About the Author
Jamie Magee has always believed that each of us have a defining gift that sets us apart from the rest of the world, she has always envied those who have known from their first breath what their gift was. Not knowing hers, she began a career in the fast paced world of business. Raising a young family, and competing to rise higher in that field would drive some to the point of insanity, but she always found a moment of escape in a passing daydream. Her imagination would take her to places she’d never been, introduce her to people she’s never known. Insight, her debuting novel, is a result of that powerful imagination. Today, she is grateful that not knowing what defined her, led her on a path of discovery that would always be a part of her.
The fun Bio: I’m an obsessive daydreamer. Lover of loud alternative music. Addicted to Red Bull. I love to laugh until it hurts. Fall is my favorite season. Black is my favorite ‘shade.’ Strong believer in the saying: there is a reason for everything, therefore I search for ‘marked moments’ every moment of everyday...and I find them. Life is beautiful!
SWITCH
By Janelle Stalder
War makes rattling good history; but Peace is poor reading.
THOMAS HARDY, The Dynasts
PROLOGUE
London, 2035
They were destroying everything.
Feathers floated in the air from the ripped couch cushions. Broken glass littered the floor, cracking beneath the heavy soles of the soldiers’ feet. Charlotte knelt beside her mother, her eyes trained on the floor while she watched them out of her peripheral vision. They had stormed their home, their voices shouting orders as their hands forced them roughly to the ground. Her mother had yet to say a word.
Where was her father? She hadn’t come to expect much from him over the past years, but surely he wouldn’t stand by and watch their home be torn apart in some attempt to find evidence that wouldn’t be there. She could hear the other soldiers outside, raging through the streets, destroying homes. The smell of burning lumber saturated the air. Would there be anything left of Leigh when they were done? Charlotte doubted it. When the New World army came, nothing survived.
“Where is he?” one of the soldiers asked, turning to her mother. Charlotte kept her gaze glued to the scuffed hardwood floors.
“I don’t know,” her mother said firmly. “I’m not my husband’s keeper.”
Charlotte glanced up at the man to see his reaction. He wore the customary uniform of the New World army. Black cargo pants, with tall, heavy black boots, and a tight black, long-sleeve shirt with a thick vest overtop that had a star on it, signifying he was the squad leader. Charlotte could see the definition of the man’s muscles beneath his shirt. Everyone knew that the young men of the army were well trained. This one looked not much older than her sister, Bridgette. His face reflected utter distaste as he glared at her mother.
“If you think you can hide him,” he said slowly, “think again. We know your husband is involved with the rebels. We will find proof here, and then you and your family,” he continued, nodding his head at Charlotte, “will be nothing more than dirt under my feet. I can help you and your daughter if you give me your husband’s whereabouts.” He waited, letting his offer lay between them. “I’ll tell Roman you knew nothing of his dealings.”
Rebels? That’s what this was about? Charlotte was well aware of the resistance movement – those who were bent on destroying the New World government and returning the world to its former glory. They were all idiots in her opinion. How could they possibly try to fix something that was so broken it could never be put back together? More than half the world’s population and land had been destroyed. What was there to save?
She looked over at the other two soldiers that were methodically tearing apart the room. The house she had grown up in looked nothing like it had only moments before, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to feel outraged about it. What did that say about her? This was how the world was now; you had something and then you didn’t. Charlotte had learned long ago to be prepared for this. What she wasn’t prepared for was the possibility that her father was a part of the rebels. The two of them had no love for each other; a sentiment lost a long time ago along with her sense of security in this hard, new world. As her father drifted away emotionally, so had she. What was the point anymore? Things like this happened, and when they did, it would only hurt more to care about the loss. She was done hurting. She was done watching everything be obliterated before her eyes. Nothing horrified her. At sixteen she had seen more loss than she could have ever imagined. It just didn’t register anymore.
Ludwig Tenebris and his New World order. The one man who had succeeded in bringing the world to its knees with just a flick of the switch. Communications across the ocean were non-existent, so it wasn’t known if anyone survived in other continents. There was no more television, or internet and computers. Ludwig had managed to cut off everyone’s eyes and ears to the outside world.
What did these rebels really think they could accomplish? Not only did Ludwig have his own clearly destructive army, he also had strategic ties to getting bombs and guns. He had more ammunition at his fingertips than anyone else in history. They were doomed. Charlotte understood this. She only wished everyone else did too, so situations like the one she was currently in didn’t happen.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” her mother replied, snapping Charlotte out of her thoughts. She turned to look at her mom for the first time since the soldiers arrived. She’d never met anyone as stubborn as the woman who brought her into this foul world. It was one of the things that Charlotte equally hated and respected about her. Seeing her, spine straight, chin lifted errantly as she met a soldier’s glare with one of her own, Charlotte realized that, even now when things were quite possibly at their worst, her mother had no intention of backing down. Bad idea. The New World army had the authority to kill whenever, wherever, and whoever they wanted. You didn’t piss them off – number one rule.
“Like hell you don’t, woman,” the soldier said. “If you won’t tell me, perhaps you’ll be more cooperative with Roman.”
Where the hell was her father? Could it be true? Was he a rebel and she just never realized it? Would he sit by and just watch his family be destroyed while he stayed protected? The fact that her instinctive reply to that question was ‘yes’ left a sour taste in her mouth. When was the last time he had done anything to help this family? Why start now? She needed to find out the truth.
Closing her eyes, she let her mind clear like she had done so many times before. This was her biggest secret, one her parents continually stressed to keep within the family. No one understood why Charlotte could do what she could. Her mother suggested it was a side-effect from the radiation in the atmosphere. A lot of people had gotten sick that first year after the initial waves of bombings. Babies were born with deformities and health issues. It seemed logical to assume her new ‘gift’ was caused by an outside source. Her grandmother, however, had always held that Charlotte had been touched by God.
“He gave you a special gift so you could use it to help find your path in life,” she’d say. That was right before she passed away a year ago. At that point she had been nothing but skin on bones. Charlotte hated to think of it. She always tried to remember her how she used to be before the cancer took hold. When she had been bright and vibrant. That was the last time she remembered feeling sad about anything. After, it was like nothing could touch her behind the walls she had built. It was the only way to survive now. Be strong, or be killed. She chose to be strong.
Charlotte focused on her mother, reaching forward with her mental hands stretched wide, and grasped onto the thoughts now flowing through her mind. She cringed from what she heard there. Her mother’s thoughts were frantic despite her calm exterior. Charlotte knew without a doubt her father was involved with the rebels. She tried to search deeper, to figure out the exact extent of his involvement, but hit a wall. She opened her eyes to look a
t her mother. She was blocking her out. She must have known Charlotte would search her, and she was intentionally keeping her thoughts hidden. Her mother turned, meeting Charlotte’s eyes, and very subtly shook her head.
Charlotte’s heart sank. Normally she would have never read her mother’s thoughts. Long ago, she promised herself and her family members that she would never invade their privacy in such a way. To be honest, she hardly ever used her unusual gift at all. Reading another person’s thoughts felt so wrong, the deepest sort of intrusion. Charlotte looked away.
Now that her mind was open, she was bombarded with the thoughts from the men around them. She flinched under the assault, trying her best to push away the vile voices and images. The bald one was already planning their deaths, the dark skinned one was acutely aware of Charlotte’s sixteen year old, blossoming body, and the other was now outside on the phone with who Charlotte assumed was Roman.
She was well aware of who Roman was. Ludwig’s second in command had made quite a name for himself over the past few years. No one messed with Roman Adamson. She actually admired that about him. If people looked at her the same way they did him she wouldn’t be in this stinking mess.
“Where’s dad?” Charlotte said.
“Shh,” her mother replied. And that was all. No explanation, no reassuring words. Nothing. The second most dangerous man in the New World was on his way to their house, and her father was completely MIA. Charlotte reached out to search her mother again but found only the wall, as if his safety was more important than their own. She was covering for him, willing to take a bullet if it meant he was safe. Charlotte fumed.
“Tie their hands and feet,” the squad leader ordered as he came back inside. “Roman is five minutes away.”
Charlotte tried to struggle as the dark skinned one grabbed her. His hands brushed the sides of her breasts then hesitated just on the top of her backside as he tied her hands together, stretching her arms painfully back. He let his own hands trail down her legs to her feet before binding them as well.
“You don’t look so smug now, do you?” the leader said, spitting on the floor in front of her mother. Charlotte kept her eyes down. There was a noise outside and then heavy boots sounded in the doorway. Charlotte glanced at those boots but not at the face they belonged to. She could hear his thoughts as he took in the scene before him. He looked over the ransacked room disinterestedly before turning his focus to them. Walking over slowly, his footsteps echoed like the gentle rhythm of impending doom. The air around them tensed, like even the house was holding its breath to see what he would do.
“Emily and Charlotte Hatcher,” he said, his voice deep and smooth. “Wife and youngest daughter of a Douglas Hatcher.” He stopped just in front of them, his boots close to their faces, the same ones all the rest wore. “There is also an older daughter, no? Bridgette Hatcher, also currently missing.” Charlotte heard him crouch down. “You’re missing half your family, Mrs. Hatcher. Care to tell me where I might find them?”
“I don’t know,” her mother maintained. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
He made a clicking noise with his tongue. “That’s unfortunate,” he said. “Am I to assume your opposition is because of your rebel affiliation?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” her mother answered. Lie. Charlotte cringed, hearing the falsehood of that statement loud and clear.
He chuckled. “I’m sure you don’t.” He stood up again. “Perhaps the daughter knows.”
“I don’t,” Charlotte said.
There was a pause before Roman spoke. “Pardon me?”
“I don’t know where he is,” she said again. Although she wished she did. Perhaps she’d have no problem telling these men where to find Douglas Hatcher. Why have a sense of loyalty to a man who had practically forgotten about her for the last decade of her life? He was cold and apparently working toward a goal that was idiotic at best. Charlotte looked up for the first time, her breath catching in her lungs. Dark eyes looked down at her curiously from a young, handsome face. Long, dark hair hung loose and damp around his face to just below his shoulders. He was huge, broad shoulders making the uniform look even more intimidating than usual. His eyes narrowed at her. She looked down again, sensing for the first time her mother’s renewed distress. Charlotte just started to turn toward her when she cried out.
“Wait,” her mother said, her voice panicked. A loud shot pulsed through the room. Charlotte fell to the side, her ears ringing. The sounds around her were muffled now as she blinked slowly, her face pressed to the hardwood floor. Two hands grabbed her roughly, placing her back on her knees. A warm wetness soaked through the knees of her pants. She looked down beside her, a chill washing over her entire body. Even if she had wanted to scream, she doubted she could against the tightness in her throat.
On the floor lay her mother, the back of her head now a gaping hole. Charlotte couldn’t see her face, and for that she was glad. Blood pooled around her. She choked back the urge to vomit. Her mother was dead. A bitter taste filled her mouth. They hadn’t been close, but no daughter should have to see this. Charlotte wasn’t even sure how to begin to process the sight before her. Emily Hatcher was gone and her lying, spineless, coward of a husband was nowhere to be found. He left them to this, and now Charlotte’s life would end before it ever really began.
“Where is he?”
Charlotte looked up, resentment filling every ounce of her body. “He’s not here,” she said. But I am, she thought. And there was no way she was leaving the way her mother had. She’d do anything to stay alive so that one day she would be able to face her father again and tell him how he had failed them all.
Roman crouched in front of her, a smile playing on his lips. “Do you realize, little girl,” he said, Charlotte instantly taking offense to the way he addressed her. Roman could be no more than twenty, not that much older than her. “That I haven’t spoken a word to you since I entered? Did you know that?”
Charlotte stilled, realization slamming into her like a wrecking ball – her mother’s sudden distress made sense. Jesus, she cursed. She had answered Roman’s questions thinking he had said them out loud, but he hadn’t. For years her parents stressed the need to keep her ability a secret. She was in deep shit. Her mouth was dry and cottony.
“Can you hear my thoughts, Charlotte?” he asked, looking closely at her.
Her eyes went to her mother’s dead body then back to him. Anger at her for letting herself die over this, and anger at her father for putting them all in danger to begin with, raced through her. Above that, the desire to stay alive pulsed loudly in her veins. “Yes,” she answered.
A pleased smiled spread across his face, taking it from scary to breathtaking in one small shift of his lips. “How interesting,” he said. “Tell me, did your mother know where your father is?”
“I don’t know,” she replied. “She was blocking me out.”
Roman watched her for a second before nodding his head slowly. “I believe you,” he said, shocking her. “And I can see the anger in your eyes. You’re mad at him, aren’t you?”
“He’s a selfish prick,” she said without thinking.
He laughed, throwing his head back. “Excellent,” he exclaimed. He stood, looking over his shoulder at the other three soldiers standing there. They suddenly looked nervous, their eyes glancing anxiously at her. They were scared of her. They knew she had heard all the things they’d been thinking since they got here. Her eyes met the one who tied her. He quickly looked away, his face paling. Never in her entire life had she felt as powerful as she did then, even as she knelt in her mother’s blood, her hands and feet bound behind her.
“Untie her,” Roman ordered. “She comes with me. You continue to look for signs of the rebels. Don’t return until this whole place has been searched and burned.”
“Yes sir,” they said together.
The squad leader stepped forward, cutting the ropes. She stood shakily, stretchin
g out her aching limbs. Her eyes went back to her mother’s body, a mixture of anger and remorse washing over her.
“Come, Charlotte,” Roman said from the doorway. “I have someone I want you to meet.”
When Roman had entered her house, Charlotte could feel his presence. Some sort of intangible force surrounded him, demanding respect. He had nothing on Ludwig Tenebris. She was led into a large office, the floor to ceiling windows across from her bathing the room in a misleading warmth. Ludwig stood behind his desk, dark eyes watching her intently as she approached. He hadn’t said a word, and yet every hair on her arms stood on end. A shiver ran down her spine at the cold, calculated expression on his face, the power he exuberated with just the way he held himself.
“What do we have here?” he said. Charlotte swallowed against the dryness in her mouth. If surviving meant going along with whatever Roman had planned, then she was all for it. Dying was not an option. She would survive, and in time, she would grow to be strong enough to break away, find her sister, and get the hell away from London. Now, as she stood before the New World leader, she wondered if she’d ever make it out.
“A special treat,” Roman replied. “One I think you will rather enjoy.” A hand landed on her lower back, pushing her forward. She stumbled closer, her eyes locked on Ludwig.
“What’s your name, girl?”
“Charlotte Hatcher.”
Eyebrows shot up in surprise as Ludwig glanced at Roman questioningly. “Think of a number,” Roman said.
“Pardon me?” said Ludwig.
Roman laughed. “Ludwig, trust me, would you?”
The New World leader looked between the two of them doubtfully. “I’m starting to wonder if that’s such a good idea anymore,” he said.
“Humour me at the very least. You won’t be disappointed.”
“Twelve,” Charlotte said immediately. The second he had thought of it she heard it easily. His eyes shot to hers, widening in surprise. “Eighteen. Sixty two. Eighty nine.” God, Charlotte thought, how long is he going to do this? “Two thousand, five hundred and six.”