Sign of the Throne: Book One in the Solas Beir Trilogy Read Online Free PDF

but with limited finances and little knowledge about fashion, she kept her makeup minimal and her wardrobe simple. The usual Abby Brown uniform consisted of jeans, sneakers, and a T-shirt from one of several favorite underground bands with odd monikers, such as the Well-Meaning Sociopaths and Epic Pickle Chuck . She had banished the T-shirt identifying her as a “Pickle Chucker” to the back of her closet after a barbaric incident in the cafeteria involving a pickle slice projectile. Thankfully, the condiment had sailed over Abby’s head, but hearing its juicy smack against the wall was enough to convince her that the shirt was a social hazard. Funny how nobody ever chucked things at her when she identified herself as a “sociopath.”
    Now that she was a senior in high school, Abby planned to attend college , and studied hard, but she ranked only slightly above average, according to her report card. She was intelligent and clever, but did not stand out among her peers, who held starring roles in academic competitions. The word brilliant was something she associated with other people, the kind of people who earned scholarships and had college recruiters knocking on their doors. No one came knocking at the Brown residence, and Abby knew her last year in high school would mean the end of her career painting sets for the theater club’s musicals and working more hours to save for college the next fall.
    It was the overwhelming normality of her life that drew Abby out of her own boring neighborhood and into the attractive historic district of Newcastle Beach. Here was a place in the universe where nothing was simply average. In Newcastle Beach, stunning, successful people drove gorgeous cars and lived in beautiful, sprawling homes with impeccably manicured lawns. Even the paint on the Newcastle Beach houses was a little bit brighter than in the rest of the world. The exclusive community had been built next to the beach on the western edge of the city of Santa Linda.
    Bounded by a wall of smooth, round stones, a circle surrounded the entire neighborhood. Large iron gates marked the eastern and western entrances, and the cobblestone paving of the Newcastle Beach streets was in stark contrast to the potholed asphalt roads of Santa Linda. Parallel to the shore was one of the oldest buildings in the neighborhood: the Newcastle Beach Inn.
    Although it remained a working hotel, and at times entertained guests of great wealth and fame, the inn was more of a country club for the residents of the community. The children born in the neighborhood learned to swim in the resort pool, wandered the many gardens during the annual Easter egg hunt, practiced their tennis skills on courts with a view of the sea, and, as they grew older, attended more formal functions in the grand ballroom.
    With its clean, whitewashed plaster and tiled fountains, the Spanish colonial architecture of the inn stood in contrast to most of the other buildings in the town. It was larger and grander, with an old-world presence. The only building that came close to matching its greatness was an old mansion across the street, but its grandeur had faded after it was damaged by an earthquake decades before.
    With cracked plaster, broken windows, and a ruined reflecting pool filled with water the color and consistency of sludge, the mansion was shrouded in an overgrowth of trees and brush, surrounded by a tall, imposing wall. Children in the neighborhood avoided it as a rule. Only the bravest among them dared to peer through the large, wrought-iron gate, returning to scare their young friends with ghost stories of a mad lady in white, a witch who lurked in her dark lair, waiting to steal and eat snooping children.
    On nights when there was no wind, strange noises could be heard emanating from the bowels of the intimidating, lightless building. Ravens seemed to be drawn to the trees surrounding the estate. The large, black creatures called out mockingly to would-be