Anna and the Amulet: DESTINY VERWORN

By Destiny Verworn

Anna Ramsey hadn't known what family was for a long time, she didn't know how to love or be loved, and she especially didn't know how to be a witch. On the night of her twenty-first birthday, she is abducted and brought halfway across the world to a place she could never imagine.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Verworn
• Release date: Feb 24, 2024
• ISBN: 9798869210166

Book preview

1

 Running along the deserted street, I could feel the cold wind snaking her way through the darkness around me. It wasn't unusual to be alone at this time of night, but something felt wrong. I ran this same path every night for the past two years, but tonight, the hairs on my arms stood up, sensing the danger, warning me of the eerie sensation coursing through my body. 

Every sense told me tonight was different. Sure, it was almost a full moon; there wasn't a single cloud in the sky illuminating the stars, but I knew that wasn’t the case. The scene around me was beautiful. The streetlights hummed quietly; a stray cat startled me as it ran in front of me, forcing a half scream to escape. Stupid, this might be the most ridiculous I have ever acted. 

I looked from my left to right, trying to shake the feeling of being watched, but it lingered with every extension of my leg. When I woke up this morning, I was sure it was going to be a good day. Today was supposed to be better than good. Tomorrow was my birthday.

I looked down at my watch and realized it was 12:17. Today is my birthday; I was born at exactly midnight twenty-one years ago. I wasn't a big drinker and had never been to a party; turning twenty-one didn't have that appeal for me. 

For me, it meant so much more. Twenty-one said I was an adult. Always getting confused as a child was getting on my last nerve. Being able to tack on another year was more important than ordering a beer. The extra year made me feel an inch taller; it was my way of telling the world even though I might look sixteen, I was far from it and much more mature. 

Even though I looked young, my life was far from it. Unless I was at work, my free time was spent reading or watching TV. The women I worked with were all at least twenty years older than me. This morning, when I woke up, it was your typical Friday. Nothing screamed. You are going to die today; boy, was I wrong. 

At five am, I awoke by hitting my alarm clock to shut it up. This was a morning ritual I had down pat, and I didn't see it ending anytime soon. By 5:03, I was throwing my comforter off me, giving up on trying to get back to sleep. Even though only three minutes had passed, it felt like an eternity. By this point, I was already making lists in my head and picking out what I wanted to wear. Once I was up, I walked over to the fridge to grab a water bottle I stuck in there the night before. This morning, just like every morning before it, I started my day by going on a three-mile run. 

My morning run helped me clear my head for any upcoming tasks I had to complete that day. After my run was complete, I would return home to the little house I purchased two years ago. It was in a small subdivision on the outskirts of Houston, and I loved the solitude. Since today was Friday, I would be bringing muffins into the office. This was a tradition that started shortly after I bought my home. I loved cooking and baking, so anytime I could share the joy of food, I liked to. This morning, I brought in apple cinnamon muffins, as they are my favorite. They had small chunks of apples inside with a sweet icing and cinnamon drizzled on top. I remember making them with my mom on special occasions as a little girl.

After I got off work, I might have dinner with some of the ladies from the office, but I typically declined. Tonight, however, I was not that lucky. Since my birthday was coming up, they insisted on taking me out, their treat. This was a running joke in the office. I was one of the wealthiest people in Houston, but money was the last thing I cared about, and they knew that. Although it never stop them from giving me grief over it. Dinner was enjoyable, but I also liked being alone. It was something I had been used to for so long; being around other people gave me anxiety. What I really wanted to do was go home to my quiet house, put on some TV, or pick up a new book to read before I went on my nightly run. 

Unlike my morning runs, my nightly jog was gauged in solace rather than miles. It allowed me an outlet to expel any demons from my day. As much as I loved my job, it was mentally draining for a sane person, something I was far from. I would use this time to run out any trauma I would feel starting to creep up from my day. I knew tonight was going to be a long, hard run. My birthday was the one day I dreaded, yet it kept coming back year after year. The demons from my past were especially present on days like today.

As I glanced back onto the darkened street, I saw the mysterious man for the second time; this time, he ducked behind a blue truck with tinted windows. There was no doubt he was following me. Usually, I would try to convince myself that he was just a fellow jogger, but his clothes gave him away almost immediately. Instead of wearing sweatpants or running shorts, he was wearing a pair of dark straight-legged jeans and a light blue button-up shirt that had the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. 

Even at this distance, with the darkness spreading around us, I could tell he was beautiful. Why that mattered, I had no idea, but for some reason, it stuck with me. He had the type of face that wouldn't be interested in a girl that looked like me. I should give myself a little more credit. The ladies at work always told me I was pretty, but I had yet to be on a second date with the same person. Then again, maybe it wasn't my looks that was the problem. I had almost straight, practically white hair, a round baby face that made me look younger than I was, and light brown eyes. No one took me seriously, and the few dates I had been on always ended the same; I was more like a sister, not a girlfriend. After several failed attempts, I eventually gave up the notion. Maybe by the time I turn thirty, I will look like I am finally in my twenties. 

The mysterious man in question tonight had dark brown hair that covered the width of his forehead. It slowly faded from the imaginary line that connected his ears as it descended the base of his neck. Even in the darkness, I could see his piercing blue eyes. The most likely scenario was that he was a little drunk, trying to make his way home from the club that just opened a few blocks away. That still didn't answer the question of why he kept following me. Was this strange man lost? Was he only trying to track me down to get a better idea of where he was? I was close to half a mile from the club, but the stranger seemed to be going out of his way not to approach me. My only hope was that he would eventually lose interest or his ride would finally pick him up.

I picked up my speed, knowing I had at least a mile to go until I reached the safety of my car. I had no right to; I knew I didn't, but my mind wandered to my mom. This was all her fault. If she was still here, I choked a small sob thinking about her. It has been eleven years, and I still get angry sometimes. My adult brain can't understand any better than when I was a child. Why did they have to go for a drive that night? What kind of parents leave their ten-year-old daughter home alone? I don't have children and even I know you don't leave them alone in the middle of the night.

When the cops came to the door, I refused to come out. It took them an hour and a neighbor letting them in before they found me curled up in the middle of the floor crying. I can't remember why I was crying or lying on the floor, to begin with, but I must have known something horrible had happened. No one told me what happened. It wasn't until I was eighteen that I was able to find an old newspaper article that explained that night.

An older man had a heart attack and drifted into their lane. Dad was able to avoid the truck, but when he overcorrected, he went over the side of the bridge. It had a beautiful picture of my parents on their wedding day and spoke briefly about the child they left behind. I loved the photo of them. Dad was holding Mom while she sported a dress that would have looked better in the Victorian era than in the twenty-first century. I could see the love they had for one another radiating off of the page.

After the accident, I was sent to live with my aunt Suzette and her family. I'd never met them before, which made the transition even harder. What I didn't know was how quickly their home would turn into a house of horrors. Suzette had twin boys, two years older than me, who despised me as much as their mother did.

All my mother ever wanted was for me to feel loved and cared for. She expected her sister to take care of me like I was her own. To compensate for taking me in, they received a generous monthly stipend from the inheritance Suzette neglected to tell me about. Suzette and her family were also under the impression that caring for me meant a roof over my head, them having a live-in maid and a punching bag on hand.

If something went wrong, no matter how small it was, it was my fault. If the boys got a bad grade on a homework assignment, I was too loud doing the dishes. If dinner wasn't done on time, I should have started it sooner. If Peter couldn't hear his football game, the vacuum would be too loud. Every situation ended the same way. A hand or foot leaving their mark upon my body.

By time I was fifteen I had already broken three bones, had numerous sprains and too many bruises to count. The only time I was taken to the hospital was when the boys pushed me out of the window and broke my arm. After the hospital Suzette, fractured my ribs because the hospital staff asked too many questions and she refused to take me. For six long years, I lived in filth, chaos, and abuse. I was denied an education, more food than what I could solely survive on, or even basic hygiene. On my sixteenth birthday, after the worst attack I had ever endured, I gathered the few items still in my possession and disappeared into the night.

For two years I lived on the street, every day petrified they would find me or the cops would return me to the house of horrors. I managed to find under the table jobs just for a scrap of food or a roof for the night until I found the Hope House. At that point I was at my lowest, barely surviving, wishing I was dead. Even then it was better than where I could be. Connie the director of the Hope House saved me. She was the only person who knew my whole story. She let me work in the office in exchange for food and a bed to sleep on. With her help I was able to get my GED and then get my associate degree in social work last year.

For their assistance, I thanked them by donating a hefty sum of money towards the house. My parents left me enough to take care of myself and my future children, and then some. Giving them a portion of it only felt right. I figured the best thing I could do was help any woman that was where I used to be. My only hope was that the money would continue to be used to support those women who were trying to pull their lives back together.

Today at the Hope House, I worked with a young woman named Bethany. Bethany reminded me a lot of myself. She had just turned twenty and had been living on the streets for the past five years. When she was fifteen, she went to her parents in tears and told them she was pregnant. They demanded she get an abortion or leave their home. It didn't matter she lost the child a couple of months later; the bridge had already been burned. Today, I helped her type up her resume and submit a few applications.

We had an offsite apartment complex where each woman was given three months of free rent so that she could focus on getting a new life. The one thing I donated that was probably my favorite part of the house was our interview closet. The closet was filled with interview clothes that the women could borrow, so they felt their best walking into an interview. After word got out about it, local businesses around town donated to the closet or the house itself.

Today had been a good day. I felt useful; it was Friday, and tomorrow was my birthday. Instead, though, I found myself ending my evening by being chased through the streets of Houston. As I dodged between the vehicles, I could feel the mysterious man gaining ground on me. While he might be one of the most attractive men I had ever set sights on, it didn't change the fact that not only were looks deceiving, but this stranger was also, in fact, following me. As I glanced over my shoulder, I was stunned not to see him on my heels. I couldn't see him, but I could still feel his presence. I slowed my run to a brisk walk, trying to take a moment to gather my bearings again. I glanced around the street, recognizing the neighborhood I was now in. It wasn't one I typically ran through, but I knew it was the area of Bethany's apartment. The same place I had dropped her off just a few hours ago.

It wouldn't take long to get to Bethany's from here. That would be my best chance of getting out of my current situation. If I was able to get to her apartment, I could use her phone as I idiotically left mine back in the car. I knew I should have brought it with me, but I hated the temptation of listening to music while I ran. The whole point of my evening run was to use this time not to let the events of my day build up. It would be too easy to escape reality through music.

As I looked from left to right, I still didn't see the stranger. I turned and set off towards Bethany's. I only hoped she would still be awake. It was pretty late, but she was young and not the hermit-like I am. As I turned the corner, I found the stranger standing in front of me. I ran smack dab into the center of his chest, his face mere inches from my own. Being this close to him, I was mesmerized by his beauty. I needed to get it together. He had been following me for the past ten minutes. As I screamed, I could have sworn I heard the stranger murmur, "I'm sorry" before I was interrupted by a great white light that blinded me.

As I forced my eyes open, I found myself fighting the haze of sleep that surrounded me. I realized I was in the middle of a massive bed, in the center of a room larger than my entire living room at home. I threw the heavy comforter off of me and quickly realized I was still clothed. Thank you for the small miracles. The last thing I remembered was the beautiful man who stood before me but then was blinded by a light. 

Where am I? 

Even though I was fully dressed, I didn't dismiss the fact that something nefarious could have happened, but my body told me otherwise. Nothing seemed off except the fact that I had been kidnapped.

Could I be kidnapped? I was twenty years old, and not a kid anymore. What do they call adults who are kidnapped? Body snatched? No, that sounded like an alien invasion movie; then again, I did see that white light. If it wasn't a kidnapping or a body snatching, it was, at the bare minimum, a case of abduction, and I was the abductee. 

I looked around the room, hoping to find some sort of clue as to where exactly I was. Sitting upright, I began to scan the room from left to right. On both sides of the bed sat identical nightstands. One held a light and a notepad, while the other had a clock sitting on top of it. The clock read 8:27. It didn't indicate whether it was morning or night, but based on the light streaming in through the windows, I assumed it was morning. 

As I glanced at the windows, I realized that not only did they run from floor to ceiling, but they also took up the entire length of the wall. There were sheer curtains that hung in front of them that only offered a smidge of privacy. I cautiously walked over to them and pulled aside the thin fabric. Before me, I took in the scene I had only ever seen on TV or someone had painted. It had a stone pathway leading from the building I occupied to a small firepit and seating area. Behind the stones lay green grass that you would find at a golf course. Wisteria and strawberry trees littered the yard and were highlighted by hedges along the edge. Beyond the hedges was a dense area that had a lot of cedar, oak, and pine trees. 

I followed the windows to the edge of the wall to find a light brown door. I opened the door slightly to see a closet on the other side. I closed the closet door and began my progression down the new wall, where I was immediately greeted by bookshelves that lined the wall. Much like the windows, they took up the entirety of the wall and ran from floor to ceiling. At the end of the wall, a ladder was attached so that I could reach the books, which was too high for an average person. In front of the shelves sat a rolltop desk that you would find in your grandma's house. I could imagine sitting at the desk, writing letters to friends and family. Then again, I had neither of those, so the desk was utterly useless.

To the left of the desk sat an oversized armchair that was a soft green color. On the arm rested a hand-crafted blanket that must have taken someone a long time to make. The chair reminded me of one that begged you to curl up on it with a warm cup of cocoa on a frosty winter day to read one of the million books at your disposal. Moving from the chair, I found a vanity perched up against the far wall. The vanity matched the rest of the room in a soft brown hue, but my attention was brought to the second door. This door looked much different than the first. It was only slightly darker, but it felt like there was an energy coming from the door itself. Was that even possible?

I thought back to when I was younger, and my mom would constantly tell me how different objects emitted different energies depending on who they were and the mood of the room. She called it feng shui, but this felt different. This door seemed to have energy, power, and an electrical current running through it. 

As my brain brought me back to my current situation, I was once again reminded of my abduction. Who did this stranger think he was? It was one thing to have a birthday suck, but to end up in a stranger's house, that was taking it too far. There was only one thing I knew for sure, even if my day started off crappy, there was no way I was going to let it end this way. I had to find a way out. I didn't care how beautiful this room was or even the man who abducted me; I had to figure a way out of here.

I know my life wasn't perfect. By anyone's standards, it was pretty dull, but it was my life. There were still so many things I wanted to do. I, Anna Ramsey, wanted to go back to school. I wanted to help more at the Hope House. Maybe I wanted to travel the world and see the Seven Wonders. See new places and perhaps even get a pet. I couldn't do any of those things if I was stuck here or, worse, dead. Nope, I was not going to let that happen. It was time for me to take a stand. I walked over to the second door, bracing myself for what stood on the other side.

Why did this man kidnap me? It would have been easier if he had murdered me on the street. I was in a sketchy neighborhood; he had to have something else planned. I looked back at the window on the other side of the room. Quickly, I realized that surviving a second-story jump wasn't something that I had in my arsenal of abilities. I reached out to open the door, only to be shocked to find it was unlocked. Keeping the door unlocked seemed like a dangerous game, but maybe that was one he liked to play. I bet he was the type of guy who enjoyed the chase of it all. I pushed the door open cautiously, poking my head outside just an inch to see if anyone was lurking within the shadows, waiting to jump out at me.

After declaring the hallway to be safe, I slowly took my first step from the room, slipping into the shadows myself. I pushed my body up against the wall and crept further from the safety of the room I woke up in. By the time I reached the end of the long hallway, I was assaulted by the smell of food and the sounds of laughter. I could smell different types of food, ambushing my nostrils all at once. I was able to decipher the smells of bacon, ham, and sausage. There was something that had raspberries, bananas, maple syrup, and even chocolate. As if my legs were betraying my mind and the need for my escape, they began to carry my body towards the sound of food and voices, not away from it.

Just as I was about to enter the room, I was able to regain possession of my legs once again, screeching myself to a halt. It would probably be best if I knew exactly what I was walking into. For all I knew, the people on the other side of the wall could be murderers who were getting ready to hunt me down. It reminded me of the 90's movie Surviving the Game. Not today. While hiding in the shadows, I could hear four voices on the other side of the wall. Three of the voices sounded most likely to be male. Based on the tones and wordage they used, I assumed they were probably close to me in age, late teens, or early to mid-twenties. 

The fourth voice, however, clearly came from a female. The voice itself was light and tender. Even though I couldn't see the girl who spoke, I could form a mental picture of her in my mind. She was the type that smiled with her entire face and laughed with her whole body. Her happiness was contagious, and she always knew exactly the right thing to say. She had a voice that made you think of a tiny pixie. A voice that begged you to be her best friend. You wanted to be her friend, not the other way around.

It reminded me of the man on the street and his looks. Even though he was chasing me through the darkness, I was shocked by how beautiful he was. He was drawing me in. The only way I could describe what these two possessed was they had like a siren's call—the man with his looks and the woman with her voice.

I'm just saying we should have checked on her, is all. How would you feel if you were in her shoes? The female voice asked. I know how you three would have reacted. Act now and ask questions later, but I would be scared. We should have checked on her. No, I should have checked on her. That's all I'm saying.

Sis, I get it, but you know that is not our place. Plus, how would you feel if you woke up and the first thing you saw was our four faces hovering over you? The male questioned her.

You're right, Marcus. I would have been terrified to see your ugly faces, probably would have woken up swinging, she laughed. As sweet and funny as the girl sounded, I needed to get out of here. I turned to leave, needing to find an escape out of this place before I was discovered. I don't think the back of the house would do me much good, but if they had a car out front, I could hot-wire it and take off.

Anna, please join us, a fifth, older voice boomed, practically reading my mind. 

Busted. I knew I should have made my escape instead of eavesdropping. How did he even know I was out here? I have two options. Make a run for it, or face my fears head-on. As I tried to gauge the distance to safety, I assumed that even if I could find the front door, I had absolutely no idea where I even was. Secondly, my stomach betrayed