look, her lips pursed.
My jaw fell open, but no sound came out.
I reared back and tilted my head at the female reporter. That was a new one. I could just see that trending on the Social Shield later tonight. #Seeterpreter. Probably sporting a meme of my Whaa? face.
Unfortunately, the super-secret Guardian intranet had its own social media site too.
Mom slid an arm around my shoulders and shoved me between her and Dad.
“No comment.” Her words were terse this time, but her smile was still plastered on.
Finally, we reached the elevators, with two bodyguards holding open the doors.
“Your chariot awaits, Stanton family.” Julio’s lips twisted ever-soslightly into a crescent moon of a smirk.
He made these secret society events bearable.
We clamored into the elegant car trimmed in gold and mahogany. Once the door shut behind us, the cacophony of questions ceased to exist. For now.
Ahh, blessed silence.
I inhaled a deep breath. Gotta enjoy the little things while you can.
“Seeterpreter?” Dad turned his wide, gray eyes on me. And just like that, my moment of peace was shattered. I could only shake my head. “They’re getting creative, I’ll give ‘em that.”
Mom tsked at me. “You have to remember to keep your expression neutral if you can’t smile.”
“Don’t worry.” Dad patted my shoulder. “She’ll learn.”
Mom and Dad exchanged a knowing look. Part of me wanted to ask, but part of me wanted them to keep their secrets to themselves.
The bodyguards chuckled under their breath as we descended into the depths of the Guardian’s concrete bunker.
About twenty floors down, the doors finally opened to another swanky lobby. This time, there were no paparazzi. The bodyguards ushered us to the green room behind the main auditorium.
Where my entire family waited for me.
This was a family tradition. We all got together on election night to have dinner and await the results.
Tonight, a long rectangular dinner table was set up in the middle of the gray-walled backstage room.
As soon as we walked in, everyone stopped eating to stare at us.
“Here we go.” I gritted out under my breath.
CHAPTER 2
SOPHIE
I FROZE in the middle of the elegant, mahogany-paneled room as everyone turned to stare at us.
Goosebumps popped all over my skin and made me itchy all over. I couldn’t take all the eyeballs looking at me, so I glanced at the gilt-framed portraits on the walls.
This room was normally the Hall of the Seers, a lounge area with portraits of ancient Seers hanging on every wall. The room had been converted to a dining space for our family to await the election results tonight.
Generations of Seers in my family were depicted in oil and canvas, starting from my Great-grandma Lucinda McAllen back to St. Lucia in the middle ages.
And they all stared at me, just like the real people in the room.
Yeah, the creepy Seers weren’t helping me relax.
Finally, Grandpa rose from his spot at the dinner table.
“There they are.” He rushed up to hug each of us, but a tinge of panic laced his voice. “Thanks for being here.”
There was definitely something going on here. My family wasn’t known for being quiet. They were totally talking about something they didn’t want me to hear.
“Of course, Dad.” Mom smiled up at him as he ruffled her hair.
Another family tradition.
“You have perfect timing. We just sat down to dinner. They’ve catered in a lovely spread for us tonight.” Grandma, or Gigi as she preferred to be called, motioned for us to take the three empty seats at the end of the table.
She shot her husband a knowing look, probably full of secrets. Our family thrived on secrets.
I settled in next to one of the two remaining empty chairs, hoping the tornado of a plate next to me belonged to my cousin.
Sure enough, Patrick waltzed in from the side door, humming to himself.
“Hey, Soph.” He eased himself into the chair beside me. “Glad you’re here. What’d I miss?”
“Everyone just stared at us and went all silent when we walked in,” I murmured through clenched teeth.
“Weird.” He just shrugged and grinned at me around a mouthful of salad.
One of the things I loved most about Patrick—besides his creamy caramel skin and his awesome fro—was his ability to let the little things go. He was so casual and easy-going it made him fun to be around. But sometimes his lack of interest irritated the investigator in me. Like right now.
Fine. I’d figure this out on my own.
Patrick’s parents, Aunt Felicia and Uncle Sedrick sat to his right. But they were distracted by Aunt Paige and Uncle Eric’s two little brats, Phoenix and Lydia, ages eight and ten, respectively.
Like me, Patrick was an only child. And we were roughly the same age, both seniors in high school.
He’d just turned seventeen in July, making him about six months younger than me.
Ever since I’d turned seventeen in January, expectations had ratcheted higher as the countdown to eighteen began.
In true Guardian fashion, there was a centuries-old prophecy that foretold a Seer getting her gifts on her eighteenth birthday. Even though that had been the case for hundreds of years, my mom’s gifts had manifested two years early. Probably because she had two wars to fight in almost as many years.
But after the Nexis and Watcher wars ended, the Guardians had maintained peace for almost twenty-five years.
In their heyday, there were three secret societies that had their own purpose. The three Societies were all based around protecting
the three Sacred Stones.
The Nexis Society had their Sacred Ruby, which gave them the power to summon supernatural forces of angels and demons. Of course, this society had been the most power-hungry group, creating all the wars over the centuries and getting them snuffed out first.
The Watcher Corps had their Sacred Sapphire, which had the power to see all the unseen forces of the supernatural world. This made them the police force of the Three Societies until they went power-mad too.
And the Order of the Guardians had the Sacred Amethyst, which had the power to protect the Seer, who could not only see the supernatural world but control its power. For good or evil. Seer’s choice.
The Guardians lived up to their name, protecting the Seer for centuries from falling into the hands of the other secret societies.
But then my mom came along, with her gifts early, and the Nexis Society went crazy. Actually, my grandmother, Rosalyn Stanton, started a war to wield my mom’s Seer powers for herself. She wanted the power to control fallen angels, aka demons, and create a race of half-angel/half-human Nephilim that the Nexis Society controlled. Mostly so she could take over the world. Completely logical, right?
Naturally, that didn’t go over so well with Mom. Her gifts were so powerful, she could destroy the Sacred Stones to prevent them from falling into the wrong hands. And she did. Mom destroyed all the Nexis Rubies, ending the war and society in one fell swoop. Or a year-long war.
About a year later, the leader of the Watcher Corps, who had colluded with Rosalyn, thought there was a power vacuum with only two societies left. So Aunt Paige had to step in and destroy the Watchers and their Sacred Sapphires.
After that, those other two societies ceased to exist. Though, there are still old grudges that have lingered over the years.
Now the Guardians were the only secret society left. Their main purpose was to guard the Sacred Amethysts from the rest of the
world and make sure their members climbed the ranks of society.
You know, your basic secret society stuff—with one supernatural twist.
So unless there was another war brewing, I probably wouldn’t be receiving any kind of special supernatural powers for my eighteenth birthday.
Famous last words, right? Yeah, definitely won’t be saying that out loud anytime soon.
Aunt Felicia leaned forward and hissed at my mom. “How are the stones doing?”
Mom gasped and shot her a pointed glare. “Don’t worry. Things are being taken care of.”
Aunt Felicia’s gaze flitted to me and Patrick for a split-second. “Good. They’re very important campaign donors after all. Wouldn’t want to make the money people mad.” She waggled her eyes at me and smirked.
But she wasn’t fooling me.
They weren’t talking about campaign donors.
Everyone at the table went silent for a minute, then we all turned to Grandpa McAllen.
“I just can’t believe they’re saying all those crazy things about Tom. MyTom.” Gigi wrung her napkin with her bony fingers.
Mom reached out and grabbed her hand. “People have to know it’s not true. None of it is true.”
Uncle James leaned forward, elbows on the table. “No matter what happens tonight, we’ll be okay, Mom. We’ll take care of the”— his gaze skittered around the table—“problem,” he growled out.
Gigi cast a furtive glance at me, then tsked at James. “Elbows off the table, son.”
Immediately, he straightened up while his wife, my beautiful Aunt Cosette, snickered under her breath.
“But I appreciate the sentiment. I do.” Her eyes glittered as she held his gaze.
He nodded at her once, then ran a hand through his sandy-gray hair that closely matched his neatly trimmed beard.
Like I wouldn’t notice they were hiding something from me. And now that I had, I’d weasel it out of them, eventually.
Grandpa finished his steak, then rose from his chair to address the table. “I know all of you are concerned about the election. But there are bigger things at stake here than a new Supreme Councilor.”
All the grown-ups at the table nodded, but Patrick and I just stared at each other.
“What thingsis he talking about?” Patrick hissed in my ear.
Guess he had no clue either. At least I wasn’t alone in the dark here.
I could only shrug. “Something’s off, but I have no idea what. Yet,” I whispered back.
“That’s my girl.” He winked at me.
I rolled my eyes, even as a knot formed at the back of my throat, slowly working its way to my stomach.
If the secret glances and vague clues weren’t about the election, what was really going on here?
Apparently, Grandpa wasn’t done talking. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to all go out there, as a family, and put on a good show. I want to see your best brave faces.”
I dropped my fork. This wasserious.
What was going on with her? Did he notthink he was going to win the election? He hadn’t lost his position as Supreme Guardian Councilor for the last five terms. Since a Supreme Councilor’s term lasted four years, that meant the great Thomas McAllen had been in office for twenty years.
And yet, Uncle James, Aunt Paige, and Mom all nodded in agreement, like they were expecting this announcement. Like they expected him to lose.
I just blinked at them. They couldn’t be serious. They’d all grown up in the Guardian Council spotlight, much like me. But unlike me, they were practiced at the art of negotiating, pretending, and fake smiles that were just part of politics. Not me. All I wanted to do was go out there and yell at Friedrich Vanguard. Tell him and his whole team to stop making up lies about
my Papaw. That he’d never misallocate funds or do any of the other things they’d accused him of doing.
But of course, that was childish. And I wasn’t a child anymore. I couldn’t go onstage and throw a temper tantrum like one of my little cousins. No matter how much I wanted to do just that.
I’d have to join the ranks of the grownups and put on a brave face. Just like my grandpa asked.
“And when we lose,” Grandpa went on, even as my hand flew to my mouth, “we will exit the stage in mock defeat. We have to buy our friends some time.”
My heart dropped, and I froze as if a shockwave had just crashed into me.
“What?” I gasped so loud that everyone around the table turned to stare at me.
Just then, the door to the stage flew open and the Guardian press secretary walked in.
“The results are in.” He nodded at Grandpa, his lips set in a grim line.
“Then it’s time.” My aging but distinguished grandfather rose to his feet, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.
Every other grownup at the table rose to their feet and followed him to the door.
Patrick and I fell in line like a couple of lemmings, followed by Phoenix and Lydia trailing along behind us.
We all walked through the backstage wing as one family.
Ready to face the music.
Little Lydia blinked up at me with her big brown eyes. I grabbed her hand and squeezed.
Even the little kids could tell something was wrong.
A bright light shined down on me as I emerged from behind the thick black curtain. A bead of sweat formed along my hairline, but I wiped it away.
Even so, a sick feeling settled in my stomach. Nobody messed with my family.
Polite applause greeted us as we all filed toward center stage, but the crowd was eerily quiet. They already knew the inevitable.
