Daughter of the Sun
Cult of the Cat
Book 1
Zoe Kalo
Genre: YA Fantasy
Date of Publication: Ebook April 1, 2016
Date of Publication: Print June 15, 2016
ISBN: 978-1533061768
ASIN: B01DRDUQW8
Number of pages: ebook 330 pages
Number of pages: print 350 pages
Word Count: 95,000
Cover Artist: S. Frost Designs
Book Description:
Sixteen-year-old Trinity was born during a solar eclipse and left at the doorsteps of a convent along with a torn piece of papyrus covered with ancient symbols. Raised by nuns in the English countryside, she leads a quiet life until she’s whisked away to the Island of Cats and a grandmother she never knew.
But before they can get to know each other, her grandmother dies. All that Trinity has left is a mysterious eye-shaped ring. And a thousand grieving cats. As Trinity tries to solve the enigma of the torn papyrus, she discovers a world of bloody sacrifices and evil curses, and a prophecy that points to her and her new feline abilities.
Unwilling to believe that any of the Egyptian gods could still be alive, Trinity turns to eighteen-year-old Seth and is instantly pulled into a vortex of sensations that forces her to confront her true self—and a horrifying destiny.
Daughter
of the Sun - Cult of the Cat Book 1 Chapter 1
One month before the summer solstice…
Goosebumps
snaked up my spine.
I'd had the same
sensation last night while gazing at the moon, when for an instant I’d picture
it red, bathed in blood. Then the rippling, bristling feeling had come back
this morning as I brushed my teeth and stared at the reflection of my eyes in
the bathroom mirror. In a flash the green orbs had turned crimson. I’d blinked,
struck by a wave of vertigo, the cold tiles shifting under my feet.
“Trinity...you
all right?” Brianna nudged my arm, bringing me back to the present. We were
walking down the main staircase of the orphanage—where we’d lived all of our
lives—toward the open-air playground for our usual half-hour break after lunch.
“Fine. Just
restless.”
“Maybe lunch did
it. All those veggies. They take you for a rabbit.”
The touch of
humor in her voice didn't lift the dark cloud hovering over me. I shot her a
sideways glance. “No, not the veggies,” I muttered. “Something else.”
She stopped in
the middle of the staircase and her hazel eyes studied my face. “What?”
I stopped,
shrugging. “Don't know.”
“I saw you in
the dormitory last night, staring out the window. You seemed so far away.”
Red moon.
The sky had been
so clear, the stars twinkling like gems, so unusual for the common grayness of
the English countryside.
Blood moon.
I’d been
mesmerized, as if its eerie splendor had spoken to me in an ancient, alien
language. I hadn't been able to understand it, but I’d felt faint by its
allure.
“Trinity?”
“It's nothing.
You know me. One day up, one day down.” I looked to the bottom of the
staircase, past the hall to the open doors to the courtyard. Now the sky was
gray. The girls played outside, chatting incessantly. The little ones ran this
way and that, their black and white uniforms a blur.
When I looked
back at Brianna, I saw she was staring at something past my shoulder. I turned
around and glimpsed a flash of black through the window.
“Did you see
that?” I asked. “Looked like a limousine.” Not that I’d ever seen one in real
life, only in the movies we were sometimes allowed to watch in the weekends. “I
wonder if it’s coming here.”
But Brianna
didn’t answer. Her spaced-out gaze was still fixed on the window. There was
something odd about her expression.
“Brianna. Hello.
I’m talking to you.”
She blinked,
startled. She looked at me. “What? Oh. Right. You know…I just—I just
remembered… I have to help Sister Anne at the library.”
“Now? All of a
sudden?”
“Like I said, I
just remembered.”
I made a
dismissive gesture with my hand. “Tell her you forgot.” I did feel a twinge of
guilt. Sister Anne was one of the nice ones. “She's so old, she won't even
remember.”
“Don’t be mean.
I promised her.”
“You know, people
take advantage when you’re always nice.”
She didn’t
answer, but I read the gentle reproach in her eyes.
“All right, all
right,” I muttered. “I'll see you later.”
She smiled and,
to my surprise, gave me a tight, warm hug. “Cheer up. I don't like it when you
get the blues. I want you to be happy.”
“Thanks,” I
mumbled. Her chestnut hair, streaked with copper and gold and woven into a
braid like we were all supposed to wear, smelled like soap, clean, fresh. Which
reminded me: I had not braided my hair today.
Brianna was my
best friend in the world. Nearly seventeen years ago, when we were tiny babies,
we had been found at the door of the orphanage only a day apart—a very odd
event, according to the nuns. When we were babies we were often put in the same
crib and we sucked each other’s thumbs and took turns crying for attention.
We drew apart
and she hurried up the stairs, the old wood creaking under the rubber soles of
her shoes.
I moved in the
opposite direction toward the courtyard.
Outside, the sky
was covered with virulent clouds, promising a downpour. A cool breeze hit my
cheeks, made me instantly alert. The air was redolent of fertilizers from the
nearby farms. The temperature was unusually cold for late May. Sister Eveline
and Sister Celeste already kept guard, but as one of the older girls, my duty
was to keep watch during playtime. The courtyard was big and was enclosed by
high, rusted, spiked iron gates crawling with vines and wisteria. Beyond the
gates, on one side, a massive weeping willow loomed, its leaves rustling in the
breeze. On another side, rolling hills made most of the landscape, dotted here
and there with the silhouettes of nearby farms.
The courtyard
was made of concrete and had swings and see-saws for the younger girls. The
rest was just empty space with a few stone benches for us to sit.
The Sisters
strolled across the courtyard toward the main doors, their heads tilted
downward, deep in conversation—or so I thought. In their wimples and flowing
habits, they looked like two big black birds. Sister Eveline suddenly turned
toward me with a hard expression and made a gesture about my hair.
“I’ll braid it
after the break,” I said, trying not to sound annoyed. I gave her a lovable
grin and pointed to the younger children. “I have to keep an eye on them, as
you know.”
The look she
gave me told me she didn’t buy my sweet disposition, but she let it drop and
continued her way to the doors.
I crouched and
chatted with the little ones for a while, and pushed their backs at the swings.
I giggled at their silly, innocent tales. Sophie, a sweet five year-old with
red corkscrew ringlets, wrapped her small arms around me and I whirled her in
the air.
When I put her
down, I spotted Beth Thompson and her two evil minions emerging from the corner
of the orphanage. A cat trailed behind her.
I narrowed my
eyes. Beth had tied a string around the cat’s neck and was pulling it along
like a pet—but, as I knew only too well, girls like Beth didn't keep pets.
Then Beth did
something she shouldn’t have done: when the cat refused to budge, she yanked
the string, almost choking the animal.
I winced,
feeling the pain as my own.
A shiver rippled
up my spine. Again.
About the Author:
A certified bookworm and ailurophile, Zoe Kalo has always been obsessed with books and reading. Reading led to writing—compulsively. No surprise that at 16, she wrote her first novel, which her classmates read and passed around secretly. The pleasure of writing and sharing her fantasy worlds has stayed with her, so now she wants to pass her stories to you with no secrecy—but with lots of mystery….
A daughter of adventurous expats, she’s had the good fortune of living on 3 continents, learning 4 languages, and experiencing a multicultural life. Currently, she’s working on a Master’s degree in Comparative Literature, which she balances between writing, taking care of her clowder of cats, and searching for the perfect bottle of pinot noir. She lives and writes in Belgium.
Website/blog: https://zoekalo.com
Twitter: @zoekalowriter
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