Hunt for edens star, p.1
Hunt for Eden's Star, page 1
Praise for Hunt for Eden’s Star
Reading this novel was an immersive experience reminiscent of playing a video game or slipping on a VR headset. Hunt for Eden’s Star is equal parts action-packed, raw, and hopeful, and Williams does an excellent job of weaving together allegory, mystery, and the light of Christ into every carefully plotted twist and turn. This series is one to watch!
OLIVIA SMIT, author of Seeing Voices
A blistering, high-stakes, fast-paced supernatural thriller that’s impossible to put down. D. J. Williams’s Hunt for Eden’s Star introduces a compelling new hero and takes readers on an unforgettable adventure where countless twists and turns await.
RYAN STECK, author of Fields of Fire; founder and editor in chief of the Real Book Spy
Hunt for Eden’s Star is like a jet on a runway . . . and the book is your passport to an international thriller filled with mystery, adventure, and intrigue! Buckle your seat belt. This supernatural adventure takes off with a heartbreaking murder, screams across the skies with edge-of-your-seat surprises and twists in this world and other realms, then leaves you hanging on in deadly turbulence as the secrets of Beacon Hill are revealed!
TIM SHOEMAKER, author of the High Water series
Visit Tyndale online at tyndale.com.
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Hunt for Eden’s Star
Copyright © 2023 by Derek Williams. All rights reserved.
Cover illustration copyright © Carlo Molinari. All rights reserved.
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Designed by Eva M. Winters
Published in association with Pape Commons: a gathering of voices, www.papecommons.com.
Hunt for Eden’s Star is a work of fiction. Where real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales appear, they are used fictitiously. All other elements of the novel are drawn from the author’s imagination.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress.
ISBN 978-1-4964-6265-7 (hc)
ISBN 978-1-4964-6266-4 (sc)
Build: 2023-03-01 09:50:11 EPUB 3.0
To all who feel invisible in this world—let your light shine.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Acknowledgments
About the Author
1
MANILA, PHILIPPINES
HE STOOD BESIDE A FRESH MOUND of dirt, boots sinking deeper into the grass. Steely gray clouds loomed overhead before cracking open a downpour across the city, drenching him to his bones. An avalanche of flashbacks crashed through his mind. Joyful memories. Endless nightmares. Mustering up an ounce of faith seemed impossible as he stared at the soil, failing to grasp how death had stolen a life.
“Jack,” a voice called out from behind. “Time to go.”
Addison Reynolds, early fifties, silver-haired, paced back and forth beneath an umbrella with a cell phone pressed against his ear. He checked his watch, then motioned to the driver.
Shivering at the growling voice, Jack knew the only reason they were reunited was because of their bloodline. As he gazed up at the darkened sky, the rain streamed down his face. For a moment he imagined each drop being a tear from heaven. Closing his eyes in silent desperation, he searched for answers. Prayers are wishes that never come true. He blinked and dropped a white rose onto the muddy mound, whispering, “Come back.”
“Last goodbyes are over,” his father ordered. “We need to leave.”
Jack trudged between the tombstones surrounded by tin shanties. “How could you bury her here?”
“She chose the dangers of this place, so this is where she will remain.”
Without a second thought, Jack lunged forward and swung his fist—only to be dropped with a thump to the mud. His father never even let go of the umbrella.
“Get in the car before you embarrass yourself, Son.”
On his back, clothes soaked and muddied, he blurted, “You failed to protect her.”
“Your sister believed a myth, and now she’s dead.”
By the time Jack reached the car, his father was already in the back seat. Jack climbed into the passenger seat and stared out the window, refusing to allow his father to see the tears welling up as they traveled across Manila in eight lanes of chaotic traffic. Wiping his bloodshot eyes with his forearm, he admitted his faith in a greater power would never be as strong as Rachel’s had been, yet he was the one left alive.
As they entered a private airfield, his father ordered, “Never come back here, understood?”
Without answering, Jack climbed out of the car and stomped across the puddled tarmac with his backpack slung over his shoulder. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d see his father again. Climbing the steps of the Gulfstream, he entered a darkened cabin illuminated with a soft yellow glow. He buckled his seat belt, eyed the liquor bottles across from him, and fought the urge to drown the ache in his soul.
“You must be Jack.” A woman in her early thirties with sandy blonde hair and dressed in a pantsuit slipped into the seat across from him. “I’m Natalie McNaughton. I work for your father.”
As she shifted in her seat, Jack noticed a holstered weapon beneath her coat. And her strong South African accent offered a clue as to where his father might’ve been for the past few years. “It’s not the first time I’ve been escorted back,” he said.
“To be honest, I never knew Mr. Reynolds had any children.”
“Well, now you’ve met the whole family.” Jack glared at McNaughton. “What exactly do you do for him?”
“Head of security, mostly.” She offered a disarming smile. “Today I’m your bodyguard.”
“What do you know about me?”
“I’d imagine you’re like most boys who love their fathers, Jack.”
“That was never in the cards.” He weighed his words. “What happened to Rachel?”
McNaughton glanced around the cabin. “Strict orders not to discuss.”
“I’ve been here for a week, and no one has told me anything.”
Her head turned toward the cockpit. “Sometimes it is better to leave a tragedy behind.”
“She’s the only real family I’ve ever had.” Jack noticed her brows raise. “You didn’t know.”
“First rule of the job is never pry into personal affairs.”
“Someone shot her,” McNaughton said in a lowered voice. “Local police in Sitio Veterans have no leads. If you want to know more, I suggest you speak with your father.”
“He never cared about her—she was always a disappointment to him.”
When McNaughton didn’t respond, Jack retrieved his earbuds and blasted the music, drowning out the world around him. He stared through the oval window as the Gulfstream taxied along the tarmac, accelerated, and took flight. Stormy clouds cast a shadow over the city below—the one place where his sister had found freedom. Slumping back in his chair, he ran his fingers through his mop of chestnut hair. McNaughton’s words paralyzed him. No one deserved to die, not that way. One thing was for sure—there would be payback.
2
KOWLOON, HONG KONG
THE GULFSTREAM BANKED EAST before descending over Victoria Harbour. Known as the New York of Asia, the multicultural city buzzed with neon-covered skyscrapers surrounding a majestic symphony hall. Sampans draped in white lights drifted in the waters. Cruise ships docked at Star Ferry. Tourists and sailors lost themselves in Wan Chai, a red-light district where nightclubs vibrated with techno beats. It was the one place Headmaster Fargher warned the students about. “Nothing good happens after dark in Wan Chai.” Jack had been there one year earlier, lost in the alleyways of Lockhart Road, when he surrendered to his addictions. Rachel had been the one to save him. That was a secret not even his father knew.
Glancing at McNaughton, Jack watched her lips move as music blared in his ears. A moment later his cell phone buzzed. Swiping the screen, he read a text message with her contact information linked.
He removed his earbuds. “So you’re my new babysitter.”
“Check in once a day. No excuses. As long as you play by the rules, we’ll get along.”
“You mean his rules.” Jack set his phone down. “Where’d he find you, Natalie?”
“I was in charge of security for another family whose children graduated from Beacon Hill and returned to Cape Town.” McNaughton’s eyes narrowed. “I’m sure you are aware many of your peers are from lineages of influence. At Beacon Hill, I’m not the only one who lingers in the shadows to keep them safe.”
“Which family?”
“Second rule of the job is to never disclose the names of those you’ve protected.”
“I’ll bet I can find out who,” Jack replied. “Then I’ll know why he picked you.”
“Not many teenagers are interested in their father’s business affairs.” McNaughton smirked. “Most are more afraid of losing the family fortune if they ask too many questions.”
Tires screeched against the runway, and the Gulfstream taxied toward a hangar at the far end of a secured area. Cabin lights blinked on as Jack unbuckled his seat belt and slung his backpack over his shoulder. He despised his father’s watchful eyes, but he admitted this stranger had just told him the truth. Shaking off the ache in his bones, he shuffled out of the cabin, longing to escape his reality.
Jack breathed in the hot, humid, and sticky night. An immigration officer, dressed in a perfectly tailored uniform, greeted him. With tablet in hand, the officer placed Jack’s passport on the screen, scanned his photo and signature, then motioned toward a silver Mercedes with blacked-out windows. Before climbing in, Jack was struck by a tropical breeze that embraced him as if the city knew the pain tormenting his soul. He eyed the streets beyond the secured fence where double-decker buses swerved between red and gray taxis amid the midnight madness.
He’d expected a chauffeur to greet him, but to his surprise McNaughton loaded her luggage into the trunk of the Mercedes and slipped behind the wheel. He slid into the passenger seat and set his backpack on the floor between his legs. McNaughton sped across the tarmac and through the streets of Kowloon as if she’d driven the route a thousand times. Jack’s eyes grew heavy as he stared blankly out the window, avoiding any further conversation. Soon he’d be back where he belonged, yet he feared it would never again be the refuge he needed.
Shortly after midnight the Mercedes rolled up to an iron gate that opened to a winding road illuminated by the soft glow of moonlight. At the end of the road was a clock tower perched above a two-story granite building with a Union Jack overhead. McNaughton stopped the Mercedes in front of the main steps leading to a giant oak door. Etched in stone above the arched entryway of the prestigious boarding school were the words BEACON HILL.
“Remember, check in once a day.” McNaughton held up her cell phone. “No excuses.”
Jack opened the door. “You’re no different than the others.”
Reaching the top step, he pressed his thumb against a keypad, and the oak door opened. Within the circles of government, business elite, rich, and infamous, Addison Reynolds was known as a protector of secrets—and an enforcer. Many feared him, but Jack just wanted to be free of him. Now that he was back at the one place where he felt safe, he hoped to find a way to do just that.
Inside the Main Hall was an atrium encircled with a family tree’s worth of photos dating back a century to the roots of Beacon Hill. Trophies were locked behind glass displays, including the coveted House Champions trophy engraved with the crest of a golden lion. Jack’s house—Nightingale—had won the trophy only once in the school’s history.
“During the Second World War, the city was a dangerous place for expats.”
Jack spun around in the darkened hall, surprised to see McNaughton standing only a few feet away. “What’re you still doing here?”
“When the Japanese threatened to invade Hong Kong, this was the one place where expats fled to hide. The Union Jack outside is a symbol of the heroes who sacrificed—those who believed freedom was worth the fight.” She nodded toward a framed painting. “Sir James Nightingale led the Battle of Hong Kong, and he was the bravest of them all.” Then she pointed to the rows of names etched into the wall. “Each one lost their life protecting the innocent. No matter what you believe about your father, you are part of a house of heroes, Jack.”
“Thanks for the history lesson.” He turned his back. “I’ve heard it all before.”
“You’re wrong, you know . . . I’m not like the others.”
“The first time I walked these halls, I was an outsider. He left me in a city I didn’t know, in a place I didn’t belong. Rachel was the one who protected me. She was the real hero.” He ran his fingers over the engraved names. Then his gaze drifted to the Nightingale House photo, where he stood beside his sister. “Why would someone kill her?”
“You may never know. And it is possible this is not yet over.” McNaughton paused. “I will make you a promise: if more is discovered, I will tell you.”
Exhaling deep, he turned and faced her. “I’ll hold you to it, Natalie.”
Leaving McNaughton standing in the dim light, he shuffled down a long corridor, then back outside and down a sidewalk, which led to a courtyard in the center of four brightly colored buildings. Deep-burgundy walls with a light-blue stripe: Nightingale. Rich browns with a gold stripe: Rowell. Vibrant orange with a canary-yellow stripe: Crozier. Royal purple with a lime-green stripe: Upsdell.
A van pulled up to the curb, and three familiar faces hopped out. William Fargher. Timothy Lloyd. Vince Tobias. Each grabbed a backpack and sauntered toward Nightingale, unaware of who lingered in the night.
Jack shouted, “Lantau lackeys!”
“Make tracks and run!” Tim blurted before realizing who it was and exhaling a sigh of relief. “Thought you were Nightingale himself come to haunt us for losing the championship last semester.”
“We carried luggage for twelve hours a day over the last week,” Vince grumbled. “You said you’d meet up with us, but you never showed.”
“Where’ve you been?” Tim approached and fist-bumped Jack. Through his black-rimmed glasses, he looked over Jack’s dirty clothes. “Mud wrestling?”
Jack shot a glance at Will, who remained silent. “It’s a long story.”
“You missed out on tourists complaining about the overcrowding on Lantau,” Tim mused. “I cannot believe our parents thought carrying other people’s luggage up and down the mountain before our last year at Beacon Hill would teach us anything. All I have gotten is a sore back.”
“You look horrible,” Vince added as he brushed past. “And you owe us dim sum.”
Jack followed them inside and up a stairwell to the third floor, where they’d shared a dorm room over the previous three years. Plastered on the walls since before summer break were posters of Bradman, Ponting, Sobers, Tendulkar, Hadlee, Gilchrist—the top cricket players of all time. The boys dumped their backpacks in a pile and slumped into worn leather chairs in the center of the room, facing an old brick fireplace. Jack had hoped being back together would ease the weight on his shoulders, but he was wrong. Reaching into his front pocket, he slid his fingers across a folded piece of paper—Rachel’s final words.
