Dark Muse: An Indie Paranormal Sampler

Edited by Dave Ferraro and Nicole Passante
Cover Layout by Nicole Passante

Dark Muse: An Indie Paranormal Sampler, Copyright © 2012 Dave Ferraro

Blood Warrior: The Alexa Montgomery Saga: Book 1, Copyright © 2011 by H.D. Gordon

The Scarlet Dagger, Copyright © 2011 by Krystle Jones

Five (Elemental Enmity Book I) Copyright © 2011 by Christie L. Rich

Her Dark Destiny (Hunters of the Dark #1) by Dave Ferraro, Copyright © 2011 Dave Ferraro

Anomaly: The Tri-Realms Saga: Book One, Copyright © 2012 by Kristie King

Angel Evolution (The Evolution Trilogy #1) by David Estes, Copyright © 2011 David Estes

Meeting Destiny (Destiny #1), copyright © 2011 by Nancy Straight

Therian: The Bloody Crescent Book I, Copyright © 2011 by Roxanne Kade

Fate Fixed:  An Erris Coven Novel.  Copyright © Bonnie Wheeler, 2011. All rights reserved.

Bridger, Copyright © 2011 by Megan Curd

Beg For Mercy, Copyright © 2011, Shannon Dermott

Sweet Blood of Mine, Copyright © 2012 John Corwin

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DARK MUSE


An Indie Paranormal Sampler
Table of Contents

Blood Warrior (The Alexa Montgomery Saga, #1) by H.D. Gordon

The Scarlet Dagger (The Red Sector Chronicles, #1) by Krystle Jones

Five (Elemental Emnity, #1) by Christie L. Rich

Her Dark Destiny (Hunters of the Dark, #1) by Dave Ferraro

Anomaly (The Tri-Realms Saga, #1) by Kristie King

Angel Evolution (The Evolution Trilogy, #1) by David Estes 

Meeting Destiny (Destiny, #1) by Nancy Straight

Therian (The Bloody Crescent, #1) by Roxanne Kade

Fate Fixed (The Erris Coven, #1) by Bonnie Erina Wheeler

Bridger (Bridger #1) by Megan Curd

Beg For Mercy (Cambion, #1) by Shannon Dermott

Sweet Blood of Mine by John Corwin


Blood Warrior
(The Alexa Montgomery Saga #1)

H.D. Gordon


Chapter One: Blood Warrior


It wasn’t dead when I found it.
I’m not even sure what drew me over to the window in the first place. But I went. I suppose I should have, even could have walked away at that point; let nature take its course. But I didn’t.
Its neck was broken. Its wings outstretched and feathers riveted in a way more peacock than blackbird. I’d pushed open the window, having almost forgotten its deceitful boundary, though the glass was stained where the two had collided.
And then I tilted, just bent my upper body so that I was leaning over it. It was in pain. No, I couldn’t be sure of this, and yet, I was. I think it was the eyes that captured me, held me there until the option of walking away had faded, leaving me with seemingly no choice at all.
I backpedaled, reached out a calloused and cracked hand, and grabbed Capote off of my desk. Returning to the window, I raised the hardcover.
My hesitation was brief, but present. It was wounded beyond repair. And, somehow, I thought I was doing what it wanted; what I would want were I the broken blackbird.
Or maybe I was just justifying certain wants with inferred ones. Either way, it was the right thing. I took no pleasure in watching something suffer. Nor would I let it.
The book fell at exactly the same moment the door opened.


Chapter Two: Blood Warrior


My Mother entered the room, and I reluctantly turned to face her. I was in a good mood. I didn’t particularly want to change that. But, she was here, and that meant she had a reason. My Mother never visited for a simple chat.
Her eyes flicked briefly to the window. If I hadn’t been watching, I would have missed it. She didn’t comment. She didn’t ask about the lone black feather sticking out from under Capote. She just gestured to the bed, and I took a seat.
She had the makeup in her hand, and I refused to wince when she set it none too gently to my eye.
“There,” she said, leaning back to examine her work.
I blinked a couple times to clear my vision and went to study myself in the mirror. My black eye was still visibly swollen, but at least the foundation she’d applied covered up some of the dark coloring. I stared at myself, almost ignoring the fact that I had become reasonably comfortable with this routine.
“Thanks,” I mumbled. It was all I ever said to her when this happened, and it occurred to me that it was strange to be thanking her for covering up an injury she had caused. Still, I had learned long ago to enjoy these moments with her. These moments when I could almost believe her when she said it was necessary for me to endure the physical pain she inflicted.
“Now go,” she said, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Or you’ll be late for school.” I nodded and grabbed my loaded backpack off its hook as I headed out the door.
“Hey, wait!” my little sister, Nelly, called from upstairs.
I was tempted to shut the door behind me and head off without her, but I knew that would only piss my Mother off. I suppose that’s why I was tempted. I felt good this morning; stronger. And, it occurred to me much later that this probably had something to do with the blackbird.
As it was, my Mother shot me a warning look as I stood in the open doorway and waited impatiently for Nelly. A few moments later, she came running down the stairs with her backpack in tow. I rolled my eyes as I took in her usual perfect and prim appearance. Her golden brown hair hung perfectly straight across her shoulders, and her makeup was light and tasteful. We were both very pretty, but most of the time I couldn’t help but feel mildly jealous of her. I had my reasons. Believe me.
She was wearing a baby blue button-down blouse and light colored jeans. I looked down at my wrinkled t-shirt and sweatpants. Mom always got her the good stuff. At least the pants fit me nicely.
“Well, don’t you look pretty,” I said. “Can we go now?”
This earned another glare from my Mother, which I pointedly ignored by pushing the hair that had fallen out of my sloppy ponytail out of my face.
Nelly just smiled genuinely and swept past me through the open door. It was childish, but I sighed and rolled my eyes again. Nelly certainly is the diplomatic one. Me? Not so much. Still, I felt bad for making fun of her this morning. It wasn’t her fault that she didn’t have to “prepare”- that’s what my Mother called it- like I did. And, truth be told, I was glad she didn’t get the same treatment from my Mother as I did. Nelly is more fragile than I am, and I wasn’t sure she could take it.
Just before I closed the door, my Mother called out to me. “Alexa-“
“I know, I know,” I said, cutting her off. “Don’t stop until we get there.”


Chapter Three: Blood Warrior


Nelly was waiting for me outside the door, and I stepped out onto the porch with her. Letting out a big breath, I steeled myself for the run ahead of us. I glanced at her, and she gave me a sympathetic smile. I smiled back because I couldn’t help it. Nelly is just that way. Her moods tend to be contagious. Also, this was one thing our Mother insisted we both do, and it was hard on both of us.
“Ready?” I asked.
“As I’ll ever be,” she replied.
I gave her another smile. It was the same response she gave every day, and I admired her for her optimism. Despite the unfair treatment from our Mother, I loved Nelly. She was all I had in this world and the only reason I hadn’t left long ago. Our Mother was right about one thing: we needed to stay together. I had to protect her. From what? I was still figuring that one out. I just knew she needed me.
“Alright,” I said. “Let’s go.”
Nelly jumped off the porch and set off at an impressive rate in the direction of our school. I let her get a few paces ahead before jumping off the porch myself and racing after her. She was fast, but I was faster.
I caught up to her, and we kept up pace as we ran down the road that would take us to Levland High School. She grinned and shook her head as I fell into step just behind her. This was another thing our Mother insisted on: always keep Nelly in your line of sight. 
We didn’t talk much on this run. It was hard enough, with the three and a half mile trip, just to keep up a steady pace. Our heavy backpacks didn’t make it any easier.
It could have been worse, though. Our last school had been six miles from the house and the terrain had been full of hills. This road was flat and hard-packed. Thank God for small favors.
My thoughts churned as I ran, and I actually took time to enjoy the scenery around me. We lived in a small town in Missouri, and springtime was just starting to set in. Another thing I was grateful for. Running in snow sucks.
Inevitably, my mind soared back to the blackbird. It was impossible not to think of, especially since the day seemed to match my good mood. I had done a good thing this morning, a humane thing, and this fact seemed to fuel me as my feet pounded the dirt road. 
Every blooming wildflower had its face lifted and was smiling at me, rewarding me by wrapping its sweet scent around my body. I felt like Mother Nature was thanking me, hoping I would do the same for her if she were ever suffering. And, promising me that kindness in return, should I ever need it.
The sun shined brightly in my eyes, and I was pleased that I’d remembered my sunglasses this morning. Glancing over at Nelly told me she hadn’t. 
I jogged up beside her, took off the sunglasses, and held them out to her. She shook her head and forced out, “It’s okay, you keep them.” I shook my head and continued holding them out to her. Finally, she took them and put them on, nodding her thanks.
Squinting my eyes the rest of the way, I fell back a few paces behind her. It was so ingrained in me to take care of her, even in the smallest of ways, that I hadn’t thought twice about handing over the sunglasses.
Finally, I saw the school up ahead and Nelly and I picked up our pace. The sooner we reached it, the sooner we could stop. School buses were pulling in the lot as we reached the mouth of the school. Nelly and I met our destination and went to lean against the big oak tree near the school’s entrance. As I watched the students file out of their buses, I couldn’t help but feel a little envious. There was a bus that went right by our house, but our Mother insisted that running was essential. 
“Bullshit,” I said, still struggling to catch my breath. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my cigarettes and a lighter. I set fire to one as I glared at the students exiting the buses.
“Don’t swear,” Nelly chastised me, “And the run would probably be easier on you if you quit that stupid smoking.”
I smirked. “It would be easier on me if I could ride the damn bus like everyone else.”
She shook her head and smiled. “Come on, or we’ll be late for class.”
I nodded and threw the cigarette to the ground, stomping it out. We entered the school and she gave me a quick hug before parting to go to her first period class. Nelly was a sophomore and I was junior, so we had no classed together. I wished she would have been able to jump ahead into some of my classes, like she had at our last school, she was certainly smart enough.
I watched Nelly leave, mildly annoyed as a group of her friends surrounded her, eager to swap rumors, as they were every morning. Nelly was better at that than me, I guess. I was the only one she really cared about in this world, but she could pretend her ass off that she cared about other people as well. That’s not to say that she wouldn’t help them if she could, that just meant she only really cared about me.
I’m sure I was just jealous, which is not something I like to admit. But, I didn’t really have any friends; I was never good at pretending. And, anyhow, people tended to avoid me. They didn’t talk to me. They usually wouldn’t even meet my eyes. Sometimes I felt like the plague personified. That’s how they behaved. As if looking into my eyes would cost them dearly; as if they would lose their soul, or be frozen solid like the onlookers of Medusa. People just tended to avoid me.
Well, most people.
“Hey, Alexa, wait up!” called a voice behind me.
I knew who it was before I turned around. The options were limited. Like I said, I had no friends. 
Unless you counted Jackson Kane. Jackson was the only person who didn’t treat me like a deadly disease. For whatever reason, Jack got me. He understood me, possibly because people treated him the same way.
Jackson swung his arm up and over my shoulder as he walked alongside me, and my lips pulled upward in an involuntary smile. Usually, I’m not one for physical contact. I’m a “personal bubble” person. But, with Jack, I didn’t mind it so much. It didn’t make me uncomfortable. And, part of me was just always amazed that he was willing to get close enough to me to touch me. 
It also didn’t hurt that Jack was rather attractive. All of the girls at school were in love with him, but most of them just seemed too intimidated by him to even begin a conversation. Like me, I suppose he just has that “back off” way about him. 
“What’s up, Jack?” I said.
He spoke with his thick mid-western drawl. “Um, let’s see… the sky, the clouds, the sun…”
I laughed at his weak attempt at comedy. “And, apparently, your supply of crappy jokes.”
“Crappy? Hardly, the ladies love my jokes.”
I made a show of glancing all around us. “You’re right. They’re swarming us as we speak. Better be careful with that arm around me, I wouldn’t want to start my day by beating up some jealous, potential girlfriends.”
He laughed at that. “I have no doubt you could, and really, that would be pretty hot. Not that you need to get any hotter than you already are,” he said, flashing his teeth with a smile.
I rolled my eyes and couldn’t help another laugh. Jack had a way of making me smile, which could be quite a task. He hadn’t even mentioned my black eye. Maybe today was going to be a good day.
But, then again, maybe not.
We walked into our first period class together and I was tempted to push his arm off of my shoulder. I knew what was coming, and I just didn’t feel like getting into it today. Still, my pride got the best of me. I’d be damned if I’d let these kids scare me away from the only person who treated me like I wasn’t some kind of freak.
Sure enough, as soon as we walked through the door, the other students in class grew silent. Then, as I had anticipated, Riley Brockman spoke up. He was surrounded by his jock friends, and each one of them was dumber than the last.
“Look, guys,” Riley said. “Two losers in love. Hey, Kane, did you give her that black eye?”
The class erupted in snickers and giggles, and Riley sat back with a smug little smirk on his face. I felt Jackson stiffen beside me and had to keep a tight grip on his arm to keep him from going after Riley. 
Riley hated Jackson because three days ago, Riley’s girlfriend asked Jack if he would escort her to the girl’s choice dance this weekend. I had been right there when she’d asked him. Jackson and I had taken our lunches outside to eat, so that we could sneak a cigarette afterward. Or, maybe just so I could sneak one. But, anyhow, Riley’s girlfriend, Jenna, walks over to where Jackson and I are eating in the shade of a large tree, and she says, shooting a rude glance at me, “Um, Hi, Jackson. I was just wondering if you would like to take me to the girl’s choice dance next weekend.”
I’d raised an eyebrow at her audacity to look at me rudely. Jackson just looked at her like she was stupid. And, eventually, after what must have been many awkward seconds for her, she’d stalked away. We’d laughed about it afterward, and didn’t think much of it until we encountered Riley in class the next day. Up until this point, Jack had been letting it slide, but Riley needed to watch what he said. I knew Jack would only take it for so long. They were both big boys, and that would not be a pretty fight. 
Not only that, Riley was starting to gain ill thoughts from me. Very ill thoughts. 
“Not today,” I whispered to Jack. “You can’t get any more suspensions.”
It seemed to take a minute for this to register with him, but finally, I felt him relax beside me. We took our seats on the other side of the room, with Jackson giving Riley a look of death the whole time. I could swear I saw Riley cringe a little, but he quickly recovered. I couldn’t blame him. I would have been scared too if Jackson had looked at me like that.
Just then, the teacher walked in, and I was thankful that Riley wouldn’t be able to continue his ridicule. It’s not like I was scared to fight, quite the contrary actually, I enjoyed fighting. Good thing too, with all the “preparations” my Mother put me through. It’s just that I didn’t feel like it today. Things had been going pretty well.
“Miss Montgomery, would you care to enlighten us with your thoughts on the book?” My teacher said, looking at me expectantly.
Great. What book were we even talking about? I wracked my brain as the whole class waited for me to speak. What were we supposed to be reading this week? Oh, yeah, The Scarlett Letter. I had read this book before, as I had every other book she assigned us. I read a lot. It’s one of my favorite things to do. Still, it pissed me off that she always called on me first when we were discussing our readings. I don’t like being singled out.
“Not really,” I replied.
She shook her head, as though she expected no less, and marked something down in her grade book. Probably a zero. Whatever. Just add it to my list of problems.
Eventually, that class ended and I headed to my second period class: gym. I received another zero for refusing to run the mile. I’m not terribly defiant, it’s just that I didn’t want to do anymore running than I already had to. I still had to run the three and a half miles back home. I wasn’t sure my body could take it.
Thankfully, the rest of the day passed without incident. The final bell of the day rang, signaling it was time to go home. I was relieved, but at the same time, it’s not like I really wanted to go home. My Mother would be waiting for me. That was never something I looked forward to.
Stepping outside of the school, I glanced around, looking for Nelly. Where the hell was she? I hated it when she made me wait for her, but I wouldn’t dare return home without her. Scanning the area, I caught sight of her over on the other side of the parking lot. Annoyed, I started off toward her.
But, as I got closer, I realized she wasn’t alone. She was talking to someone. I could tell by her posture that she was uncomfortable. When she saw me, her unease grew visibly. I picked up my pace. Before I got too close, I picked up bits of the conversation they were having.
“I really can’t. I’m sorry. I just have other things to do that evening,” Nelly was saying, “Maybe some other time.”
As she started to walk away, the guy she was talking to grabbed her arm. Nelly’s unease grew once more, but she didn’t resist. I was moving faster now. The guy had his back to me, but once I heard his voice, I knew who it was.
“Wait,” he said. “I wasn’t finished talking to you.”
At last, I reached them. I grabbed him by the back of his jacket, jerking him away from Nelly.
“Yes, you are,” I said, stepping in between them and shoving him hard in the chest. He stumbled back several feet.
Riley’s face showed pure hatred. “No one was talking to you, freak,” he spat.
I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Leave her alone. Unless you want everyone to see you get knocked out by a girl.”
My tone was casual, but my blood was boiling. Nobody touched Nelly. Nobody. Disturbing thoughts raced through my head, every one of them intriguing. Riley definitely was bigger and stronger than me, but I was pretty confident I could hurt him. That thought alone erased any possibilities of fear. I guess my Mother’s trainings were good for something. I was no stranger to battle. I was conditioned for it. And mostly, I just wasn’t concerned with the consequences.
“Watch it,” Riley said, through gritted teeth, “unless you want to end up with two black eyes.”
Again, I shrugged. “You are most certainly welcome to try.”
True to his word, Riley lunged for me. I had been expecting this. I’d learned long ago to anticipate the attacks of others, and he had nowhere near the amount of combat skill my Mother had. My respect for her grew a little.
I managed to side-step his attack and push Nelly out of the way in the process. This was not something he had been expecting, and he stumbled a little before regaining his footing. As he spun around to face me, the anger that had been on his face before had turned into rage. I flashed him a toothy grin, egging him on. 
This time he stepped forward and swung his fist out toward my face. Again, I had been expecting this. And, in my mind, the fact that he would hit a girl justified my next actions. A hazy sort of anger came over me. It was so intense that I felt it thrum in my veins; like it was vibrating under my skin.
Resolved, I made my decision. I wanted very much to end this circus show he was putting on. I moved so fast I don’t think he ever saw it coming. I slammed my fist so hard into his face that he literally lifted off of his feet and fell back on his butt. His head hit the pavement with a sickening thud, and I stood frozen to my spot. I had known I could fight, but the strength it must have taken to knock someone down twice my size impressed even me.
I felt myself move forward, and then I was standing over Riley. My mind snapped back to the blackbird. His nose was sitting at a funny angle and deep crimson was flowing out of it. He was unconscious. My left eye twitched. I felt one side of my mouth pull up into a crooked smile and just barely managed to stop it before it turned full-fledged. And, my mind snapped back to the blackbird.
Then, Nelly was tugging on my arm, her voice was panicked. “Alexa, we have to go. Now.”
I looked up at her and finally began to take in the scene around me. Students were standing all around us, dumbstruck. No doubt they had just seen their all-star receiver get knocked out by a girl. A relatively small girl at that. I took one last look at Riley. My mind snapped back to the blackbird.
I heard myself say, “Run, Nell. We have to run.”
We did.


Chapter Four: Blood Warrior


By the time we made it back to the house we were both panting and covered in sweat. We’d taken the long way home, going through the woods instead of following the road that led directly to our house. I shut the door once we made it inside and slumped back against it.
Nelly stood directly in front of me, with a look on her face that I had never seen before. She looked both proud and… scared. Was she scared of me or of the trouble I was going to be in when we returned to school tomorrow? I didn’t know. Probably both.
Still breathing heavily, I looked down at my hands to see that they were trembling. Now that we had stopped running, the reality of what I had just done hit me. What was wrong with me? How badly had I hurt Riley? More importantly, how badly would I have hurt him if Nelly hadn’t pulled me away? I would like to say I would have been able to walk away on my own, but some small part of me knew that was a lie. Another part of me was disgusted by this. And, yet, another small part of me was left feeling disturbingly unsatisfied.
Glancing back up at Nelly, I got the feeling that she was aware of this. I’m not sure what my face looked like, though I did my best to keep it reasonably void of any expression at all. But, Nelly knew me. Sometimes, I felt like Nelly knew me better than I knew myself.
She came forward and took me into her arms. I let her hold me, and actually took comfort in the embrace. My mind seemed to relax a little.
“Girls? I’ll have dinner ready in a few minutes if you want to go wash up and-“
Upon seeing us, my Mother stopped abruptly. Her eyes narrowed slightly and my back went rigid in response. I tried to prepare myself for what was to come. No point in lying to her. She would find out from the school soon enough.
“What happened?” she asked. The threat was clear in her voice.
“I got into a fight.” I didn’t know what else to say. Besides, I kind of felt like I deserved whatever punishment she gave me.
My Mother remained deathly still, waiting for me to elaborate. I was so shocked that I couldn’t even think past that initial thought. I honestly thought I wouldn’t have to. I had been expecting her to drag me outside right then and there.
It was Nelly who came to my rescue.
“There was this guy at school who was messing with me,” she began. “He grabbed me and Alexa yanked him off of me. She tried to tell him to leave me alone, and then he attacked her… so she… stopped him.”
Okay, that may have been a little bit skewed, but it sounded better than: Alexa may have just seriously injured someone with an extremely badass punch to the face. Nonetheless, I was glad she spoke up.
My Mother’s gaze snapped to me. I met her eyes and nodded. And then, to my utter astonishment, she gave a small nod and… walked away.

Chapter Five: Blood Warrior

Later, I was sitting in my bedroom staring at the wall, when someone knocked on my door. Opening it up, I expected to see Nelly standing there.
Except it wasn’t Nelly.
It was my Mother.
“Mom, I didn’t mean to-“
“I know, come with me,” she said.
I grabbed my shoes and followed her. Some part of me had been expecting this. I had known she wasn’t going to let something like this slide, but from her reaction earlier, I guess I was just hoping she would.
She led me out to the backyard of the house, and I knew what was coming. Time for her to teach me a lesson. I pushed my chin out and wiped my face clear of any expression, refusing to showcase any fear. The effort had me clenching my teeth.
But instead of stopping in our usual spot where we did our training, she just kept going. Oh god, I thought, maybe she’s taking me somewhere to kill me.
I laughed out loud at this morbid thought, and my Mother turned her head, giving me a slightly confused look. I shook my head and mumbled an apology as I continued following her to the unknown destination.
We walked for a little over an hour through the woods that encased the back of our house. With every step my unease grew. I felt like I was on some impromptu death march. To make things even weirder, my Mother kept pointing out certain markers, telling me to commit them to memory. I did. I was never sure why my Mother did the things she did, and by this point in my life, I had learned to just roll with whatever she threw at me.
At last, we emerged at a small clearing. It was beautiful. The ground was packed with wild honeysuckle and dandelions. And straight ahead of us was a small hill that was surrounded on all sides by tall trees. It also had what seemed to be an opening at the foot of it, like it housed a small cave.
“Wow.” I didn’t know what else to say. I almost smiled. Maybe I’d been wrong. Maybe she just wanted to spend some time with me. As happy as that would have made me, the thought alone made me suspicious.
But, when my Mother turned to face me, she had the same expression on her face that Nelly had earlier when we’d first entered the house. It was a mixture of pride and fear. A second later, it was gone, replaced by her usual serious expression. I decided I must have been mistaken. I doubted this woman even knew what fear was.
“Do you remember how to get here?” she asked.
I nodded.
“Good, it’s very important that you do. This is where I want you to come if anything ever happens to me.”
“Why would anything ever happen-“
“Why is not important,” she replied. “What is important is that if anything ever happens, you run, you run and you bring Nelly with you to this spot.”
I gave her what must have been a wary look, because she was in front of me, faster than anyone should have been able to move, and she was gripping my shoulders. It was an unpleasant, tension-filled touch; much like the rub of denim on badly sunburned skin.
“Alexa, I need you to tell me you understand. I need you to promise me that you’ll do as I say.”
I looked her straight in the eyes, refusing to let her scare me. I wouldn’t be scared of her anymore. She had to know that. “I understand.”
What I thought looked like more pride flashed behind her eyes, and this time, I was certain I saw fear. “Good,” she said. “Let’s head back. It’s time to practice.”

Chapter Six: Blood Warrior

When we made it back to the house Nelly was sitting on the back porch, as if she’d been expecting us. She probably had, considering that this was the time of day our Mother always made me “practice”.
Upon seeing us, Nelly gave me a big smile. I was surprised to feel a huge weight lift off of my shoulders. I guess I hadn’t realized how worried I’d been that she might be angry with me about the fight earlier. I smiled back and then took a deep breath, preparing myself for what was to come.
Ahead of me, Nelly’s smile faltered, and I knew what that meant. I swung around fast, and just barely managed to dodge a strike from my Mother.
I spun to the side and my hands went up. I met her eyes. The woman who had just led me through the forest was gone; now she was just a predator. I was used to this look on my Mother, and it never failed to scare the shit out of me.
But, somehow, today was different. I was still scared, and my Mother hadn’t changed any from yesterday or the day before that. It was me that seemed changed. I felt that maybe today, when my Mother stood across from me on the destroyed grass that served as our “practice” area, she might just feel that she too was staring down a predator.
She didn’t move again, and neither did I. We stood there for several seconds, just watching each other. Looking for a weak point; an opening.
She broke first, rushing forward and swinging with all power and skill. Seeing this made me think of Riley, and that seemed to release something in me. The world slowed. I dodged, moving with what felt like superhuman speed. And then I saw it.
My opening; her weak point.
At that point, everything became a blur. Now, instead of slowing down, the world had sped up, pulling me along with it. I remember moving as I had been trained, throwing all of my weight and strength behind my fist, the motion all too familiar. I remember it connecting, crashing hard into what seemed to be a solid surface. But I didn’t feel any pain. Not right at that moment. I didn’t feel any pain.
Then my Mother was on the ground, lying in much the same position as Riley had been just hours earlier. And I was standing over her, not quite sure I could get my muscles to move. Not really trusting myself to move.
So, I just stood there, until Nelly spoke from somewhere behind me. “Mom, are you okay?” Her voice was calm; maybe a little too calm.
My Mother sat up and gave her head a sharp shake. A red welt was already swelling up on her face.
I finally found my voice. “Mom, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” she replied. “Well done. I can’t believe you inherited your strength.”
Beside me, Nelly nodded in agreement. I furrowed my brow in confusion. What an odd choice of words. Inherited your strength.
“Although, I do have to say I feel sorry for that Brockman boy if he took a blow like that,” she continued, pulling herself unsteadily to her feet. “You need to be careful with whom you choose to fight. Not everyone is built as sturdily as we are.” She started heading back to the house. “And be careful who sees you fight too. Your strength may seem…. unnatural to them.”

Chapter Seven: Blood Warrior

Later that night, I was sitting back in my room, just staring at the wall. I wasn’t sure what to think about all the events of the day. Or maybe I was just afraid to. It was all too strange. I felt like I was missing something big here. I didn’t like that feeling.
First of all, Nelly and my Mother were keeping something from me. I wasn’t sure what, but I was sure it was something. What the hell had my Mother meant by “inherited your strength”? Even weirder than that was the secret spot she’d taken me in the forest today. I was starting to worry about her. Maybe she was really losing it.
I’d sort of always assumed that she had some mild case of paranoid schizophrenia. Didn’t people with that condition tend to think someone was after them? I’m no doctor. I didn’t know.
But, even stronger than my worry for my Mother was my worry for someone else. Me. I’d always known I was different from other people. I just tended to get angrier than most; thinking things that people probably shouldn’t be thinking, or at least would never admit to. But, I’d always been able to control myself. I’d never considered myself a danger to others. I was starting to rethink that.
I glanced over at the clock sitting on my dresser. It was just past two in the morning. I wished I could get some sleep, but lately, I’d been feeling restless at night. Usually, I could read until I fell asleep. Somehow I knew that reading wasn’t going to stop my mind from turning over.
Lying back on my bed, I stared at the ceiling. At least it was a change in scenery from the wall.  It was dark in my room, but I had always been able to see reasonably well in the dark. My Mother said it was because she fed me lots of carrots when I was young. Knowing her, she probably had.
Just then, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, near the window. My senses went on high alert. I slipped off the bed and snuck over so that I was standing beside the window, my back against the wall. My Mother’s room and mine were on the first floor. Only Nelly had a bedroom upstairs. My Mother never explained why, but I assumed it had something to do with keeping Nelly safe. I didn’t mind.
My window was open, and I immediately regretted this. My room tended to hold in heat, so I usually kept it open once the weather began to get warmer. Still, it was stupid. I doubted my Mother slept with her window open.
A shadow moved across the floor. I stilled. It irritated me to think that someone might be sneaking around my house in the middle of the night. It made me nervous too, but my instincts overrode that. And, before I knew what I was doing, I’d swung around, grabbed the intruder by the front of his shirt, and hauled him through the window.
I knew it was a him because he was heavy, but the adrenaline that was coursing through me seemed to lend me super-strength, and I managed to throw him to the floor with impressive force. I drew my fist back to hit him, but he dodged the blow and grabbed my wrist. I drew my other hand back, intending to hit him again.
“Alexa! Alexa, it’s me,” he whispered fiercely.
I stopped mid-swing, recognizing the drawl of his voice. “Jackson? What the hell are you doing here? I almost punched you in the face!”
He chuckled softly. “Yeah, I noticed.”
I flopped back onto the bed and inhaled deeply. It seemed to take a minute for me to realize there was no longer a threat. Shoving my hair out of my face, I said, “I would have felt really bad if I had knocked you out too.”
Jackson made a show of dusting himself off, then walked over and sat down next to me on the bed. It dipped with his weight. “I know, I heard about that. Wish I had been there to see it. Good thing I’m not such a weak opponent.”
I didn’t really want to get into that, so I ignored that comment. “Why are you here, Jack? How did you know where I live?”
“I wanted to come and check on you. I was worried after I’d heard what happened. I really should have been there for you.” His green eyes fixed on me. He looked like he was serious, and my agitation faded a little, but I didn’t miss the fact that he’d ignored my second question.
“Well, thanks, but I’m fine… Did you hear anything about how Riley is doing?”
“Yeah, I guess he’s got a broken nose and a concussion.” He shrugged like this was no big deal.
Noticing what must have been my horrified face, he said, “He’ll be fine, though. I’m sure he’ll be fine. Besides, I heard he swung at you first. He deserves what he got.”
I wasn’t sure I agreed. “What else did you hear?”
He flashed an easy smile. “That you were amazing… and fast. Some of the kids are even afraid of you. Well, more afraid of you than they were before.”
I scoffed. “People aren’t afraid of me.” Who was I kidding? I was starting to be afraid of me.
Jack stood up and walked over to the window. “Course they are. It’s in their nature.”
My brow furrowed at that. Had everyone taken a crazy pill today?
“Well, darling,” he said. “I gotta go, but I’m glad you’re okay. He turned to the window to leave, and then stopped and turned back to me. “Don’t worry, Lexie. You did the right thing. You did what you had to.”
He was starting to sound like my Mother.


Chapter Eight: Blood Warrior


At some point, I must have drifted to sleep, because when I woke up, it was morning. I squinted at the sun shining brightly in through my window. What time was it? By the way the sun seemed to be up and in full force, I would have guessed it was about noon.
Oh shit. I was really late for school. Why hadn’t anyone woken me up? I jumped out of bed and rushed out of my room. And nearly collided with Nelly.
She giggled. “Morning, sleepy head.”
I rubbed my eyes. “What time is it?”
Nelly checked her watch. “Oh, almost noon.” I gaped at her, and she continued, “Don’t worry, Mom said it was cool. We needed a day off.”
I stared at her, trying pick my jaw up from the floor. “What?”
She laughed again and continued down the hall, calling back over her shoulder, “Get dressed. Lunch is ready downstairs.”
I stumbled back into my room, showered, brushed my teeth and got dressed. Our Mother didn’t give us “days off”. Something was up, and I was going to find out what.
Before I left my room, I stopped to look at myself in the mirror. My black eye was getting better. Today it was just a yellowish color and the swelling was almost completely gone. It always amazed me how quickly I seemed to heal from my injuries. I shrugged this off, preparing myself to go find out what was going on here. Even if I had to demand answers, which was never easy with my Mother.
I walked into the kitchen to find Nelly and my Mother sitting at the table, eating sandwiches. Nelly smiled and handed me a plate loaded with sandwiches and fresh fruit. My mother glanced up and then turned her attention back to her food. I sat down at the table.
We ate in silence for a few moments, with me chewing with just a little too much vigor, before I decided I couldn’t wait any longer. “Does someone want to explain to me what’s going on?” I asked, clenching and unclenching my teeth.
The two exchanged a look that once again gave me the feeling that they were hiding something from me. Understandably, my irritation grew.
Nelly spoke first. “I just had a feeling we should stay home today.” When I just stared at her, she added, “I just… I just felt like it was important for us to stay home today.”
I struggled to maintain my cool. “Okay…”
This got no response from either of them. I hated being left out, and I felt my mood growing darker and darker. Clenching my jaws, I forcibly brought my attention back to my food. Then, rather abruptly, I decided I couldn’t take it anymore. They were going to start explaining. I was going to see to it. Consequences be damned. Anger surged through me, and I swear I could feel the strength of it in my bones.
“Alright,” I said, as calmly as I could manage. “What the hell is going on? What aren’t you telling me?” I switched my gaze slowly back and forth between them. They flinched every time I met their eyes. I didn’t blame them. I was starting to scare myself.
Seeing them cringe diffused my temper a little, though. I didn’t ever want them to be afraid of me. Especially not Nelly, though I doubted my Mother was afraid, I’d probably just surprised her.
I looked down to see that my fists were clenched. What was wrong with me? Why was I so angry lately? I lowered my voice and looked at Nelly. “Look, I’m sorry. I… I’m not sure what’s wrong with me. But I do know that there’s something you’re not telling me. What is such a big secret that you can’t trust me with it?”
Again, Nelly and my Mother exchanged a look that seemed to speak legions. And, again, I got no response.
I threw my hands up, all that anger rushing back into me. “Fine,” I said, shoving my chair back and standing to leave the kitchen. I had to get away from them before I really lost it.
I took two steps before my Mother stopped me. “Alexa,” she said.
I turned back to face her, not caring that I was openly scowling. Like I said, consequences be damned.
“It’s for the best, I promise you,” my Mother continued. Her voice was surprisingly gentle, and when I opened my mouth to protest, she held up a hand. “No, I know you don’t believe me, but I swear to you that it’s better this way. Even if you don’t trust me, I know you trust her.” She nodded toward Nelly. “Please, sit down. I have something for you.”
I hesitated before moving. This had to be some kind of trick. My Mother never “had something for me”. Unless you counted a punch to the face.
Noticing my delay, my Mother stood up. Subconsciously, I shifted my right leg back, so that I was standing in a fighting position. My Mother chuckled. “Fine. Just stay there. I’ll be right back.”
She left the kitchen, and I looked over at Nelly. She was staring down at her hands, avoiding my gaze. I sighed and relaxed my stance. “Nell, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m just frustrated, and I can’t help but feel like there’s something-“
“Here.” My Mother walked back into the kitchen and held out something wrapped in cloth.
Wary, I took the gift and ran my fingers over the velvet encasing it. It was a deep crimson, and it held something heavy. “What is it?”
“Open it.”
I slowly unwrapped the cloth, revealing a silver, oval, handle-thingy. It looked like the grip of a sword. It was brilliantly shiny and had some sort of floral design wrapping all the way around it. It was beautiful. I ran my fingers along the design, all earlier thoughts of anger forgotten.
“Um, thank you.”
My Mother just nodded. I looked back over at Nelly to see that she was staring wide-eyed at my strange gift. I gripped it in my hand and felt a strange peace wash over me. The vines and flowers carved into it seemed to wrap around my fingers in an embrace, leaving a smooth cool surface for a grip. I wasn’t sure what the thing was, but I felt as though I had just been handed something very important.
Wrapping it back up in the velvet cloth, I took my seat at the table. Suddenly, I felt like everything was going to be okay. I decided to put off my questions for later. Everything was going to be okay.
Or so I’d thought.


Chapter Nine: Blood Warrior


I spent the rest of the day doing nothing. Well, not nothing, but pretty close. My Mother said that we didn’t need to practice today. She didn’t even make Nelly and me go on a run. So, I hung out with the two of them, doing normal things.
We watched a couple of movies, I did a little reading, and just enjoyed their company; even my Mother’s. I put away my worries over returning to school and everything else that seemed to be happening to me lately.
Nelly and I were sitting in my room after dinner. I spent most of my time at home alone or with Nelly -or “preparing” with my Mother-, plus she was the only person I really had to talk to.
“Oh, yeah,” Nelly said. “I never got a chance to thank you for what you did with Riley.”
I gave a half smile. I hadn’t expected her to thank me for that. In fact, I’d thought she might be mad at me for hurting someone so badly because Nelly was just a gentle person. I should have known she would understand, even if I didn’t understand it myself.
There was a sincere look in her hazel eyes. “So, thank you. I appreciate what you did.”
I gave another halfhearted smile. “What else would I have done?”
She started to say something else, but I held up my hand, cutting her short. “Shh,” I whispered.
I had heard something outside the open window near my bed. I hadn’t closed it because I wasn’t going to sleep just yet. Maybe it was just Jackson again, coming over to “check on” me. Still, I had to be sure. For whatever reason, my hackles had gone up as soon as I’d heard that indistinguishable noise outside of my window.
I stood up slowly, pulling Nelly along with me. “Go to the living room with Mom,” I whispered.
I’m not sure what my face looked like, but it must have looked serious because she immediately obeyed. I walked over to my dresser, keeping my gaze locked on the window. Picking up the gift from my Mother, I removed its velvet cloth. I wasn’t sure why, but I was just suddenly drawn to it; like I needed to pick it up.
I stared down at it and was momentarily distracted from the window. I looked back up to see that someone, or rather something had entered while I’d been distracted. 

Read what happens next in The Alexa Montgomery Saga, book one, Blood Warrior…
 
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The Scarlet Dagger
(The Red Sector Chronicles, Book 1)

Krystle Jones


Chapter One: The Scarlet Dagger


The bus driver eyed me up and down, confusion sweeping across his weathered face. “You lost or somethin’, doll?”
I shifted my weight, but kept my chin up and my gaze firmly fixed on his. “I guess not, since I haven’t been waiting here just to ask you for directions.” 
His hard gaze narrowed in scrutiny. I pictured myself through his eyes, foreign and out-of-place against the graffiti-covered buildings and littered sidewalks. My long, curly black hair smelled of shampoo and conditioner, and my black blouse and matching skirt had been freshly pressed. The few places that exposed my skin revealed it to be a light, creamy caramel. Black leggings hugged my legs, disappearing into a brand new pair of black leather boots. Light makeup coated my face, making me appear younger than seventeen, and a light black coat was draped over one arm, concealing the dagger tucked into my belt.
I cleared my throat. “If it’s all the same to you, I have somewhere I need to be.”
The driver spit into a dirty Styrofoam cup and pulled a tin of tobacco chew from his pocket. He stuffed another wad in his cheek, lips curling over his dingy teeth in a predatory grin. “It ain’t gonna be cheap, cupcake. My rent’s overdue, and you look like you ain’t hurtin’.”
I stepped on board, jaw clenched. “You’ll get what the fare is worth. And maybe a decent tip if you don’t ask questions.” 
The driver’s brows rose, and though his grin widened, he made no objections or crude comments as I half-expected. After plugging the appropriate change into the meter, I eased past him. His hungry eyes followed my rear and I cringed as he licked his lips. I tried to move as quickly as I could away from him, praying he couldn’t hear the jangling of all the guns and knives hidden beneath my clothing.
My deep brown eyes furtively scanned the bus, which was deserted, save for myself and the driver. Inside, my nerves slightly unwound. So far, everything had fired off without a hitch, and I refused to let myself think about the very real possibility that I could be dead by the end of the night.   
The aisles were so coated in dirt and grime that they appeared filmy, and I slipped as the bus lurched away from the curb. My nose wrinkled as I sat down on a cracked seat, its stuffing poking out through the loose stitching. The bus had probably been nicer back in the day, before the Eclipse made civilization go all medieval. It definitely wasn’t standard public transportation; my guess was it had been used for long distance commercial travel once upon a time, back when Halloween meant scores of children dressed in costumes and not the night when America lost a third of its population to ravenous monsters. 
At the front of the bus, just above the driver, was a small TV. Its scratched screen showed live coverage of the downtown Pittsburgh White Sector, where the remaining citizens of Pennsylvania were now gathered in Market Square to commemorate the tragedy that had struck three years ago tonight, on All Hallow’s Eve. Hundreds of people – all dressed in black and cupping tiny red candles – stood before the stage, where a podium with a microphone was set up. An enormous black clock stood sentinel next to the podium, a reminder of how things used to be in the square, long ago.
It still blew my mind how fast everything had changed. Market Square had been one of my favorite parts of the city, alive with bustling shops and restaurants. When he was alive, my dad would take my brother and me to Winghart’s Burger and Whiskey Bar as a rare, special treat. The square was also home to one of my single favorite events of the year, Zombie Fest, where thousands (all dressed as the famous undead) would gather for a food drive to feed the city’s less fortunate. My friends and I went every year, that is, up until the Eclipse, when the event kind of fell apart. It had promptly been disbanded by our Sector’s Sovereign (or elected leader).
I glanced at the bus clock.  The digital, scrolling marquee read 7:55 PM, exactly five minutes from when the ceremony was scheduled to commence. 
Somehow, sitting here on this bus – the first leg of the long journey ahead – made the situation and my mission startlingly real in my mind. My heart picked up speed and my palms slicked with sweat. I suddenly felt grossly unprepared for what I intended to do, despite nearly a year’s worth of carefully laid plans.
 Squeezing my eyes shut, I focused on my breathing. When I opened them, I immediately scowled. On the back of the seat in front of me, someone had carved ONLY GOD, DIAMONDS, AND VAMPIRES LAST FOREVER. 
Not forever. Not if I can help it.
My fingertips idly traced the inside of my right wrist, where a tiny tattoo of a black cross lay etched into my skin, marking me as a vampire hunter. 
The mention of vampires conjured an image in my mind, a memory of a boy with light brown skin and short black curls much like my own. 
Orion. My twin.
My mind always picked the same image. It was my last good memory of him, of his proud, bright smile as he waved the acceptance letter in his hand, declaring him a student of the prestigious Pittsburgh private school, Winchester Thurston. His smile grew even bigger when he read the part that he’d been awarded a full-ride, something that rarely happened at Winchester. When he showed our mother, it was the first time I could ever recall her looking genuinely pleased. 
“He’s the best of us all,” she had said. 
My brilliant, ambitious brother, too smart for his own good. Someday, he wanted to run for president, and there was just something about him – that “destined-for-greatness-sparkle” - that made me believe he could succeed. 
Staring at him in my mind, my face grew hot with shame. 
I’m so sorry, Orion. 
Applause from the TV interrupted my brooding, and I glanced up as a strong, proud woman – Sovereign McAllister, leader of the Pennsylvania White Sector – strode on stage, coming to stand before the microphone. Her smile was warm and sympathetic as she thanked her audience, but I knew her blue eyes were cold as ice. 
My eyes shrank to slits. 
Mother.
I knew it would be a while before she discovered me missing, and I hoped I would be far away from here before she sent her Scarlet Guard to retrieve me. All the same, I tensed as the driver turned up the volume and the first threads of her speech drifted through the bus right before my phone chirped in my coat pocket.
I jumped, my heart rate spiking in my chest, as I fished for my cell phone. I flipped it open, not bothering to check the Caller ID.
“Where are you?” Leo growled into my ear. 
I almost smiled at the familiar ferocity in his voice. It had never changed since the day we first met, back in the third grade when he had fended off some bullies from hurting me on the playground. We’d been inseparable ever since. 
“I’m downtown, at the memorial service,” I said calmly. “I really don’t have time to talk right now. If my mother caught me on the phone –”
“Don’t lie to me, Sloane,” Leo said, voice low and dangerous. “You’re not downtown. And I know you took my dagger.”
My thumb stroked the hilt of the sheathed blade. “Don’t be ridiculous.” My voice warbled on the end and I silently swore. I was never good at keeping secrets from Leo.
 “I knew it!” He sighed hard, and I imagined him running his hands through his spiky black hair in classic Leo fashion. “That weapon’s state-of-the-art, one of like ten in existence right now. If my father finds out –”
“Then I guess you better not tell him.” I had hoped Leo wouldn’t realize it had ever been moved, thinking he would be downtown, but he must have decided to train tonight. 
Zealous overachiever, I thought wryly. 
“Look,” I said, “I’m just going to borrow it for a few hours, then I’ll give it back. Promise.” 
Leo’s voice was tight. “You know my father put an enormous amount of trust in letting me practice with it. For you to do this to me, Sloane…”
I bit my lip, feeling the slightest bit guilty for betraying Leo’s confidence. His father worked for the government as a weapon’s engineer, and was one of the developers of Scarlet Steel, a metal as strong as steel but with the corrosive properties of acid (which gave it its red coloring). It was top secret, but Leo had managed to find out it could decompose a vampire – skin and bone – within seconds if the blade penetrated deep enough. 
I prayed it would work if I actually had to use it tonight. “I’m sorry, Leo. But you never let me train with anything more exciting than regular knives and swords.”
“Tch. You don’t need Scarlet Steel to be deadly. You’re the fastest close-in fighter I’ve ever taught.” 
My chest swelled with pride. “Well, I had a good teacher. But I promise I won’t get a scratch on your baby.”
“It’s not the dagger I’m worried about,” he said softly. 
My heart fluttered, and an unexpected blush crept to my cheeks. “I’ll be fine, trust me. I’m just going to practice with it solo tonight at home, and then I’ll give it back to you before your father ever realizes it’s missing.”
The bus must have been wired with an automatic speaker system, because right then a woman said loudly, “Next stop, Cherry Hills Mall.”
I froze, holding my breath. Please let Leo not have heard that!
There was a large pause on the other end. “Wait… did she just say Cherry Hills?”
My lips pressed together. This was Leo, my best friend for over eight years. Should I just tell him I had flat-out lied to him? Could I somehow convince him he’d misheard, and hope he would drop the subject? 
Who am I kidding? This is Leo. He’d never let it go. I was so tense with indecision that my shoulders were painfully scrunched up around my neck. 
There was another pause on the other end. I heard Leo draw a sharp breath as he pieced the puzzle pieces together. “There’s a gate in that district,” he murmured. “You’re planning on going into the Red Sector to look for Orion, aren’t you?”
Busted. “No,” I whispered weakly.
Leo swore. “Don’t do this, Sloane. No one blames you for what happened. You couldn’t have known…”
“I know,” I said, forcing my voice to remain steady as the image of my brother swam before my eyes, accompanied by a heavy wave of guilt. “But you heard what the Scarlet Guard said. Thinking he’s dead isn’t the same thing as knowing. I have to at least try. I owe him that much.”
“Not your life! The Red Sectors are forbidden for a reason, Sloane, because they’re dangerous, vampire-infested hell holes. Look, just because the media’s telling us they’ve been secured, that they’re abandoned and supposedly ‘safe’ now, doesn’t make it so. They’re anything but that. If you go in there alone, you’ll be ripped apart.”
I blanched, swallowing against the tide of vomit rising in my throat. “I know the dangers. And I’m prepared to take the risk.”
“It’s been three years, Sloane,” Leo said. “The chances of him surviving are slim to none.”
That comment stabbed straight into my heart, which should have been completely calloused over from the emotional beating it had endured these past three years. Somewhere along the way, I had simply refused to stop listening every time someone told me Orion was dead.
We don’t know that for sure, I wanted to tell them. He could be alive, waiting for someone to rescue him.
“He wouldn’t give up on me,” I said firmly. “And I’m going, so just drop it.”
The phone call abruptly ended. I called Leo’s name a few times, but there was no response. Maybe the call had been dropped. Reception – and electricity, in general – grew more unstable the farther out one went in the sector, and I was on the far eastern boundary. No one exactly knew why it did this. Still, I couldn’t erase the feeling that something was wrong as the bus hobbled to a stop. 
This is it, I told myself. In a few minutes, with any luck, you’ll be in the Red Sector. 
Shaking slightly, I rose to my feet. Despite my efforts to remain calm, my knees trembled as I made my way to the front of the bus. I looked up at the TV just as my mother’s speech went silent, replaced by a vibrant red screen that said BREAKING NEWS in the center. A news anchor appeared, with a picture of a pretty, teenage girl to her upper left. 
The color drained from my face as I stared back at my senior portrait. 
Oh God. Leo, you didn’t!
All the sound faded away, and I barely registered that the anchor was rattling off my description and something about a high dollar reward for a tip leading to my whereabouts. Panic surged through me, and I gripped one of the cold metal handrails to keep myself upright, suppressing the urge to fret about my plan falling apart before my very eyes. 
Think, Sloane! What are you going to do?
The way I saw it, I had two options. I could let the Scarlet Guard seize me and drag me back to my mother’s wrath. Or I could run, hoping I made it to the fence before the Guard could catch up to me. Maybe then I could get away from them in the unknown dangers of the Red Sector. And honestly, given the choice of facing my mother or a vampire, I think I would always choose the latter.
My skin tingled with the sensation of being watched, and my eyes rose to meet the driver’s in the rearview mirror. His eyes were squinted, flicking back and forth from the TV screen to my face and growing wider each time. His hand slowly sank into his pocket. Without hesitation, I reached beneath my skirt to my thigh and whipped out a small, silencer-rigged pistol as he put the phone to his face. 
His fingers paused over the keypad. Holding the pistol in one hand, I walked up to him until the barrel was only an inch from the back of his head. “Drop it,” I commanded, and the phone clattered to the floor. I picked it up, and stuck it in my coat pocket. 
The driver coughed and spit blackened chew on the floor, right at my feet. “Think I’ve never had a gun put to my head, little girl? Seems you’re worth a lot of money. You know somethin’? Ain’t nobody out here but me and you. And they didn’t say anything about you bein’ dead or alive.”
My breath caught in my throat as his other hand appeared, cocking the trigger of a large, menacing black handgun. I had enough control of my senses to swing my foot up, kicking it from his hand as he fired a shot, shattering the front window. The gun hit the dash and fell to the floor. As the driver scrambled to recover the weapon, I threw open the door and stumbled outside, landing hard on the cool pavement. My kneecaps flared with pain, but the sound of another gunshot propelled me to my feet, and I tore off down the street as he radioed the Scarlet Guard. 
A brand new Scarlet Steel factory loomed ahead of me, ominous and black against the red, particle-saturated sky. Though Leo said Scarlet Steel posed no threat to humans, the government built their factories in the least inhabited zones, “as a precaution,” Leo had quoted his father. It made me sick to think that they cared so little for the lives of the destitute who still lived out here. 
Though it wasn’t quite so bad downtown, the atmosphere here was bulging with Scarlet Steel particles, making the filtered moonlight appear red. Though I had seen a full lunar eclipse (the moon had rusted over the night of the Eclipse), seeing it appear as though it had been dipped in blood was an entirely unsettling feeling. But the eerie moonlight was the least of my problems, and I focused more on my surroundings as my foot found a pothole. My ankle painfully twisted before I caught myself and continued running, teeth clenched tightly together. 
I had spent some time in this part of the city before it became a sector, so I knew the path well as I tore through the night. After the Eclipse, the city went through major rearrangements. Generally, the less wealthy lived along the outer edges of the sector – which was shaped in a gigantic, jagged square – while the people with money lived closer to the center, where Sovereign McAllister’s mansion and all the government headquarters were located. Living there also meant an influx of Scarlet Guard, which had completely replaced our policemen. They were everywhere, locking up people for the slightest venture outside the laws my mother’s Parliament had laid down. Most people had a love/hate relationship with the Guard, loving them for the protection they provided, but at the same time, fearing and even resenting them for their sometimes violent manner of dealing with even the most petty of crimes.
The heels of my boots clip-clopped like hooves across the pavement as I ran straight through the Cherry Hills Mall parking lot. Cherry Hills, like so many other locally owned businesses, sprang up after many shops and restaurants closed down, post-Eclipse (it inhabited an old building that used to be a community center). Other businesses – thrift stores, salons, and knick-knack shops – had planted themselves in abandoned homes or buildings. They saw a lot of business, as quite a few people still lived in this area, though most of them would be either locked up in their homes or downtown for the memorial. Nobody wanted to be roaming about on the eve of the Eclipse, as it was considered a day of ill-omen by many survivors.
Eclipse or not, this area was pretty much deserted this time of night. A forest of security cameras watched me, their wiring like vines as they choked the light poles that shone down on me. The lights flickered, yellowed and weak, as I cleared the lot and raced down a blackened alley between two stores, my boots slapping through sludge and knocking over trash bags. The putrid smell of garbage clung to my nostrils, and I gagged as I emerged on the other side. 
There, narrowly more than ten feet away, was the fifty-foot tall steel fence that wrapped around the entire sector, cutting it off from the outside threat. A large sign hung near the electronic gate: 

WARNING: RED SECTOR. TRESSPASING STRICTLY PROHIBITED AND PUNISHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW.

Situated next to the gate was a tiny box, blinking innocently at me with its eyes of little green lights. I stared at it, my heart pounding harder and harder inside my chest. 
This was it. The moment I had been waiting three whole years for. If the code I’d stolen from Leo’s father worked, I could be on the other side within a minute or two. 
In my mind, Leo’s warning screamed at me while I tried to convince myself to move forward, like I was going on a picnic and not a suicide mission. I swallowed hard against the knot forming in the base of my throat. 
There was a high-pitched hum and then a brief patch of pure darkness as the power failed and struggled to come back to life. If I didn’t make my move now – if the electricity went out altogether – I could lose my chance. There’s no way I could scale the wall. Sirens wailed in the distance, and that was all the prodding I needed. 
Racing to the box, I holstered the pistol and grabbed my cell phone, pulling up the code. I was so nervous that my fingers shook, and I punched in the seventeen-digit access code as quickly as I could. My body practically buzzed with adrenaline as I waited for the entry light to change from red to green. At last, I let out a huge sigh as a series of thick bolts slid back into the wall, unlatching the door. 
The sirens were so close now that their high-pitched frequency hurt my ears. Come on. Come on, I thought as the heavy metal door slowly swung open with a groan. It felt like an eternity passed before it opened wide enough for me to go through; the gap looked to be little over a foot across, or so I estimated. My foot tapped impatiently, and I whirled around as car doors slammed shut just outside the alley. Gritting my teeth, I grabbed hold of the door and pulled as hard as I could, but my petite frame was far too weak against its crushing weight. 
Without warning, the power died and my sight suddenly vanished. My breath was ragged as I flipped open my cell phone, using it as a makeshift flashlight, and I eyed the pitch black gap between the now ajar door and the fence.
Shouts echoed off the alley walls behind me as the Scarlet Guard closed in.
It’s now or never.
Pulling my coat on and tossing my phone back inside a pocket, I grabbed the pistol and aimed it toward the hole. Then I edged myself through the chasm, into the darkness of the Red Sector.


Chapter Two: The Scarlet Dagger


I clung to the fence, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the dark while keeping one palm pressed flat against the cool metal, as if to ground myself to the world I was about to leave behind. 
You can do this, Sloane. You have to, for your brother.
“For Orion,” I whispered. 
Heavy footsteps along the other side of the fence told me I didn’t have time to linger. I ran without looking back. 
My pupils had dilated enough for me to see clearly, and the pale moonlight bathed everything in a ghastly red light. I knew where I was – the neighborhood I grew up in. The same place I had once called home, where pedestrians were mercilessly killed in drive-by shootings at night and where gang members once reigned supreme. A little more than three blocks to the north was my old house, the only home my father could afford on his meager wages from the textile factory. Life here was sometimes brutal, but as long as he and Orion were in my life, it didn’t matter because I knew they would never let anything happen to me.
Now they’re both gone, one because of you.
No matter how hard I tried to suppress it, my guilt always remained buried just beneath the surface, threatening to overtake my confidence and pride at any time. Some days I was willing to let it, but I knew I had to hang on long enough to find my brother, if he was still alive. I couldn’t – wouldn’t – give up without knowing I had done everything I could to try to bring Orion back home.
Though I tried my best to watch my footing and move as stealthily as I could, there was so much debris – empty aluminum cans, shards of glass, broken furniture… all dropped by people in their haste to evacuate – littered along the ground that I couldn’t help but tap or stomp on something as I went. I chanced a glance behind me, sure I’d see the blood red uniforms of the Scarlet Guard closing in, but there were nothing but abandoned, run-down houses, many with bars on the windows, and the windshields of rusty, unused cars staring back at me.
Staring at the ruin around me, it was like reliving the Eclipse again. The worst part was, nobody ever saw it coming. Sure, the government was prepared for terrorists’ attacks, natural disasters, and even nuclear war, but no one quite knew what to do when vampires descended upon our cities like ants, viciously killing and eating anything that moved.
There were signs along the way, leading up to that horrible night. Missing posters of children, adults, and animals alike started springing up, becoming more and more frequent until entire blocks were plastered in the faces of missing loved ones. Reports of red-eyed, shadowy creatures dominated the news and magazines. Everybody was convinced it was an elaborate hoax, something dreamt up by a group of teenagers somewhere who wanted to get a good scare out of people around Halloween. 
I wished so badly it had been a prank. But on All Hallow’s Eve, my life became something out of a horror film. That night was still fresh on my mind, even three years later:
I rushed home from the Miller Mansion, drenched in Orion’s blood and hysterical. I threw the black Camaro into park before I’d even fully stopped, nearly tripping as I raced toward our front door. That’s when the sirens went off. Confused, I whirled around, seeing people fleeing their homes. Those with cars tossed as many possessions as they could carry into the trunk and sped off as fast as they could. Others ran in all directions, their faces panicked and afraid. A door slammed behind me and my father sprang from the front porch. He glanced at the Camaro, confused, before grabbing me by the shoulders and shaking me hard.
“Where is your brother, princess? Where is Orion?” he asked, a wild, desperate look in his eyes.
I stupidly sputtered something about a monster, too choked up on my own tears to make much sense. Somewhere down the block, people began screaming, followed by snarls that made me ice cold with fear.
“Get in my car, Sloane! Now!” my father ordered, and I ran in a daze to his beat-up Toyota Camry, which was parallel-parked along the curb in front of the Camaro. We locked ourselves inside, and my father started the engine, switching gears and slamming his foot on the gas. I was thrown back against the seat as we rocketed down the street. 
“What’s happening?” I asked.
My father’s face was pale, his eyes glued to the road. 
“The end of the world,” he whispered.
I furrowed my brows, too scared to ask any questions. Movement caught the corner of my eye, in the side mirror.
A group of people scattered and shrieked as dark creatures with glowing red eyes and sets of flashing fangs ripped them apart, wildly lapping up the growing pool of blood on the street. All I could do was watch as we turned a corner and sped toward downtown Pittsburgh (where a heavily guarded shelter was being set up), my neighbors’ desperate pleas for help giving way to growls and eerie silence.
I blinked hard, pulling myself back to the present. A sickly yellow school bus sat in the middle of an intersection, limping on two deflated tires. As I crept alongside it, keeping to its shadow, I caught the outline of a black form moving above me, its hunkered shape slinking along the top of the bus like a cat hunting a mouse. 
Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I wheeled around, cocking the pistol, only to find nothing, no nightmarish creature waiting to pounce. 
My breath grew more ragged as my heart rate sped up, throbbing painfully inside my ears until it was the only sound I heard. In the windows of the bus, my reflection was still aiming the pistol at the roof of the vehicle. Shadows were at my back, save for a flash of crimson eyes. 
I drew a sharp breath and dropped to the ground, spinning around on the balls of my feet as the vampire lunged out of the darkness, a rabid snarl erupting from its oversized throat. The gunshot was silent as death, and time seemed to slow as the vampire changed direction at the last second before the bullet hit, tearing a bright red gash into its bared rib cage. The vampire sailed over me, and I followed its path with the pistol, firing again as the creature shrieked and hit the ground. Quick as a shadow, it scuttled out of the way before the bullet hit home, missing its head and blowing a hole in its side, spraying the ground with black blood. The vampire latched itself on the side of the bus, crawling over the roof like a spider before disappearing from view. 
I cursed and went after it, the Scarlet Dagger shining brilliant crimson in the moonlight as I unsheathed and raised it into a defensive position, gripping the pistol in my other hand. My forefinger jittered against the trigger as I paused at the end of the bus, using the dagger as a mirror to see the other side. Only dirt and a scattering of MISSING CHILD posters lay next to the bus. 
Each breath I took made my whole body shake, and I willed my heartbeat to slow as sweat dripped from my forehead onto my chest. Something rapidly clucked its tongue a few feet from me, making a low guttural noise, and I pointed the pistol at the darkness, not seeing anything. A bead of sweat dropped into my eye, and I swiped at it as my vision blurred. I glanced at my hand and did a double take, rubbing the sweat drop between my thumb and forefinger. It was warm, and much thicker than it should be. 
It was also deep red. 
Later, I would be grateful I saw that drop of blood, because it was the only warning I had before the vampire tackled me from the top of the bus, catching me off guard and throwing me to the ground. I landed hard on my back, giving my lungs a jolt as the breath was knocked from me. While I lost hold of the pistol, I managed to bring the dagger up swift enough to block the vampire’s gaping jaws. The creature wasn’t very heavy – little more than sagging, purplish skin and fragile bone – but its speed was nearly too quick for my seemingly sluggish human reflexes, and it was all I could do to keep it at bay as it scratched at my arms and snapped its razor sharp teeth at my neck. 
I grunted, struggling against the vampire. 
Think about what Leo taught you. Look for the opportunity to strike to present itself.
I waited, conserving my energy for what I hoped against hope would be a fatal blow to the monster on top of me. Gazing at its narrow, sunken face – a face that might have very well once been human – churned up memories of my brother, of his happy, jester-like smile, intermingled with his screams of terror as a vampire very much like this one sank its teeth into his flesh. 
Rage, hot and bitter, flooded my body, consuming me like a wild fire laying siege to a forest. Loathing filled my eyes, which had morphed into dangerous slits. At last, the vampire swiped, losing its balance for a splinter of a second and creating a narrow path from the tip of my blade to its sternum. With a bloodthirsty roar, I plunged the blade deep into the creature’s chest, feeling the steel tear and snap its way through bones, muscles, and tendons until only the hilt showed, my hands gripping it so tightly my knuckles had turned white. 
Almost immediately, the vampire stopped moving, its wild eyes frantic with growing pain and confusion as it stared at the blade in its chest. Subconsciously, my lips twisted into a carnivorous smile. 
Gotcha.
I raised my knees, digging the heels of my boots into the vampire’s stomach, and pushed with my legs, pulling back on the dagger. It at last freed itself of the creature and I fell back, rolling along my shoulder blade as I sprang up into a defensive position, my knees bent and the dagger poised over my head, dripping blood. 
The vampire shuddered and grew still as winter before it began screaming madly. The wound, which ran clear from one side to the other, was starting to smoke as the vampire’s dead skin eroded away, dripping to the ground in smoldering black gobs as it clawed at its chest, literally tearing itself to shreds. 
I stared at it, part in awe, part in grim satisfaction, as its muscles and bones glowed orange-red like embers before what was left of the vampire disintegrated into a pile of ash.
My knees shook so hard I nearly collapsed. Clutching my stomach, I doubled over and vomited, catching a few shaky breaths before standing and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, which still trembled from the tidal wave of adrenaline flowing through my body. I took a deep breath and tasted the bitter, charred smell of the vampire, nearly gagging all over again.
I blinked hard, trying to clear my erratic thoughts so I could focus. The Scarlet Guard no doubt heard the vampire’s ear-piercing screams – hell, the capital probably heard that – and if I still wanted a shot at finding any clues to my brother’s whereabouts, I was going to have to keep moving, and fast.
I jogged the few feet to where my pistol rested and retrieved it. Then I scraped the rest of the vampire’s blood from the dagger, making sure the edge was clear of any obstructions, before sheathing it and taking off at a shaky but steady sprint.
***
My breath caught in my throat when I spotted my house, its once cheerful yellow paint now cracked and ridden with holes from insects. The lawn was overgrown and an ugly, dead brown, and the narrow sidewalk leading up to the front porch had more crevices than I remembered.
One tentative step at a time, I approached my house, my footsteps falling in the same spots they had when I’d come home every day from school; or when Orion and I had snuck back in after a night of carefree recklessness (mostly harmless practical jokes on our friends); the same sidewalk that had listened to the sometimes hysterical conversations between Leo and me. 
The night was quiet. A single streetlamp, its shade broken, threw sketchy patches of faded yellowed light on the porch, making the shadows dance as I slowly wrapped my fingers around the handle. Taking a deep breath, I cautiously pushed the front door open. 
A triangle of orange light fell on the dust-coated wood floor in front of me, my shadow frozen as it peered at the remnants of a forgotten time. 
So many memories lay wrapped up in that house, the one my father had vowed to raise my brother and me in so we wouldn’t have to constantly move around with our Marine Corps mother. There was the old pink couch, faded and worn, where I had curled up with a good murder mystery on so many cold winter days. My dad’s favorite recliner sat in the corner, his hot-spot for watching football or Penguins’ hockey on our tiny, used flat screen TV. Orion’s hockey gear still laid in the pile he’d always thrown it in after practice, right by the door (to the disgruntlement of our father).
I swallowed hard and took a step inside. The floorboards gave a comforting squeak as my eyes fell on the old rocker in the living room, where my father would entertain my brother and me with stories of the South. The fireplace looked lonely without its cheerful flames. I walked over to it, as I had so many times when I was very young, and ran my finger along the dust on the mantle, eyeing the photographs of my parents. My father, with his beautiful ebony skin, stood next to my mother, with a head of blond curls and skin as white as milk, their arms linked around Orion and me. We looked like a normal American family. I’d dare say we even looked happy. 
Directly ahead of me was the dining room, where my father, brother, and I had spent many evenings dining without my mother, and just past that was the kitchen and then the stairs. At its base, I saw toddler-me in my mind’s eye, clutching the blanket I’d had since I was an infant to my chest as I listened to my parents argue, the same argument they had nearly every night after they thought my brother and I were asleep downstairs in our room. Memories of their voices ran through my head, shouting at each other over money (or our lack thereof).
The floorboards behind me creaked ever so slightly, and I drew my pistol, scanning the patches of darkness within the living room. A set of small windows casted squares of red moonlight on the dusty planks. There, so light it was nearly unnoticeable, was a footprint in the dust, much too large to be my own. 
Fear, icy and tangible, tapped its claws along my spine and up the base of my neck. I froze for a long second before rushing to the front door, my head screaming, Get out! Get out now!
I was literally inside the door frame, one foot in the house, one foot out, when a hand reached out of the shadows and grabbed me by the throat, slamming me into the wall so hard I lost my breath.
Someone wrested the pistol from my grasp before I could collect enough of my senses to think to fire it. My fingers were so clammy I couldn’t get a hold on my attacker’s hand as I clawed at it, trying to free myself. A thumb pressed into my air tube, and I choked as a tall, lithe silhouette stepped in front of me. The figure’s gaze shifted, its eyes reflecting red like the lenses in a cat’s eyes as it glanced at my right wrist, where the tattoo was bathed in moonlight.
“What are you doing here, hunter?” came the low, musical voice of a man. Though his timbre was soft, there was a steely edge to it.  
I coughed and sputtered, glimpsing the bottom corner of a black leather trench coat and ruling out that my mother’s guard had caught up to me. The Scarlet Guard got their name from their red uniforms… and their thirst for bloodshed. But if this man wasn’t with the Scarlet Guard, then who was he? What was he doing here – in my house, of all places – on the anniversary of the Eclipse?
The figure leaned in. Wispy platinum blond bangs came into view, though his face was still obscured by shadows. He studied me a moment longer before I heard a tiny gasp. “It can’t be…” he whispered in disbelief, and my brows furrowed. 
Who is he? Do I know him? He’s not Orion...
My eyes dropped to his slightly agape mouth, and my blood ran cold. There, just visible beneath his upper lip, were the points of two fangs. 
A vampire? But he can’t be. He looks so… human.
I thought of the creature I had faced only a few minutes ago, of its animal urge to kill me, and panic fluttered in my chest. In the few short years humans had known vampires existed, never had we seen one that looked exactly like a regular human being. The fact that it could talk was stunning; I didn’t even know vampires could speak. Of the two I had faced, they both seemed hell-bent on ripping out my throat first.
Suddenly, the man – the vampire – in front of me seemed twice as dangerous as any monster I had encountered. And he had my pistol.
“What’s your name?” the man asked. His musical voice was cool and soft, and all the more frightening for it.
His thumb released just enough pressure that I could feel my voice box again, and I gulped for air. I had to get out of here, away from him however I could. A wild, irrational thought formed in my mind, and I tried to speak, my words strangled because I could barely breathe.
He leaned in. “What did you say?”
I looked up, a wicked smile on my face. “Trick-or-Treat,” I rasped. 
Somehow, the man – or vampire, or whatever he was – had missed the dagger when he subdued me, most likely too focused on the pistol and thinking it to be my only weapon. I brought the dagger straight up, tip first with the serrated side facing out, with the aim of impaling him in the chin, but he hissed and stepped back before it could ever make contact. He released me, and I took a huge lungful of air.
Moonlight glinted off the pistol in the man’s hand. “I’ve heard of Scarlet Steel, but have yet to see the marvel for myself. Impressive.”
“Well, its beauty’s only half its charm,” I replied coolly. 
My mind was spinning with a milieu of questions. Not only did I want to know who he was and what he was doing in my house, but I didn’t fully understand what exactly I was talking to. Was he truly a vampire? He was speaking to me as casually as if we were commenting on the weather.
He took a step closer. “But does it work?” he asked with genuine curiosity. 
His cat-eyes reflected red again, and my gut told me I wasn’t dealing with a human. I would have to look for Orion later, if I made it out of this alive. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?”
I leveled the blade and charged.
Somehow, fighting him in my house – in my territory – didn’t feel so opposing as it had facing down the vampire by the bus. It was familiar, almost comforting, and I felt strangely empowered as I fought him head-on.
He sidestepped my thrust, knocking the blade aside with the barrel of the pistol, but I quickly recovered, swinging back with a powerful back kick to his face, which he also deftly blocked with his forearm muscle. I tried slashing at him again, this time toward his ribs, but he deflected that too with the pistol, his movements matching my own. Reaching beneath my blouse, I pulled out a regular switchblade and made a series of gouges toward his eyes, throat, and heart, which he also blocked. Frustrated, I flipped the knife so the blade was in my hand and flung it as hard as I could toward his head. He ducked – while laughing, I might add – and I fumed at him as the blade struck the wall. 
“What’s so funny?” I demanded, furious. Was he mocking me? And why wasn’t he fighting back?
His laughter quickly died away. “Nothing about this is funny,” he said stonily. “Not a damn thing.”
Huh? Did he mean being a vampire? I tried to imagine being changed into one – which, from what we knew, required one to be completely drained and to drink the blood of a living vampire – and my blood ran cold. We knew it was possible, but improbable. The vampires we had studied usually killed their victims before changing them, they were so out-of-control.
I couldn’t imagine a worse fate than being turned, and suddenly this talking, seemingly sensible man before me became incredibly tragic. He would never age, a beauty queen’s wet dream. I couldn’t imagine being a teenager forever. There were too many things I wanted out of life. Then I remembered he was a vampire, and any pity I felt vanished.
You need to get rid of him, now.
Thinking fast, I dropped to my knees, gripped a handful of the rug, and yanked. The vampire started to slip, doing a backhand spring with one hand before he could fall, but I was ready. Getting a running start, I dropped and slid right beneath him as he sailed through the air, running the blade along his chest. It sliced through his shirt like butter. He cried out, his agony turning into a ferocious growl as he dropped the pistol, and I knew the blade had struck home. 
When I got to my feet and whirled around, he was already coming at me. 
That’s more like it.
He threw a punch toward my temple, which I blocked with my arm, quickly slicing upward with the dagger and cutting his wrist. He hissed and retracted his hand, bringing up his knee to catch me in the stomach, but I brought the pummel of the dagger down hard, connecting with a sickening crack to his kneecap.
It didn’t stop him. He never paused, his speed increasing as he attacked, throwing an open-hand gauge to the side of my neck, followed by another punch to my shoulder, all while I blocked as swiftly as I could.
I tasted the first twinges of panic. He’s been trained. His moves are too practiced not to be. Stay calm. Pretend you’re fighting Leo.
Through the dark, the glowing edges of the Scarlet Steel wounds burned along his chest and wrist, and I could smell the chemicals as they ate away his flesh. Both were shallow cuts and the acid would take far longer to penetrate the deeper tissue, that is, if his accelerated regeneration didn’t heal him before then. A minor setback I should’ve seen coming. I guess part of me didn’t think I would actually run into any vampires, believing the news when they assured us the military had pushed them all back. I had lapped it up just like every other American anxious for some hope in this dismal war.
The man stooped on his hands and spun low toward my knees, trying to knock me off my feet, but I leaped the second I felt his boot touch my calf and his leg soared beneath me. 
“You’re fast,” he said, sounding amused and maybe a little impressed. “But I’m faster.”
In a move quicker than lightning, he stepped in so we were chest-to-chest, wrapping his hand over mine and pinning the dagger to my bosom. He stepped behind my right leg so our knees were directly behind one another’s. In a textbook move, he pushed me backwards, causing me to fall over his leg. He used the momentum to flip me onto my back. 
I landed in a pool of moonlight, dazed as he knelt before me, pressing one hand down on my shoulder, while the other held the Scarlet Dagger to my throat (which he had jerked from my grasp the moment I’d started to fall). I sucked in a tight breath, eyeing the dagger. Scarlet Steel might not exactly be deadly to me, but the dagger itself certainly was. 
I looked up at his moon-bathed features, and I momentarily forgot all about the dagger as my eyes widened in awe. 
He was an angel. His hair was such a light blond, it had to be almost white (the red moonlight made it difficult to pin down the color), and it hung in loose, sweaty wisps around his narrow face. Thin lips siphoned in large breaths as he panted, and his eyes, though laced with pain from his wounds, were a brilliant, sharp cerulean. The black trench coat gathered around him, but I could tell by the shape of his shoulders and by how small the sleeves were that his frame was skinny, giving him a deceptively breakable appearance. If I had to guess, I’d say he was about my age, maybe a year or two older. 
Frozen in time, like a statue.
For a moment, we held each other’s eyes, breathing hard and lost in our own thoughts. His eyes drifted to my collarbone, where my blouse had come undone, revealing a flower-shaped birthmark right above my heart. I saw the change in his eyes, felt his surprise and shock. 
“It is you,” he whispered. “You carry the Mark of the Creator.”
“Excuse me?” I asked, blinking. What Mark? What was he talking about? It was just an ordinary birthmark, the same one my brother and I both shared. It was normal, nothing special. 
Wasn’t it?
His face darkened, his mouth closing into a thin, grim line, as he met my eyes again. They were filled with regret. “Forgive me for what I’m about to do, but I have no choice.” 
Without warning, he grabbed a fistful of my hair and jerked my head back, exposing my neck before he sank his fangs into my flesh.
I cried out as pain, hot as fire, scorched my blood, followed by a blossom of endorphins as he drank deeper.
I struggled against him, punching him in the ribs, but he only hugged me closer and drank faster. Time seemed to stand still. I wasn’t sure how long we laid there, only that my strength was quickly fading as darkness closed in on me.
I’m dying, I vaguely thought, my hands falling limp at my sides. My gaze turned blank as I stared past the vampire while it consumed me, body and soul. 
I should have been scared out of my mind, but for some reason I didn’t feel much of anything. My limbs felt numb as my heart slowly came to a halt. I closed my eyes, surrendering to death.
Orion… Leo… I’m so sorry…
Cold fingers were prying my lips open, and my head tipped back as hot metal dripped into my mouth and trickled down my throat. 
No, not metal. Blood. 
He’s turning you.
I was going to become a vampire. The thought danced along the forefront of my consciousness, the flame of which was nearly snuffed out, when I suddenly found myself inside a memory:
I was six years old, standing before my dad with big tears rolling down my cheeks. He had just picked me up from school, where some girls in my class had made fun of the color of my skin, calling me and my brother foul names. Orion had said some rude things back, not bothered in the least, but their words had been like knives to me. 
My father knelt before me and I looked up at him with love and adoration, seeing the crow’s feet around his kind brown eyes – the same eyes I had inherited – and knowing he would take care of me. “Hey, little girl,” he said. “Don’t let anyone ever tell you what you’re worth, or who you are. You’re a princess in my eyes, and always will be.” Then he wiped away my tears and took me in a hug.
Those words stuck with me now, replaying over and over in my mind, the last thought I had before I couldn’t think anymore.


Chapter Three: The Scarlet Dagger


There are no words to describe the sensation of being reborn. Your skin feels like fire and ice all at once, the venom of the bite like honey in your veins. Then you feel nothing, and you’re floating along, somewhere between life and death, until a little ball of warmth, like your own personal sun, sparks to life deep within you. The warmth spreads through your core, down to your fingers and toes, until you’re cradled by sunshine. And then the light goes out and you’re left alone in darkness. 
***
One by one, sounds trickled into my head. 
Somewhere to my left was an incessant beeping. It was steady, sounding the same pitch every time, and a hazy image floated across my mind. 
It’s a heart monitor.
I tried to open my eyes, but they felt swollen shut. I reached out with my mind to the rest of my body. My limbs were far too heavy, like I was made of cement. My legs felt bare. I managed to wriggle a toe and then a finger, tracing coarse fabric. I was laying on something lumpy, with my neck supported by a fluffy bump.
A mattress, a pillow… I’m on a bed.
More curious than ever, I pried my eyes open. Everything was a blur and much too bright. Blinding white lights overlooked me, glaring down on me as if I was lying right under the sun. Dust particles floated on the air, sparkling like diamonds. There was a buzzing in my ears that I wasn’t aware of when I had my eyes closed. My ear drums tingled like I had been at a rock concert without any ear plugs.
Slowly, I picked up other sounds: the trickling of an IV, the low hum of a television, the sharp clip-clop of approaching heels, accompanied by a sultry, French-accented voice. 
“She’s coming around,” the woman said, though “she” sounded more like “zee.”
A dark blur appeared above me, shining a light into my eyes. I hissed and shrank away. “Where am I?” I croaked. My voice sounded like I had swallowed broken glass.
Just as I was about to demand she turn off that damnable light, it vanished. The blur-woman disappeared behind the spots firing before my eyes, not saying anything. I heard her scribble something on a piece of paper, so rough it sounded like nails on a chalkboard. I ground my teeth together and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the sound. Why were my ears and eyes so sensitive? I had migraines sometimes, but they were never this excruciating. I tried hard to remember what had happened, but kept drawing a blank.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the French woman said sarcastically. “Does that bother you?” 
I looked to my right. My vision was beginning to clear, and I could make out the tall frame of a young woman who appeared to be in her mid twenties. She removed a stethoscope from around her neck. “I forgot how disorienting it can all be. I’ll try to be more considerate.” She gave me a fake smile, pressing the cold metal a little too hard against my sore chest.  
I immediately decided I didn’t like her. She seemed awfully hostile for a doctor. “Who are you, and where am I? What happened?”
She straightened, pulling away her stethoscope. “I’m Dr. Paris De Lange.” She whipped out a board and wrote something on it. “And you’re in a hospital.” 
I looked around. The walls were cinderblock, and all the wiring was sticking out, giving it a crude appearance. The bed was basically a cot, and the only chair in the room looked ancient, like whoever had assembled the place had done so in a hurry, as more of an afterthought. 
More like a dungeon than a hospital. “Why am I here?” 
Paris moved to check my IV and heart monitor, ignoring me. The mist in my eyes was slowly disappearing, allowing me to see more details. 
She was gorgeous – like in a classy, “1930’s Hollywood” kind of way – with red lips and long auburn hair swept up in a clip. Her skin was rosy, practically glowing it was so clear. Red-rimmed glasses sat low on her sharp nose, and her nails were perfectly filed and painted a deep red to match her glasses. A gold wedding band adorned her ring finger, and there wasn’t a single wrinkle in her crisp, white lab coat. On her right shoulder was a red cross and a winged staff (I’d seen it before on other medical supplies, but I couldn’t recall its name), followed by four gold chevrons stitched down her sleeve. I caught the flap of a white military jacket beneath her coat, along with a skirt. But there was something off about Paris, a weird, almost “telekinetic” aura that radiated from her, like loose energy. 
Maybe it’s just your imagination. 
“What am I doing here? What happened?” I repeated.
She tilted her glasses down and peered at me over the rim. “You’ve changed,” she said with a small, cold smile. “Don’t worry. We’re going to take good care of you.”
My flesh chilled. “What are you talking about? What’s wrong with me?” 
I desperately tried to remember what had happened, but I couldn’t recall anything past waking up here. I felt the first strands of panic as my pulse began to race.
My heart monitor picked up speed. Paris was next to me in an instant, needle drawn. “Amnesia is normal, and usually brief. You need to calm down,” she snapped.
“No!” I yelled, staring at the syringe. “Get away from me!” 
Amnesia? Had I hurt my head? Was I in some sort of accident?
A shadow moved from the corner of my eye, and I looked up. All the air left me, like I’d been punched in the chest. “You!”
Features flashed through my memory: platinum hair, eyes as blue as the ocean, and thin lips hiding a pair of fangs.
I leaped from the bed, ripping the IV from my hand. I winced, but kept my eyes trained forward. 
The boy from the Red Sector stepped into the light. He was taller than I remembered, wearing what appeared to be a jet-black military uniform. Four golden chevrons darted down his right arm. He held his hands up, one of which was bandaged from the Scarlet Steel wound. “Easy. We’re not here to hurt you.”
I narrowed my eyes, tensing up.  
“Careful, Aden,” Paris said. “That cut on your chest isn’t entirely healed yet.”
Aden. So that’s his name. 
I reached for my hip, where the dagger should be, but gripped only a thin hospital gown. I remembered fighting the boy – Aden – in the house, right before he took the dagger from me and…
My hand flew to my neck, touching a fresh bandage. I gasped, locking eyes with him. “You bit me.” All the color left my face. “You drained me, didn’t you?”
The boy froze, not saying a word.
“Oh, my God.” The air in the room thinned, and I stumbled. 
No, no, no, I can’t be one of them. 
“It’s okay,” he said, voice soft as a lullaby. “You’re still human, with nothing more than a virus.”
“A virus which can’t be cured!” I screamed. “It might as well be cancer!”
He grimaced, and my stomach churned as the room spun. Sounds hurtled toward me, impossible sounds I shouldn’t be able to hear, like Paris’ heartbeat, the strong swoosh as her heart’s chambers opened and closed, siphoning blood in and out, in and out.
I held my hand up to my face. The bloody gash where I ripped out my IV had already healed, leaving a thin pink scar. A sob escaped my throat, which felt like it was getting tighter and tighter as I stared at my hand in disbelief.  
Aden stepped forward, watching me with a mixture of pity and concern. Paris looked from him to me, making to move but I threw a hand out. “No! Stay back!”
The boy didn’t stop. “Please. I had no choice.”
“No choice?” I yelled back. “Are you kidding me? You had a choice! You could’ve not turned me!”
“It’s not that simple,” he growled. 
My face twisted in hatred. I opened my mouth to speak, but noticed Paris was gone. Behind me, I heard the soft click of a heel and I spun. Paris’ eyes widened right before I kicked her as hard as I could. She went sailing backward into the wall, dropping the syringe as she hit the floor. 
I ran. My legs felt wobbly, my balance skewed, as I bolted out the door and slid into the wall. Aden cried out to me, but it only made me run harder. I tore down the hall, pushing aside patients and hospital personnel as I went. 
The walls were also cinderblock, with cheap black and white tiles laid out in a checkerboard pattern along the floor. The air smelled sterile, but it was mixed with something else, something not quite human. It was the same energy I had detected on Paris when I first awoke.
Someone stepped in front of me, and I met his eyes as I passed. They flashed red, and I gasped in surprise. Slowly, my eyes widened as I scanned the curious faces that had turned to stare at me, meeting a pair of red eyes each time.
Vampires. They were all vampires.
Where the hell am I?
I swore under my breath. This couldn’t be happening. Maybe I was having another nightmare, and any minute now I’d wake up. But as the bleach on the air burned my lungs, I knew I wasn’t dreaming.
Paris, the boy, the people around me… they seemed normal, should be normal. They looked like me. Some of the teenagers even looked like the types of friends I kept back home (not that I had many). 
But they’re not like you at all, are they? They’re not hunters. You have to stay calm and find a way out.
I turned a corner and plowed straight through a group of nurses, meeting with rude comments as I shoved people aside. I ran and ran and ran, my heart beating faster and my breath coming in short, quick spurts as I raced for the exit sign at the end of the hall. Two young women walked out of the door, chatting amiably with one another.  
“Move!” I yelled, slipping between them. 
They looked at me, startled, as I burst through the door and shakily raced down the stairwell, taking two steps at a time. 
Hundreds of thoughts wrestled in my head. Find a payphone and call mom. Alert the Scarlet Guard. Where am I going to sleep tonight? Can I even sleep anymore? You should let Leo know. He could rescue you.  
I seized up.
Leo. 
A hard knot formed in the pit of my stomach. What would he do when he found out? Pity me? Help me? 
Kill me?
The stairwell ended, and I burst through a door into another sterilized hallway. Across from me was a sign with two arrows, LOBBY pointing left and ER pointing right. I went left, spilling into an empty, window-lined room a few seconds later. My eyes darted around. The windows ran parallel to a hallway, at least, from what I could tell. There was a reception area, with little potted plants spotting the carpeted floor. At the center sat a petite, innocent looking receptionist at an oak desk. 
I looked past her and my eyes locked on a set of doors, about fifty feet away. 
Go. Now.
I didn’t hesitate. Glancing around, I jogged across the room, my bare feet barely making a sound against the carpeted floor. The receptionist said something, but I didn’t hear her. All of my attention was focused upon those doors and the enticing promise of freedom they offered. 
Almost… there…
My fingers had just grasped the brass handles when I heard the bolt lock and a brilliant red light flared to life above my head, accompanied by a shrill siren. I swore, tugging at the doors and rattling the glass panes on either side, but they refused to budge.
Somewhere in the hospital, footsteps thundered toward me. Someone shouted, “The front entrance! Get all security down there now!”
I took a deep breath to calm myself. Think, Sloane. Stay calm. What would Leo do?
He wouldn’t have gone alone into a Red Sector, for starters. 
I frowned, telling my subconscious where to shove its sarcasm, and licked my lips, deep in thought. I turned around, surveying the room for more exits, but there were none. Just walls of glass and that horrible shrieking red light. 
Walls of glass…
I picked up the first chair I saw as the thought formed and raced toward a window-wall. Feeling strength I had never felt, I raised the chair over my head and hurled it as hard as I could at the window. It hit with a loud thunk, bouncing back, but it was mixed with something else, a sound so minute only my enhanced hearing could pick it up: the tiny crackle of breaking glass.
I peered at the place where the chair had struck. Sure enough, there was a small, almost imperceptible crater. 
Desperation and hope flooded me. I grabbed the chair and begin banging it against the window, over and over again. With each blow, the crack spidered out, creating thin blue veins along the glass. 
I felt the window start to give when they caught up to me, a flurry of voices from the other side of the room. 
No! Not now, not when I’m so close!
Someone was whimpering behind me. I turned to find the receptionist cowering behind the desk, trembling as she muttered something into the telephone. 
“Freeze!” a man shouted as a wall of guards took aim around me. 
I could try to throw the chair through the glass, but that might cause them to shoot me, and going through the front entrance was clearly not an option, as the doors were locked. 
And I was completely surrounded by vampire security guards. 
I’m almost ashamed to admit what I did next, but you never know what you’re capable of until you’re pushed to your absolute last resort. I darted behind the desk and pulled the receptionist in front of my body, pinning her arm to my chest with one hand while I grabbed a fistful of her pretty blond hair with the other, yanking her head back. 
“Don’t!” I snarled. “Or I’ll rip her throat out!” 
The poor girl shuddered with a sob, her young face drenched in tears. I wasn’t actually going to rip her throat out – Who am I kidding? I felt guilty when I killed an insect, let alone a girl, vampire or not – but the guards didn’t know that. 
I felt them tense as they eyed each other sidelong, unsure if I was really that unstable. I took a good look at them and noticed they were all wearing the same black military uniforms that Aden wore, only theirs’ had one chevron each. 
Despite the wailing of the siren, I was able to hear the approach of deliberate footsteps. “Enough,” Aden said, stepping through the throng of guards. One of them separated from the group, walking up to him. “Captain Knight, what is your command?” he asked.
Captain? 
This guy was their leader? He looked barely old enough to be enlisted. 
Aden held up a hand, quietly silencing his comrade. His strong, cerulean eyes remained locked on mine, the hint of a smile on his lips.
“Release me!” I cried out, returning his sardonic smile with a look of pure contempt.
“And where will you go?” he asked. “There is nothing left for you in your mortal world.”
His deep, melodic voice wrapped around me, sending chills up my arms. “That’s not true,” I said, but the seed had been planted. Doubt began to grow in the back of my mind. What if he was right? My mother hated vampires, as did Leo. What happened when the only allies you had left would surely want you dead?  
Aden gazed upon me with sympathy. “I am truly sorry for what you’ve lost. Believe me, I wish there could be another way.”
I opened my mouth to speak, a retort hot on my tongue, when the back of my head exploded with sharp pain, and stars burst before my eyes. I stumbled, losing my grip on the receptionist as someone planted his knee in my back, forcing me down hard. My cheek slapped against the floor, a burning sensation spreading across my jaw as it dug into the carpet. Before I could react, my arms had been cuffed behind my back. 
The guards began to scatter, but through the crowd my eyes found Aden’s, his smile now shifted into a mask of cold indifference. 
My face contorted in unrestrained anger, burning not from embarrassment but from rage. “I hate you,” I whispered.
His lips parted to say something and I knew he’d heard me, but before I could make out the words, there was a feather-light prick along the back of my arm and a wave of drowsiness rolled through me. 
Like a close friend, darkness consumed my line of vision, the regret in Aden’s too blue eyes the last thing I saw.


Find out what happens next.

The Scarlet Dagger

Book One in The Red Sector Chronicles


The strength of Sloane’s heart is about to be put to the ultimate test. 


After the Eclipse – the night vampires began openly slaughtering human victims – everything changed. Out of fear, the government salvaged what remained of the human population and enclosed them in massive, security-laden cities called White Sectors, while marking the vampire infested territory as Red Sectors.

When seventeen-year-old Sloane McAllister’s twin brother disappears, she seems to be the only one who thinks he isn’t dead, and vows to stop at nothing to find him. Gathering her courage, she braves the Red Sector to search for clues to his whereabouts. By chance, she encounters Aden, a handsome, charismatic vampire with a hidden agenda. He turns Sloane against her will, and whisks her away to his underground city. Enemies quickly become friends as Sloane struggles against her attraction to Aden, and resists her growing loyalties to the creatures that ruined her life. But the vampires themselves are the least of her problems. The city is harboring a devastating secret, one that could change the tide of the war and threaten to destroy everything Sloane has come to believe in.

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Email: writekdjones@gmail.com

Five
(Elemental Enmity #1)

Christie L. Rich


Prologue: Five


I nearly turned around when I saw how tired Aunt Grace looked, but I had put this off long enough.  The crinkles around her soft brown eyes betrayed years of worry, making her appear slightly older than forty-one.  Her upper body slumped over a stack of bills as if they were chained to her neck.  She shoved her fingers into her ginger hair at the nape and groaned as she went to work massaging what had to be tight muscles.  She didn’t acknowledge me even though I hovered over her shoulder.
Hoping some of my pent up nerves would escape with my breath, I cleared my throat.  “I need to talk to you about something,” I said, settling onto the chair opposite her.  Despite my efforts in preparing for this, my voice came out tiny.  My eyes wanted to roam to the stack of dishes that looked like one breath would topple them onto the dirt-ridden hardwood floor.  I couldn’t risk her asking me to clean up.
Where was Travis, anyway?  Knowing him he was in hiding, trying to get out of his turn—again.
“Hmm,” she said absently.  “Can’t it wait?”
“Grace,” I stated in the most grown-up tone I could muster.  She cocked a brow but still didn’t bother to look up.  “I’ve thought this through, and I want to go to St. Mary’s College with Cassie.”
“You are not Catholic,” she said, placing down her pen.  Faster than I could look away she locked her gaze onto mine.  Her usually warm eyes roamed over me coldly.  Ironically her penetrating stare held no visible emotion, yet her scrutiny could have melted diamonds.
I frowned.  “What does that have to do with it?”  She wasn’t acting the way I had imagined.  Cassie and I had gone over this a thousand times.  I had been sure she would use her old standby—money.
“The school is based around a religion you do not practice.”  She groaned in clear displeasure.  “We have discussed this, Rayla.  I need you close to home.”
What she really needed was a free nanny.  What a joke.  Her idea of discussion had been an emphatic “No” when I mentioned I wanted to check out other schools besides Snow College.  “Jenny’s old enough to take care of Sarah,” I pleaded.  I was ten when I started watching my cousins after school.  Jenny just turned twelve.  “Besides, I won’t be here anyway.”
“I’m relying on you to come home on the weekends.  Jenny isn’t ready for that much responsibility.”
“But—”
“We each have to do our part.  Do you think you should have different obligations than the rest of us?”
The guilt she flung at me tried to stick.  Too bad for her I wasn’t going to change my mind.  “I just want to—”
“None of us get what we want.  I can think of better things to do with my time than find ways to pay for you to have shelter over your head.”
My words came out in a rush.  “Don’t you want different for your children?”  Too late, I realized my mistake—I was not her child.  She made sure I knew that from the day Mom disappeared.  Don’t get me wrong.  Aunt Grace had shown me unending kindness.  She loved me, but she always kept a distance between us that wasn’t present in her relationship with her own kids.
Her pinched lips turned in a forced smile.  “That’s why I’ve agreed to let you go to Snow.  I had hoped you would be grateful.”  Her eyes narrowed, her breath whooshing out in a gust.  “It doesn’t appear either one of us is going to get what we want tonight.”
How could she be so cold?  She wasn’t even willing to hear my side of things.  Her expression was steel, the set of her jaw granite.  Changing her mind may have been hopeless, but I was going to make certain she understood how I felt.  “When have I ever gotten what I wanted—the time you let me go to Disney Land with Cassie?”
“We couldn’t afford—”
“Oh wait,” I said, right over the top of her over used excuse.  “I didn’t get to go with her because I had to babysit.  That’s all I’ve done for the last five years!”
Her tone dripped ice with a dash of hostility.  “I realize you’ve made sacrifices, but no more than any other member of this family.”
I didn’t deserve to be treated this way.  “I would rather work ten hours a day at the pig farm than waste my life taking care of your brats!”  I couldn’t stand to be in the same room with her.  At this point I would prefer a different continent.
I bolted out the back door.  Aunt Grace stayed right on my heels.  She placed a hand on my shoulder, halting me.  “I know I expect a lot from you, but I’m only doing what’s best for everyone.”
I whirled around glaring with every bit of animosity I had in me.  She pulled her hand back sharply.  “No, Aunt Grace.  What you’re doing is ruining my life!”  With that said, I took off up the hill.
She called after me, but I didn’t want to hear it anymore.  My skin prickled from the chilly night air.  I should have grabbed a jacket, but I wasn’t about to turn around.  Hoping it would warm me up, I started into a run.  By the time I reached Cassie’s house sweat soaked my shirt, yet my arms could easily have been mistaken for a plucked chicken.
I rang the bell and bent over, resting my hands on my knees.  To my surprise Mr. Lambert opened the door.  He wasn’t supposed to be in town this weekend.  I stood up and tried to smile, but from his worried expression my attempt fell short of realistic.
He took one look at me and rushed to my side.  “What on Earth?  What’s wrong?”
My voice came out as soft and defeated as I felt.  “Is Cassie around?  I need to talk to her.”
He ushered me through the door, briskly rubbing his hand down my arm.  The heat of his skin burned.  “It must be thirty degrees out there.  Where’s your coat?”
I pulled in a deep breath.  “Forgot it.”
He nodded.  “Did you have a fight with Grace again?”
“She’s the most ridiculous person alive.  I didn’t even get to tell her about my scholarship.”  A ragged sigh escaped me.  “She just said no.”  I swiped the moisture out of my eyes and gritted my teeth, determined to not break down in front of him.  Even though he hadn’t ever mentioned it, I knew he pulled some strings to get me accepted into St. Mary’s College, not to mention the scholarship that came out of nowhere.  If I couldn’t go, it would be a total slap in the face to his generosity.
He smiled at me and nudged my chin.  “Give her time to mull it over.  She’ll come around.”
“Rayla?” Cassie asked, pulling my attention to the ornately carved staircase.  Wider than most hallways, it curved gracefully along the wall.  “What are you…”  Her face turned in a frown when she looked at me.
I ran over to her and shook my head in response to her unfinished question.  Her pale eyes softened with compassion as she placed an arm around my shoulder.  “We’ll be upstairs, Dad.” 
Mr. Lambert smiled.  “Remember the old saying, Rayla:  The world is always darkest just before the dawn.”
Was that really supposed to make me feel better?  My tomorrows had no chance of getting any brighter if I didn’t do something to change my life.  I returned his smile then let Cassie guide me to her room.
She closed her door softly as I flopped on the bed, pulling the covers over me.  The TV showed an old rerun of Happy Days.  I grunted, wishing my life could be that uncomplicated.
“Spill,” she said, sitting beside me.
I tucked my arms around my stomach.  “She wouldn’t even listen to me.  I hate her!”
Cassie touched my arm.  “Maybe we should just go to Snow our first year.  We could transfer to St. Mary’s next year when she’s had time to get used to you being gone.”
I shook my head.  “She wants me home every blasted weekend.  Said Jenny couldn’t handle taking care of Sarah.”
Cassie sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, gazing up at the ceiling as if it were a starlit sky.  She shrugged a shoulder after a while.  “I just don’t see how we could make it work.”
“I’m eighteen,” I reminded her.  “She can’t make me stay here.”
She gave me a mournful smile.  “She’s the only family you have left.  Don’t you think you should just cool off for a bit?”
“I’ve never wanted to go to Snow anyway.”
Her smile turned to a light frown.  “Everyone we know will be there.”
Uh-oh.  This couldn’t be good.  “Everyone?”
She stood up and began pacing.  “Chase is going.”
My eyes flew wide.  I knew it.  That weasel still had his teeth in her.  “When did you talk to him?  I thought you were done getting used.”
She shrugged.  “Can’t seem to get him out of my system.”
“You deserve better than that jerk.  Think about it, Cass.  Notre Dame.  Real men, not that louse that acts like he’s James Dean reincarnated.”  I had her interest.  Now it was time to close the deal.  “Oh, and don’t forget about football.”
The corners of her mouth turned up fractionally.  She considered me for a moment then bounded over to her laptop, yanked it to her chest then sat beside me again.  Her already bright eyes nearly glowed in the dim light.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
She smirked.  “Looking up the team roster.”
My heart beat faster, but it wasn’t because I cared a whit about football.  She was in it again, and with her help I could do anything.


Chapter One: Five


We spent the next eight months figuring out the details of my escape.  I would have never been able to swing it if it hadn’t been for Cassie and her Dad.  As far as Aunt Grace was concerned, I would be going to Snow College tomorrow morning.  What she didn’t understand wouldn’t hurt me.
I sat my suitcase down by the bottom of the stairs.  Jenny and Sarah waited for me with outstretched arms.  I leaned into them, inhaling the scent of cheap strawberry shampoo.
Sarah wrapped her arms around my waist, gazing up at me with tears in her eyes.  “I don’t want you to go,” she said then buried her face into my abdomen.
I held her tight for a few moments, feeling like the biggest loser but not the good kind.  “I’ll be home before you know it, and if you promise to be good for Jenny, I’ll bring you a present.”
She pulled away from me, her eyes brightening.  “Really?”
“Promise.”
She ran into the kitchen, her tiny voice raised in excitement.  “Rayla’s gonna get me a present, Momma!”
“Is she now?” Aunt Grace said, stepping into the foyer.  Her face was tight with worry.  “You call me when you get there.”
“I will,” I said.
“I don’t see why you can’t just stay here tonight.”
Not this again.  “I already told you.  We have to leave really early.  I don’t want to wake anyone up.  Cassie’s parents aren’t even in town right now so we won’t be bothering anyone at her house.”
Jenny hugged me from the back.  “You better e-mail me.”
We were probably the only family on the planet that couldn’t afford a cell plan that included unlimited texting.  Once I got a job, I was going to get a new phone and hopefully a new plan.
I touched her hand that perched on my shoulder.  “Promise.”
She bounded up the stairs yelling for Travis to help her move her stuff into my room.  He stopped by the railing, stared down at me and gave me his lopsided grin.  He flipped his head to get his dark bangs out of his eyes.  “See ya round, Cuz.”
I tilted my head in an upward nod.  “Sure thing.”  I pointed my finger at him.  “Be good.”  I wasn’t that much older than him, but I felt as if we had ten years between us.
He huffed.  “When am I ever not?”  Without even a backward glance, he took off around the corner before I could say anything else.
Sarah had already pulled Aunt Grace into the living room for her bedtime story.  I waved goodbye, but neither of them noticed.  The ancient door creaked when I pulled it shut.  I quickened my step, but no one followed me to the car.
The tires threw up a cloud of dust as I sped away toward freedom.  I gazed at my home through the haze of the rear view mirror.  The moon set an eerie cast to the scene.  The old Victorian had seen better days.  Time had transformed the once stately estate into the humble residence of a working family.  It needed a paint job, the porch swing still hung by one chain, and bicycles littered the two week overgrown lawn.  It wasn’t anything compared to Cassie’s house, but it would always be special to me.  I swiped the tears from my eyes and rolled down the window.  Time for crying was over.  I was officially on my way.
Cassie waited outside for me when I pulled up.  Her grin couldn’t have gotten much bigger.  The handle gave her some trouble, so I reached over and opened the door.  Before I knew it she plopped onto the seat.  Eyes glowing, she reached into her purse and pulled out a wad of cash.  “Dad’s going away present.”
I kept my cringe to myself.  I was tired of feeling guilty for taking advantage of Mr. Lambert’s endless acts of kindness.  I needed to figure out a way to pay him back.  “You’ve got to have the coolest father on the planet.”
She smiled brightly.  “Yeah.  Isn’t he great?”
“You sure you’re ready for this?” I asked with mock seriousness.
She laughed.  “No backing out now!”
I waggled my brows before I put the car in gear and lowered her window.  The invading night air sucked the moisture from my body like a sponge.  She just shook her head at me, but I knew what she was thinking without hearing one word.  We would have been much more comfortable in her car.
“Sorry,” I said.  “I didn’t think it would still be this hot when we planned this whole thing.”
“If you think this is bad, you just wait until you have sweat dripping from you twenty-four-seven.”
She’d already tried to explain humidity to me, but I didn’t care if I had to take three showers a day.  I was on my way to my new life.  We had pulled it off without any snags.  Nothing short of death would keep me from claiming my dreams.
***
We were on a lone stretch of Wyoming highway.  The newness of our trip had swiftly worn to raw edged fatigue.  I was going to have to wake Cassie up soon.  Even if I could manage the weight of my eyelids, I couldn’t shake the dread that had attached to my spine ten miles ago.
For the second time tonight, icy gooseflesh erupted across my neck and skittered down my entire body like a million frosty spiders.  I shrugged off a shiver before I checked the rear view mirror again.  No monsters lurked in the back seat with the sole desire of making me their next juicy snack, so why did I feel like Satan himself decided to stalk me?
Cassie rested against the passenger door, blissfully sleeping away.  I stretched my hand toward her, but pulled back just before I touched her shoulder.  I had no right to wake her because of my absurd paranoia.  This trip didn’t need me complicating it to make it unbearable.  My fear of the dark would not cripple me anymore.  Hopefully St. Mary’s offered counseling.
A thunderous rumble shattered the milky silence, sending a quiver through my bones.  Even though empty dawn had greeted me in the mirror moments before, now a motorcycle rocketed toward us.  Where had he come from?  I shook my head.  It was just a stupid motorcycle.  No need to panic.
I held my breath, expecting him to zoom by, but he matched my pace instead.  The bike zigzagged haphazardly in the lane as if the driver was loaded.  Great, just what we needed.
I honestly wouldn’t have cared if he did wheelies behind me if he hadn’t been centimeters from my bumper.  Why was he craning his neck in my direction?
He flashed his lights repeatedly as if I was hogging the entire road.  My car wasn’t that big.  I rolled my eyes and inched closer to the shoulder.  My tires hit the rumble-strip making me jump spastically.  He had plenty of room to pass.  No other vehicles were in sight.  What was he waiting for?
Even if Aunt Grace had miraculously figured out what I was doing, she wasn’t ridiculous enough to send this lunatic to bring me home.  What could he possibly want from me?
If I had more than noodles for a backbone at the moment, I would have pulled over to see what the heck was wrong with him.  I sped up instead.  I was weaponless—like it would have helped if I had an entire arsenal in my car.  You sort of have to know how to use a gun for it to do you any good.  I was not stopping.  He could be a rapist or a serial killer.
The jerk wouldn’t back off no matter what I did.  My entire frame quaked under the reality that this man was most certainly trying to get me to stop.
The thought that he might be in trouble flashed though my mind.  Too bad for him this wasn’t the Sixties and I wasn’t that gullible.  I clutched the steering wheel harder, hoping to anchor myself and moved the car back where it should have been.  I would have sworn on a Bible this dude was secretly weaving puppet-strings around me; it was all I could do to keep my foot on the gas.  Worse was the barrage of absurd thoughts swirling in my head about him.
I hadn’t even really seen him, but in my mind I was neatly tucked in behind him on that beast of a motorcycle.  The wind whipped my hair around us.  I leaned closer to him, inhaling spice and man.  Even the daydream of him smelled divine.
What was I doing?  Vivid couldn’t come close to describing this fantasy.  No one should have that kind of power over me.
My back stiffened automatically, determination welling up in my heart.  He wasn’t going to terrorize me an instant longer.
I stomped the brakes, hard.  He was either going around me—or over the car.  He was next to me in a nanosecond.
Cassie woke up with a startled yelp.  “Rayla, what are you—what the hell?”  She jumped away from me as though I were ablaze.
I turned toward bike guy to see what had freaked her out so badly.  He should have been six miles ahead of us by now from the speed he’d been going.  Maybe she had the same tantalizing snapshots rolling around her mind and wanted to call him back?
The minute my eyes locked with the scene next to me, I screamed.  Instinctively I jerked away from the thing, not motorcycle, next to my car.  The backend fishtailed, but I managed to correct us before I gunned it.  I looked again, sure I had imagined whatever that was.  It was still there.  I blinked several times to dislodge the image.  Nothing changed.
Instead of seeing a motorcycle, flank and sinew of what looked like horseflesh rode beside me, black as midnight, taut as a cord.  I shuddered when I recognized the low flap of an enormous, obsidian feathered wing.
The only sound louder than the roar of the motorcycle was Cassie’s chant of “It is not there.”  She gave a final scream and covered her eyes.  I wished I had that option.
The creature was colossal, bigger than all the horses I had ever seen.  He was the stuff of legend.
A pegasus was supposed to be white.  This monstrosity was deeper black than a bottomless pit.  Smoke billowed forth from his nostrils as though he had a fiery furnace for innards.  If his wings weren’t bad enough, a purplish-black glow radiated from him.
After every thrust of his gargantuan wings, my car veered.  I had been going nearly a hundred miles-per-hour—the thing kept up as if I were out for a scenic drive.
The rider was a mammoth of a man, suited in what looked like leather armor.  His jacket strained under bulging muscles as though the seams would burst.  A helmet blocked any view of his face, but his head was turned toward me.  Ghostly white knuckles gripped the handlebars.
Wait, what happened to the pegasus?  A breath before, a mythical beast rode next to us:  one that could have only escaped from the depths of Hades.  Now, an ordinary motorcycle flanked my car.
Well, ordinary was not right.  The chrome gleamed in the dim light as though it were alive.  I tried to hold back the absurd thoughts that once more stole my mind.  I ached to settle into the supple black leather while I curled my fingers around the high-set handlebars.  Even from here, the rumble of the powerful engine shook my entire frame.  Still, it was only a bike.
I refused to analyze the intrusive images of the mysterious stranger, especially because I wouldn’t have minded if he scooted back a bit to give me some room.
I reacted to him on a cellular level, as if he was a new source of gravity and I a wayward comet.  An emotion I didn’t want to recognize stirred underneath my overpowering fear.  My mind screamed at me to pull a one-eighty to get away from him yet my body craved to get closer to the stranger.  I felt as though I were his somehow.
I didn’t like it one bit.  I was not the type of girl to lose her brain over a guy.  I couldn’t even see his face, but I wanted to.  In fact, the curiosity left me feeling cheated.
Cassie kept her gaze locked blindly forward as if nothing abnormal was happening.  I wished I could be so calm.  The specter of insanity loomed close by me, ready to strike at any moment.
The man cocked his head to the side, saluted me.
Then bike, rider…everything just disappeared into the hot night air.
This time when I hit the brakes, the car skidded wildly to a stop.  I craned my neck in all the unnatural angles I could manage:  he was gone.  What the heck?  Had a trap door in the road swallowed him?
I pummeled the steering wheel to ease the tension welling in my heart.  “Bum-scum!”  My shrill words hung in the air before shattering into silence.  I shoved my hands through my hair and squeezed my eyes shut.
Cassie shifted in her seat.  The aged leather let out a shadow of the groan I currently had caged.  I glanced over at her.
Her gaze locked onto mine before she licked the side of her mouth and sighed.  “I wish you’d swear like a normal person, Rayla.”  Her tone sounded more irritated than she looked.  “That is so disgusting.”
I gawked at her.  “Are you really razzing me about my cursing habits now?”
Her full lips pursed before she gave me a faint smile.  “This seems as good of a time as any.”
Wait?  Didn’t she see that?  “You don’t find anything odd about being run down by a man on a motorcycle that turns into a pegasus and back again just before he disappears?”  I frantically searched the sky again.  “Where did he go?”
She seemed to be trying for casual indifference, but fear transmuted her normally delicate features into a mousy mask.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I smirked.  “So when did ‘it is not there’ become your new mantra?”
Her fingers worried the bright white seam of her dark designer jeans.  She shot a glance at me but barely made eye contact.  “Rayla, drop it.  We’re fine.  He’s gone.”  She shrugged.  “You should be happy.”
“Happy?” I choked out.  “I just had a real hell’s angel chase me down; you’re acting as if he was a dorky date!”  A maelstrom of emotions swirled throughout my body.  My heart pummeled my ribs.  My breath came in halted gasps.  Rivulets of sweat trickled down my back as though I had run twenty miles.  If that wasn’t bad enough, my right front tire perched precariously on the gravel shoulder.  A few more inches would have sent us plummeting onto the endless sea of sagebrush below the highway.  I grunted.  “Was he a figment of our collective imagination?”
“Maybe he—”
I refused to let her explain this away.  “Come on, Cassie.  I know you saw the thing so don’t bother denying it.”
She looked out the window, but I still caught her grimace.  “Could we just get moving again?  We’re going to be late, or would you rather go back to Snow?”
Snow College was in the opposite direction.  I was not turning around.  She’d already given up her chance to change her mind.  “So you’re actually telling me you didn’t see a pegasus?”  Why would she have acted like that otherwise?
She slapped her hand against her thigh, startling me.  “Mythical creatures are just that.  They do not exist!”
I would have agreed with her ten minutes before, but that beast and rider would forever haunt me.  I was pretty sure, even with my imagination, I couldn’t have come up with something like that on my own.  How had he disappeared?
A tiny part of me had hoped to see the guy fly through the air for affecting me that much—only without the aid of his demon mount.  I needed to make it clear to him, and more importantly myself, exactly who had control over my body.
I had never liked the dark.  Now I had an actual reason to distrust the inky hours that had always brought a shiver of trepidation to my spine.  I had expected my maiden voyage away from home to be full of excitement but nothing like this.
I shoved my fingers under my shirt to scratch the hideous scar between my ribs.  I needed to stop, but I couldn’t.  It was already raw.  What the heck was wrong with me?
I found it odd that the usually—void of any kind of feeling—jagged patch of skin suddenly wouldn’t stop itching.  Having the thing erupt with sensitivity for the first time since my horse riding accident seven years ago was more than a little weird.
***
Lunch was awkward.  Cassie was really quiet.  We came out of the cheesy restaurant in utter silence.  The place had saddles for barstools, wagon wheels for chandeliers, and a mechanical bull in the corner.  The only entertainment I’d had for the past hour had been watching complete strangers repeatedly fall off the thing.
Why did the air feel this thick?  Every hair on my body tried to take flight.  Suppressing a shudder, I glanced around the desolate landscape but didn’t see anything that looked out of the ordinary.
Although my scar had been itchy, tingling almost nonstop since my near-miss with that motorcycle, my terror had vanished with the sunrise:  It was back like recurrent heartburn.  I snapped my neck around when I heard a throaty rumble close by.
A leather clad rider pulled onto the road from the gas station across the street.  Figures I only caught the back of him.  It could have been the guy from last night, but there had to be thousands of black motorcycles in America ridden by huge men in leather, right?  Cassie’s face dropped three shades paler than vanilla ice cream, her gaze locked to the motorcyclist.
“Do you think that was him?” I asked breathily.
She hadn’t moved a muscle, as if she was frozen where she stood.  “Who?”
Why was she acting like this?  She’d have to do better than that if she wanted me to drop the subject.  “Don’t,” I said.
She glanced up at me coolly.  “I really can’t imagine what you’re talking about, Rayla.”
I steeled my expression, still not getting why she refused to admit what had happened.  “You should try harder, like when we were kids.”
She glared at me before stalking away.  She stood at the driver-side door, arm outstretched.
I handed her the keys.  “Why won’t you talk about it?” I asked, sliding onto my seat.  “We both saw the thing.”  My mind told me I couldn’t have really seen that pegasus, but something in my heart refused to let it go.
Her hands shook while she fumbled to get the key into the ignition.  “You should get some sleep.  You look exhausted.”  She hadn’t even glanced at me.  I had never seen Cassie this freaked out.
I couldn’t blame her.  Even though the motorcyclist was gone, his presence clung to me like a second skin.  How was I supposed to sleep believing that man was somewhere in this world?  I hoped my feelings were wrong—that he wasn’t actually following us, unseen.  I tried not to think about it, but the vision of him haunted me every time I closed my eyes.


Chapter Two: Five


The rest of the trip was a blur.  Nothing weird happened, so I had turned my mind to more important things…like school.
I pulled into Le Mans Hall’s humungous circular driveway.  My mouth fell open.  This was going to be my home for the next four years.
The building was amazing—sort of gothic mansion meets military barracks.  The square bell-tower loomed above us, nestled between a regal set of flanking wings.
Were the rumors true?  Had a student really hung herself up there?  I shrugged off the tiny shiver that raced through me and stepped out of the car.
Shielding my eyes from the late morning sun, I found the fourth floor.  Which room was ours?  A view of the lake was probably out of the question for freshmen, but there was always a chance.
With the ornate moldings that lined every wall and the marble tile that gleamed under the fluorescent light, our dorm had an old-world cool factor.  We took our things to our room, which, surprisingly, was pretty great.
A bunk-bed rested tight against an aged ivory wall.  Two small closets were nestled in the corner.  A couple of dressers and a desk lined the other walls.  We even had a small living area and a private bathroom.  All we needed now was a comfy sofa and a shower curtain.  Speaking of curtains, I peeked out the window and smiled.  The lake glittered softly below us.
Too bad I didn’t have time to explore; I still had to call Aunt Grace.  I told Cassie I was going to park the car after we unloaded our things.
She didn’t even ask to go with me, but she did wish me luck.  She probably didn’t want to be in earshot of my conversation.  I didn’t want to hear it either, but I couldn’t put it off any longer.  I wasn’t about to make her come along for the torture.
After I shut off the ignition, I reluctantly pulled out my phone.  Exhaustion from lack of sleep and my weird trip here washed over me.  I had to put that guy out of my mind.  Nothing else had happened and I already convinced myself that Cassie had been reacting to the guy not an imaginary pegasus.  I’d probably dreamed it up because last night had been the first time in years I had gotten up the courage to even be outside at night.  And the motorcyclist?  Well, thinking more about him would wait for later.
True to her nature, Aunt Grace had left twenty-four messages.  I didn’t feel like getting angry, so I decided to skip them.
I wasn’t surprised at all when she answered on the first ring.  “Hi, Aunt Grace,” I said, a little less enthusiastically than I had intended.
To say worry clouded her tone would be the understatement of my life.  “Rayla, thank the heavens and the stars!  Where are you, girl?”
From her tone I was in the land called Trouble.  She had probably figured out I wasn’t at Snow College already.  I set into my speech hoping she wouldn’t interrupt me.
“Grace, I made a decision—”
“Where are you?”
“I know you won’t be happy with it, but—”
“Rayla, you have no idea what you’ve done!”
“This is my life, and I feel it’s time—”
“You feel?” she said in a huff.  “Where are you?”
She was not going to give up, so I decided to get it over with.  “Notre Dame.”
“Indiana!”
No—Paris.  “Yes,” I stated calmly, waiting for her to lose it.
Her tone lowered, deflating like a spent balloon.  “What have you done?”
That wasn’t the response I had expected.  I started again.  “Like I was saying, I decided—”
“Did you ever consider I’ve been so strict with you for a reason?”
Of course I had, but I wasn’t buying her excuses anymore.  I had finally taken control of my life, whether she liked it or not.  “I thought you were just being overprotective because of Mom.”
There.  It was out.  I hadn’t found the statement as hard to say as I thought I would.
She sighed.  It was a lonely sound.  “I guess I should’ve just told you, but I was hoping to keep you from ever knowing about what you are.”
I chuckled, picking at the steering-wheel.  “You aren’t going to tell me I was actually born a boy, are you?”
She harrumphed.  “This is serious, Rayla.  I didn’t think you would ever be this foolish.”
In what messed up universe was choosing a great school over a mediocre one foolish?  “What are you talking about?”
Her voice held an accusation I didn’t miss.  “Why didn’t you tell me you still wanted to go to St. Mary’s?  You haven’t mentioned it in over a year.”
“Are you kidding?  You would have never let me come!”
“You’re darn right!  I can’t protect you now.  None of us can.”
Would she always treat me as a child?  “From what?” I asked.  “I’m not that pathetic.  I can take care of myself, you know.”  Hadn’t I already proven that last night?  Besides, I wasn’t about to make excuses for trying to be an adult.
She didn’t say anything for a while.  Her voice was so soft I could barely understand her when she finally spoke.  “I’m truly sorry I failed you and your mother.”
“What does this have to do with Mom?”  Was she about to tell me I had cancer or something worse?  Had my mom passed on a congenital anomaly of some kind?  Had she really died a horrible death she refused to let me see?
Would I finally get to name what had stolen my mother from me?
I braced myself for something terrible.  I had never known Aunt Grace to exaggerate—ever, but she had to be now.  Her tone insinuated I was in real trouble.
Her voice was strained as though it was hard for her to talk.  “I can’t tell you.  It’s too risky.  They’ll only find you sooner.”
They?  “Who in the blazes are you talking about?”
She whispered, “You need to be very careful, honey.  There’s more to this world than you can see.  There are people that want you.  Your life is about to change in ways you can’t even imagine.”
Huh?  “Aunt Grace, I don’t know what has gotten into you, but what you’re saying doesn’t make any sense.  Are you telling me to come home?  Because if you are—”
“No, Rayla,” she nearly shouted.  “You can’t come home!  I have to think about more than you, now.”
I snorted.  When had she only thought about me?  I had been the last one in her household she even bothered to glance at most days let alone think about.  “Would you get to the point?”
Her exaggerated groan was loud and clear.  “Oh, to heck with it.  They will find you soon enough anyway.”  She huffed a couple times as though she was trying to control her temper before continuing.  “Fae lords will be coming for you.”
I sat there for a moment, sure I had misheard her.  “Uh, would you mind repeating that?”
“Good grief, girl, listen to me.  There’s no telling how long we’ll have.  Fae.  Lords.  Will.  Be.  Coming.  For.  You.”
I sputtered, “Fae.  Like in Faeries?”  I laughed until tears formed in my eyes.  A vision of thumb-sized men with iridescent wings riding miniature horses galloped through my mind—my favorite childhood fantasy.
Many times, I had imagined being swept off my feet by a fairy prince.  He had cast a spell on me to make me fae.  My wings had been pink and purple, my hair a silvery light-blue.
Her voice couldn’t have sounded more hysterical.  “Yes!”
I laughed uncontrollably.  I couldn’t help it—until an image of a lone rider on a tricked-out Harley turned pegasus popped unbidden into my mind.  My joviality turned into an elongated, “Ohhhh!”
Her tone kicked up a few decibels.  “Have you seen them already?”
I huffed.  “How should I know what a real one looks like?”  The motorcyclist couldn’t have been fae, could he?  Even if they did exist, which I wasn’t saying they did, that man was anything but diminutive.
Any second Aunt Grace was going to yell just kidding then laugh her butt off.  I waited.  And waited.
What came out of her mouth startled me.  “They are stunning, cunning, and can be lethal.”
“Come on,” I mocked.
“You will listen to me!  You can’t allow yourself to be alone with any boy!”
I knew her game.  She wanted to scare me into coming home.  She was still trying to control me from more than a thousand miles away.  “I can hold my own with men, Aunt Grace.”  If she only knew the situations I had gotten myself out of already, she would probably disown me.
“You say that, now:  You don’t know how they can get to you.  If they wouldn’t follow you, I would insist you come home.”
That was all it took.  My temper skyrocketed.  “I don’t care who’s after me.  You can send freaking King Kong.  I’m not leaving!  I need my degree.”
“You’ll never get to use it!” she screeched.  “Why do you think I’ve tried to interest you in other things?”
“Uh-huh, like an uncomplicated career at the pig farm?”  I regretted the words the moment they escaped my lips.  I didn’t mean to be rude to her, but my brain to mouth filter wasn’t working.
She sounded self-conscious.  “It’s been good enough for me.”
“How can you go there every day?”  Grace was a strong woman, but she had given up on herself way too soon.  “You could have been so much more.”
“How I live is more important than my occupation,” she said.  “Besides, you have no idea what I do every day!”
I dreamed of being so many things, but a production worker in a stinky factory wasn’t one of them.  “I know enough to not want to follow in your footsteps.”
“There’s no chance of that happening now.  You’ve ruined any choices you did have.”  The heat in her tone faded.  “I’m afraid the ones facing you will only lead to misery.”  She sounded utterly forlorn.
Her faith in me was comforting.  “Yeah, ‘cause I couldn’t possibly make a right decision on my own.”
“I didn’t say that.  You won’t have much to choose from, sweetheart.”
The condescension in her tone blasted through me like a pistol shot.  “I hate it when you call me that!”  I was an adult.  It was about time she treated me like one.  The pregnant silence stretched to near bursting.  For a moment, I thought she hung up on me then I heard her breathing.  I wasn’t going to say anything until she did.
“Rayla, please, let’s not fight.  I’m only worried for you.”  Even though I didn’t want it to, her love for me seeped through the phone and into my heart.
I took some deep breaths to calm down.  “Tell me what’s really going on then.”
She spoke measuredly as though she was carefully choosing her words.  “That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to do.  What are you asking?”
“I want the truth.  Did you send someone to follow me here?”  I didn’t think she knew any world renowned magicians, but anything was possible.
“How could I do that when I didn’t even know you left the state?”
I ignored the hurt in her voice.  “Something strange happened on my way here.”  She gasped, but I continued, “There was this creepy guy—”
“Only one?”
Wasn’t that enough?
She wouldn’t even let me finish a sentence.  “I did say guy, as in singular.”  Funny how she didn’t comment on the creepy part.
She sighed heavily, her voice calm when she finally spoke, “They run in packs during the hunt.”
I snorted out a chortle.  “What am I a prize boar?”
She didn’t even laugh.  “You’d be surprised.”
I would be astonished.  Despite Cassie’s insistence, I was no cover model, although I didn’t resemble dog meat, either.  There had to be a reason Cassie got dream dates throughout high school while my own social life could have used some work.  Once she started liking football, she was way more popular than either of us thought possible.  No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get into it.
I still couldn’t figure out why Brody Smith, captain of the football team, had picked me instead of her.  Man.  I so needed to stop thinking about this.  I couldn’t afford to let him enter my mind again.
Back to the topic at hand, I asked, “Let’s pretend for a moment what you told me was true, and fae lords really are hunting me right now.  What could I possibly have that any other girl here doesn’t?”
The word she whispered floated through the airwaves like an ephemeral prayer:  “Power.”
Her statement shocked me so much I sat there dumbfounded.  Power could mean so many things, but at the base it was control.  At the moment, I could hardly manage my emotions.  “I’m quite sure I can’t leap tall buildings in a single bound, or run faster than a speeding bullet.  Trust me, I’ve tried.  What sort of power do I supposedly have then?”
“You are an Elemental.  You were created for the fae.”
Gah.  Was she on drugs?  “What the heck is an Elemental?”
“You can manipulate matter, Rayla.  The squadron of lords will hunt you down until one of them claims you.  Once bonded, your power will enhance his.”
This sounded like the makings of a bad late-night movie.  “I’m not saying I believe a word you’re saying, but I’m suspending disbelief once again just to clarify something; why would they have waited until now to come for me?  And if they are so dangerous, why haven’t you come to get me?”
“It’s complicated.  I would be there in a heartbeat if I could.  There’s something you need to understand.  I have to protect—”  Her words cut out.  She said something else I couldn’t put together.  Gobbledygook was all I heard, then “shielded.”  There were more non-words.  The last one I made out was “mom.”
“I can’t understand you, Aunt Grace.  What did you say?”
Just like that the jumbled words were clear.  “It’s beginning already.”
“What is?”
The mixed-up sounds started again then, “…talk to Cassie.  She can see...”  She emphasized see in a way that made me think Cassie had lied about the pegasus.  Maybe I wasn’t crazy after all.
“What does Cassie have to do with this?”
“…stay with her, okay?  Keep away from Notre Dame!”
All I could hear were partial words and silence after that.  “You’re breaking up.  What’s wrong with Notre Dame?”
“…talk…Cassie…”
“What?”  The call dropped.  I tried her again and again, but my calls wouldn’t go through.  Even thought she’d probably kill me, I decided to send her a text:
Phone died.  Call later.  Luv U!
I didn’t even get to tell her what that guy had done.  I doubted she would’ve dismissed him so quickly if I had.
Cassie was making my bed when I entered our room.  When she looked up at me, her eyes flew wide.  “That bad, huh?”
If she only knew how surreal that call had been.  “Aunt Grace just told me fae lords want me for some sort of power I have.  You said they don’t exist.  Which of you is correct?”


Chapter Three: Five


Cassie turned her back to me.  I had expected her to laugh, but her breath came in rapid gasps.  I waited:  No response.  Abandoning my bed, she moved to a suitcase and sorted through the contents.
Maybe this was more serious than I thought.  Maybe Cassie did know something?  There was only one way to find out.  “Aunt Grace told me I was in danger,” I said.  “In my estimation that puts you in danger, too.”
She stopped folding her delicates into neat piles and faced me.  Her pale eyes brimmed with unshed tears.  The smooth angles of her face contorted into a horrible grimace.  I cringed when I heard the horror in her voice.  “I can’t talk about this.”  She covered her eyes with both hands.  Her body trembled from thunderous sobs.
I edged closer to her and placed my hand gently on her shoulder.  She shrugged it away.
I gritted my teeth.  “It isn’t like I wouldn’t believe you.  First the trip here and then Aunt Grace’s call, I’m up for anything just about now.”
She thrust her arms violently to her sides.  “You can’t possibly understand what it’s like.”  She hesitated for a few seconds, her tone frigid with fear.  “I spent five years in counseling to combat my hallucinations.  I embraced them once, and it cost me.  I won’t do it again!”  Quicker than I could respond, she spun away from me.
She thought she was hallucinating?  Could two people have the same delusion?  I closed the distance between us again.  “I might understand if you were the only one that saw it.  It was black and scary and that guy made me feel…so strange.  I need you to tell me what you saw, Cassie.”
She offered a contemptuous look over her shoulder.  “My eyes don’t work any differently than yours do.”
“Then you did see the pegasus?”
She huffed.  “I didn’t say that!”
I frowned at her.  We weren’t kids anymore and we weren’t playing make believe.  “I guess I imagined the whole thing.  Stress got to me.  Is that it?”
She wouldn’t look at me when I stood in front of her.  “It could be.”
“I thought we didn’t have secrets.  Going through counseling for that long had to be horrible.  I can’t say I understand, but I want to.”  If Cassie really had seen the pegasus, that could only mean there was some truth to what Aunt Grace told me.  “What if there is more to this world than we know?  What if you weren’t delusional all those years ago?  Your stories—”
“We’re here for school, not to talk about imaginary people.”  Cassie narrowed her eyes, sending me a frosty glare.  Even with that attempt, she hadn’t covered the fear that lingered beneath contempt.  “I’ll go to Snow if you continue with this nonsense.”
I clenched my fists at my sides, trying my best to understand her.  “You would leave over a question?”  I couldn’t lose this life before it even started.
St. Mary’s would be horrible without her.  Oh no if she left would her dad’s money go with her?  I hated myself for even thinking about that.
“I hope I don’t have to.”
Her gaze chilled me more than her blunt words.  I gaped at her.  She had only been like this once before.
Her mother had taken her away for a seven-month sabbatical.  She missed half of the sixth-grade.  I hadn’t ever fit in with the kids at school.  Without Cassie, my days had almost been unbearable.
When she finally came home, I expected vivid details about India.  What I got was an “It was hot, but nice.”  She refused to play our usual games after that trip.  That was when her obsession with football began.
I never got the appeal.  She loved the games more than my cousin Travis did.  I didn’t think that was possible.
I missed our excursions into fantasy.  Unfortunately, I had to make-believe on my own after that:  It wasn’t the same.  My tone fell flat.  “I’ll just have to figure things out without you.”
She thrust a finger at me before turning to her clothes again.  “Grace is trying to teach you a lesson for lying to her.  It isn’t anything more than that.”  Despite her solid exterior, a shudder rippled along her back.  “It can’t be.”
I didn’t want Cassie to leave, so I decided to save my arguments for another time.  “I guess so.”
She pulled away when I tried to hug her.  I never thought I would see a day when I would want some distance from Cassie:  I was wrong.
***
I went for a run.  The one thing that usually cleared my mind wasn’t working.
My thoughts cycled in a whirlwind of why’s.  Cassie was definitely lying to me about something big, and I had come to the conclusion she had been lying to me for quite a while.  I wanted to think Aunt Grace was the deceitful one, but that didn’t feel right.  Her words came back in a rush:  Fae lords will be coming for you.
Considering such a thing went against the foundations of reality.  Even if I had hallucinated the pegasus, the guy on the bike was more than an ordinary man.  Something within him called to something within me.  I didn’t understand it.  The only thing I could really hope for now was that I would never see him again.  I shuddered at the thought even though I had always wished something magical would to happen to me.
I hadn’t realized as a child how frightening being swept off your feet by a fairy prince would be in real life.  He hadn’t been the prince charming I had conjured up as a kid, either.  He was a far sight larger and an eternity scarier.
Falling down a rabbit-hole sounded great compared to this.  After all, Alice was in a land of wonder.  I was in Indiana.  I just needed to keep telling myself that none of this was true; none of this was real.  The logical part of my mind sure thought that.  Cassie was right.  Aunt Grace was probably playing a trick on me.
My feet flew over the pavement, making short work of campus.  I should have been recuperating from our trip, but I couldn’t rest with so many unknowns parading through my brain.
I slowed, my lungs needing more air than I could currently give them at the pace I had set.  My mono-vision blurred outward.  What the heck?  No buildings were in sight.  Enormous pine trees surrounded the narrow path I stood on.  Dizziness overwhelmed me when I looked up at the sprawling branches.
How had I gotten into the woods?  The place looked more like the Redwood Forest than the Nature Area of campus.  This was just great.  It probably wasn’t the best idea for me to be out here alone.
Okay.  No need to panic.  The rush of water thundered somewhere near me.  If I followed the river, I could find my way back to my dorm.  I started toward the sound, kicking myself for not paying attention to where I was going.
A fat drop of rain pelted my cheek and slid down my face.  A couple more splatter on my scalp.  What was going on?  The sky had been clear moments before.  I gazed unbelievingly at the voluminous clouds rolling toward me.  They were the deep, dark gray of a turbulent summer storm.  The wind picked up, sending my hair whipping around my face; I pulled it into a makeshift bun to get it out of my eyes.  I had to find shelter.  If only I had a clue where I was.  Why had I been this stupid?
The heavens dumped on me like a waterfall.  I usually loved staying out in the rain, that was because I had never experienced a tempest like this.  A small roofline caught my attention, barely visible through the trees.  I cut into the bushes toward it.  The bramble dug into my flesh, leaving a crosshatch of welts on my arms.
The old shack looked deserted.  The door hung open at an odd angle, only attached by one leather hinge.  Most of the windows were broken.
Once in the clear, I raced inside even though this was the sort of place an ax-murderer would hang out.  It wasn’t like I had a better option.
The second I entered the room the musk of wet earth and ancient wood surrounded me.  I breathed in deeply, savoring the freshness.  The world seemed newer somehow.
The intricacy of the hand-planed walls mesmerized me.  It must have taken forever to build this place.  I sat cross-legged on the rickety floorboards waiting for the clouds to break.  I could probably sit here for hours without much of a problem.
The sounds of nature floated near—the song of a bird melded with the percussion of the rain in a timeless, soothing rhythm.  I closed my eyes, my nerves calming with every revitalizing lungful of air.
I would figure this out.  Whatever it was, I would deal with it.  My plight couldn’t be as bad as Aunt Grace had implied.
I pulled out my phone, trying her number again.  It was busy.  Of course.
I called Cassie to smooth things over before I went back—the same.  It didn’t even roll to voice-mail.
I hit every saved number I had.  They wouldn’t go through.
I tried the customer service number.  No luck.
Frustration bubbled up in me like an over-full pot.  What was going on?  Despite the trees, I had a clear signal.
I took some more calming breaths, squaring my shoulders.  I would use Cassie’s phone to call home.  Everything was going to be fine.  It had to be.
A twig cracked near the back of the shack, startling me.  My scar lit up like a skyscraper at midnight.  I turned toward the broken window.  Nothing was there, but my senses shot to high alert.
A dark foreboding washed over me in thick waves.  Was that the wind or a hungry growl?
Another crack.
Forget this.  I bolted out the door, bounding on the sodden ground.  I ignored the branches pulling at my arms and hair like greedy fingers.  The rain soaked through my sweatshirt and jeans as if they were nothing more than a linen sack.  I had to get to my dorm.  I needed the safety of people.
A person stepped onto the path up ahead, undoubtedly male by the bulking frame.  I skidded to a stop, my arms flailing for balance.
Most of his face was shrouded by the hooded trench coat he wore.  Despite that and the sheets of rain, I felt the caress of his gaze travel the length of me.  He started toward me in determined strides.
Frantic to find an escape, I searched the landscape for a side trail.  I was being ridiculous.  He was just a man—probably a Notre Dame student caught in the rain, just like me.
I would glide past him calmly.  I might even say hello just to cut the tension.
A niggling thought made its way to the surface of my mind:  What if he won’t let you?
A new emotion hit me like a tsunami.  My body ached to be near him…just like the man on the bike.  Could it be him?  Had he really followed me here?
I stepped forward timidly.
What was I doing?
One more step.
Oh, no.
Why were my legs moving without me telling them to?
A horrible impulse surged through me to rush to his side.  I longed for him to fold me in his all encompassing embrace.
I was insane.
I did not know this man.
So why did I feel his pull no matter how hard I fought?  Maybe I was hallucinating again.  But how could a hallucination make my heart ache like this?
My faltering will and terrible need collided violently:  I had to get closer to him.
He was my world.
I was reborn.
I smiled at my redeemer.
He moistened his bottom lip, biting down invitingly.  Ever so slowly, his hands moved to the edge of his hood.  Just then purple light pulsated around him.
That wasn’t normal.
The thought floated away before I could grasp it.
A new one needed my attention.
I was going to see him.  My heart beat frantically in my chest as if it might sprout wings.
Did I look okay?  I raised a self-conscious hand to smooth my saturated hair and wiped running mascara from under my eyes.  Hardly aware of what I was doing, I took another step toward him.
My body convulsed when he hesitated and pulled his hood back into place.  The only part of his face I could see was those glorious lips.  Why was he suddenly frowning?  Did I do something wrong?
Voices cut through my thoughts.
No.
Laughing.
Someone was giggling.  I hadn’t seen it before, but another path shimmered into view between us.
The hold this man had on me shattered.  Apprehension flooded through me in a relentless wave.
He moved closer.
What was I still doing here?  Why hadn’t I run when I had the chance?  I retreated another step.  I could still scream.
He frowned as if he knew what I was thinking and spun toward the chatter.
His rugged jaw tightened before his head veered to the right and back at me.  His fists clenched at his sides.
One heartbeat.  Two.
A flash of white.
A predatory smile curved his mouth moments before he saluted me.  Then he stepped off the path toward the forest, disappearing behind a thicket of trees.
I remembered how to breathe.
A group of girls stomping through puddles came barreling toward me.  One of them gasped, breaking away from the others.  “Are you okay,” she asked, concern clear in her tone.
“I—I think I’m lost.”  I glanced ahead.  The man was gone.  The tree line looked different, not so thick.  I would have sworn I had been in the middle of a vast forest, but I was on a large path in a thinly wooded area.  I even heard the sounds of campus now.  Where was the shack that had been there moments before?  I forced myself to turn toward the girl on trembling knees.  “How do I get back to Le Mans Hall?”  My smile took quite a lot of effort.  I didn’t want her to know how freaked out I was.
She gazed at me through kind eyes.  “This trail is tricky.  I’ll show you.”  Holding her umbrella higher, she stood beside me.  “Here”
“Thanks,” I said, ducking under it.  I welcomed the cover even though the rain had turned to a drizzle.
She laughed.  “Won’t do you much good now.  You look like you’ve been swimming in the river.”
My lips twitched into a minute smile.  Was that man still lurking in the shadows waiting to strike until I was alone?  I prayed he was just a figment of my overactive imagination, all the while knowing in the bottom of my soul that he wasn’t.  With more effort than it should have taken, I tore my gaze from the trees.  “I should have paid more attention to the weather when I left my room.”  I glanced at the woods again.  I couldn’t help it.
“Wow.”  Her eyes roamed over me.  “You’re really shaken up.”  She placed a reassuring hand on my arm.  “Don’t worry.  We’ll get you home and dry in no time.”  She extended her hand toward me, grinning.  “I’m Natalie Walker.”
She had an infectious smile, a short curvy frame, bright green eyes, fair freckled skin, and thick, bouncy auburn curls.
I gave her a curt nod and shoved my trembling hands into my pockets.  “Rayla Tate.”  I couldn’t say anything else.  My throat was too tight with fear.
“Where you from?” she asked, following my gaze over to the trees.
I ignored the intrepid call of the forest.  I made myself look only at her.  “Utah.  You?”
“Arizona.  Technically we’re neighbors.”  She smirked, cocking her head.  “I can’t seem to get used to this place.  There aren’t any landmarks to keep me grounded.”
Natalie Walker was a refreshing distraction.  My fear slowly subsided with every normal word she uttered.  I laughed.  “I know, right?  I feel lost without the mountains.”
She pointed toward her friends who huddled together under cheery umbrellas, talking and giggling.  Their bright rain-boots rebelled against the turbulent sky.  “They keep telling me I’ll acclimate.  I don’t know if that’s possible.”
We walked toward the group.  She introduced me.  I was never going to remember all their names.
“Are you coming with us, Rayla?” asked one of the girls.
“I…”  I should have been settling into my new life, making new friends, doing whatever college students normally do, not worrying that a pack of fae lords were going to come for me.  Whatever that meant?
Having one man stalk me was bad enough, even if by some miracle he did turn out to be imaginary; or more likely, a college student that was trying to be friendly.  All I knew was nothing or no one could get me to go further down that path.
“I’m taking her back,” Natalie said, saving me.  “She’ll catch a cold if she doesn’t get out of those clothes.”
I gave her a shy glance.  “I don’t want to be a bother.”
Natalie took my elbow.  “Couldn’t be if you tried.”  She twisted toward the girls who were already skipping down the path in sets of two, arms linked.  She shrugged.  Her tone lowered.  “See you guys later.”
I fought the temptation to tell them and campus police about the man because I was probably either being paranoid or delusional.  If I set aside the purple light I had seen which I definitely could have imagined, that guy hadn’t actually done anything but walk toward me and smile—for all I knew he had been going for wolfish.
“I’m sorry to ruin your fun,” I said.  I should have insisted she go with her friends, but I couldn’t get the words to come out.
She nudged my shoulder.  “I hardly think pounding through puddles is enjoyable.  You just got me out of an entire afternoon of wet misery.  I should be thanking you.”
My mind stuttered momentarily.  Was I actually having a real conversation?  I blurted out the first thing that came to me.  “Well, when you put it that way, why aren’t you?”
She laughed and I smiled.  She showed me around campus a little bit before depositing me in front of my dorm.
Most of the buildings had a similar gothic charm, but some, like Regina Hall, were decidedly minimalistic boxes.  Who knew the two styles could mesh so well.
“See you around, Rayla.  Thanks again.”  Without giving me a chance to reply Natalie headed for her dorm.
She couldn’t know how grateful I was to her.  I was going to have to be more careful from now on.  Aunt Grace had been right about one thing, at least.  I needed to stay around people.


Find out what happens next in Five (Elemental Enmity Book I)

Summary:
Rayla Tate was just a child when her mother disappeared from her life forever. Raised by her aunt Grace in a small town, she has lived a relatively uneventful but extremely sheltered life. She doesn’t know it yet, but she has been hidden from the fae who have lived secretly among us since the beginning of time. Descended from an ancient blood-line of Elementals, only she has the power to crown the first fae high-king.
Sick of provincial living and the dictates of her aunt, Rayla flees the safety of her home and runs away to college with her best friend. However, excitement over her newfound freedom is short-lived when she finds herself being chased by a mysterious stranger on her way to school. She is drawn to him immediately but resists the compulsion she feels. He disappears into the night, but she can’t shake the feeling he is still following her.
Rayla soon discovers that reality is up for interpretation and must fight for her freedom when a pack of fae lords closes in on her, each hoping to claim her power for his own. She soon finds herself surrounded by stunning men. Are they fae, or is this just normal college life? More importantly, who can she trust when she can’t trust herself to be near them?

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Her Dark Destiny
(Hunters of the Dark #1)

Dave Ferraro


Prologue: Her Dark Destiny


Becca hated herself as she tentatively pushed the strap of her camisole back up over her bare shoulder.  Picking up her red high heels, she plodded down the dank hallway, feeling utterly exhausted and used.  She ached.  She ached and throbbed in places she’d told herself she would never let anyone touch again.  But she always did.  She always let someone touch her, for the right price.
She sighed as she reached the entry door to the apartment complex she was leaving and slid her feet into the heels.  She couldn’t wait to take them off when she got back to her place.  Maybe she would take a bath tonight, drink a glass of wine to help her relax, help her forget.  It would feel nice to dull the pain, feel clean again.  At least this one hadn’t protested when she’d insisted on using a condom.  Some of them did, despite the fear of STDs.  Some people just didn’t care.  Some people just didn’t think.  They wouldn’t catch anything.  Not even from a dirty whore.
“Not here, Tom.  Someone might see.”
“So let ‘em.”
Becca looked up to see a man and woman kissing against a wall.  The man’s words were slurred.  But he was only a man.  None of her concern.
Deciding to avoid the happy couple, Becca ducked down an alley.  The kind of dark alley her mother had told her to avoid.  At least before kicking her out of her house because her mother’s sleazy boyfriend had come on to her.  Like it had been her fault.
Becca paused mid-stride as she heard a sharp clunking noise, like a tin can being kicked.  She shivered, suddenly aware of all the shadows around her.  Clutching her purse to her bosom a little tighter, she unzipped the top in case quick access was necessary.
She held her breath to listen and cocked her head, staring hard at all of the dark corners, willing them to unveil their secrets.  Nothing.  Just her nerves.  Just her life getting to her.
She really needed that bath about now, needed to melt into the steaming water, not into these cold shadows that seemed to be breathing entities, barring her way.  Shadow creatures from an alternate dimension, coming to whisk her away from a life of prostitution.  Becca nearly giggled.  The things she came up with sometimes.  Anything would be better than where she was.  Even shadows coming to abduct her.
But the shadows were moving.  Or at least parting.   Making way for someone...or something.
Becca’s breath caught in her throat as a figure came to a stop before her.  Her eyes widened as she took in the wild eyes, the unkempt hair.  She must have been a beautiful woman when she made herself up, but just then, she looked mad, crazed.  Something was wrong with her.  And her round belly didn’t go unnoticed by Becca.  She was pregnant, probably about ready to pop.  What was she doing out here in...her slippers?  Becca looked again.  Yep.  Pink fuzzy slippers.  Something was definitely wrong here.
“Um....miss, are you...are you alright?” Becca stammered.
The woman stared at her, as if she didn’t understand, then her eyes fastened themselves down onto...her breasts?  No...higher.  Her neck.
Becca bit her lip and backed up a step, feeling a little self-conscious, a little vulnerable.  Bumping into a crazy pregnant lady after she’d screwed some married forty-year-old pig wasn’t exactly her idea of a fun Friday night.  Give her an old-fashioned date anytime.
“Miss?” Becca tried again.
The woman looked up into Becca’s eyes again and opened her mouth in a feral snarl, revealing two sharp canine teeth.
Swallowing hard, Becca dug into her bag, feeling a little more confident when her hand fastened itself around her wooden stake and mallet set.  She pulled it out and let her purse drop to the ground, a wad of rolled-up bills spilling out alongside her keys and a box of condoms.  
“Now this is my idea of fun,” Becca informed the pregnant woman with a slightly psychotic grin.  “God, this feels good, doesn’t it?  Just us girls?”  She kicked the woman as she was about to strike and the vampire fell to the ground with a crash, seemingly tired, a little dazed.  She must have just been made.  Couldn’t have been more than an hour old.  Super-sharp reflexes usually kicked in after a couple hours of unbearable thirst.  This wouldn’t be as much fun as she’d hoped it would be.
“Oh, well,” Becca murmured as she straddled the woman and placed the stake over her heart.  “It’s the thought that counts.”  She was about to hit the stake with a gleeful swing of the mallet when the vampire bucked savagely, startling Becca enough to expose an arm, upon which the woman immediately fastened her fangs.
“Gugh!” Becca yanked her arm back, caught off-guard and slightly afraid.  She stared in disbelief at the woman’s horrible maniacal grin where her blood - her blood - dripped down the undead chin.
“Damn trollop,” Becca snarled, redoubling her effort to pin the vampire.  Once she was firmly on top again, she didn’t waste any time.  She slammed the mallet down onto her properly-positioned stake with a grunt and felt the wood glide easily through the flesh, through the tissue.  After a few more well-placed strikes, she finally drove it home, through the woman’s tainted heart.
Becca stood up with a smile upon her face, mission accomplished.  At least this was something she could be proud of.
The woman was ash in seconds.  Everything just seemed to transform, atom for atom, to dust.
Reaching out a hand, Becca touched the tip of the woman’s nose, greasy ash coming away with it.  She rubbed the ash on the alley’s brick wall and gathered her belongings together, kissing the wad of money before tossing it back into her purse.  “Not a bad night.”  Glancing down at the blood still trickling down her arm, Becca scowled.  She must be slipping, letting a newbie get the best of her, getting too arrogant for her own good.  Sighing, Becca sent the body of ash a kiss goodbye and continued down the alley like she didn’t have another care in the world.
She didn’t pause as she left the alley and came out on a side street, a little jump in her step as she made her way to her apartment and its old claw-footed bathtub.  She deserved extra bubbles tonight.  And extra wine.  Definitely extra wine.
If she’d given even the slightest pause, she would have noticed the ashen body shift behind her.  She would have seen the right shoulder move and crumple in upon itself, the head rolling from its neck and shattering silently on the concrete ground, like glass, into thousands of papery shards.  She would have noted the ashes scatter like leaves on a windy autumn day, tossed aside as if from a gutter, where they’d discreetly gathered.  And she wouldn’t have been able to ignore the tiny hand that reached out from the ash belly, seeking its mother’s dead flesh, where there no longer was any.


Chapter One: Her Dark Destiny


One Year Later…
“Shanna, are you listening to me?” a sharp voice demanded in Shanna’s ear.
Shanna Hunt held her cell phone a little further away from her head and rolled her eyes.  “Yes, I hear you, Valor.”
She steered her jeep along a dark lonely highway, imagining what the dance club, where she was going to meet her best friend Kelly, was going to be like.  It was the club’s opening night, so all she had to go on was the name.  Styx.  Simple, ominous.  It could be really cool or incredibly lame, but like Kelly had said last night, “at least it’s something new.”  They’d been going to the same clubs near the college town of St. Cloud, Minnesota for years, so a change of scenery was bound to be nice, at the very least.  And it could potentially be their new hangout if it wasn’t a disaster.  With a name like Styx, Shanna imagined dark wood panels and a wide dance floor with red lights bathing a sea of dancers.  The pounding bass rocking the floor and throbbing through her ears.  A vast improvement over the 80’s night she was subjected to every Friday evening at The Glass Chandelier, the only other club worthy of mention in the rather suffocating town.  Of course Kelly had insisted they go on opening night, like the place was oozing irresistible pheromones, and she was dragging Shanna along with her.  Unfortunately, Shanna had been scheduled to work at her part-time job as a waitress as Russell’s, so she was going to meet her friend there an hour after the club had opened its doors.  She’d tried everything to get out of her shift, but no one had been willing to switch with her and her boss wasn’t about to help her out for a social obligation.  Whatever.  She was almost there now, so she could look forward to some real fun soon enough.
“I know you hear me,” Valor said.  “But are you listening?  This could mean life or death for a lot of people, yourself included.  Won’t you at least give it a trial run?  You can leave at any time.  After the first day, if you’d like.”
Shanna sighed.  The seven years since her parents’ death had seemed like an entire lifetime.  Nobody had wanted to take her in, but her aunt had eventually set her up in her own apartment at the complex she owned.  Probably for the tax write-off.  But now that she was eighteen, she was paying rent herself and was sure that her aunt was holding out hope for a written notice every month that passed by.  But even harder for her to deal with in wake of becoming an orphan was that no one had paid attention to her account of what had happened to her parents.  They said that she must have been dreaming, half asleep when the burglars had been surprised by her parents and hastily murdered them, leaving without getting a thing.  No one mentioned the chalk circle.  No one mentioned the strange dust scattered about.  They ignored everything that could have possibly been reported as supernatural.  But Shanna had refused to forget.
“It’s just not for me,” Shanna relayed.  “I’m not -“
“Why don’t you just come and see us for yourself?” Valor insisted.  “It wouldn’t hurt.  You could say ‘no’ then.  I just think that it would be beneficial for both of us to sit down and really discuss this, examine each and every concern you may have.”
Grieving for her parents hadn’t come easy for her.  She’d found herself unable to cry at the funeral.  Unable to talk about life with them.  But there was one thing that she could do to get some closure.  She’d done her research, studied up on demonology and the supernatural, checking out books and discovering unlimited resources on-line.  And she’d trained herself to fight, to aim, even joined archery and self-defense clubs at school.  She was determined to do something about what she’d witnessed even if she had to take matters into her own hands.  So she’d become a self-learned expert on demons and had taken it to the next level - she’d started hunting them.  She sought them out in their common dwellings - caves and graveyards; even participated in an exorcism with a priest she’d persuaded she could help.
And then she’d hit the jackpot.  During her on-line research, she’d been swept deeper and deeper into a labyrinth of sites discussing demonology, until she’d discovered a webpage for hunters in the abyss.  Hunters.  The word had been foreign to her. But what she shared with other individuals at this common destination had rung true in her mind.  A shadow society of people like herself were working to make the world a safer place from monsters, relating their stories, sharing secrets and tips, where to find weapons and texts, all with total anonymity.  She suddenly wasn’t so alone.  There were others out there who’d been touched by what dwelled in darkness, in one way or another.  Others who could empathize with her plight, and point her in the right direction for carrying out her revenge.  Years ago, someone suggested to have a convention of sorts, a meeting of the minds, but while the site was in an obscure place on the internet, it was still public and thus, quite risky.  They would be too vulnerable to traps sprung by those they hunted.  It was best that they fought alone.  In the shadows.  Each cleansing their own piece of the earth.  Shanna, for one, found it comforting just knowing that there were others like herself out there, doing some good.
 And then three months ago, out of pure dumb luck, she’d tracked down the demons that had destroyed her life.  Yet she’d gotten no pleasure from driving her blade through their hearts.  If anything, it had made her feel even emptier.  What else was there, if her vendetta had been carried out?  Who was Shanna Hunt?
Just a week ago, this Valor woman had identified Shanna through the hunter site, somehow getting ahold of Shanna’s cell phone number and coming to some very real conclusions about Shanna being a demon hunter, with enough information on her background to make her feel vulnerable and exposed.  Now Valor and this “government-funded agency” were trying to recruit her for a team of hunters.  But could she trust them?  With the information they had on her, they could have easily come for her if their intentions had been malicious.  But they hadn’t.  Still, she was hesitant, dubious of working with others in life-and-death situations, being responsible for actions she would report to a superior in a more official capacity.
“Look, I’m just not interested in being an X-Man or whatever, okay?” Shanna reasoned.  “So, can you please just -”
“Shanna, the creatures of the dark are finding hunters and executing them, one by one.  They’re going to come after you eventually.  Our only defense against these monsters is surprise.  With a team of hunters, we’ll have quality and quantity.  Hopefully, that will be enough to stop the death blow that they’re striking against the good guys.  If we don’t do this, there won’t be any hunters left before long.  And then what?  Everything that you’ve been fighting for will have been in vain.  Darkness will reign!  Is that what you want?”
Shanna couldn’t deny Valor’s claims.  Screen names she’d become familiar with on the message boards of the hunter site had disappeared, like stars in the sky darkening.  There were fewer and fewer of them visiting every day.  But she just wasn’t sure if this was the right solution.  They’d kept themselves anonymous and hadn’t met before for a reason.  What they did was dangerous.  It was better not to be visible.
“No, what I want is to be left alone,” Shanna retorted.  “I work alone.  I’m no team player.”
“We can teach you to be one.  Do you think anything could stand in the way of a team of trained hunters?  Really trained?  Studying up on demons and fighting techniques isn’t enough to prepare you for everything that comes your way.  You’re an ordinary girl, self-taught, and that makes you prone to get hurt…or killed.  It’s not like you have any super powers like these things have.  But we can teach you martial arts, give you rare materials to go through, and give you a fighting chance!”
“Maybe you’re giving them an easier target.  Maybe you’ll just end up getting a group of hunters killed in one quick slap.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line for a moment.  “But maybe not,” Valor’s voice returned quietly.  “If we do nothing, we’re doomed.  If we at least try something, we have a chance.”
Shanna watched the darkness ahead of her jeep’s headlights part like a curtain to either side.  They briefly illuminated a group of trees beyond a steep ditch as she curved along the highway.  She suddenly realized that she hadn’t passed a car for fifteen minutes.  Styx seemed to be in the middle of nowhere.  Maybe she’d taken a wrong turn somewhere…
“You know, I think I’m a little lost right now,” Shanna observed.  “You’re gonna have to call me back.”
“Shanna, you…”
Shanna turned her cell phone off and tossed it onto the passenger seat next to her.
Kelly had said that it was quite a ways down Highway Forty-Three, but this far?  It was supposed to be on the right side and “you can’t miss it.”  So where was it?
Valor was probably yapping at me, distracting me, and I drove right by it, Shanna thought.  Just my luck.  What kind of a name is Valor anyway?
Sighing, Shanna began to watch for her next chance to make a u-turn, when screaming red neon lights demanded her attention from over a hill just ahead of her.
Please be it, she thought, or I’m heading back and owing Kelly big time for leaving her alone.
She held her breath as her jeep crested the hill.  And there it was.  A sprawling one-story building with red neon lights, emphasizing the club’s name. 
It may have been a little out of the way, Shanna thought, parking her jeep in what seemed to be the only spot left in the dirt lot, but obviously there was an audience for this sort of thing, just a little drive outside of the city.  Without any neighbors, they weren’t liable to get any complaints, and with the acreage it boasted along the deserted road, it could afford to take up some space to accommodate what was hopefully a roomy, awesome club. The Glass Chandelier, although located in the heart of downtown, was a two-story building with narrow aisles and a cramped dance floor.  Styx was definitely aiming to set itself apart.
Shanna took inventory of herself quickly in her visor mirror and stuck her cell phone into her purse.  She paused then, wondering if Valor would try calling again.  I’ll leave it in the jeep, she decided, tossing it back onto her passenger seat.  Just in case.
Stepping out of the jeep, Shanna stuck her keys into her purse and slung it over her shoulder casually.  A royal purple spaghetti-strap dress came down to her mid-thighs, the very top of which blurred into white, a silver purse and shoes joining her clothing in a dance meant to command attention, if not monopolize it.
Smoothing out her dress, Shanna walked toward the club entrance, realizing suddenly with a little alarm that there were tall black iron spikes all around the club, so close together that a small dog could just barely squeeze between them.  A burly man stood beside the only opening to the club, his greasy goatee sculpted to a point below a deep frown.  He crossed his arms over his chest and, as he shifted, his bald head caught the red neon lights overhead, as did the round frames of his silver-rimmed glasses.  A black dragon was tattooed onto his exposed right shoulder, its tail coiling endlessly until it disappeared into the crook of his elbow.
“Hi,” Shanna greeted the man nervously.  Her eyes flicked down to his name tag, which read “Cerberus” with squiggly lines underlining it like running water.  They have quite the theme going, Shanna thought, unable to stifle a smirk.
“Four dollar cover charge for under twenty-one,” the bouncer grunted without humor, holding out his hand and consequently exposing the tattooed dragon’s tail in all its glory, running along the length of the smooth skin, its tip coiled around a dagger in the middle of his forearm.  “And an ID.”
Shanna fumbled through her purse and handed the man the requested cash and her ID.  She also had a fake ID that claimed she was twenty-one instead of three years shy of it, but she wasn’t in the mood to drink tonight anyway.  That and if anyone inspected it closely, they would see the girl on the license had a hooked nose and a double chin.  It was almost an insult every time she passed an examination.  But for some reason, she didn’t think that this guy would see the humor in the obvious contradictions.
“Cerberus” handed her back her ID, then snapped a green plastic bracelet over her right wrist a little too tightly, although she didn’t complain.  As long as she got inside, she could deal.
Shanna stepped passed the bouncer with a forced smile, averting her eyes from the grotesque tattoo, and nearly gasped when she noticed what was before her.  She was in front of a wooden bridge that extended over a stone pit that encircled the club.  The pit was twelve feet across and at least twenty feet deep and seemed to be made of concrete, like a swimming pool.  On the other side of the pit, another set of spikes encircled the club.  Or was it encircling the pit?  Either way, it creeped Shanna out.  She reasoned that they must have been planning on filling it with water, to go with the whole River Styx theme, but ran out of time before the grand opening.  Not the best first impression, but it was an ambitious prop.
Clasping the cord railings of the bridge ferociously, Shanna gingerly made her way across the rickety bridge, trying to ignore the swaying boards beneath her feet.  Heights really weren’t her thing.  When she reached the other side, she silently congratulated herself and refused to look back.
Despite the creepy entrance, Shanna was psyched.  This place wouldn’t be the typical, mundane club from the looks of things.  It had to be just awesome inside.
Another ten feet and Shanna was at the door to the club, skimming a poster on the door that read “Hosted by The Black Flame” with a negative of a struck match.  She didn’t really get it.  Was it an actual company or a mock-up of something?  In the end, it didn’t really matter.  If there was fire and brimstone inside, it would be just perfect.
Holding her head up high, Shanna walked through the door, greeted by the pulsing house mix of Gwen Stefani’s latest single.  Just to her left, a glowing six-foot skeleton stood grinning at her, a name badge similar to the one “Cerberus” wore proclaiming the rubbery specter to be Chiron, one of his hands gesturing deeper into the club, as if daring her to proceed.  Shanna looked into its empty eye sockets and something of a shiver crept up her spine.  The skeletal figure was a little amusing perhaps, and it certainly boasted that fun was in store for attendees, but it unnerved Shanna nonetheless.  She tried to ignore it, but felt as if its eyes were boring into her back as she continued down a short hallway, passed a bored-looking girl sitting behind a counter to her right, “coat/purse check” written just above it.  The girl didn’t even look up from the paperback she was reading, its worn spine indicating that it wasn’t the first read-through.  The cover was so faded that Shanna had a hard time making out the title, but she suspected from the image of the man with the long fingernails and top hat that it was Dracula.
Deciding to keep her purse with her, she headed through a doorway to her left that opened into a bar, instead of continuing up the hallway to the dance floor.  Shanna would bet anything that Kelly was at the bar, trying to get a light buzz before cutting loose for the evening, so she headed there first.
Immediately, Shanna was hit with a wave of cigarette smoke that seemed to settle in her mouth like ash.  She could just imagine the smell clinging to her hair when she left for the night.  She’d definitely be taking a shower when she got home.  
Scanning the bustling room of people, she noted pool tables and dart boards to the left of the room, and a wide bar with four bartenders manning it, to the right.  Two arcade games sat in the back of the room, separating the two sections and guarding the restrooms.  One of the machines had an old Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles game on it, while the other was a racing game.  A small crowd stood around the racecar game, cheering and patronizing at intervals while the other stood empty.
Shanna felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth.  It had been years since she’d played that old Ninja Turtles game, but she remembered her parents bringing her to the arcade fondly and standing in front of that screen for hours on end.
Beside the Ninja Turtles game, a girl suddenly backed away from two guys, and Shanna felt her body tense.  Her eyes flickered over their leather jackets and the shape of what could be a knife handle subtly bulging through the fabric of the jeans of the bigger guy on the left as his jacket rode up his torso and he leaned menacingly over her.  His posture was threatening; no good was sure to come of what he was saying to the girl, who shrank in his shadow.
Ignoring the leers from a group of loud college boys, she strode over to the threesome purposefully, making it look like she was making her way toward the bathroom, her gait nonchalant, her eyes keeping the group in her periphery rather than looking directly at them.  She didn’t want to interfere in anyone’s personal business, but if they were in fact threatening her, she wouldn’t stand by and watch them intimidate the girl into doing anything she didn’t want to.
As she got closer, she saw that the girl was probably college-aged, with mocha-colored skin and wavy black hair that fell just past her shoulders.  Her eyes, despite the situation she was in, didn’t exactly project that she frightened in any way, which was puzzling.  In fact, they had a glint in them of…mischief perhaps?  Expectation?  However, Shanna couldn’t ignore her body language that made it apparent that she was not enjoying the boys’ company.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you,” she heard the girl say in a shaky voice.  “Now, if you’ll just let me move along…”
The bigger guy, who sported bleached blonde hair that peeked out beneath a red bandana, reached back to where Shanna was sure he had a weapon of some sort, and she immediately made up her mind, changing direction and moving right for them.
The big guy’s brunette friend saw Shanna coming and slapped his arm, nodding to her, and the two watched Shanna approach, eyes taking her in before they smiled at one another knowingly.
Shanna pasted a wide smile on her face and tried to think fast.  “Well, fancy meeting you here,” Shanna found herself saying to the girl, looking past the boys as if they weren’t even there.  “My brother’s here.  You know, the body builder?  He’s been dying to meet you.  Just tell him you like his muscles and you’ll have him in the palm of your hand.”  Shanna winked at the girl and reached past the boys to grab her hand, hoping the girl would be smart enough to just go along with it.
“Now wait a minute,” the brunette guy said, putting up a hand.  “She’s with us.”
Shanna blinked, pretending to notice them for the first time.  “Oh, sorry.  This’ll just take a minute.  I’ll bring her right back.”
The blonde boy moved to block her retreat with the girl, and Shanna sighed loudly, feigning irritation.  “Or I could bring him over here and he could meet you guys too.”  She tried to make the sentence sound threatening and found that it worked.  The boys stepped aside with some reluctance and let them walk away.  Shanna was sure she felt their glares searing into her back as she led the girl steadily away, but not so fast as to draw suspicion.
When they rounded the other side of the bar and the guys were no longer in view, Shanna turned to the girl with a wry smile.  “Sorry.  You looked like you needed an out in a bad way.”
“No, I…I did.  Thank you so much,” the girl said, shaking her head, as if she couldn’t believe it.  “I think they were just a little drunk, but…they were getting a little scary.”
“Glad I could help,” Shanna told her.
“Shanna?” a voice suddenly called out from behind her.
Shanna recognized Kelly’s voice instantly.  She turned and gave her red-headed friend a quick smile through the crowd before she turned back to the girl.
“Is that your body builder brother?” the girl asked with a laugh.
“You guessed it,” Shanna grinned.  “Are you okay now?”
“I think I can manage to not get harassed the rest of the night,” she agreed.  “Thanks again.”
“Don’t mention it.”
The girl turned on her heel just as Kelly arrived, sauntering over in that way she had, too confident, as if she owned the place.  “I thought that was you,” her friend said.  “What are you doing over here?”
“Oh, just saving a damsel in distress.  Us girls have to stick together.”
Kelly frowned.  “What?  You are so weird sometimes.”
Shanna smiled, deciding not to elaborate.  What she’d done was more daring than the Shanna that Kelly was used to being around.
“Isn’t this place the coolest?” Kelly gushed, leading Shanna to the bar.
“It’s something all right,” Shanna concurred.  “Did you wait long?”
“Not too long.  I kept myself entertained.”
“I bet you did.”
Kelly pushed between a couple of guys to reach the bar.  Shanna followed her example.
“Another shot?” a dark-haired bartender asked Kelly, raising one bushy eyebrow with subtle charm.  He was really handsome, but he was probably pushing thirty-years-old.  A hint of his smooth chest was visible atop his nicely-pressed dress shirt, where it lay conveniently unbuttoned.  Kelly seemed to notice how cute he was at the same time as Shanna.  She leaned over the counter, giving the bartender an eyeful of the breasts that were threatening to pop out of her sleeveless denim dress.  Always one to try to get noticed, Shanna wasn’t sure if Kelly just liked to look sexy or if she wanted to be scandalous and edgy:  the naughty girl.  Either way, Shanna nearly rolled her eyes when Kelly breathed “Another shot would be wonderful” in a husky voice, doing her utmost to mimic the actresses of black and white film.
The bartender winked at her and walked across the bar to an open bottle of Tequila.
“You tramp,” Shanna laughed.  “He’s almost twice your age.”
“So what?  He’s still hot.”
“I can’t believe you sometimes.  How many shots have you had?”
“A few,” Kelly disclosed with a wave of her hand.
“Uh-huh,” Shanna said in a tone that made it obvious that she disapproved.  “Maybe that’s what’s making you go ga-ga over your dad there.”
Kelly sent her a dirty look.  “You’re just jealous.”
The bartender returned and set a shot glass down in front of Kelly.  He lingered, wiping the counter clean with a damp, white towel.
Raising her glass as if to toast him, Kelly threw her head back, swallowing the potent drink.
Shanna laughed as Kelly set her glass down with a loud clank and made a sour face.  “Lay off the hard stuff, will you?  You can’t crash at my place again.”
Kelly shrugged.  “Only if you get something.”
Turning to the bartender, Shanna said “I’ll have a Pepsi, please.”
“Oh, Shanna, Jesus Christ.  Join the big leagues already.”
“What can I say?  I’m a light weight,”  She held up her hand with the green plastic wristband.  “And underage.”
The bartender grinned.  “One Pepsi, coming up.”
Shanna smiled at Kelly, who scowled.  She didn’t understand why drinking was so important to Kelly or why she got annoyed when Shanna didn’t drink.  It didn’t seem like that big of a deal.  Shanna just didn’t care for it.  She looked around the room at the college crowd being generally loud and obnoxious, bonding over their alcohol consumption and the excuse it gave them to act in such a fashion.  She honestly didn’t get the appeal.
The bartender set a Pepsi down in front of Shanna and slid a green straw into her glass.  “Two fifty,” he said.
Shanna rummaged for the money in her purse and added a tip to the amount before sipping at the drink.
Kelly leaned forward in her seat, grinning at the bartender as she teased her hair.  “What’s your name?”
“Mine?” the bartender asked.  He seemed amazed that anyone would care to ask.
“Yeah.”
“I’m Grant,” he said with a sheepish smile.  “How about you?”
Kelly glanced over at Shanna like he’d said something insulting, then turned back to Grant, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially.  “Tell you what:  Ask me to dance later and I’ll consider being on a first name basis with you.”  She jumped off of the bar stool and headed determinedly through the crowd without a backward glance.
Obediently following, Shanna grabbed her drink and slung her purse over her shoulder, awed by Kelly’s confidence.  Looking back, she saw that Grant was watching Kelly’s retreating form with admiration in his eyes.  She seemed to know precisely what buttons to push to get a guy interested.  Shanna would never have had the nerve to tease a guy in such a fashion, assuming interest on his part.  She could barely look a guy in the eyes without getting nervous, but Kelly…Kelly was something else.  Kelly was like a wild, untamed horse, free and beautiful and unpredictable.
Shanna followed the beacon, the lava of hair that thrived atop Kelly’s head as she threaded through the daunting crowd, the beacon that navigated her through the suffocating fog that had infiltrated the club by way of burning cigarette smoke and machines that churned and billowed clouds so that spectators could see the emerald green laser lights that flickered amongst the dancers.  Unfortunately, the effect was that it made it difficult to see much else.
But soon enough, they’d cleared the worst of it and Shanna found herself stepping onto the dance floor with Kelly grinning back at her.  Shanna couldn’t help but grin back as she watched people dancing in tune to the throbbing bass, their arms and legs gleaming with thin sheens of sweat.  Several guys were shirtless, and a few women might as well have been.  It was a really erotic scene to take in, with all of the perspiring bodies grinding and flowing together, like sex-charged ants wriggling over a discarded lollipop.  Not two feet away from Shanna, two men were making out in a corner with such ferocity that they might as well have been making love on the dance floor.  It was both fascinating and scary to take the whole scene in, and Shanna felt her flesh tingle with excitement and anticipation.  This was her night for fun and she intended to enjoy it.  She deserved it.
Kelly led them to an empty dancing block and jumped up onto it with little effort.  She gestured for Shanna to follow, which she did, like an eager little child who’d been promised chocolate. 
A glass column behind the block held some shiny red and orange foil that was blown up by vents to look like fire, a really pretty backdrop for anyone on the block.  And it was perfectly matched by Kelly with her fiery hair and provocative dancing.  Grinding up against her, Kelly included Shanna playfully, as if they were lovers.
Up on the dancing block, for everyone to see, Shanna felt high.  Adrenaline raced through her body like electricity in a body of water.  She could feel eyes of open adoration upon her in her flashy dress, following up from her smooth thighs to the soft flesh of her pale, beautiful throat.
Shanna suddenly wondered if they were out there, looking at her unprotected neck at that moment.  She looked out into the crowd that seemed to have transformed into a living, breathing tidalwave, threatening to crash upon her and smother her.  Shanna slowed her dancing and squinted as lights blinded her from making out any individual faces in the sea of people.
There were so many different colognes and perfumes in the air that suddenly permeated her senses, that she grew woozy for a moment and nearly toppled from the dancing block like a drunkard.
“Are you alright?” Kelly asked, dancing closer to Shanna to be heard over the din of music.
Shanna tried to shake off her discomfort and forced a smile.  “I’m fine.  I just got dizzy for a second there.”
Kelly nodded, as if confirming what she already knew.
Monsters are out there everywhere, Shanna reminded herself.  Demons, vampires, werewolves.  Even if she was taking a night off from hunting, she couldn’t allow herself to get reckless.  Recklessness gave them the opening they needed to kill.
As a demon hunter, Shanna had fought maybe a dozen demons.  She’d also had to fight a couple of ghouls she’d stumbled across in a graveyard, but had never faced off against anything as strong and dangerous as a vampire or werewolf.  She just didn’t have the knowledge to go up against one at this stage in her learning, let alone seek them out.  Studying demonology and hunting down the bastards was more than a full-time job without any other distractions getting in her way.  It would be a lot easier if she had some sort of powers to make the battles a little more even, but unfortunately, she was just an ordinary girl like all of the other hunters.  She chose to open her eyes to the world that thrived in the darkness and hunt down the monsters, despite the staggering risk she faced.  And she was lucky to be doing it for two long years.  She imagined most hunters were killed off pretty early in their careers.
Looking over at Kelly, Shanna wondered what it would be like to be so oblivious to what was really out there.  She was so vulnerable, so powerless without the knowledge to fight anything that came for her.  After seeing her parents killed, there was no way Shanna could just ignore the things that hunted her and every other human.  And even though hunting didn’t leave time to do much of anything else, Shanna seemed to find it satisfying that she was propelled to protect people, make a real difference.
“Brian asked about you again,” Kelly yelled to be heard over the crowd.  “He says he never sees you anymore.”
“I’m busy,” Shanna shouted back.
“That’s what I told him,” Kelly replied.  “But come on, Shanna.  You’re eighteen.  You have a fricking job at a diner.  You’re not going to college like me and Brian.  You should at least relax and have fun more often.  This is the first time I’ve hung out with you in what - three weeks?  Cut back on the double-shifts.  Think about your future a little bit instead of burning yourself out on work a monkey could do.  College is fun…and productive.”  She paused.  “Look, I’m not even saying university.  Even a technical college would be cool.  Something to get you working toward a trade and…you know, socializing a little bit in the process.”
Shanna shrugged.  “I’ll…think about it.  Really.  And I swear, I’ll try to take some more time off from work, but we’ve just been swamped lately.”
Kelly snorted.  “How come when I come in, there’s barely three customers there at a time?”
“Good timing, I guess.”
Kelly rolled her eyes.  “As long as you’re not avoiding me.”
Shanna stopped dancing.  “What?  I would never…you know you’re the closest person in my life.”
“That’s not saying too much though, is it?”
Shanna started dancing again, with less energy than before.  Kelly was right.  Unbeknownst to her friend, she was really only working part-time at Russell’s.  The rest of her attention was focused on hunting.  She hadn’t thought about college seriously at all, she had such tunnel vision toward her…calling.  And that’s how she really did feel about it.  She was sort of obsessed with it.  It consumed her.  She couldn’t imagine her life down the road, couldn’t get past “the now” of tracking down demons and killing them.  She wasn’t sure if she even liked it…it was just something she felt she needed to do.  And it was important.  People needed to be protected so that nights like tonight could take place.  But maybe she didn’t need to be the protector this particular night.  Maybe tonight, just for once, she could leave that for someone else.  She needed to relax more often, have some fun, otherwise she would get burnt out and fight like she was going through the motions, eventually getting hurt…or worse.  This night was just what she needed to feel a little more refreshed.  She couldn’t make a habit of it.  She couldn’t turn her back on her calling, knowing that people would die.  But on the other hand, she rarely ever hung out with her friends anymore.  And Brian…  She shook her head.  She definitely didn’t have enough time in her life to start worrying about boys.  She couldn’t commit that much energy toward something that wasn’t hunting.  But tonight…the world would continue to spin on its axis if she had a little fun for once.
“May I have this dance?” a voice broke through her thoughts.
Shanna’s attention snapped to the man holding his hand out to Kelly.  It was the bartender, Grant.
“Aren’t you supposed to be getting people drunk?” Kelly asked.
Grant shrugged sheepishly.  “I had a break coming up.”
As if seeking permission, Kelly glanced over at Shanna.
Shanna winked at her.  “Don’t be too long.”
Kelly grinned mischievously.  “Shanna, Hon, they can never be too long.”  She giggled and stepped down from the dancing block, taking Grant’s hand as if to promenade.  She turned back to look at Shanna one last time.  Shanna would never forget how beautiful she looked at that moment - like a modern-day goddess.  Her face was a little shiny with sweat, her cheeks were rosy, her eyes sparkled, and a hint of glitter trailed up her cheekbones, lightly twinkling.  The mass of curls atop her head were a little unruly, but it only added to how breath-taking she appeared.  And as Shanna watched her, transfixed, Kelly uttered a few words:   “I’ll be back in a minute.”  The time seemed to slow for a moment as she added “I promise” with her perfect lips.
Shanna stared after her as she was swallowed by the crowd and time resumed its normal course.
“Promise,” Shanna said, trying out the word in her mouth.  She hated promises.  Her past seemed to be filled with promises that were never realized.  They were empty reassurances.  No one could really guarantee anything in life.
Should I really be taking a night off? Shanna asked herself again, realizing that she would ask herself this several times over the course of the night, like she’d done on the other very few occasions she’d actually ventured out to have fun.  People could be hurt because she wanted to get away for awhile.  Maybe she should really think about Valor’s offer.  If her life was already so consumed by hunting…
Shanna shook her head, as if to clear it.  Of course she needed a night off.  If she hunted every night, without a break, she would become vulnerable and then there would be no one to protect this town, these dancers, in the long run.  Why couldn’t she get that through to her restless mind?  Why couldn’t she just let loose and have fun and not be plagued by these questions again and again?  Why was this her calling?
Looking out into the crowd, Shanna felt overwhelmed once more.  Not only because there were so many people in a small place, but because any one of them could be a monster.  Anyone could kill someone amid the chaos and confusion and be gone before even she could react.
“Stop being so paranoid,” she scolded herself out loud.  She would go crazy before long if she couldn’t just…focus on something else. 
“Paranoid that people are staring at you?” someone asked beside Shanna, startling her.  “Because they are.”
Shanna glanced over to see a blonde guy with crisp blue eyes watching her.  He was wearing khaki shorts and a light blue button-up shirt that hung open, exposing a jock’s build underneath, a silver necklace with a lightning bolt dangling over his naked chest.
Shanna averted her eyes to keep from staring at his body.  Instead, she watched the crowd, noting that a few people were indeed watching them.  But then again, I’m on a damn dancing block, she thought.  People are obligated to look.
“I’m Jeremy,” the guy announced.  
“Shanna.”
Jeremy nodded and didn’t even try to disguise the fact that he was scoping her out.  Shanna felt both flattered that he was admiring her and disgusted at the same time, for the same reason.
“Wanna dance?” he asked, inching a little closer to her.
Shanna cocked an eyebrow, ready to tell him off, when a Kylie Minogue song came on.  Shanna smiled, glancing toward the deejay booth at the back of the dance floor.  She loved Kylie.  No one did dance music like she did.
“Sure,” Shanna agreed, suddenly in a good mood once more.  “One dance.  And no groping.”
Jeremy smiled slyly and held up his hands innocently, as if to say “Who, me?”
The beat seemed to possess Shanna like a marionette led by invisible strings.  She danced enthusiastically, swaying and moving her hips to the sultry rhythm.  She felt like a part of the music.  It hummed inside of her, making her feel tingly and energized.  She was quite surprised to find herself enjoying her dance with Jeremy, the bass throbbing within her like a second heartbeat, making her feel so…alive.
The very second the song ended, Shanna gave Jeremy a quick smile and a wave.  “Thanks for the dance.  Later!”  She melted into the crowd, chastising herself for enjoying her dance with such an obvious player.  
Kelly is a bad influence on me, Shanna deducted with a slight smirk.
She scanned the faces around her as she pressed forward through the throng of dancers, hoping that she’d bump into Kelly because she did not want to go back to the dancing block, and she didn’t want Kelly to wait around for her either.  
Glancing back to see Jeremy dancing with another blonde already, Shanna moved through the crowd again with a shake of her head.  She had to mutter “excuse me” every few seconds since there was no realistic way of getting through without jostling someone or another.  By the time she’d reached the end of the dance floor, Shanna still hadn’t located Kelly.  She bit her lip and wondered if she should at least go dance close to the dancing block to keep an eye out for Kelly.  But Kelly might already be searching for her at this point anyway.
Sighing, Shanna glanced down at her purse and frowned.  Her purse really hadn’t been bothering her, but if she was going to be dancing all night, she might as well check it in back at the counter.  If she wanted something to drink, it would be a little out of the way to get money from her purse, but at least she wouldn’t have to hang on to it.  And maybe Kelly would be back when she returned too.
Shanna slowly made her way through the mass of people to the entrance area, and toward the coat and purse check.  She handed her purse and a few dollars to the girl behind the counter.  The girl pushed her glasses up her narrow nose before seizing the items and returning with a blue plastic chip that had the number forty-nine on it.  Shanna scowled at the chip, unsure of where to put it.  Hopefully, Kelly had pockets because Shanna hadn’t noticed her with her purse earlier.
As she was turning to go back toward the dance floor, she noticed two men closing the front entrance doors beyond the grinning form of Chiron, who was pointing in her direction, as if accusingly.  One of the men was Cerberus.  The other man had red hair and a long forehead with “Red” written on his nametag.  Shanna stopped as the men wrapped a chain around the door handles, gasping as they clicked a padlock over the chains.
What is going on here? She wondered, stepping back into a corner where she wouldn’t be seen.  Were they actually trapping people inside or was it some sort of a…publicity stunt?  Trapped in hell…it does go with the whole theme.  But…it feels wrong.  Or maybe I’m just being paranoid again?  Whatever.  I’m getting Kelly and leaving, whether she likes it or not.  She waited until Cerberus and Red had moved along, walking toward an exit that was obscured by a potted plant.  She noticed a splash of red hair from someone waiting at the doorway, and her heart leapt, immediately thinking of Kelly, but despite the fact that the face was completely hidden by palm leaves and shadow, the hair was a different tone of red and the style was all wrong.  It certainly was not her friend.  The mystery figure disappeared along with Red and Cerberus through the door and Shanna let out a breath, skulking along the wall after looking to make sure that the girl at the coat check was again engrossed by Bram Stoker.
On her way to the dance floor, Shanna spotted Grant walking back to the bar.  She hurried to catch up with him, accidentally stepping on a girl’s foot on the way.  The girl glared at her as she continued past, mumbling an apology.
“Hey, Grant!” Shanna called out as he reached the bar and grabbed a towel, tossing it over a shoulder with finesse.
Grant glanced up at her, startled.  “Oh.  Hey.”
“Do you know where Kelly went?  She didn’t go looking for me, did she?”
“I’m not really sure where she went.  She just kind of took off.”
Shanna’s eyes narrowed at his flushed face.  Was he blushing…because he was lying?  He sure hadn’t blushed at Kelly’s advances.  
“Yeah, okay,” Shanna said, a little unsure.  “I’ll catch you later.”
Grant grinned.  “Or vise-versa.”
Shanna walked away with a forced smile on her face.  What had he meant by that?  Was he coming on to her too?  What a snake.
She looked out into the crowd again at the edge of the dance floor and sighed.  This is hopeless, she thought.
The beginning notes of Alice Deejay’s “Better Off Alone” sounded off, sending the crowd into a frenzy of cheers.  Shanna couldn’t help but smile, and got lost in the music once more, dancing with whoever was available, or just by herself at times. 
By the time the song ended, Shanna had made her way halfway across the dance floor and could see the dancing block she’d been on earlier.  Jeremy was still there, by himself again, but she couldn’t see Kelly.
So much for being right back, Shanna thought with annoyance.  She loved going to clubs, but it was kind of boring if she was alone.  Where the hell did she go?  And wasn’t this time for them to hang out together?
“Attention, please!” a voice boomed out of the overhead speakers.  “Can I have everybody’s attention, please?”
Shanna turned to look toward the deejay booth along with most people, who stopped dancing at the announcement as the music abruptly ceased, and saw a man standing on the stage beside it.  Any details on his face were hard to make out from where she stood, but even from this distance, Shanna was sure that it was the guy named “Red.”  Maybe he would explain the locked doors now.
“As some of you may have noticed, you are all in Hell.” Red began as soon as everybody was focused on him.  “And being guests in Hell, none of you may leave.  The doors…have been locked.”
There was a lot of cheering, as well as some nervous laughter, at this announcement.
“The only way out of here will be through the door next to the deejay booth.  It leads through the basement to the outside.  Although…”  Red paused to chuckle for a moment.  “All of you are going to die before you get out anyway.  The floors, the walls, your very bodies, will be painted…scarlet.”
The crowd stared up at him, puzzled expressions on most of their faces.  A couple people smirked like it was a lame joke.
Then the lights went out.  A couple of girls screamed before the scene was bathed in an eerie red light.  
Everybody looked around, their voices filling the room with a low hum.  Shanna’s stomach churned uneasily as she looked over the heads of the people around her.  She wanted to get Kelly and get out of there now.
She didn’t realize that anything strange was happening until the shocked intake of breaths around her caught her attention.  She glanced at a college guy next to her, a frothy glass of beer in his hand, his mouth agape, staring back at the stage.  Turning to follow his gaze, she saw Red’s skin, hair and clothes had melted together as if they were made of wax.  They became one fluid body that twisted and flowed along itself like something out of The Terminator.  Shanna took an involuntary step backward, suddenly quite sure that this was no act, no special effects or holograms.  She bumped into somebody, but hardly noticed and received no protest from the girl she was pressed up against, who was just as stupefied by the proceedings.  
Red’s body suddenly reshaped itself, into a vague form at first, a bulky figure set low to the ground with four legs, and then it sort of fell into focus and details sprung out, along with a wave of red coloring.  It was a huge bear, like any other grizzly bear that Shanna had seen on Animal Planet except bigger and boasting fur that was an unnatural blood red, with the most unusual eyes.  The eyes were a solid robin’s egg blue, with no iris or pupil.  Just cold, alien teal.
The crowd was speechless and stood frozen as the red bear stood on its hind legs and opened its enormous muzzle, letting out a huge roar.  A trumpet-sound of impending doom.


Chapter Two: Her Dark Destiny


The bear’s roar seemed to set everything in motion.  People screamed and ran toward the exits as one.  Other creatures appeared:  a huge black bird with feathers that reflected the red light, a bloated gray warthog the size of a hippo, and a greenish-blue lizard with six snake-like heads.  And they all had those cold blue eyes.  
A wave of people slammed into the front door at once and shook the door levers.  The chain merely rattled in irritation.
A sleek, black panther jumped out of the shadows of the coat check booth and pounced on several people at the door.  All but one scrambled out from beneath the creature.  The blue eyes of the panther stared into its victim’s face, as if savoring the moment, before darting in to clamp down on his neck, tearing out the soft tissue with one fluid swipe.
“Kelly?” Shanna asked into the chaos around her, dazed and overwhelmed by the spectacle.  Then she shook her head to slough off her disorientation and looked around frantically.  “Kelly?!”
Everything was happening so quickly, bathed in such low lights that Shanna didn’t know what to do right away.  But something had to be done.  She couldn’t wait around for Kelly to show up to begin fighting.  She had to move now.  She assessed the creatures around her, quickly deciding to attack the black bird first.  She took a deep breath and tried to focus on the creature, tuning out the resounding screams of the room.   She began to stalk toward it determinedly when a large creature suddenly jumped out through the glass of the deejay booth and landed in her path.
Shanna covered her head as shards of glass rained down around her, before squinting at the figure before her.  It was a large Doberman, but had three heads on its body, resting grotesquely on short, fat necks.  “Well, if it isn’t the doorman,” she mumbled as the Doberman glowered at her, its shiny coat shimmering beneath the light, saliva dripping onto the dance floor from its middle mouth, which foamed like it were rabid.  It looked hungry, obviously expecting an easy meal out of her.  She would have to disappoint it.
Pulling up her dress, she had to rip her silver cross-dagger from its sheath, otherwise it would have taken her a good half minute to unfasten it.  She wasn’t used to fighting in front of an audience, preferring stealth and anonymity when battling monsters, but most of the people around her were hardly paying attention to what she was doing, they were so wrapped up in their own survival amid the madness.  As before, she pushed thoughts of others from her mind and concentrated on the monster before her.  She held her cross-dagger out in front of her, taking a defensive stance.
The dagger was basically a silver cross with a sharp point at the bottom.  A wooden tip was embedded at the point, so she could use the weapon against both werewolves and vampires at once, should she come across one or the other.
Shanna gauged the beast before her, wondering if it could be a distant relative of the werewolf.  If it wasn’t, she was probably screwed.  Although decapitation seemed to kill most things, if it came to that.  It was, however, a really hard thing to pull off.  Literally.  And three heads…well, that was three times as difficult.  Or three times the fun, depending on how you looked at it.
The Cerberus creature leapt at her, its three heads set back and ready to snap forward when they reached her.
Jumping back and to the side, Shanna sliced out with her dagger as the monster sailed passed, aiming for one of its necks.  As it came to a stop a couple feet behind her, she saw that she’d sliced it just above the collarbone, but the head hadn’t come clear off.  The head dangled from the creature by a flap of skin, letting loose a river of blood that matched its blue eyes.
Cerberus howled in pain as its third head flopped against its side uselessly.  However, the eyes on that head still stared out menacingly.
Shanna braced herself for another charge.  Pissing it off probably wasn’t a great plan.
Cerberus jumped at her again and snapped at her arm with its sharp teeth as it reached her.  Shanna lashed out with her dagger, catching it in the teeth, where it glanced off harmlessly.  Then she backed up a bit and stepped into another lunge at the creature, where she managed to stab into its shoulder, sending more teal blood oozing down its forelegs.
Silver doesn’t seem to bother you much, huh? Shanna observed.  Swiping at Cerberus again, she slashed the center head’s jaw.  I’ll just keep stabbing then.  Something’s bound to give.
Before Shanna could get another hit in, the creature faked moving to the left, but charged her instead, taking her by surprise and knocking her to the floor.  Two huge paws pinned her shoulders to the ground as her cross-dagger slid across the floor, out of reach. 
Shanna stared up into the eyes of Cerberus as she struggled uselessly, the realization that she was pretty much dead settling into her mind as blood dripped from the creature onto her cheek.  She winced and did her best to avoid its pooling into her eyes.
The two heads that were still functional upon the creature drew back, gearing up to finish Shanna off, when someone rammed into its side, knocking it off and onto the floor beside her.
Shanna moved slowly, recovering her senses, before looking up to see the girl she had rescued from the two boys earlier slashing the creature’s side with Shanna’s cross-dagger, opening another gushing wound.  While it was a surreal environment in general, especially with the fog machines obscuring things as they continued to release hazy clouds that made everything appear very dreamlike, seeing another human being fight with a monster was amazing to behold, as Shanna had never seen it done from outside her own perspective.  Plus, this particular girl had seemed so…helpless before.  But now she was fluid in her movements, confident and quick, as if she’d done this sort of death dance often.  Shanna blinked to make sure she wasn’t seeing things, but decided that she had played a role herself when she’d come to the girl’s rescue.  She played a role in her daily life, in fact, so why was she surprised to see that this girl was more than she’d at first appeared to be?  Shanna nodded to herself, as if coming to terms with this new development, and recalled the mischievous glint in the girl’s eyes that had hinted at the ruse.
Cerberus settled itself onto its feet after a bout of harmless exchanges with the girl that had had them both leaping out of the other’s way, and snarled at the girl.
“Jesus Christ,” Shanna swore, getting back onto her own feet, quickly adapting and rolling with the turn of events the night was throwing at her.  “What does it take to kill that thing?”
As if taking that as her cue, the girl stabbed the dagger into the center head’s left eye and shoved it in with her open palm.
Cerberus howled while the girl yanked the dagger back out and blood flooded from its wounded eye, its entire body beginning to collapse in upon itself, as if it were suddenly made of Jell-O.
“It takes that,” the girl said, handing the dagger back to Shanna.
Shanna stared in amazement at the dwindling puddle of teal muck as skin, blood and bone slowly retreated and disappeared altogether.  She blinked at the spot where it had vanished and glanced down at her dagger, suddenly scowling.  “Oh, sure,” she protested, noting the thick layer of blood covering her dagger.  “The rest of the thing disappears, but it has to leave a bunch of gunk on my blade.”  She looked around and shrugged down at her ruined dress, further destroying it by ripping off a strip to wipe her weapon clean with loving strokes.  It was still a bit slimy when she’d finished, but it would have to do.
“You’re a hunter,” the girl stated, watching her.
Shanna hesitated, spying a belt with knives beneath her open purple suede jacket.  “Yeah.  I am.  And you’re not a defenseless damsel in distress.  Are - are you a hunter too?  You must be.”
“Yes.  I hunt shape-shifters.”
Shanna grinned.  “I figured they were some sort of shape-shifter.  Go for the eyes.  Got it.”
“Not just the eyes,” the girl corrected.  “Only the eyes when it’s in its natural form.  Sometimes you have to beat a guy up to get him to morph into a…a spider with razor-sharp teeth and a dozen legs before you can kill him.”
“Uh…neat.”
“It gives me something to focus pent-up frustration on, so it works.”
The girls smiled at each other.
“I’m Shanna.  Shanna Hunt.”
“Felicia Wales,” the other girl greeted, shaking her hand.
A guy with long jet black hair suddenly ran by them, shoving Felicia a little on the way towards the door by the deejay booth.  Right on his heels was the panther, who followed the guy’s example of running beside the two hunters.  As the panther slipped passed them, Shanna slit its side open with her dagger, almost casually.  The cat fell in mid-stride, blue blood and intestines seeping out of the wound.
Felicia walked with Shanna up to the panther and nodded at her to finish it off.  Shanna obliged with a quick stroke into its right eye.
“Alright,” Shanna said with satisfaction as it melted.  “What next?”
“Whoa,” Felicia stopped her with a touch of her arm.  “There are too many.”
“Too many?  What do you mean?  If we don’t stop them…”  She looked around, the screams of the room suddenly amplifying.
“We won’t stop them.  If we don’t get out of here, we’re going to die too.  I counted at least thirteen shape-shifters aside from the ones we’ve killed, not to mention the five vamps.”
“Vamps?” Shanna blinked with surprise.  “Vampires?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve never seen a vampire before.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No.  I - I mean not that I know of.”
Felicia rolled her eyes.  “Well, what the hell do you fight?”
Shanna shrugged.  “Demons.”
“Well, no demons here.  Just focus on living, okay?”
Shanna nodded.
“Okay.  Now, let’s get the hell out of here.”
Hesitating, Shanna looked behind her as a girl’s head was crushed beneath the foot of the red bear.  “But we can’t…just leave them.”
Felicia sighed.  “Shanna.  We’ll die.  What part of that don’t you understand?  If we kill a few before we die, then so what?  The other shifters just don’t have to share so much.”
“No way, my friend...my friend is in here somewhere.  I have to...God, I have to find her.  She could be anywhere.”
Felicia shook her head in frustration.  “Shanna, we don’t have time for this.  Your friend might be in the basement or she might have gone outside before the place was locked up.  There are just too many variables here.  We don’t have time to investigate them all.”
Shanna nodded slowly, realizing that she would have to do just that - check everywhere.  She wasn’t leaving her best friend behind.  She looked around at the panic and mayhem and felt herself choke up a little.  Kelly was probably so scared...   
She suddenly paused as her eye caught something twinkling in the corner, near the stage, beside a pile of bags.  Squinting into the dark, Shanna approached the glistening as if in a daze, suddenly forgetting Felicia and the chaos around them.  It seemed familiar somehow, whispering to the recesses of her mind as a horrible feeling settling over her, although she couldn’t imagine why.  And then she realized what she was looking at.  Glitter.
No, no, no…  Moving quickly, Shanna closed the space between herself and the sparkling as anxiety tightened her chest, disbelief clouded her judgment.  It can’t be, she told herself.  It’s not her…  She put a hand to her face as she made out the red hair framing her best friend’s beautiful face.  The recognition was like a physical blow, a kick to the stomach that sent her to her knees.  Her friend’s face was so pale.  And she was staring up at the ceiling, her eyes unfocused, her throat ripped out.
Shanna’s stomach lurched and her heart sank slowly in her chest as she stood frozen, letting a wave of conflicting emotions surge through her.  She watched the unflinching face for a moment, as if waiting for it to change, to not be her friend.  But it remained as it was.  It remained one of the most horrible sights she’d ever had to behold.  And it chilled her to the bone.  How could this have happened?  How could her real life have gotten mixed up with her life as a hunter?  What did it mean?
I couldn’t protect her, she realized.  I was here with her, and she still died.  I let her down and...that was it.  She was gone.  I was selfish, wanting this night off.  Look what came of it.
“Oh, Kelly,” Shanna breathed.  She reached down and hesitantly ran her hand down her friend’s cheek.  It felt like cooled wax.
She wasn’t sure if she was in shock or what, but she found no tears to shed for her friend, just an emptiness that resounded within her.  Just like with her parents.  She leaned forward and closed her friend’s eyes with a whispered “I’m sorry.”  She felt ashamed, like a failure.  She’d let the one person down who was closer to her than anyone.
“Come on,” Felicia prodded gently.  “We have to keep moving.”
Nodding, Shanna took a shuddering breath.  “There’s not much blood…a vampire…”  She paused to keep her voice in check.  “Do we…do we have to…stake her?”  She looked up at Felicia with a look of confused pain.
Felicia sighed.  “No.  Her throat was ripped…slashed open.  For a vampire to be made, there has to be a…a swap of fluids.  She would have been preserved better.”
Shanna glanced at her friend’s lifeless form one last time before standing up and averting her eyes.  She looked at Felicia, who turned away, uncomfortable.
Seeing her friend dead like that had made Shanna’s mind one hundred percent certain about what she had to do.  Whether she stuck around here or joined Valor’s group, she would hunt these monsters until she died at the hands of one of them.
“We need to move,” Felicia said softly.  “These people are all going to be...gone soon.  We can’t fight for all of them.”
“But we have to try.”
“No,” Felicia shook her head sadly.  “These people are dead already.  We don’t have to be.  I screwed up coming here without back-up, not thinking they would act on their first night.  I thought I would just be gathering intelligence.  I was wrong.  I’m sorry, but there are just too many.  Live to hunt another day.”
“Live to…” Shanna watched the black bird tear a man in half, his blood spraying a group of girls, who screamed in terror.  Shanna turned away.  With all of the fighting she’d done, all of the corpses she’d seen, she’d never really seen anyone besides her parents die.  It was shocking to see it again.  It made her want more than anything to help these people.  Felicia was watching her.
“Look, you can stay if you want,” Felicia told her.  “You seem like a nice girl, but you wouldn’t be the first girl I’ve met who got herself killed.  I’m leaving with or without you.”
Shanna nodded slowly.  “Live to hunt another day,” she murmured.  “Okay.  Let’s get out of here.”
Felicia smiled.  “Good, good.”  She grabbed Shanna’s hand and led her to the back door, next to the deejay booth.  “We’re walking into a trap here, so be prepared.”
“I’m not stupid,” Shanna scowled.  
“Never said you were,” Felicia said.  “You’re just new.”
“New?  I’m not new at this.  I mean…well, I’m new at this - shape-shifters and vampires.  But not new to hunting.”
Felicia opened the door and peered into the room.  She darted inside, leaving Shanna to follow.
With a deep breath, Shanna ducked through the door.  It was quite dark in the space they found themselves in.  It was like a closet really, with stacked chairs and cleaning supplies to either side of them in nooks in the walls.  Ahead stood an open doorway and a dark stairwell beyond that led downward, the single bulb overhead dark and useless.
“Demons are pretty tough,” Felicia said.  “It takes skill to kill them.  You’re doing good for yourself if that’s what you hunt.”  She peered around the corners of the doorway, and down at the concrete floor the stairs led to.  “The whole basement looks pretty dark.”
“Makes their prey that much easier to take down,” Shanna told her, poking her head out of the doorway as well.  “But let’s just get it over with, huh?”  She took a tentative step out of the door, holding her breath, as if waiting for something to attack with the movement.  She shook her head silently at herself and walked down the steps slowly,  hearing Felicia take a step behind her, barely audible over her own breathing.
“So, are there a lot of hunters?” Shanna asked.
Felicia put a finger up to her lips, advising caution, before whispering.  “Not enough.  And there are fewer every week.  We’re getting picked off.”
Shanna bit her lip.  “Yeah, that’s what I heard.  This woman’s been calling me.  She kind of tracked me down and has been telling me about…the hunters dying.  Is it really that bad?”
“It’s pretty bad,” Felicia sighed.  “There are about two hundred hunters out there across the world, maybe more, maybe less.  It’s hard to tell.  But if the monsters keep killing them off, the monster population is going to get overwhelming soon, with no one to keep them in check.”
“This Valor lady’s trying to recruit me for The Agency,” Shanna said, stepping off of the final step onto the floor and watching Felicia follow her example.
“Valor?” Felicia said, perking up.  “Ah, so you’re the demon hunter she’s trying to recruit.  That’s cool.  You should join.  The Agency is going to put an end to this threat.”
“So you know about it?  She’s credible?”
Felicia chuckled.  “There’s no one more credible than Valor.  And she’s damn smart.  This group was all her idea.  It’s going to bring together different people from different hunting backgrounds to cover all of our bases.  There are so many different monsters out there that a hunter focused in each area would even any playing field.  A hunter of vampires, werewolves, shape-shifters, demons…”  She sent Shanna a meaningful look.  “We can all learn from a team like this.”
“We?  So you’re part of it?”
Felicia paused as she examined the furnace and other electronic equipment that lined the short hallway ahead, leading up to another open doorway.  “Yeah.  I work for them, but I’m more of a resource to them.  A scout, a teacher.  The Agency is a great thing to work for.  You’ll be hunting, and getting paid to do it.”
“And live comfortably,” Shanna recalled.  “And they’ll pay for secondary education, yadda, yadda, yadda.  It sounds like a great package.”
“It is,” Felicia concurred.
Shanna cocked her head.  “Tell me.  Does The Agency stand for something?”
“Stand for…?  Are we talking principles here or like, an acronym?”
“An acronym.”
Felicia smirked.  “Naw.  It’s just The Agency.  It’s a name that’s intended to blend in.  Be invisible.  As generic as it gets.”
“I suppose it raises less eyebrows than a name like The-evil-blood-sucking-destroyer-gang.”
Raising an eyebrow herself, Felicia scoffed lightly.  “I would certainly hope so.”
“But…” Shanna smiled.  “You have to admit that ‘The Agency’ doesn’t exactly strike fear into anyone who hears it.  It’s pretty anti-climactic.”
 “It does leave a tad to be desired,” Felicia admitted, peeking through the next doorway.  “What is this now?”
Shanna walked through the door and gazed around with a frown.  Conveyer belts, dark and unmoving, were spread out in every direction, merging into one another and branching out into numerous smaller lines, with various mechanical instruments poised overhead to perform menial tasks in some part of a mass production process.
There was a clear walkway that led ahead, but with so much equipment in the room, anything could be hiding anywhere along the way in the huge, dark room, just waiting for them to come along.
Felicia shrugged and slowly began to walk ahead, her eyes studying their surroundings carefully as they went along.  “So, are you gonna join?”
Shanna felt her hand dig into the hilt of her dagger painfully.  Her nerves were on edge, her senses stretched to capacity.  This was not a good situation, she thought darkly as she glared at shadows.  “Join?  Oh, The Agency?  I don’t…maybe.  After tonight, I’m thinking it sounds better and better every time I think about it.”
“I think you should.  They’d train you, teach you…it would really help you out.  If I hadn’t come along tonight, I’m sure you’d be dead by now.”
Shanna turned to glare at her.  “Oh, really?”
Felicia nodded, a grin on her face.  “Damn right.  I recall a three-headed dog hunched over your scrawny butt when I showed up.”
Shanna laughed.  “Yeah, I…I guess.”
Shanna considered their surroundings.  Styx must have been built in place of a factory that had gone out of business.  They hadn’t bothered converting more than the main floor to a club since they’d only planned on using it for one night anyway.  Just one night to indulge in this mayhem, a blood bath, in the middle of nowhere so they could have free reign and no witnesses.  God, why hadn’t she seen it before?  It was the perfect set-up!
“Why did you save me?” Shanna asked as a distraction, getting the uneasy feeling that they were being herded along like cattle in a corral.  “I mean, if you were just going to leave anyway.”
Felicia glanced over at her.  “You came to my rescue.  I was just returning the favor.”
Shanna smiled.  “Have you ever met Valor before?”
“Yeah.  She can be a bitch, but she’s usually cool.”
“Hmmm.  The thing is, I really like my life here.  I mean, New York?  It just seems so far away, so foreign.  I’m comfortable where I am and…I’m not sure I would fit in where I’d be going.  I just - I just don’t know.  There are so many variables.”
Felicia nodded.  “I know what you mean.  It’s a hard decision.  There are pros and cons for both sides.  But just remember - you’d be making a big difference in The Agency.  Not just locally, but globally.  Unfortunately, your life would kind of end here.  You’d be leaving your friends, family, job…but I personally think if it’s for the greater good, it’s worth it.”
Shanna wasn’t sure what to say.  Even though she wasn’t close to her aunt in the least, her face came to mind.  Then her apartment, then Brian, then her parents.  Suddenly Kelly came to mind and she felt a flutter of pain race through her chest.  She looked back the way they’d come and paused as they came to a corner in their path.  Felicia peaked around some sort of control station and looked back at Shanna solemnly, oblivious to the renewed blow she’d suffered at remembering her friend’s death.  “Okay.  This is it.  There are bodies on the floor and I’m positive that I saw something move in the shadows ahead.”
“Okay,” Shanna got her cross-dagger out in front of her.  “I’m ready.”
Sending her an encouraging smile, Felicia skirted around the corner, sticking close to the conveyer belts.  Shanna mimicked her and looked ahead at the piles of bodies strewn about the floor ahead on either side of their path.  Blood from the dozens of bodies pooled out from beneath the discarded humans, converging into streams of crimson that flowed down a gradual slope in the floor to a drain in the center, where it drizzled lazily through the grate.
As they neared the bodies, Shanna watched the shadows around them intently, hardly daring to breathe as her eyes searched bulky equipment that could hide any potential threat.  She paused as she noted a shape that could have been a person crouched in the darkness, but on closer inspection, made out trash bags overflowing with decrepit computer equipment.
Felicia suddenly gasped and Shanna’s head snapped in her direction, making out a blur of a figure retreating from her stumbling form.
“I told you vise-versa,” the figure said as it came to a halt in front of her.  
Shanna’s eyes widened as she took in Grant, his blonde hair tousled, face bright and excited.  He no longer seemed like he would fit in with the college-aged crowd of the club, instead looking savage with blood smeared over his lips, his eyes somehow sharper and more cunning than she remembered.  “What are…you’re a…”
“Vampire,” the bartender said in a hushed voice.  He laughed and grinned, showing off sharp canine teeth that were somehow hypnotic to see in his mouth.  They made him seem less human and more like he belonged in a dense jungle like a wild cat, a dangerous predator with little restraint.  She was so shocked by the transformation that she stood dumb as he looked her over, like a diner considering a menu at his favorite restaurant.
“You look mighty delicious,” Grant confessed as he prepared to lunge at her.  He gave pause, however, when Shanna had enough sense to lift her cross-dagger before her.
“Well, this is just fucking great,” he muttered, dropping his arms to his hips in irritation.  “You a hunter or something?  Guess I’ll have to keep-”
Something poked through his shirt, splattering Shanna’s face lightly.
“We’re both hunters,” Felicia corrected as he fell forward.
At Shanna’s feet, his skin turned to ash in seconds, as if he’d been at Pompeii for centuries.
Shanna wiped the blood from her face and gingerly touched Grant’s shoulder, jumping back as the husk he’d left behind crumbled before her eyes.  “Eew,” she muttered, rubbing greasy ash between her fingers until most of it had dispersed and fallen away.
“He was new,” Felicia said, rubbing her neck with a grunt.  “And remember, even a new one surprised me, and I’ve been hunting the things for years.”
Shanna stared down at the pile of ash, amazed that she’d just encountered her first vampire, and mesmerized by the transformation it had made.  She had to resist the urge to look over the ashen remains, instead turning to Felicia expectantly.  “Well?”
Felicia nodded ahead and Shanna fell into line behind her as they continued along the pathway, still wary of their surroundings.  Grant...his face hadn’t been flushed from lying to her.  It had been warm with blood.  Kelly’s blood.  Shanna closed her eyes and swallowed hard as her stomach rumbled threateningly.
“End of the line,” Felicia announced suddenly, gesturing to a metal block in the wall where the path ended.
Focus, Shanna ordered herself, trying to push any ill thoughts to the back of her mind.  You need to focus.  You can mourn for Kelly later.
Shanna blinked at the stainless steel square until she realized that it was a little door, like a laundry shoot would have.  She glanced over at Felicia nervously before she pulled on the handle and gazed through to the other side, where she could see only darkness beyond.
“Well,” Felicia said, “If this is the way out, I guess I’ll see you on the other side.”
“But, are you sure about this?” Shanna asked.  “We don’t know how far it goes and…it feels wrong, somehow.”
Felicia smiled weakly.  “I don’t have to tell you what this is.  But it’s the only hope we’ve got.  If we stay in here, we’re dead no matter how you look at it.”
Biting her lip, Shanna nodded.  “See you on the other side.”
Felicia went first, pulling herself awkwardly into the hole, where she was quickly swallowed by the shadows.
Shanna stared after her for a moment and listened, as if she might get a clue as to what lay in wait for her.  But she didn’t hear a thing, save for the warbling noises the metal made as Felicia traveled along.
Taking a deep breath, Shanna lifted herself into the opening, tentatively feeling the shaft that she was in with her fingers, reminding her of an air duct.  She crawled forward a few feet before it turned to the left sharply.  When she looked around the corner, she could see a dark head blotting out a dim light ahead.  Felicia.
After a short crawl, Shanna was suddenly being helped out by the other hunter.
“Not as bad as I thought it would be,” Felicia surmised, looking Shanna over.
Shanna nodded absently as she searched their surroundings.  She was disoriented at first as she took in the cement walls reaching high up toward the dark sky overhead, but  realized where they were before long.  They were in the pit around the club.  She looked up the walls nearly twenty feet and saw the black iron spikes and the rickety bridge, the stars just bright enough overhead to allow their forms to take shape.
“Damn,” Shanna cursed.  “We’re…we’re so screwed.”
Then a scream erupted from the other side of the pit.  A chorus of hysterical sobs poured down around them that were abruptly ceased, leaving behind a silence that made them wonder if they’d imagined it.
The two girls looked at each other for a moment, anticipating more shrieks, but none rang out.  A thick silence hung over them, interrupted intermittently by a nearby cricket.
Shanna swallowed with some difficulty. “Well, that certainly didn’t sound good.”  She shifted her eyes from one corner of the wall to the other, expecting something hideous to appear at any moment.
Felicia put a hand to her arm.  “Just…try to listen,” she commanded.
Forcing herself to calm down and not to think about the source of the screams, Shanna concentrated on listening for any other sound from around the pit.  She could hear her own heartbeat, Felicia’s breathing…and nothing else.  But it was quite evident that the pit hadn’t been created with water in mind, but to keep something monstrous within its walls, something that could also partake in the feast of the unlucky club goers, at least any unlucky to escape the hands of the shape shifters and vampires within.
She looked down at her cross-dagger and drew in a breath.  Usually, it made her feel powerful, but she got the feeling that it wasn’t going to help her much now.  
Felicia pulled two small knives from her belt.  “I have an idea,” she announced.
“What was that?” Shanna asked, her ears picking up a soft rustling sound.  She looked around wildly, squinting into the darkness.  Her eyes had adjusted by now, but she still imagined that something could use the shadows advantageously and be on top of them before they knew it.
“There,” Felicia said, head raised slightly, as if letting the stars bathe her face.  She titled her chin.  “Do you hear it?  The soft hissing?”
Shanna frowned, perking her ears, annoyed that the cricket had begun to chirp again.  At first, she didn’t hear anything over the noise the bug made, but a soft hissing sound suddenly became distinct from the normal night noises, like air escaping a tire.  And every so often the hissing was interrupted by two short clicks before resuming again.
Nodding to herself as if in confirmation, Felicia turned to Shanna.  “That’s the noise made by a powerful snake creature called a naga.”
“Naga,” Shanna repeated, as if knowing what to call the thing she fought would somehow make it easier to defeat.  
“Don’t let it bite you, scratch you or entangle you, or you’re dead.  Got it?”
Shanna nodded, holding her breath as the hissing abruptly stopped altogether.
Felicia cocked her head and looked over at Shanna.  “Hey, are you okay?  You’re not going to freak out on me here, are you?  ‘Cause I need you calm.”
“No.  No.  No freaking.  I’m good.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m…”  Shanna let her voice trail off as she realized that a head was watching them from right behind Felicia.  A bald, wrinkled head with eyes bathed in shadow.  She froze, staring at the eyes, and realized suddenly that they weren’t just bathed in shadow, but were missing altogether.  Where its eye sockets should have been, there was nothing but skin, skin stretching loosely from its scalp of thin white hair, over its nose and down over its sharp, jutting chin.  As she watched it, a black forked tongue escaped its thin lips, tasting the air, and breaking the spell it held over Shanna.
Shoving Felicia out of the way abruptly, Shanna bravely swiped at the head with her dagger, but the creature drew back and swung the rest of its body around to face her.
The naga was at least twenty feet long with an old man’s upper body fading into a large green scaly snake bottom.
It hissed at Shanna and struck out with one of its arms, which Shanna noted had long, black fingernails with blood and skin caked underneath.
Shanna jumped out of the way and, out of the corner of her eye, saw Felicia sneak around the creature’s back.
In an attempt to keep the naga’s attention, Shanna danced closer to the creature and struck out at it with her dagger again, nearly clipping its shoulder.  The naga almost shredded Shanna with its nails as she retreated to a safe distance again.
Suddenly, the naga’s jaw went slack and it went into convulsions.
Shanna stared at the creature as it began to smoke, the smell of burnt flesh wafting off of it.  Then it fell to the ground.
Holding up a taser for Shanna to see, Felicia smiled.  “The Agency makes tasers to barbecue with.  Another perk that makes the job a lot easier.”
“I guess so,” Shanna said, impressed.
Felicia looked around.  “Well, I guess that takes care of that.  Shall we be off then?”
Shanna raised an eyebrow.  “You have wings on that belt too?”
Felicia smirked.  “Not exactly.”  She pulled out the two small knives she’d had earlier and aimed toward the top of the pit.  She threw one of the knives and it cut cleanly through one side of ropes that had kept the wooden bridge suspended above the pit.  It made a snapping sound and creaked wildly as it swung to and fro before coming to a stop, hanging crooked overhead.  Felicia drew up her other arm and threw the next knife.  She missed.
Shanna snorted as Felicia pulled another knife out of her belt.  Felicia kissed it and aimed once again, missing once again.  “Damn it!”
Shanna looked around, then weighed her dagger in her hand, wondering if she should risk sacrificing it.  If they missed, they would have to go back through the club, and she would be defenseless without the weapon.  Unless Felicia had something she could spare.  Thankfully, she was saved from having to make such a decision.
“In need of an assist?” a guy stared down at them from the top of the pit, next to the bridge.
Felicia grinned.  “Damn right we do!” she called out.
Shanna squinted up toward the figure.  “Who’s that?”
“Yet another hunter, and our ticket out of here.”

Find out what happens next, and follow Shanna Hunt and her friends' continuing adventures in the Hunters of the Dark series:

Her Dark Destiny (Hunters of the Dark#1)
Night Cries (Hunters of the Dark #2)
Face the Dark (Hunters of the Dark #3)
The Tomb (Hunters of the Dark prequel)

or get a super deal and get all four books in one volume:
Hunters of the Dark Omnibus 1

Connect with Dave Ferraro online:
Twitter:  https://twitter.com/#!/Dave_Ferraro
Blog: http://ferrarofiction.blogspot.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Dave-Ferraro-Author/126155667463299


Anomaly
(Tri-Realms Saga: Book 1)

Kristie King


Preface


A person close to me once described dreams as the thoughts and emotions that occur while we’re asleep, but I think I’ve always known the truth: dreams serve a higher purpose for our kind. 
Sometimes, memories of a dream are fleeting; while others leave an indelible impression, compelling us to interpret their meaning in a desperate attempt to find hidden omens and truths.  But what does it really mean to dream?  Is it a physical process of the mind, or a metaphysical feature of the soul? 
Or could dreams be something far greater: a temporal conduit to an ethereal reality?  A link to co-dependent realms and lore, without which, this world could not exist?
This is not only my contention; it is my reality.


Prologue – Reverie: Anomaly


One year ago...
Darkness shrouded the Blackall Range.  From the secluded hinterland lookout I watched the dusk creep over the last mountain ridge, relentlessly devouring it until only a smattering of winking lights were left in its wake.
I sighed, resigning myself to the fact that I must now return home – then cursed my errant use of the term.  The truth was that home was a distant place now.  A memory.  A dream.
On the horizon, I sensed it – the foreboding feeling that had haunted me for the past two years since my parents’ untimely death.  It was a familiar foe, and I drew my hands protectively across my face, bracing myself for its attack – until it was abruptly thwarted by my deliverance. 
It came as it had before.  A prompting that was as whisper soft and comforting as a warm summer’s day. 
Restoration abides. 
Slowly the darkness began to fade, and I found myself drawn to the stunning transformation as amber dawned, facet-by-facet, to reveal the glinting whitecaps of Bass Strait.  
“Home,” I whispered reverently, turning my smiling face toward the golden warmth.
Though I discerned my state of reverie – for certainly this was nothing short of the most fantastic dream – I relished every imagined detail.  From the feel of my coconut-scented hair whipping in the ocean breeze, to the faces of friends who beckoned me to join them in a set of beach volleyball, it was almost perfect.
Almost.
I frowned as a sudden rush of pleasure washed over me.  It was foreign and unjustified in the context of my reflections for I had just determined that although these imagined surrounds were delightful, they would never measure up to my past: a reality filled with family and home. 
It was a thought that had roused acute nostalgia within me.
Not pleasure.
Instinctively, I got to my feet and began to stalk the sandy realm to find the cause of this anomaly.  Ignoring the contrived curiosity of old friends, I focused instead on the erroneous crescent shape of the coastline, making a note to restore it to its true form if I had the opportunity.
After all, this was my dream – wasn’t it?
It was then, that I saw him.  The lone figure stood beside a brightly painted boatshed that was so iconic of the Mornington Peninsula.  I stopped, raising my hand to shield my eyes from the glare, but it was to no avail.  An entirely separate brilliance barraged me – and it emanated directly from the stranger.  
It was the most beautiful image that I’d ever beheld, but in the scant time that it took for me to focus my vision he had vanished.  
And in his place was the familiar ache of abandonment.
Steadfastly, I made my way to the vacant spot where he had stood, willing my reverie to return him to me; but all the while I couldn’t help wondering how the absence of someone imagined – a fictitious stranger – could possibly make me feel so alone.
Could possibly leave me longing for home.


I – Encounter: Anomaly


Caramel.  
It’s burned sugar.  Sweet candy.  A colour.  And it was the very first thing that I noticed about him during our initial, ill-fated encounter.  
Not his immaculate outfit, comprising of a white linen shirt, beige pants, and boat shoes.  Not his piercing eyes, framed by lashes that could evoke the envy of a covetous woman.  Not even his flawless white teeth, full lips, and chiselled jaw that twitched as he tensely asked if I was alright.
It was his skin, his hair, and his eyes – all were the richest tones of caramel.  
I considered him as he stepped towards me to hand me my satchel, and was struck with a most peculiar realisation – his appearance was not in any way manufactured.  It was entirely nuclear; he radiated vitality.  
As our eyes met, I was consumed by a powerful magnetism.  It drew me to him with such force that my heart hammered a warning of impending unconsciousness, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.  I was intoxicated.  
“Are you alright?” he repeated.  His attractive voice was vaguely accented – British, but with a touch of something else.  I absently pondered this, but failed to place it. 
Abruptly, he averted his eyes and stepped back from me – and the effect was devastating.  It was like being physically severed from my life-source.  I lurched forward, my hands gripping my grass-stained knees as I laboured to gasp out a response.  “I’m fine.  I just didn’t see ... didn’t hear you coming.  You came out of nowhere.”  
It was a struggle to maintain coherence.
“I could say the same,” he rejoined, frowning as he effortlessly returned my bike to its upright position.  With a fleeting appraisal, he declared it undamaged and turned back to me, taking in my dishevelled appearance.
“I should drive you home.”  His words were more directive than suggestive. 
I straightened, intending to advise him that I was barely a kilometre from home, when I noticed the black Aston Martin.  It was as flawless in appearance as its driver, and looked more like it had been precision parked than in a recent near-collision with a cyclist.  
I scowled as I registered the personalised license plates – TEMPTN.  My expression reflected my dawning supposition that its driver, standing before me, was just another yuppie traversing the Blackall Range like he was on an episode of Top Gear.  
I pursed my lips, recalling his appearance once more.  From his dress, I’d bet he was headed to Noosa – the coastal yuppie capital.  He’d probably spend the day with his yuppie friends, boasting about their yuppie lives, and joke about his unfortunate encounter with an unremarkable girl in one of those nondescript hinterland towns.  His appearance had deceived me, but only for a moment.  I knew his kind – and it was hardly tempting to me.  
Curtly declining his invitation, I slung the satchel across my torso and wheeled my much-loved Shimano a few feet away.  I sensed his bewilderment at my sudden change of temper, but defied my instincts to look at him lest I lose control of myself again.
I rode off furiously, chastising myself for failing to rebuke him for his reckless driving.  The feeling intensified seconds later as he tore past me – windows down, music pumping – with one hand outstretched in what looked to be an apologetic wave.  
I gripped the handlebars, my knuckles white from resisting the urge to send him off with the one-fingered salute.  He was really something else, this guy.  But as soon as the Aston Martin disappeared from sight, I pulled off the road onto a nearby grassy embankment to collect myself, as my mind and heart still raced.
What had just happened?  
I was shaken to the core.  Not just because I’d nearly ended up as road-kill; but I was staggered by the powerful attraction I’d felt for a man whose very genus and conduct should have repelled me.
“Who puts TEMPTN on their license plate?  What a tool.”  It felt good to slate him verbally, though the failed timing of my rebuke wasn’t lost on me.  
I rolled my eyes.  Perfect.  
Feeling slightly more composed, I set back out on the road, enjoying the way my muscles warmed as they strained to navigate the steep gradient that marked the final stretch of my journey.  Within minutes, the brick and wrought iron fence that spanned the perimeter of Blackall Manor came into view.  I smiled, allowing the feelings of peace and tranquillity to sweep over me as I returned to the manor that was my aunt’s estate.   It was a place of tremendous beauty to which I had not developed the slightest immunity, despite having called the manor home for over a year now.  
I stopped as I arrived at the distinctive crest and imposing entrance gates that denoted the start of the manor’s expansive driveway.  As I did most days, I took a moment to appreciate my surrounds before embarking on the day ahead.  
Indeed, Blackall Manor is the undisputed jewel in the crown of sprawling estates and mountain retreats located on the razorback ridge of the Sunshine Coast hinterland.  Boasting twelve stately bedrooms over three levels, the grand sandstone mansion is founded on one hundred manicured acres, just minutes from the heart of town.  Although originally purchased as a private residence by my aunt and her husband thirty-five years earlier, the unfortunate impact of the global financial crisis had catalysed its transformation into an exclusive retreat for the country’s upper crust.  
It was a retreat with which, by all reason and circumstance, I should never have been acquainted.  Not only by virtue of my upbringing, which was vastly removed from the socio-economic sphere of the manor’s typical patrons; but more importantly, due to the complete severance of my mother’s association with her family after she eloped with my father twenty-three years earlier.  Despite his highly decorated police career, my mother’s elitist family could never accept my father’s blue-collar background and deemed their marriage as an infinite disgrace.  And it was this vulgar prejudice that triggered an estrangement between the families that lasted until eighteen months after my parents’ death, at which time my aunt finally decided to reach out to me, her only niece, in an attempt to heal the severed ties of the past. 
Or at least, so it had seemed.   
After several months of phone calls and emails, my aunt unexpectedly arrived at my modest Melbourne apartment to reveal that not only had she recently buried her husband; but that she felt I possessed some redeeming qualities – despite my inferior upbringing.  
Not exactly the reunion I’d been hoping for.  
But then, she presented me with an astonishing offer: if I agreed to move across the country and help her manage her estate, she would discharge my student debt and cover the costs of the final year of my engineering degree.  
Needless to say, I was stunned by her proposal.  I was apprehensive about being thrust into the province of the elitist society whose pride and conceit my parents had thoroughly taught me to despise; but I wasn’t so foolish as to ignore the benefits of her offer:  it would certainly beat my current job that barely covered my tuition and rent; not to mention the fact that it represented the only tie I had to the one thing I missed the most – my family.  
And so after due consideration, I had accepted my aunt’s invitation and begun my new life at Blackall Manor.
“Bree?  Are you okay, love?”
I was jolted from my reveries by Joe, the old gardener who has worked at the estate since its inception.  He stood nearby, trimming the Japanese box hedge that bordered the drive.  
I flushed.  How long had I been standing there?  
“Hey, Joe.  I’m fine, thanks.  I’m just on my way back from Montville – had to organise a few things for our guest today.”  I smiled at him warmly.
His weathered brow furrowed with confusion.  “Guests today?  When I spoke to Mrs. March yesterday, she said there’d be no-one coming ‘til next month.” 
“Yeah, the reservation only came through last night.  Just one guest, though he’s booked out the whole wing for a week.  Uh, Templeton’s his name, and he’s supposed to arrive around lunchtime ... which reminds me, could you make sure that the pool area gets a look over this morning?”  I gave him my most winning smile.
“Yeah, no worries, love.  I’ll get Mitch onto it once he’s finished up at the stables.”
I grinned.  “Thanks, Joe.  I’ll see you later.”
Waving farewell, I headed down the estate’s winding drive, branching off to the left just before reaching the Romanesque fountain that denoted its entrance.  I followed the slightly narrowed path to a garage that looked more like a house than an outbuilding, and was cleverly concealed by a row of pencil pines.  Here, I neatly stored my bike then hurried toward the manor’s southwest entrance.  
As I walked, I rifled through my satchel for my phone to check the time.  
It was 10:00 a.m. 
I groaned.  I was thirty minutes behind schedule.  
Of all the mornings that I could have nearly died, of course it had to be this morning.  Cursing TEMPTN once more, I stealthily opened the door to the library, praying for the miracle that would be my aunt’s ignorance of my delay.  I really didn’t have the time, or composure, to withstand a lecture from her on the vice of tardiness right now.  
“Breanna, you are late.”
I guess God was plumb out of miracles.
Exhaling slowly, I closed the door and straightened as I turned to face her.  “I know.  Sorry.”  I didn’t bother with an explanation.  The gospel according to Emmeline March decreed that explanations were excuses for shortcomings – and shortcomings could never be excused.
Looking up from the book she read, my aunt’s steely eyes narrowed as she took in my appearance.  “I suggest that you attend to yourself at once.  I have been informed that we will be receiving Mr. Templeton sooner than anticipated.  He will arrive shortly before lunch.  Rona and Mary are making preparations.”
I nodded.  “Of course.  Excuse me.” 
I followed the great hall through to the manor’s imposing foyer.  At its centre, a fragrant arrangement of white roses sat atop a polished black marble table.  It complemented the black and cream tiled marble floor and sweeping double curved staircases that framed the foyer, each one adjoined by ornate balconies.  
I bounded up the southern staircase that led to my bedroom on the second floor.  Large windows offered stunning vistas of manicured gardens, lush hinterland and razorback escarpments, while the sunlight danced off the Coral Sea in the distance.  
Closing the hardwood door behind me, I strode past the plush four-poster bed to the triple dresser and framed mirror, where I scrutinised my reflection.   The mirrored image grimaced its disapproval of my unruly mahogany mane, sweat-sheened face and soiled clothing. 
“Okay, Cinderella, you’ve got fifteen minutes to turn this around.” 
I rifled through the adjacent armoire until I found the cleanly pressed shift dress I was looking for.  I showered with brevity to rival the staunchest water conservationist, and wrapped a towel around my hair while I dressed and applied a light layer of make-up.  It was not the first time that I was grateful for my clear, sun-kissed complexion, large hazel eyes, and plump dark lashes that needed minimal primping.  My hair, however, was a law unto itself.  I didn’t have the preening time and patience it required this morning; so in my final bid to beat the clock, I simply brushed and twisted my long, damp locks into a loose knot.
With one last cursory glance in the mirror to ensure I was fit to be seen, I grabbed the contents of my satchel and scurried downstairs to the office.  Flinging myself into the leather chair, I flipped on my iMac and noted the clock sitting on the solid oak desk.
10:25 a.m.  
I smiled, happy to be back in my comfort zone that was five minutes ahead of schedule.
The time flew as I went about my morning routine of attending to administrative matters, interspersed with the staff enquiries that always accompanied the preparations to receive new guests.  So it seemed like only moments later when Rona burst into the office to breathlessly announce that Mr. Templeton had arrived, and was currently in the parlour with my aunt.  
“Thanks, Ro.  I’ll be there in just a moment.” 
Rona nodded, smiling absentmindedly as she ran her fingers through her neat blonde bob.  At twenty-four, she was just two years older than I, and over the past year we had become close friends.  So I immediately noticed her unusual behaviour as she vaguely repeated her earlier statement. 
I paused to examine her closely.  Was she blushing?  “Hey, are you okay?” I asked worriedly.  
Her surprise was obvious – her cheeks resembling two ripened tomatoes.  
Clearly my instincts had been right.
“You’re blushing!”  I chortled as impossibly, her flush deepened. 
Mortified by the exposure, Rona ran to me, grabbing my wrists to pull me to my feet.  “Shh, Bree!  I know, I can’t explain it.  He’s just so gorgeous and charming – he’s perfection!”  Rona grinned wider than the Cheshire Cat.
Now it was I, who was dumbfounded.  Could she be talking about Ray, the local mechanic who was her high school sweetheart – and a notorious ladies’ man?  I studied her face again and dismissed that idea.  She’d never looked like this when she spoke about Ray.  Had she finally seen the light and met someone new?
I put my hands on her trembling shoulders, shaking her gently.  “Ro, calm down.  What’s happened?  You haven’t said a word to me all morning!”
She beamed.  “I know.  I only just met him.  Oh, Bree, he’s amazing.  He’s like something else, you know?”  Her voice trailed off dreamily.
I stared after her in astonished silence as she floated to the office window.  Attempting to make sense of her revelation, I asked, “So, is it over with Ray then?”  Unfortunately I was unable to mask my hopeful tone – and it seemed to snap her back to reality. 
“What?” she asked tersely.
I bit my lip nervously.  “I said, is it over with Ray?  I mean...”  Unsure of how to finish, I let my half-formed sentence hang suggestively. 
Unwittingly, I had stoked her ire.
“Of course not,” she snapped, turning away from my imploring expression.  “I don’t know what’s going on with me today.  I shouldn’t have said anything.” 
I was immediately remorseful.  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you; I’m just kind of confused.  Can we talk later?” 
After a fleeting moment’s hesitation, she nodded.  A slow smile spread across her features as her intrinsic good nature resurfaced.  I walked over to the window where she stood to give her a parting hug, when something outside caught my attention.
I froze.  
A black Aston Martin – identical to the one that had nearly sent me to the morgue – was presently parked in the circular driveway.  Nausea washed over me, forcing me to close my eyes and lean against the windowsill in a desperate attempt to regain my composure.
“Bree?  You look pale, what’s wrong?”  Rona sounded like she was in a tunnel.
I held my hand up to show I just needed a moment.
“Can I get you anything?  Here, sit down.”  She guided me to an antique armchair a few steps away.  I folded into it gratefully.
“Do you need me to tell Mrs. March you’re unwell?”
For a fleeting moment, I was tempted to agree – after all, how could I face him after our encounter this morning?  But a larger part of me revolted at the thought of giving in.  Refusing to be daunted by him, I declined Rona’s offer.  Surely I could handle this.  I had dealt with plenty of spoiled yuppies over the past year.  This would be no different.
Except that my palms were clammy and my throat was tight.  That was different.  
I huffed out an exasperated sigh.  I knew I didn’t have the time to consider it further, and so I hastily promised Rona that I was fine and that I would head directly to the parlour.  As the promise left my lips, I had meant it; however I soon gained an understanding of the adage that relates how the road to hell is paved with good intentions, for as soon as Rona left me alone, my intentions scattered to the wind and I was consumed by deranged curiosity: was I sure he was here?  Could it really be him?  
Deciding that it couldn’t hurt to take one last look at the offending vehicle before I headed to the parlour, my traitorous body steered me back to the window.  As I peeked outside to examine the license plates, my stomach plummeted: six gold letters blazed on black plating to form the singular combination I most dreaded.
TEMPTN.
Well, this was going to be interesting.


II – Introduction: Anomaly


“Mr. Sebastian Templeton, allow me to introduce you to my niece, Ms. Breanna Spencer.”
At my aunt’s announcement, Sebastian Templeton stood and turned to greet me, and I realised that my memory had not done him justice – he was even more breathtaking than I had recalled.  He was tall – easily dwarfing my 5’6” frame – leanly muscled to suggest conditioning from the outdoors, and looked to be in his mid-twenties.  His thick waving hair reminded me of the time I’d seen toffee made, but it was the unique radiance of his smooth caramel skin and piercing ochre eyes that I again found most captivating.
I steeled myself as I strode toward him, curious to gauge his reaction.  However, upon sighting me, his amiable expression did not falter.  Instead, he smiled broadly and extended his hand in greeting.  “Ms. Spencer.  Delighted to make your acquaintance.”  His dazzling smile widened as he shook my hand.  
I was stunned.  Perhaps he didn’t recognise me in my more polished attire.
I gently freed my hand and folded my arms behind my back.  My hand tingled pleasantly.  “Welcome to Blackall Manor, Mr. Templeton,” I said serenely, maintaining my cordial façade.  “I apologise for my brief delay.  There was ... a minor complication, but I trust that my aunt has told you about the many features of the estate and the surrounding area?”
An amused smile played about his lips.  “Yes, she has.  Though, I must insist that you call me Sebastian.  ‘Mr. Templeton’ sounds far too serious.”  He laughed pleasantly, his tawny eyes crinkling slightly in the corners, while an endearing dimple creased his smooth left cheek to accentuate his pleasure.  
Had this been the first time we’d ever met, I expect that I would have welcomed his offer – after all, it was refreshingly different to the contrived pomp I was accustomed to at the manor.  But instead, as I recalled our encounter that morning, his present sincerity and likability only utterly confused me.  
What had happened to TEMPTN: the cretin who had run me off the road and then, minutes later, driven off seemingly without a care?  
The man standing before me displayed none of his traits.  
In fact, apart from physical likeness, the man standing before me bore scant resemblance to TEMPTN at all – which would have been a good thing if it hadn’t meant that I would feel so conflicted about him. 
Something told me that I would need to be careful around him.  Very careful.
But before I could contemplate it further, my aunt’s laughter called me back to the present – where I stood within a few feet of Sebastian, staring at him vacantly.  
Cheeks burning, I promptly seated myself in a nearby wingback chair.  I was certain that my distracted behaviour had not gone unnoticed, and so was bracing myself for my aunt’s interrogation when an angel in the form of Rona swept into the room to save me.  I watched as she deftly made her way around the room, her willowy figure graceful and self-assured, and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy at her composure.
That is, until she served Sebastian.
There was a marked change in her demeanour as she addressed him, and I found myself transfixed by the tremble of her hands and the quaver in her voice.  I was torn between feeling horrified and relieved at the fact that I wasn’t the only person who was so affected by his presence.
And then, recalling our earlier conversation and her unexpected revelation, I was struck with an epiphany.  Now, her words made perfect sense – it was Sebastian who had enchanted her.
As she turned her attention to me I strained to catch her eye, but she studiously avoided me.  I was desperate to confirm my suspicions, but was left with only my deliberations as she quietly took leave. 
For a moment, the room was quiet as we each sipped our tea.  I diligently avoided engaging my aunt by tracing the rim of the delicate porcelain cup with my eyes, focusing on the floral pattern.  All the while, I chanted a silent prayer that Rona’s interlude had been enough to make my aunt forget my preoccupied behaviour – but for the second time today, my prayers went unanswered.  
As my aunt returned her cup to its saucer, I felt her calculating gaze bore into my skull.  “Breanna, are you unwell?  I must say you are quite preoccupied today.  Not at all yourself.”  Her tone and expression were reminiscent of a principal chiding an errant pupil.
“No, I’m perfectly fine,” I assured her, unleashing my most convincing smile before taking another sip of tea.
“Well, I’m glad to hear it.  Though you should know that while you were delayed, Sebastian expressed his keen desire to explore the nearby hinterland by bicycle.  I, of course, told him that I should dearly have loved to accompany him had I not been so limited of late by my horridly aching back.  However I expect that you would be delighted to join him since you are very fond of riding, and – oh, my dear!” 
She failed to finish her account as the shock and horror brought about by her suggestion propelled me to unceremoniously choke on my tea.  The reflexive force sent the hot liquid trickling down my chin, and dribbling onto the saucer.  
I was mortified.  Would my humiliation in front of this man never end?  
Rona started towards me with a napkin, intending to offer her assistance – but was never afforded the opportunity.  Sebastian’s reflexive chivalry beat her to it.  
He reached me within three strides, smoothly taking the cup and saucer from my shaking hands and replacing them with a crisp handkerchief that was embroidered with an unusual circular insignia and his initials.  I accepted the handkerchief from him gratefully, dabbing my face with as much dignity as I could muster in the circumstances.  As I did so, I noticed the most wonderful fragrance.  I surreptitiously inhaled, trying to identify the scent: it was clean and fresh – like salt air and freshly cut timber.  I found it invigorating.
I was unsure as to the appropriate protocol regarding returning borrowed handkerchiefs; however, since Sebastian had resumed his seat, I decided that it may be best for me to retain, and thus discreetly tucked it into my pocket.   
The room was once again quiet.  I tentatively looked up to find my aunt regarding Sebastian speculatively, while he offered me an empathetic smile.  I immediately averted my eyes, allowing my gaze to wander the room as my mind clambered for something remotely intelligent to say.  However, my discomfort was short lived as Sebastian broke the awkward silence by humorously recounting a recent misadventure of his in Tokyo.  
His attempt to diffuse the tension was heartily rewarded as my aunt launched into uncharacteristic peals of laughter.  “Oh, Sebastian, that is simply too much!”  She dabbed at her eyes delicately, her face unusually animated as she turned to me.  “Wouldn’t you agree, Breanna?  We shall always remember this story!”
Surprised by her atypically high spirits, I found myself cheerfully nodding, despite my earlier reservations and vows of restraint.  
Encouraged by my reaction, Sebastian jovially addressed me.  “Well, I’m glad that my misfortune was so entertaining for you, Ms. Spencer.  You know, I have a few other ridiculous tales I could tell you, if you’d care to join me on my travels this week.” 
As he spoke, he leaned forward ever so slightly that, had I not been so acutely aware of him, I may not have noticed.  Our eyes locked, and the same commanding magnetism I had experienced that morning engulfed me.  It captivated every particle of my being, drawing me to him.  
A remote part of my mind alerted me to the absurdity of the moment; to the oddity of the fact that everything else fell away; and to the alarming compulsion that I should yield to him.   Instinctively I closed my eyes, and the result was instantaneous: my mind was flooded with autonomous, coherent thought; bringing relief like straining lungs that could suddenly draw breath.  
I opened my eyes slowly, bracing myself against the mental onslaught I had come to expect though I remained unsure of its source.  But as our eyes locked once more, nothing happened.  Supposing this to be my triumph, I smirked.  “Weren’t we dropping the formalities, Sebastian?”
 His lips curved into an amused smile.  “Ah, touché.  My sincerest apologies, Breanna.”
Despite myself, I thrilled at the way his rich voice and lilting accent spoke my name like a caress, and was grateful that my aunt chose that exact moment to reclaim control of the conversation.  It afforded me an opportunity to quietly observe him as she painstakingly interrogated him about his life under the guise of genteel curiosity.
However, Sebastian was entirely unperturbed, displaying only ease and cordiality as he fielded my aunt’s numerous, and often shallow, enquiries.  He had a masterful command of language – the proverbial courtier’s tongue – his responses artful, and filled with flattery; but I found myself wary of his nebulous replies that often contained little substance.  I perceived that I knew scarcely more about him at the end of the exchange than I had prior to it – with the exception that his narratives reeked of a man born to privilege, and thus entirely failed to improve my opinion of him.
On the other hand, my aunt was enchanted.  Sebastian’s implied old money pedigree delighted her, and indeed increased tenfold upon her learning that he was single.  I squirmed at her delight, my feelings rapidly turning to horror as her curiosity piqued to the point of impropriety.  
“Now Sebastian, may I be so bold as to enquire why you haven’t found a suitable young lady to settle down with?  You’re a handsome, educated young man and clearly have considerable means.  Surely, it must be your choice?”
Although I wanted to cringe at her indecency, I managed to maintain my composure as I turned to look at him.  Despite my better judgment, I was curious to hear his response.
And he offered it freely.  “Yes, it is my choice; though it’s one I wish I didn’t have to make quite so often in order to avoid those with superficial intentions – as I’m sure you’d understand, Mrs. March.” 
My aunt, clearly ignorant of his subtle jibe, gushed her agreement.  “Oh yes.  And it’s most encouraging to hear you say so, Sebastian.  So many privileged young men give little consideration to the complications arising from unsuitable associations.  Indeed, I had to be very careful of them in my day.  Thankfully, my dear Wilfred was a man of consequence and our families were able to celebrate our match.  The same could not be said for my poor, unfortunate, young sister who simply ruined herself by marrying a man of no consequence.  It broke my poor father’s heart, you know.  He was never the same.”
My blood boiled; I could barely believe what I had just heard.  Incensed by my aunt’s bigoted condemnation of my mother and father, I launched to my feet with the intention of severely reproaching her, when Rona caught my eye.  Her expression was sympathetic, but her eyes implored me to remain calm.  She, too, was familiar with my aunt’s stiff-necked pretention, but endured it for the sake of her employment.  
I also knew that the security of her position was exceptionally reliant on the return business generated by favourable guest experiences – of which my current choice of conduct would play a part.  And so with a steadying breath, I tersely excused myself on the grounds of feeling suddenly unwell, and strode out of the parlour to the office.  
Fuming, I flung open the office door, grabbed my worn copy of Jane Eyre, and threw myself into my favourite reading chair.  I felt my anger slowly subside as I lost myself in Brontë’s nineteenth century England; but as the daylight faded, my stomach grumbled its displeasure at having missed lunch, and heartily warned me that skipping dinner was not an option.  
Reluctantly, I got up to check the time, and was surprised to discover that dinner service was due to start within minutes.  It was typical for Rona and Mary to serve drinks and canapés after five, and I wondered at the fact that I had been left to my leisure for the entirety of the afternoon.  As if summoned by my thoughts, there was a tentative tap on the door and Mary popped in to check if I would be attending this evening’s dinner service.  After eagerly confirming that I would, I returned with her to the dining hall.  
Upon entering the hall, I was surprised to find that I was the first to arrive – and that only two places had been set at the sprawling dining table.  Oddly, neither was at the head of the table as was the place typically occupied by my aunt.  Instead, they were intimately set on opposing sides of one end.  My stomach tightened as I stood beside my customary place, staring at the settings.  I was torn between immediately fleeing, and staying to satisfy my avid curiosity about our guest.  
Just as I was about to enquire after my aunt, the chair beside me was drawn out smoothly and Sebastian’s appealing voice invited me to sit down.  My heart fluttered nervously, and I frowned at my body’s instinctive response to him.  I thanked him tersely as I rigidly took my seat, while he gracefully seated himself opposite me with a warm smile.
On cue, Mary entered, attending to our drinks and announcing that our entrées would soon be served.  As she left the room, I reached for my wine, praying that it wouldn’t be long until our meals arrived to fill the current void in conversation. 
All the while, Sebastian studied me openly.  
I silently congratulated myself as I managed to sip my wine and return the glass to the table without incident.  It was no minor feat given my actions this morning; and as I spied Sebastian’s amused smile, I suspected he had drawn a similar conclusion. 
 “I’m glad to see that you’re feeling better, Breanna.  It’s been quite an eventful day, and I was concerned that perhaps our encounter this morning had left you unwell.”
I stiffened.  So he had recognised me.  
My tone was caustic as the repressed emotions of the morning resurfaced.  “Perhaps you should be more concerned about your driving, Sebastian.  You know, there are children and tourists around here that aren’t as familiar with these roads as I am.  It’s just lucky that you ran across me and not them, as they may not have fared so well.”
His smile vanished. 
“I didn’t mean to upset you, and I really am sorry about this morning.  It’s no excuse for what happened, but I want you to know that it was exceptionally out of character for me.  I understand if you think badly of me, but I’d really appreciate it if you’d give me a chance to change your mind.”  
The sincerity of his contrition pierced me, but there was something else – a subtle undercurrent of urgency that I couldn’t justify.  The absurdity of it led me to conclude that Sebastian was quite unlike anyone else I’d ever met; and without thinking, I blurted, “You’re so unusual.”
He physically started at my words.  
“Excuse me?” he said silkily, though I noted how his eyes tightened.
My pulse quickened as I struggled to suppress the burning conviction of my earlier statement in the hopes of contriving some sort of polite response; but my efforts were in vain – the feeling wouldn’t be denied.  
“You’re unusual,” I repeated, hoping my cordial tone disguised my suspicion as a polite observation.  I unconsciously leaned forward to study his reaction, and to his credit he didn’t shy away from my scrutiny.  
Instead, he laughed, but I again noted how the humour didn’t quite reach his eyes.  “I’m sorry, I’m not sure that I understand what you mean by that,” he maintained.
I swallowed nervously, unsure of where I was going with this, but presented with no other option than to voice my truth.  “I mean it literally.  There’s something unique about you.”
His smile faded as he realised I wouldn’t be easily dissuaded.  He rested his arms on the table and leaned toward me to unleash the full intensity of his tawny gaze.  “Perhaps you could explain what you mean by unique?  Do you mean foreign?”
Once again, I was lost in his eyes.  My thoughts scrambled and I was flooded with a yearning to agree with his explanation.  The impulse was enchantingly persuasive, though I couldn’t rationalise it with any belief of my own.  It crooned to me like the sweetest lover. 
Say yes.
But then, another force came – a contradiction so powerful that it burst from every fibre of my being, and my mind was seared with the most intense pain I have ever felt.  My hands flew to my head, clawing and crushing my temples.  At that moment, it seemed that my brain split into two parts – a dominant part that yearned to agree with him; and another that stanchly refused. 
It was utter chaos. 
I wanted to agree with him, didn’t I?  So, why couldn’t I say yes?
A remote part of me heard a desperate cry, but I was so divorced from reality that I failed to recognise it as my own.  Instead, I was consumed with fusing myself, molecule-by-molecule, to the dissent that bespoke my will.  
I was unsure if a second, a minute, or an hour had passed, but eventually I managed to claw back my mental sovereignty.  Although I recovered my senses, they were blurred, and my head throbbed mercilessly.  Rivulets of sweat coursed down my back and I was overcome by such lethargy that even breathing was a chore.  The room lurched as I attempted to open my eyes, and I felt myself falling, however I was simply too spent to fight anymore.  
It felt like I fell forever.  Tendrils of my hair tickled my face as the waves of vertigo pounded me – and then, quite unexpectedly, there was warmth.
Warmth.  And weightlessness.  And safety.
My instincts pleaded with me to surrender to unconsciousness, but I defied them.  I was determined to figure out what was going on, and although my eyelids felt like dumbbells, I forced them open.
I was in his arms.
I couldn’t see or hear any other thing – only his concerned face and gentle voice filled my senses; and in a whisper so soft that I wondered if I imagined it, he crooned, “It’s alright, Breanna.  I’ve got you, just rest.”
I closed my eyes and started to drift, but was stirred by a gentle observation.
I think it is you, who is unique.
Groggily, I wondered at his meaning.  I struggled vainly to form the words I needed to express, but my mouth felt like it was filled with sawdust.  The result was a garbled, “Why’m I‘nique?”
He stiffened.  “Excuse me?” he said, his muted voice strained.
It was hard to swallow, and I battled against my foggy mind that still lured me toward unconsciousness.  Licking my lips, I croaked, “Why am I unique?”
His muscles tightened, but he didn’t reply.  The gentle sway of his gait lulled me, and through my haze I heard him tell Mary that I would need a cool compress for my head.  
I continued to drift in and out of consciousness, vaguely noting when his warm embrace was replaced by my cool soft bedcovers, and I again felt his gentle prompting.
Sleep, Breanna.  
It was the sweetest suggestion, and I was flooded with feelings of peace and contentment.  To struggle against it would be futile, and so I released myself to the darkness. 


III – Imaginary: Anomaly


Breanna.
I turned at the sound of my name, expecting to see him, but he wasn’t there.  
I shivered.  It was cold and dark as the thick fog rolled across the Blackall Range.  I stood on the side of the road, but I couldn’t remember how I had gotten there; I was afraid, but I wasn’t sure why.  
Where was my bike? 
I tried to look for it, but I couldn’t see past the fog. 
Which way was the manor?
Breanna.
Again, I spun around, but couldn’t see him.  “Who’s there?” I called, although I knew full well whose voice I had heard – it thrilled me every time.
And unnerved me.
I had so many questions for him, about my strange impulses and reactions to him; and I realised that I was desperate to find him. 
Suddenly, he stood before me, so close that we were almost touching.  It’s just me, Breanna.  Don’t be afraid.
I was stunned.  His lips hadn’t moved, yet somehow he had spoken to me.  My voice quavered.  “How are you doing that?”
He cocked his head innocently.  Doing what? 
“That! I can hear you, but you’re not speaking!”
Now, he was emphatic.  It’s just a dream, Breanna.  
I shook my head, unsatisfied.  “It’s not just a dream.  It’s you.  You did it last night when I fainted – I heard you.  How do you speak to me like that?” 
He was suddenly behind me, so close that his warm breath tickled my neck.  I think you’re confused.  Yesterday was a strange day for you.  You’re not yourself, and everyone’s noticed.  You’ve been distracted, disoriented, overcome by fainting spells.  It’s not surprising that you’re confusing a dream with reality.
His warm hands gently turned me to face him.  His eyes were fierce, and I braced myself for the mental assault that I had come to expect – but nothing happened.  I retained absolute control of my senses.  
Blazing with questions and accusations, I resolutely stepped out of his reach, and turned to face him squarely.  “Stop!  I want you to talk to me – with your voice.” 
His shock was plain.  “As you wish, Breanna.”
“And it’s Bree,” I corrected him sourly.  “Only my aunt insists on calling me Breanna.”
This seemed to entertain him.  “Very well, Bree.”
I took a deep breath and looked around.  The fog persisted to engulf our surroundings, and I shivered again.   
Smirking, he grandly gestured to our surrounds.  “We certainly don’t need all this gloom.  Shall we make the weather a little more pleasant?” 
Great.  So even in my dreams my reactions didn’t elude him.  I frowned at him, perplexed by his suggestion.  “You know I have no idea what you mean.”
His reserved façade gave way to excitement as he started to pace, reminding me of my first year professor who was far too enthusiastic about physics.  He turned to me suddenly, his eyes dancing.  “Let me help you.  Close your eyes.”
I was sceptical.  “What?”
His expression was earnest.  “Please,” he took my hand, and butterflies battered my ribcage.  “There’s something I’d like to show you, and I promise there’s no need to be afraid.”
I looked at him dubiously, but he showed no trace of guile.  He seemed to sense his approaching victory and smiled.  “Satisfied?  Now close your eyes.”
I closed my eyes obediently.
“What do you see?” 
His warm breath brushed my cheek and my heart stuttered.  I was overly aware of his hands as they held mine.  I squeezed my eyes tighter, and tried to focus on answering his question.  “I don’t see anything.  Only blackness.”  I took a steadying breath, silently avowing that my emotions would be the first thing I would get in order in this dream – as soon as I knew how.
If he was aware of his effect on me, he didn’t show it. 
“Good.  Now, focus on the blackness.”  He paused.  “Clear your mind of everything – every thought, every feeling, every single thing, but the sound of my voice.” 
His voice was the softest silk and sweetest honey.  One-by-one, the bricks of my mental fortress dropped away and I opened myself to him; to the tranquillity and security that he offered.  
He responded to the change.  “Perfect,” he said approvingly.  “Now, I want you to focus on replacing the blackness, slowly.  There’s no rush.  Just let your mind gently reveal what it is you want to see.”  He paused.  “Now tell me ... what is it?” 
My mind was entirely open now – defenceless – and my response was automatic.
“You,” I breathed.  
And it was over.
As I uttered that single word, cold comprehension slammed into me like a tsunami.  My eyes flew open, unseeing, and I was gasping for air.  I rubbed my eyes, blinking frantically to adjust to the dim light in the hopes of comprehending my surroundings.
I was back in my bedroom.
I bolted upright, my heart pounding, desperate to confirm my reality.  I sat in the middle of my king-size bed, sweat-soaked sheets twisted around my torso.  The windows were wide open, and unfiltered moonlight streamed in with the mild evening breeze, ruffling the curtains.  
Still unnerved, my eyes scanned the room and I was relieved to find that everything appeared to be in its proper place.  
And free of Sebastian.
Only as I slowly exhaled, did I realise that I had been holding my breath the entire time.
I fidgeted restlessly, struggling to grasp the polarity of my emotions: I was terrified that it hadn’t been a dream, yet disturbed to discover it had.  
After finally untangling the sheets from my body, I slumped back down with an exasperated sigh.  I decided to try and get some sleep, but all I actually managed to do was to toss and turn as an influx of images, words and feelings battered my mind like bugs against a windshield.
And so it persisted, on and on, until the light slowly replaced the darkness and my alarm finally ushered in the dawn.  But even in the cold light of day, my struggle remained and I was left to decipher what was real, what was imagined –
And why it all led back to Sebastian.

Enjoyed this taste of Anomaly and want more?  Simply click on the link to get your very own ticket to the Tri-Realms:
http://www.amazon.com/Anomaly-Tri-Realms-Saga-Book-ebook/dp/B005ZVBFK8/

Synopsis:

“I was transfixed as I watched him; his skin was simply luminous in the sunlight, yet not a bead of sweat sheened his face. I could have remained entranced by him for hours, for in this state he was simply magnificent, almost – supernatural.”
22-year-old Bree Spencer hates prejudice of all kinds – especially the blatant elitism she is subjected to as a resident staffer at her aunt’s exclusive estate, Blackall Manor. So when Bree nearly winds up as road-kill on account of the wealthy Sebastian Templeton, she struggles to reconcile her inexplicable attraction to him. On the surface Sebastian epitomises all that Bree usually despises, yet her draw to him is irrefutable.
Events become decidedly more unusual upon Sebastian’s arrival as a guest at Blackall Manor. Despite her reservations, Bree finds Sebastian intriguing; but his insistence to get to know her triggers a raft of niggling suspicions – heightened by a series of strange dreams and phenomena – until eventually, she learns the truth. 
Sebastian is a guardian, a powerful descendant of a sacred ethereal line; and Bree’s uncanny gift has prompted him to find her. But while an anomaly inspired their connection, an ancient prophecy and ethereal lore forbid it. And with Sebastian’s purist brother determined to honour both at any cost, an epic battle with unthinkable stakes could be Bree’s only chance at survival.

Anomaly, Fledgling and Legacy are the three volumes of the Tri-Realms Saga. 

Scion, a prequel and companion to Anomaly from Sebastian’s perspective, is scheduled for release in May 2012, around the same time as Oracle, the first volume in her brand new young adult saga.

Connect with Kristie King online:

Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/K_C_King
Blogs: http://kckingchronicles.blogspot.com/ and http://trirealmssaga.blogspot.com/
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/KC-King/148817685223596

Angel Evolution
Book One of The Evolution Trilogy

David Estes



PART I

“Hurray for a child
That makes it through
If there's any way
Because the answer lies in you

They're laid to rest
Before they know just what to do
Their souls are lost
Because they could never find

What's this life for?”

Creed—“What’s This Life For?”
From the album My Own Prison (2007)


Chapter One: Angel Evolution


Her parched throat burned with an unquenchable fire.  She tried to swallow, but each desperate gulp left her wanting; her mouth was dry, there was no moisture left to cool her angry esophagus.  The dizzying effect of the dehydration was affecting her memory.  She couldn’t remember where she was or how she got there, but knew that if she didn’t find water soon, Death would painfully claim her.  As she tried to get her bearings, a steady fog drifted in and surrounded her in an icy shroud.  Dropping to her knees in anguish, she prepared to succumb to the sleep that she had been desperately fighting.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw a familiar slithering Evil.  A snake, inky black with blood-red eyes, undulated towards her.  Weakened by her thirst, she could only watch as the sharp-fanged reptile approached, without caution.  She collapsed face-first onto the cold, hard ground.  The snake reached her naked foot, and climbed over her heel and onto her slender ankle.  Without hesitation, it moved up her bare leg, its rough scales buzzing along her exposed skin.
With her cheek pressed against the rocky earth, she saw what had to be a mirage:  two Beings strode purposefully towards her through swirls of mist.  Despite the exhaustion that clouded her vision, she could see that both Beings were exquisitely beautiful.  The first had a subtle glow about its body that cut through the fog casually, as if the weather was clear.  Its glow brightened as it approached.  The second was cloaked in darkness, although it wore no head covering.  Surprisingly, she felt safe.
The snake reached her waist, caressing her hips like a dance partner, but the visitors didn’t seem to notice.  
One of them gently touched an animal-skin pouch to her cracked lips.  As the lubricating water ran mercifully past her teeth, along her tongue and down her inflamed gullet, she wondered who these wondrous presences were and why they had saved her.  Forgetting the snake, she insatiably gulped down the cool liquid.  Seconds later, she cringed as the fire returned to her throat.  The second Being slid another vessel into position, and she greedily opened her mouth to receive the life-giving water.  She barely had time to choke out a scream before the sand filled her mouth.
Her last memory was the black snake:  its red eyes staring into hers, its mouth gaping open to reveal fiercely sharp fangs dripping with blood as black as oil.  Her final thoughts could be summed up in one word:  fear.


Chapter Two: Angel Evolution


Two Weeks Later
Despite the light drizzle, Taylor sat cross-legged on the lush lawn; she was patiently scouring the grass with her hands and eyes.  Trying to find it.  She wasn’t a superstitious person by nature, but something inside her very soul compelled her to keep looking.  It had become a ritual for her.  A painstaking search was required in any new place where she would be spending more than a week.  Every few minutes, she shifted her towel a few feet over and continued her hunt.  
After one such move, her grazing hands stopped abruptly and her eyes locked on her ring—the ring.  While she wore many rings—eight between her two hands, to be exact—only one had the ability to distract her so completely.  Like now.  Not the dog bone or the horseshoe or the thorny rose or the black bat or the cross.  Not even the skull or the death spikes.  Those rings all felt ordinary compared to the last ring—the one she wore on her left ring finger.  The four-leaf clover.  
It wasn’t the clover itself that made the ring special.  Or the four leaves, which traditionally implied luck for the bearer; rather, it was the giver of the ring that defined its value.  It was the last gift her mother had ever given her, for her birthday.  
“You’re a teenager now,” she had said.  “You’re going to need all the luck you can get.”  Taylor had laughed and given her mom a big hug.  
Ever since her mother’s unexpected death, when Taylor was only thirteen, she had forced herself to keep looking.  Searching.  To her, finding a four-leaf clover in a place was a sign.  A sign that she was meant to be there.  A sign that her mom was watching.  A sign that she had not gone astray.  A sign that her mom was proud of her.  A sign that she was not alone.
Of course, she was never really alone.  She still had her dad, her brother.  And there was always Sam, her best friend and roommate.
Since she had arrived at The University of Trinton, or UT as the students called it, two weeks earlier, she had enjoyed herself like most college freshman do, especially because classes hadn’t started.  Yet, she had never felt fully comfortable.  She was acutely aware that her lingering unease was inexplicably linked to her failed search for the Holy Grail of all clovers.  Time and time again she had plucked tiny greens from the earth; with each attempt her heart had skipped a beat, only to discover that the chosen clover had a mere three leaves.  Or, freakishly, the clover would have a fifth leaf, an atrocity of nature.  Sometimes Taylor was tempted to remove the unwanted extra appendage, thus creating the object of her desire.  But she never acted on these urges, knowing full-well that you can’t force fate.  
Now, wrenching her eyes from her cherished ring, she tried to concentrate.  Taylor was glad for the light rain; it cooled down the muggy, late summer’s day.  And it generally kept other students inside and off the lawn.  She didn’t want any distractions.  
As she focused on her task, an unwanted vision was shaken from her memory tree.  In her mind she saw her dad reprimanding her.  He had not understood why she got the tattoo.  He had been furious with her.  How could she be so immature?  Taylor truly believed that her mom would have understood why she needed the tattoo.  As long as she could remember, Taylor had had a recurring nightmare about a vicious black snake with red eyes.  Many times it was the main subject of her bad dreams—she would be trapped in a room without doors or windows, with only the snake as a companion—and other times it would unexpectedly appear in her good dreams, creating chaos from beauty.  
However, regardless of its form, the beady-eyed snake would eventually sink its razor-sharp fangs into her flesh, and then drip black blood from its mouth, causing her to wake up to cold sweats and blood-curdling screams.  So she got the tattoo when she was sixteen.  Not to be cool, or weird, or sexy; the tattoo symbolized her conquering of the snake—proof that she wasn’t scared anymore.  She still had nightmares, but now when she woke up she could cope.  Fear of the snake no longer kept her awake at night.  A six-inch, red-eyed, black snake rested on the back of her left shoulder, and was visible now because of her tank top; the serpent was maliciously cut in half by her shoulder-strap.  
Even with the evil-looking tattoo, she didn’t consider herself to be Goth—black was not the only color she wore—and she didn’t affiliate herself with any groups.  She just liked certain accessories that were considered to be Goth, or maybe Emo or Punk.  She considered her look to be The-Taylor-Look, what you see is what you get.  She didn’t wear any heavy black makeup either.  In fact, she hardly wore any makeup at all.  Her slightly-wet jeans were ripped, but not in the trendy, I-bought-them-like-that way; in her case, the tears, frays, and holes were all natural.  She also wore a bright red tank top, which coincidentally matched her red flip-flops, but seemed disjointed from the rest of her look; namely, the collection of rings, skull-and-cross-bones necklace, and tattoo.
Her choice of best friend seemed even more contrary to her look.  Samantha Collins, or Sam as her friends called her, was the typical cheerleader, prom-queen, date-the-high-school-quarterback, subject-of-a-school-boy’s-wet-dreams type of girl.  Taylor, on the other hand, hated the spotlight, dated even less frequently than she wore makeup, and had likely never been included in anyone’s dreams, girls or guys.  But somehow she and Sam just clicked.  She valued Sam’s opinion above anyone else’s, and they harbored no secrets from each other.  Sam had been Taylor’s shoulder to cry on when she lost her mom; she might not have made it through the ordeal without her.  She hoped to be able to repay her one day.
Still sifting through the grass, someone caught Taylor’s eye, in her peripheral vision.  Up to this point, only a few students had walked past her, but she had barely noticed them as they hurried along the sidewalk, clutching umbrellas like lifelines.  This one was not on the sidewalk, nor did he seem bothered by the rain; rather, umbrella-less, he had crossed over onto the grass, and appeared to be on a collision course with her.  When she looked up, what she saw startled her.  He was tall, and was wearing a tight, white t-shirt, which clung to his skin from the rain.  He was muscular, but not in a meathead kind of way.  More like in an athletic, Hermes-messenger-of-the-gods kind of way.  With sandy blond hair and a handsome broad face with a strong chin, he might have been a Swedish celebrity that just landed on a plane from Europe.  She searched his eyes for color, and found it eventually—a thin ring of blue circled his exceptionally large, black pupils.  At first glance, his eyes looked only black.  But his well-toned physique, movie star good looks, and black-looking eyes were not what had captured Taylor’s attention; instead, it was the strange glow that seemed to resonate from his body: his legs, his arms, his chest.  Even his head was emanating light.  Almost like a glow worm.  
He approached.  
“Have we met before?” he asked directly.
Taylor stared at flashlight-boy like he was an alien who had just passed through a black hole, complete with three heads, slimy tentacles, and at least fourteen eyes.  “Not in this lifetime,” she replied.
“Well, I’ve definitely seen you around campus.”
“Congratulations.”  She said it sarcastically, but felt a flutter in her stomach at the thought of being noticed by the radioactive stud that stood before her.  
“I’m Gabriel.  Gabriel Knight.”  He extended a hand.
She took it and squeezed hard when she shook.  It was something her mom had taught her.  Women are not expected to have a firm handshake, she used to say.  Be different.  Despite her efforts to get a reaction from him, he just grinned at her.  His grip was even firmer, like iron.  Eventually she released his hand.
“I’m Taylor,” she said.  “Taylor Kingston.”  She mimicked his introduction, like a parrot.
“Nice to meet you, Taylor.  What are you doing out here…by yourself…in the rain?”
She almost blurted it out, but managed to shut her mouth before her flapping gums betrayed her.  Recovering, she said, “Just enjoying the day.  But I’m not here by myself, you’re here aren’t you?  And I would hardly call this rain.”
He grinned.  “You’re unusual.”
“Now that’s a line you might want to work on.”
Still grinning, he said, “It wasn’t a line, just an observation.”
“Anyway…” Taylor said, trying to end the conversation.
“Ah, I see that I’ve overstayed my welcome,” Gabriel replied.  
Taylor noticed his eyes growing blacker, as if the faint ring of blue was being devoured by his widening black pupils.  He looked down at the wet grass, scanning it like a security camera detecting an intruder.  Reaching down, he plucked something from the earth.  “Wow, a four-leaf clover,” he said.  “I don’t think I’ve ever found one of those before.  It’s supposed to be lucky.”  
Taylor’s eyes widened as he handed it to her.  She checked it.  One, two, three, four:  it was the genuine article, and the object of her futile search.  She tried to hand it back to him, but Gabriel stopped her.  “Consider it a gift…to match your ring.”  Shrugging his shoulders, he turned before she could reply.  Over his shoulder he said, “See you around, Taylor.”
“Bye,” she murmured, watching the glow worm walk away from her.  When he crossed over onto the sidewalk, she finally turned her attention back to the tiny bit of greenery in her hand.  She had found it.  Well, technically Gabriel had found it, but she would have found it eventually.  For a moment, a sense of peace washed over her and seemed to enter her body through her skin.  As if by osmosis, her mother’s undying influence flowed through each and every pore, and then into her bones, her organs, her mind, her soul.  But as rapidly as it had arrived, the sense of peace vanished, and was replaced by a sense of dread, of foreboding.  How had Gabriel known what she was looking for?  And how had he found the clover so fast?  His eyes had been much further from the ground than hers.  
Suddenly, his image flashed back into her mind and a lost memory was unchained.  Like a wine bottle that had at long last been uncorked after an aging slumber, the memory of the nightmare was opened to her.  It was as if her mind had been trying to protect her, locking the memory in a vault and throwing away the key, only to thrust it back into the open now.  Two weeks ago.  The two Beings: one dark and one light.  The black snake.  While the snake had appeared in many of her dreams, never had it been accompanied by the two Beings that had assaulted her.  She remembered what she had felt that night: 
Fear.  She had awakened from the nightmare in a cold sweat, issuing a terrified scream that could have startled the dead from their resting places.  As she had started to separate the horrific dream from reality, her heart rate had finally slowed from an accelerated 150 beats per minute to just under 100; however, her chest had continued to heave with short and choking breaths.  Wide-eyed, she had looked out the window into the darkness, half-expecting to see the two foreign Beings standing in the backyard.  When she had checked the blue digital numbers on her iHome alarm clock, she had noted it was only 2:39 in the morning.
Normally, she slept on her back, like a vampire, with her arms directly at her side, her head lolled to one side or the other, but that night she had found herself curled into the fetal position, all balled up in a cocoon of blankets.
She had heard frantic footsteps in the hallway and her door had swung open.  
“What happened?  Are you alright?  Are you hurt?” her father had questioned in one breath.
She had been unsure of which question to respond to first, but had managed to squeak out, “I think so…,” which had caused her dad to rush to her side in a panic.
“You think you’re hurt?  Where are you hurt?”  
“No, I’m not hurt, Eddie.  I was responding to the middle question of, ‘Are you alright?’ which I think I am.  It was just a bad dream.”  
“Are you sure?  It sounded like you were being tortured in here,” he had replied.  His forehead had been crinkled in concern for her well-being.  He had looked older than usual.  
“Yes, yes, I’m fine.  I promise, Dad.  Can I please just go back to sleep?  I want to get enough rest for my first day at college.”  
His face had finally relaxed and he had said, “Okay, no problem.  I love you.”
As he turned to pass through the door, she had said, “You know, starting tomorrow you won’t be around to worry about me every time I have a nightmare.”
Before closing the door, he had smiled and said, “But for tonight, you are still my little princess.”
Taylor couldn’t help but to smile.  “I love you too, Dad,” she had said.  
For the rest of that night, she had tried to turn her mind off, but sleep continued to elude her, as the blurry visions from the dream continued to flash through her mind.  She had wondered: who were the Beings and, more importantly, what were they?  And did one of them really want to kill her?  If so, which one?  Although they were both beautiful, it had to be the dark one.  Dark signified evil and light signified good.  At least that’s what she was always taught in Sunday school.  Or did they both want to kill her?  She had racked her memory, trying to picture which one had given her the water and which had given her the sand.  
As light began to appear across the horizon, she had finally drifted off to sleep from sheer exhaustion.  
Taylor sighed as the vision ended and her mind began to clear.  Until now, she had managed to ignore her fear from that night, chalking it up as an anomaly, possibly due to something she had eaten—Sloppy Joe’s always did weird things to her.  But now she was scared again.  The boy, Gabriel Knight, reminded her of one of the Beings in her dream: the one with the subtle glow around his body.    
She looked at her hand, the one that held the four-leaf clover.  Gabriel’s gift.  Without realizing it, she had plucked the four leaves from the stem, leaving it leafless, naked.  She had desecrated it, destroying any luck that it might provide.  Her fingers were rigid and curled, claw-like even.  They looked deformed.  She shuddered, finally feeling the effect of the cold, damp clothing on her skin, as the skeins of rain continued to assault her.  


Chapter Three: Angel Evolution


Gabriel Knight still had an amused grin on his face.  He was smooth.  It wouldn’t be long before he had her eating out of his hand, figuratively speaking.  The trick with the four-leaf clover was genius.  Of course, he had already known what she was looking for.  He knew almost everything about her.  Because he was thorough.  That’s why he had been given the assignment.  He was a rising star and the girl was an easy target.  He would not fail.
He flipped open his phone and called the number.  A cold voice said, “Yes?”
“First contact made.  No complications.  It won’t be long.”  His report was direct, his sentences clipped.  The key was to only give the facts.
The hard voice replied, “Good.  I knew you were the right one for the job.  Do not fail me, Gabriel.  Get the girl.  Report after your next contact.”
“Yes, my lord.”
He ended the call.  
He smiled again.  His first contact with the girl had been far more interesting that he had expected it to be.  He had meant what he had said about her being unusual.  Although to her it had probably been a strange remark, he had meant it as a compliment.  Unusual-weird was bad, but she was unusual-interesting, unusual-unique, unusual-quirky.  That was good.  He suspected that he would quite enjoy this mission.  It might even be regrettable to him if it all ended with her death, which was very likely under the circumstances.  


Chapter Four: Angel Evolution


Taylor had half-walked, half-jogged back to the dorms.  She would have run, but wearing flip-flops made it difficult, especially on the sidewalks, which were still slick with rain.  When she arrived back at Shyloh Hall, the all-girl freshman dormitory that she had been assigned to, she took the stairs to the seventh floor.  The elevator was hit-or-miss—sometimes arriving in one minute, and other times not coming at all—and she was anxious to get back to her room.
Out of breath, she opened the door to room 715.  Samantha was lying on her bed, flipping through a fashion magazine.  Despite being dressed down by her standards—wearing only blue cotton shorts and a white tank-top—Sam still looked stunning.  She had probably just come back from the gym, part of her daily routine.  In Taylor’s mind, Sam was beautiful in all of the ways that guys liked.  She had long legs and good curves, blond hair that always seemed to fall just the right way, and a dazzling smile with perfectly straight, white teeth.  She usually jumped from boyfriend to boyfriend in high school, and Taylor expected college to be the same.  Taylor didn’t mind it though; she preferred to have someone else to take the attention away from her.
Taylor did not think of herself as pretty.  When she looked in the mirror, she saw a very average girl with straight brown hair, mild brown eyes and a rather crooked smile.  Her dating experience was virtually nil, but she liked it that way.  She was comfortable in her own skin and liked building friendships with girls and guys without the pressure of flirting.  
“Oh, hi, Tay,” Sam said.  “Where have you been?”
“You know, the usual.”
“Still trying to find that clover?”
“Yeah.”  Taylor considered whether to tell Sam about her conversation with Gabriel, but decided against it for now.  She hated keeping secrets from her, but there really wasn’t much to tell.
“You’ll find it, don’t worry.”  Sam stood up.  “I hope you don’t mind, I finally finished unpacking and had to borrow some of your closet space.  It will only be temporary, I promise.”
Taylor shrugged her shoulders.  She had never quite understood Sam’s need to wear a different outfit every day of the year, or even every day of the month, for that matter.  If she could find clothes that were clean and relatively unwrinkled, Taylor was happy.  
Sam, on the other hand, liked to dress based on whatever the current fad was, and would quite often give her new clothes to her younger sister after only wearing them for a few months, if at all.  “Out with the old and in with the new,” Sam liked to say.  Sam didn’t come from a wealthy family, but had worked through high school to fund her shopping habit.
“Also, while you were gone, I made a few more friends on our floor.  I’ll introduce you.”
Taylor smiled, happy that she was rooming with “Social Sam,” as she jokingly called her sometimes.  Taylor liked being social and liked having friends, but didn’t particularly like having to go out and make them.  Samantha eliminated that need, as she had an uncanny ability to make friends and was happy to introduce them to Taylor.  In a non-English speaking foreign country, with a bunch of kids at a daycare, at an adult dinner party:  Sam could make friends anywhere.  
“Okay,” Taylor replied.
“Great.”  Sam tried to grab her hand but she managed to slide it away.  Sam chuckled—she was fully aware that Taylor wasn’t into that kind of thing.  Taylor followed Sam to room 714, which was immediately next to their own room.  The door was open and Sam walked in without knocking.  
“Marla, I’ve got someone for you to…,” she started to say and then stopped, realizing she was intruding.  “Oh, I’m sorry, I should have knocked.”
Taylor peeked around Sam and saw a tiny, sprite of a girl with her arms wrapped around a guy, clearly having been interrupted from a serious make out session.
“No, don’t even worry about it,” the girl said, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment.  “Boyfriend is my Jennings from high school…I mean, Jennings is my boyfriend.  We should’ve closed the door, but one thing led to another…” she managed to stammer.
“Hi, I’m Jennings.”  The tall, skinny, freckle-faced boy with glasses extended his hand in greeting.  
Sam said, “I’m Sam and this is my best friend from high school, Tay…I mean, Taylor.”
“Nice to meet you.  Where are you guys from?” Taylor asked.
“We actually grew up here, in Collegetown,” Jennings replied.  
Marla was still rather flushed and seemed incapable of speaking.  Taylor could tell right away that she would like these two.  They seemed normal, like her.  
As usual, Sam filled the void in the conversation.  “Has your roommate arrived yet, Marla?”
Marla found her voice.  “Not yet, but when I spoke to her over the summer, she said she wouldn’t arrive until just before classes started, so I’m not expecting her.”
“Did she seem nice?” Taylor asked.
“I think so, but she also seemed a bit strange.  She confirmed about three times that we were in room 714 in Shyloh Hall.”  Marla frowned as she said this, clearly concerned that she might be the one stuck with an oddball roommate for the year.  
“Well, you can always request a transfer if you don’t get along with her, and then we can apply for a triple room for next year,” Sam said.
Marla’s face brightened at the prospect, and she exclaimed, “That sounds perfect!”
Jennings laughed.  “Geez, Marla, we’ve barely been here two weeks and you’re already plotting to remove your ‘evil’ roommate who you haven’t even met yet, and replace her with two girls who we just met, no offense to either of you.  You should meet my roommate, now he is an odd duck.  I haven’t seen him leave the room yet and every time I come in, the lights are off and he’s shouting commands into his head set.  I think he actually believes that he’s the general of an army, and not just playing a virtual reality video game.  I assume that he’ll leave to pee and shower and such, but he has enough packs of instant noodles to feed him for the entire semester.”
Taylor laughed.  She was starting to like this pair.  She said, “Sounds like my type of guy.  Low maintenance.”
“I’ll introduce you,” Jennings joked.
“What are you guys up to tonight?” Sam asked.
Marla shrugged.  “We don’t really have any plans.”
“Should we go have dinner in the Commons?”  The Commons, or the Common Area, was the central portion of the dormitories, where students would gather to eat, watch TV, shop, and shoot pool, among other things.  
“Yeah, let’s go.  I could eat three horses as just an appetizer,” Taylor said.
Marla and Jennings agreed to go too and, due to another elevator malfunction, they were forced to trudge down seven flights of stairs.  Upon reaching the ground floor, they headed towards the Commons.  As they walked, Marla and Jennings held hands quietly, while Sam kept up a running chatter in Taylor’s ear as they passed various freshman boys.  “He was cute, don’t you think?” or “Wow, he was hot, right?” were her typical comments.  
Taylor tried to tune her out and replied with, “Mmmm,” or “Yeah, Sam,” while she escaped into her own thoughts.  Despite having friends with her, Taylor was unable to shake the feeling of unease from her unexpected meeting with Gabriel.  Gabriel Knight, she thought.  Who the hell was this guy?  Taylor tended to be a good judge of character and something about Gabriel rubbed her the wrong way, like an itchy hive.  Perhaps it was the confident way he had approached her, but that certainly wasn’t uncommon for testosterone-filled freshman guys.  He had called her unusual, but that didn’t really bother her either.  Despite her sarcastic reply, she had thought it sounded more like a compliment than an insult.  More likely, her unease was due to him giving her the four-leaf clover, as if he could read her thoughts, coupled with his subtle glow and black eyes.  She had to admit, the intensity with which the memory of her nightmare had assaulted the synapses in her brain after meeting him had unnerved her.
Growing up, her mom used to tell her that she had a good gut.  Taylor always laughed when she said this.  She thought her gut was pretty much the same as anyone else’s.  It wasn’t until she got older, after her mom had passed on, that she began to understand what her mother had meant.  Taylor was acutely aware of a vague sixth sense that she possessed.  Unlike her other senses, she seemed to have very little control over this one.  Instead of being able to access her ability when needed, it appeared whenever and wherever it wanted to.  
She had tried to explain it to Sam, but she just thought Taylor had good instincts.  Taylor believed it was something more, something her mom was aware of and maybe possessed too.  Her dreams and even her nightmares felt like they had hidden meanings, if only she could connect the dots.  She also had feelings sometimes, and usually they turned out to be right.  Like when a person was lying to her, or when someone meant her harm.  Whatever it was—a good gut, a sixth-sense, or just good instincts—Taylor had learned to trust her feelings.  And right now her gut was telling her to watch out for Gabriel Knight.  
Throughout dinner, her fears continued to dominate her thoughts.  She knew she wasn’t making a very good impression on Marla and Jennings, but she couldn’t seem to concentrate on the conversation.  Luckily, Sam was there to pick up the slack.  When they were finished eating, Sam suggested they go shoot some pool, but everyone declined; Marla and Jennings were heading to a movie and Taylor wanted to relax a bit.  
Sam headed to the pool hall alone, but Taylor didn’t feel bad about it.  She would probably make ten new friends before the night was over.  Taylor walked back to the dorm alone and climbed the stairs to her room.
She lay on her bed for hours, staring at the ceiling.  Trying to work….something out.  At times it felt like the answer was right in front of her eyes and yet impossible to see.  
At around ten, she turned off the lights and tried to sleep.  A shiver shook her spine, but she wasn’t cold.  Her sixth sense, maybe.  She felt apprehensive, threatened.  Like someone was watching her, plotting her demise.  She sat up and looked out the window into the darkness.  There was no one there.  Her window overlooked a massive parking lot.  The closest building was half-a-mile away.  Someone would need high-powered binoculars to spy on her from there.  Maybe my gut isn’t as reliable as mom believed, she thought.  


Chapter Five: Angel Evolution


Gabriel watched her from across the parking lot.  Even from this distance he could see her every feature.  She was quite pretty.  Much prettier in person than in the picture.  He hadn’t expected this.  But he wasn’t complaining, as it would make his job much more enjoyable.  He also hadn’t expected the tattoo.  While he was aware from his research that she had nightmares about snakes, he would never have thought she would announce it to the world on her skin.  She was interesting.  And unusual.  But none of that changed anything.  
His instructions had been clear: do whatever it takes to bring the girl in.  His first idea was also the easiest one:  seduction.  Using his good looks and charm, he would get the girl to fall for him.  Then he would bring her in.  He had even decided on his technique:  honesty, in a manner of speaking.  He certainly wouldn’t tell her everything; rather, he would tell her just enough to capture her attention.  He would definitely get her attention, he thought.
In this game, boldness would be rewarded.  He needed to keep his eye on the prize.  He could singlehandedly win the War for his people.  His actions could change the course of history forever.  
But he needed to be cautious, too.  He was not the only player in this dangerous game.  The dark one would try to stop him.  He had already spotted him on campus, watching, waiting.  For him to make a false move.  But he wouldn’t.  This was his destiny.  Secure the girl.  Bring her in.  Game over.

 
The saga continues in Chapter Six of Angel Evolution by David Estes.  Discover other books by David Estes available through the author’s official website:
http://davidestes100.blogspot.com
or through select online retailers.

The Evolution Trilogy by David Estes:
Book One—Angel Evolution
Book Two—Demon Evolution
Book Three—Archangel Evolution

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Meeting Destiny
(Destiny #1)

Nancy Straight


Chapter One: Meeting Destiny


Seth stopped by to get a salad halfway through my shift – it’s one of the only things he’ll eat from the menu.  “I’m hitting the library.  You need a ride home tonight?”
I shook my head, “No, I’ll catch a ride with Melissa.  Call me later?”
“Sure, but it’ll be late.”  He leaned across the counter, “I miss you already.”  He’s the sappy romantic type.  Seth and I have lived next door to one another our whole lives, our moms were best friends in high school, and we’ve been dating, I guess, since middle school. As I watched Seth make his way to the parking lot, I saw someone coming through the door who made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.  
I watched the man closely, not paying attention to the order monitor or anything Melissa said.  He must have felt me staring at him because he caught my gaze for a second.  Neither of us moved.  He stood two steps inside the doorway as if arguing with himself whether he wanted to be here.
The man had bushy brown hair that looked as though it hadn’t seen a comb in days and likely not any kind of shampoo in weeks.  His hair lay in all different directions.  It looked dark brown, but I couldn’t tell if that was really the color or the grease from neglect.  His face looked like leather, covered in stubble, with deep crevices from the sun.  He had a slender build, his cheeks were sunk in; he was tall, easily five eleven, maybe an inch or two taller.    
His clothes were a mess.  He was wearing a dirty white t-shirt hidden under a thick green winter coat.  The coat looked like the old Army jackets from the sixties with a large silver zipper.  The coat’s length hung well over his thighs.  It was unzipped and hung over blue jeans that were too long and too big for his frame; maybe at one time they fit his waist, but that was at least twenty pounds ago.  His appearance made me think of a homeless person, maybe an addict whose addictions had shrunk his body, maybe a vagrant happy to find a decent pair of jeans from Goodwill.  
His appearance didn’t disturb me nearly as much as his expression.  It was as if he were looking through the people, like the people in the restaurant didn’t actually exist.  The hair on my arms joined the hair on the back of my neck, all at attention.  I felt an uneasiness I’d never felt before.  I don’t know how I knew, but I knew this man was trouble.  
I scanned the room and saw several tables had opened up.  It looked like there were maybe twenty customers, not nearly as many as just fifteen minutes ago.  All seemed to be oblivious to this newcomer.
“Lauren!”  The voice caught me off guard and quickly brought me back to reality. Melissa looked frustrated with me. “I need four fries and two cheeseburgers.” From her stare, she must have had to repeat herself.  I watched as the customer wearing the green coat moved from the door to her line.  I put the fries and cheeseburgers on the tray and pretended to be looking up at the order monitor.  
Embarrassed, I managed, “Sorry, I must have been daydreaming for a second.”  
Only two orders were in line.  A woman in her late thirties who looked like she had just left an office, had her four-year-old son in tow.  The four-year-old was babbling as if he’d not been able to talk all day.  I only vaguely heard his questions, “Mommy, can I have a toy? Can I have a boy toy?  I don’t like the girl toys.  Remember when I got a doll?  I want French fries.  Can I have chicken? Mommy…”   
The green jacket guy was bad news, and I knew I had to get Melissa away from the counter, even if only for five minutes.  
Before the exhausted mom could place her order, I tapped Melissa on the shoulder. “Hey, Wanda wants you to go inventory the freezer.”  I am a horrible liar and anyone who knows me well can see through me immediately.  I made a conscious effort not to make eye contact with her.  I told myself I just needed her out of the way until the green jacket guy left.      
“No way, I didn’t bring a coat.  I’m not doing the inventory.” She blasted this louder than I had expected, and I winced, turning around to see if Wanda had heard the exchange.  Wanda was assisting the drive-through and luckily paid no attention to the two of us.  “Besides, I did it last week and did a miscount - too many beef patties on this week’s shipment.  Wanda told me not to do the inventory alone again - ever.”  
I needed to make this sound good, so with as forceful a voice as I could muster, I looked straight into her eyes. “Look Melissa, I’ve got plans tonight and can’t work late.  You can’t handle the front by yourself.  If we’re going to get out on time you have to figure out how to do basic math!”  My angry voice devastated my upbeat friend, and the hurt on her face was as clear as if it had been written in marker.  “Just go.”   
Stepping to the register, I put my back to Melissa, betting she would depart without any argument.  I took the order for the mom and son while watching every move from the man in the green jacket.  He was looking around wildly at each of the exits, over his shoulder, through the windows; I did my best not to catch his eye again.  Rather than piecing their order together and going on to the man in the green jacket, I waited for their order to be complete.  
I took a deep breath and told myself I was overreacting.  He didn’t force his way to the front of the line.  If he were really dangerous, he wouldn’t have acted like a normal customer.  It’s not like I haven’t served people who were poorly dressed and in need of better hygiene.  I tried to tell myself that he was just a hungry man in need of a shower.  
No, if anything, I have learned to trust my instincts, and every fiber of my being told me this guy was bad news.
As I got the exhausted mom’s to-go order, I was thankful that she was as anxious to leave the restaurant as I was for her to get away from the man standing two feet behind her.   Her son continued with an endless string of questions, although I believed she was tuning him out as well as I was.  The working mom thanked me and walked straight to the nearest exit.  
My stomach felt like I had eaten a rock - or maybe a whole box of them.  The ache from my stomach now joined the tiny hairs on my neck and arms that hadn’t relaxed since this stranger walked through the door.  My heart started racing so fast that I could actually feel my pulse through my skin.    
With as cheerful a voice and smile as I could produce, I finally looked at the man and asked, “May I take your order?”  This was the first time I had made eye contact with him since he first stepped through the door.  
His hands were in the pockets of his jacket.  He broke eye contact and looked at the menu behind me.  In a hushed voice, he whispered, “I sure am hungry.”  
Rather than a smart response like, “Well duh, this is a restaurant,” I waited patiently, looking at him with what I knew was a pleasant look on my face.    
My heart refused to slow down.  “Take your time,” I answered as casually as I could. I looked down at the register, thinking that too much eye contact might agitate him.  I realized that by now Melissa was safely in the freezer, probably pissed, but at least she was safe.  I told myself that five minutes after this guy left, I would go back and apologize to her and explain that I’m really a lunatic instead of a jerk.  
“I know what I want,” his voice boomed.  I looked back at him; before my eyes reached his, they stopped at his waist where I could see he had a gun.  I stared at it as he slid it back into his pocket.  I was thankful that he was not trying to frighten the rest of the customers in the restaurant.  Knowing the potential horrific outcome, I was relieved that it was just he and I who were aware of his gun.  Unfortunately, he was the only one aware of his intentions.    
I kept my eyes trained on his pocket.  Without looking back to his face, I asked, “What can I get for you, sir?”  My voice didn’t crack, and I gave no indication of the fear that enveloped me.  I believe my reaction, or lack thereof, might have surprised him a little.  
He paused, eying me carefully before he demanded, “I’d like some food and any cash you have in that drawer.” I could see he was pointing his gun through the pocket of his jacket as he motioned to the cash register.  
I finally broke my gaze from his jacket.  I remained as calm as I could, “Okay sir, let me get your order.”  Not wanting to take a chance at him staying here one second longer than he needed to, I grabbed a smorgasbord of food from the counter.  Chicken sandwiches, fish sandwiches, double cheeseburgers, hamburgers, fries and onion rings.  I grabbed a handful of all the condiments in the bin and put it all in our largest to-go bag.  
I moved to the register and prepared to hit the cash sale button when I heard that same high-pitched voice that I was certain had just left the restaurant.
“Hey!  I didn’t want a girl toy.  I’m a boy.”  The child was notably upset, but I didn’t take my eyes off the man with the gun.  I reached under the counter to get the boy a new toy.  My fingers struggled to find the large toy box without the aid of my eyes showing them the way.  I grabbed a handful of them and passed at least five to the boy without even looking at him.
The man with the gun was infuriated.  In a thundering voice, he shouted, “What the hell are you doing? You’re ignoring me to give this little brat a toy?”  His voice was fierce, and the look he had for me was vicious.    
Quietly and only to the man, “It’ll only take a second.”  The toys were already in the boy’s hands, “and he’ll get out of the way.”  The man’s uproar caught the attention of several of the customers, as well as Wanda, the manager on duty.  I knew if Wanda saw anything she didn’t like, she would be at my side in the blink of an eye.  
I didn’t break eye contact with the man and made my body language as relaxed as possible.  In the most cheerful tone I could project, “I’ve almost finished your order.”  I wondered to myself if it sounded too strained? I was sure it did.  I willed in my mind for Wanda to stay where she was.  
Wanda must have heard what I had just told the man, but thankfully she didn’t come to my assistance.  I knew she was watching closely, but at least she was watching from a distance.  I didn’t dare turn around to see.
“I want a robot.  I already have all the cars.  Can I have the blue robot?  My dog chewed up my other one and I really liked it.  It was my favorite.”  I felt his hopeful smile beaming at me. 
His mother appeared behind him, “Frank, don’t be so demanding; she doesn’t have a blue robot and she’s very generous to give you so many toys.  What do you say to her?” She smiled at me, oblivious of the danger in a green jacket.  
The little voice responded, “But I already have all these.  I want a blue robot.”  The sweet expression that was there a second ago evaporated.  
Without breaking the gaze of the gunman, I answered the boy, “I’m sorry.  That’s all we have.  Have a good night.” 
The child stomped his foot and screeched, “But I already have all these!”  
His mother was obviously accustomed to his tantrums and did her best to get him away from the counter without a full-blown melt down.  She called, “Goodbye Frank, I’m leaving” and started walking to the door.  The child erupted with tears, screamed and threw his body at the counter.  
My attention never left the gunman; I saw him rotate his body toward the child, the gun drawn.  The fury on his face was evident.  I didn’t think.  I just reacted.  I leaped over the counter between the furious gunman and the unruly child.  
It sounded like a door slammed.  The noise must have rattled the gunman as I watched the fury on his face melt into sudden fear.  When I first got over the counter, I wasn’t able to stand upright immediately.  I’ve never been all that graceful, and leaping over a counter made me a little woozy.  I could see the confusion on his face as my body was clearly protecting the child.  I used as authoritative a voice as possible.  “Leave the boy alone.  I’ll give you what you want.  You don’t need to use the gun.” He looked at the child on the other side of my body, but then returned his wild gaze to me.      
The gunman opened his mouth, but nothing came out.  His eyes were wide with fright.  I wasn’t sure, but guessed in that second my sudden movement across the counter must have been more graceful than I realized.  I must have thrown him off guard.  “You can put your gun away; I’ll give you the cash, just don’t hurt anyone.”  My voice was forceful, and I realized instead of moving away from him, I was actually leaning into him as my volume increased.  
All the fear and anxiety I had felt disappeared.  It was replaced by a new wave of confidence.  I knew it was likely short-lived and probably a byproduct of all the adrenaline I had pulsing through my bloodstream.  My only priority was the safety of the people in the restaurant; I considered moving toward the cash register, but believed that might be too offensive of an act.  It was bad enough that I was leaning toward him, no sense giving him the indication that I was going to tackle him.  
Much to my surprise, he put the gun back in his pocket and turned away from me.  I was vaguely aware of the customers diving to the floor, trying to locate whatever protection a table might give them.  I heard several screams, but they seemed so distant.  The man grabbed the bag of food from the counter, and in one smooth motion, he rotated his back to me and was out the door in seconds.  
Frank’s mother had been at the opposite door from the one the robber had just run through.  When I looked at her again, she was standing behind me, screaming.  Why would she scream after the man left?  I didn’t believe anyone had even paid attention to the man but me; hearing her screaming after the fact was just plain weird.  
Wanda ran from behind the counter, phone in hand as she ran to the door he had just bolted through.  She reached for the deadbolt latch and turned it.  She grabbed her keys from her pocket and locked a second lock into the floor, nervously jerking it into position.  Then she pulled the wire mesh from the ceiling down to the floor, and locked it the way we would if we were closing the restaurant.  
She sprinted past me, pushing the screaming mother out of the way.  Wanda nearly yelled into the phone, “There’s been a robbery at Tasty Burger, 1545 North Main Street.  Send the paramedics.”  
She was obviously not thinking clearly.  She had asked for paramedics when she should have asked for the police.  As I thought about it, the paramedics were a good idea; the child’s mother was still screaming with loud sobs behind me.  She must have gone into shock or something.  
I was in awe of Wanda.  How did she know to react so quickly?  The police must show up automatically for a robbery.  They’ll think this is a waste of time when they find out the robber only got away with $30 worth of food and condiments.  The thought of explaining what happened to the police made me laugh – not many folks get held up for cheeseburgers.    
I realized that Melissa was still in the freezer, and I needed to go tell her what happened.  I started to go around the counter as Wanda finished locking the second door the same as she did the first.  This whole effort of locking deadbolts and engaging the high security doors took less than forty-five seconds.   I’d never seen Wanda move so fast.  I caught Wanda’s eyes as she was walking to me and told her as quietly as I could, “I’ve got to get Melissa out of the freezer.”  Wanda grabbed my arm to stop me.
“Let’s get you to a booth and elevate your leg.”  
Confusion must have spread across my face as I stared at her, “My leg?”  
Wanda very gently picked me up, my head and shoulders resting on one arm and my legs draped over her other arm.   Wanda was wicked strong.  How had I never noticed before?  
I didn’t understand why she was carrying me to a booth.  I looked at my leg, and all I saw was crimson.  Still confused, I looked over my shoulder for a broken ketchup bottle that I must have knocked over.  Then the realization hit me; that crimson was warm and wet on my leg.  It was my own blood.  


Chapter Two: Meeting Destiny


The next seven minutes were a little blurry.  Wanda put me in a booth and held a dishtowel over my leg, which was doing little to deter the steady pulsing of blood from my thigh.  I had never been afraid of blood but have to confess that this much blood was disturbing.  
I looked away from Wanda’s face and could see about twenty others staring down at me.  I found Wanda’s face again and asked simply, “Melissa?”
“Lauren, it’s fine.  Rob already got her.  She’s right here.”  I felt someone squeeze my hand hard and looked over to see Melissa.  
Melissa asked, “What were you thinking?”
“I dunno, it seemed like a good idea at the time.  I got a weird vibe from the guy when he walked in.  I wanted to keep you away from him.”  Her face was difficult to read.  I couldn’t tell if she was angry or shocked.  
“Like that guy that brought me flowers and you knew he was married?” The man she was asking about had been a regular customer and flirted with Melissa every time he came in.  It seemed harmless initially.  When he brought her flowers and wanted to take her to a movie, I knew I had to say something.  I had a feeling about him, that something wasn’t right, and warned her ahead of time.  She’d never asked me how I knew, I just knew.  I hadn’t given it much thought since.
“Yeah, like that.”   
She mumbled something I couldn’t understand.  
I felt the pressure on my leg change and saw that Rob was pressing the blood soaked dishtowel to my leg, smiling a weird half smile.  Very uncharacteristic.  He’s the most charismatic person on our team, and I had never seen him smile without his pearly teeth beaming through.  “The police and paramedics are here.  Wanda’s opening the door for them.  You’re going to be fine.”  His reassurance didn’t sound that confident.  
I smiled back at him.  I was concerned about the amount of blood I saw.  I could feel my pants were soaked.  I wasn’t in any real pain, but a little self-conscious with all the eyes staring at me.  “Anything to get out of filling napkin holders, right?”  
Rob’s half smile turned whole and his typical jovial self responded, “Next time you don’t want to fill napkin holders, just say something.  I’d much rather do those than have you get shot and me stuck here keeping you from bleeding to death.”   
“Cool, will you do the salt and pepper shakers, too, or do I have to get knifed to get out of that?” Full blown laughter erupted from all sides.
“Lauren, you’re crazy.  I love you, girlfriend.  Looks like the white horsemen are here.  You be safe.”  He didn’t loosen his pressure on my leg, but he got out of the way so the paramedics could get closer.
An older, blue shirted paramedic leaned over me and lifted the blood soaked dishtowel.  “Hi, what’s your name?”   The lack of pressure over my leg encouraged the pain, that I hadn’t felt a second ago, to spread.  I was thankful that he only looked at the wound briefly, then pressed hard with the towel again.
“Lauren,” I responded flatly. 
“Do you know what happened to you?”  His tone wasn’t urgent.  It was what you would expect from a doctor doing a routine physical.
“Well, not to state the obvious, but some lunatic shot me by mistake.  He was aiming at a kid ticked off about a toy.”  I paused for a second, “I didn’t know I got shot right away.”
He didn’t register any excitement at this revelation, and, in the same monotone voice asked, “Lauren, does your leg hurt?”
“No, not really.  It feels hot, but it doesn’t hurt.  Is that strange?”  It didn’t really occur to me to be worried that it didn’t hurt, but as I lay there, I started to get concerned for the first time.  My mind started doing cartwheels; even paper cuts hurt, why doesn’t this gun shot?  What’s wrong with me?  Am I dying?
The paramedic didn’t answer me.  I asked again, “Is it weird that it doesn’t hurt?  It should hurt, right?”  I could hear I sounded freaked.
“Lauren, I need to finish examining you.  You’ll be fine.  I need you to remain calm.  You may be going into shock.  You are obviously lucid, you’re aware of your environment, and you have feeling in your leg.  Be thankful that the pain hasn’t hit you yet.” His voice was the same monotone but had a soothing tinge this time.  
I took a deep breath and was as cooperative as possible.  I could feel them wrapping something tightly over my wound, checking my heart rate, then I heard the second paramedic say, “Okay, let’s get her on the gurney and into the bus.  Saint Joe’s is ready for her; Doc Gracie’s on tonight.”  His voice was a bit deeper than the first paramedic’s and was filled with real concern.  
The second paramedic turned, and I saw his face for the first time.  He looked like he couldn’t have been more than a couple years older than I was.  He had dark brown hair, a warm smile with perfect teeth, and a rocking tan.  It’s difficult to describe a man this way, but he was really - beautiful.  I looked at his eyes and my heart literally stopped.  I know because I heard him say, “She’s got an irregular heartbeat, we need to go now.”  For the first time, I could hear alarm in his voice.  
They lifted me up immediately, and it felt like they were running.  Being suspended on a gurney isn’t anything I had ever experienced, and at this speed it felt a little like flying.  We were in the ambulance and the handsome paramedic was hooking me up to lots of wires while the older paramedic slammed the doors and went up front to drive.    
I looked up at the handsome paramedic’s face again.  “What’s your name?”  
“Max, Max Meyer.”  His eyes were looking directly into mine.  My heart skipped a beat again and an alarm went off in the ambulance.  He looked at the monitor.  “Lauren, do you feel any different?”  He looked directly at me instead of at the monitor, and I felt my heart beating out of control.  I shook my head no.  
He picked up a radio, in a calm and collected voice, “We’ve got an inbound, twenty-one-year-old Caucasian female, name, Lauren Davis.  Gunshot wound to the left leg:  bullet appears to be lodged in the femoral.  The patient’s vitals are unstable, she is coherent but is experiencing irregular heartbeats, significant blood loss.  Please advise.”  Max released the button on the microphone.  I heard an answer full of static, but couldn’t make out what the voice on the other side of the radio said.  Max must have understood because he responded, “Roger Saint Joe, ETA four minutes.”  
Max put his hand over mine, “Are you cold?”
Those eyes - they were a light green, just a few shades darker than sea foam with a hint of grey.  There were brown specs in the green as if a fairy put brown sparkles in to make them more dynamic.  I knew those eyes.  I couldn’t help but stare.  I took his hand and squeezed it hard, holding on as if my life depended on it.  A solitary tear rolled down my cheek.  
“Lauren, I know you can hear me.  Are you cold?” I started shaking uncontrollably.  I kept my death grip on his hand but couldn’t form a response.  
“Lauren,” he nearly shouted at me this time, no longer the kind soothing tone, now an urgent angry voice.  He reached for the microphone again.  
I stopped him with my free hand. “I’m …. not… cold…” pausing at each word through chattering teeth.  I felt an extreme case of déjà vu coming on. That’s where I’d seen his eyes!  He was in my crazy dream!!  “Max, do I look familiar to you?”  
His puzzled expression was obvious, “You look familiar to me, but I can’t place from where.” He reached for a blanket and spread it over my shaking body, then leaned back to me, now holding both my hands.  
“I know you.”  How do I explain this?  It was just a dream; there’s no way it could be real.  I couldn’t possibly tell him unless I wanted to end up in a padded cell after they removed the bullet.
He waited a moment for me to tell him how I knew him, then shook his head, “You look a little familiar, but I just moved here.”  He was trying to humor me, I could hear it.  I didn’t feel his grip on my hands loosen.  
Without thinking, I blurted out, “Will you stay with me?” 
My heartbeat fluctuated again, and his monitor blared to life.  This time he released my hands and grabbed the microphone again.  “Saint Joe, this is Bus 42, twenty-one-year-old female requires O positive, significant blood loss, irregular heartbeat, one minute out.”  Another static filled response that I couldn’t understand and Max replied, “Roger Saint Joe, 42 out.”
He continued to look at the monitors.  He had ignored my question.  “Max, will you stay with me?”  Now he looked down at me with a nervous smile.    
“I won’t be able to stay with you, but I’ll stop by after my shift in the morning and check on you.”  I nodded fervently.  I could tell he was trying to lighten my mood when he added, “Now obviously if I’m going to go to all the trouble of coming in on my own time to see you, I want you not to bleed out.  Calm yourself down, understand?”
What a strange thing to say.  Bleed out.  Was he serious? I wondered just how much blood had I lost?  I wasn’t feeling that strange, but my body was still shaking like crazy.  I had attributed it to being so close to him, the man from my dreams who introduced himself as my destiny.  Did that really happen? Maybe I had lost too much blood.  
I felt the warmth from his hands, while mine felt cold and strangely stiff.  I knew I had to say something, something that would bring him back to me.  I couldn’t be dying, right?  Could that dream have really happened?  I was not certain of anything of relevance in my life except that this guy Max was supposed to be a part of it.  I had never felt more strongly about anything or anyone.  I stared into those amazing green eyes, eyes that I had seen in my dreams.
“Max, I really want you to stay with me.  Please don’t go.  I’m not sure if you were kidding about the bleeding out thing…I just really need you, here….with me.”    
Max squeezed both my hands very hard, leaning only a few inches away from my face, “I won’t leave your side until they take you to surgery.  The doctor that’s waiting for you is awesome.  He’ll take good care of you.  I’ll be back to check on you as soon as I can.”  His eyes were so sincere, I could no longer hold back the wave of tears begging to be released.  I closed my eyes and held his hands as tight as I could, then realized I couldn’t open my eyes.  I wasn’t in the ambulance or strapped to a gurney anymore.  I was swimming in a deep sea of black.  
The dream that I had tried for years to convince myself was a fairy tale began to replay in my mind while I swam in that black sea.  I could hear his voice through my dream… “I am your destiny…I’m not a figment of your imagination…our physical paths have not yet crossed.  They will soon… we chose this life together before we were born.  We need, more than anything else in this entire world, to meet and work together so that we both may be complete…. It is imperative that we meet and join in this life…you must take this seriously…you must seek me out…You must learn and let courage be your guide.  It will lead you to me….”
I don’t know how many times this dream had replayed in my mind, thousands maybe.  Each time I experienced the dream, I was more aware that it was real.  I had finally met my destiny…Max.
Slowly, groggily, I tired of swimming in the black sea.  I could see the water lightening just above me.  I swam toward the surface of the water, away from the darkness.  Just as I was ready to break through the surface of the water and to the air above, I had to shade my eyes from the bright sun.  The sun seemed to somehow come more into focus.  I pressed my eyes firmly to keep them shut.  I could feel the light on me.
My awareness began to intensify, as I realized it was not the sun, but a bright light overhead.  I felt someone holding my hand, stroking my knuckles lightly.  I squeezed their hand back and the gentle stroking stopped.  I opened my eyes abruptly and winced from the lights.  


Chapter Three: Meeting Destiny


I heard Seth’s voice, full of concern, “Lauren! Lauren! Can you hear me?  Are you waking up?  Lauren…”  
“I’m awake,” but it came out garbled, more of a mumble than a coherent response.  
I heard Seth shout, “Nurse! Nurse, she’s awake!”  His shout made me want to cover my ears, but in my grogginess I didn’t have control of my hands.
Barely more than a whisper, but this time with words formed, “Not so loud…what are you doing here?”  I’m sure my puzzled expression was a bit insulting, but I wasn’t thinking straight…of course he’s here…but where is here?   He called for a nurse, why did he call for a nurse?  The awareness of my last few minutes at work flooded over me… I had been shot.
“It’s okay, the nurse is coming.  Are you in pain?  Do you want to sit up?  The doctor said you had lost so much blood….” His voice trailed off and was heavy with emotion.  He was talking so fast that it was difficult to understand everything he rattled off.  I tightened my grip on his hand in a gesture to assure him that I was fine.  People get shot all the time.  It’s not like the bullet was even close to my heart.   
A woman’s voice interrupted my thoughts.  “Lauren, how are you feeling?  Do you need anything for the pain?” Her tone was thoughtful, and she was waiting for a response, unlike Seth just asking one thing after the other.
She looked to be in her mid-forties with a warm smile.  “No, I feel okay.  Where am I?”  
“You are in Saint Joseph’s Hospital.  You were shot last night about seven by an armed robber.  Do you remember?”
Yes, I did remember, and thinking of the man made a shudder grab hold of my body for a second.  
“You came out of surgery several hours ago, but there were complications.  Your mother just stepped out to make some phone calls and get some coffee.  I’ll call her and let her know you are awake.  Can I get you anything?”
My throat was so dry it felt like it was on fire.  In a gravelly voice, I simply asked, “Water,” and leaned back on the bed.  The nurse pushed a button to incline the bed enough so that I could drink without spilling all over myself.  I looked for a clock but didn’t see one.  I lifted my left arm but my watch wasn’t there.  I looked at Seth, really seeing him for the first time clearly since I had awakened.  He was the guy all the girls noticed, piercing ice blue eyes, shortly cropped blonde hair, a lean-toned frame, 6’ 2” and as gentle a man as I’ve ever known.  “What time is it?” 
“A little before five a.m.” He seemed so distraught.  
I squeezed his hand again, trying to reassure him that I was fine.  
“Lauren, I thought I’d lost you.  I got here after you were already in surgery.  A nurse took Molly and me to a waiting room.  Your heart stopped; more than once they used paddles on you to get your heart going again.  The surgeon came to talk to us afterwards.  He was so…” the emotion again overwhelming his voice, “doubtful after your surgery…you had lost so much blood, your heart had stopped in the ambulance, and they couldn’t stop the bleeding in your leg, and they couldn’t get enough blood into you.  I’ve never been so scared in my whole life…Lauren, I promise I’ll never take you for granted again, never.  I love you.”  
Seth looked away toward the window as if he had to collect his thoughts before he could go on.  Knowing Seth like I do, he was trying to shield me from the pain that was evident on his face.  In barely more than a whisper he added, “Thanks for not leaving me.”  
I found myself patting Seth’s back, telling him I was fine, not to worry.  His emotion was powerful and his pain overwhelmed me.  We had been close to each other our whole lives, but I’d never known until this moment just what I meant to him.  It was thrilling to know that he cared so deeply for me.  He had told me he loved me millions of times, but never like that, never so convincingly.  
“I love you too, Seth.  I promise I’m fine.”  I cast a reassuring smile, and he took my face in both his hands.  His salty tears dripped on my neck.  
“When your heart stopped the second time tonight, I was sure my life was over…you gave me my life back.  You will never know how much you mean to me, but I’ll spend every day for the rest of my life showing you.”   
With this newest profession of his unending love, I was nearly swept away in the moment.  I had seen love stories in movies, but none with the passion concentrated through his eyes in this moment.  He gently kissed my ear and nuzzled my neck.  Though we have been inseparable since birth, I’ve never felt any real passion for him.  His words to me were like water to someone dehydrated.  I needed them, and they made my whole body tingly.  For the first time in my life, I felt like my love for Seth had the chance of becoming physical.  As this epiphany began to take hold, my mother appeared at the door.
“Lauren, I’m so glad you’re awake.  How’re you feeling?” Seth didn’t release my hand or move even a fraction of an inch away from me.  This was uncomfortable.  My mom had never seen any more affection between Seth and me than holding hands.  I kissed his forehead as if to cue him to ease up in front of my mom.  He took the hint.  
“Okay, a little groggy, but okay.”   
“The doctor says you need your rest.  Seth and I will take turns staying with you so you aren’t alone.  I saw the doctor in the hallway; he’ll be in to see you in a minute.  Can I get you anything?”
I shook my head.  
“If you need anything, just tell us.”  My mom was so used to my independence.  I rarely asked for help, even if it was obvious that I needed it.  
“I’m fine and, yes, if I need anything, I’ll ask.  I am a little tired, though.”  
“Well, I’m sure that’s normal, and you do need your rest.  I’ll go find the doctor so he can take a peek and you can go back to sleep.”  She hurried out the door and reappeared quickly with a very short man wearing green hospital scrubs.  He smiled as he made it through the doorway and walked toward me.
In a booming voice, “Well, you’re not looking so bad for dying so many times.  Glad to see you are a fighter.”  The doctor looked at my mom and Seth, “If you two wouldn’t mind stepping into the waiting room, I need to examine Lauren.  It should only take a few minutes.”  
My mom winced in silence and the doctor quickly picked up on her apprehension.  “I’m sorry, I need to check her stitches and the nurse will need to change her bandages.  It would be better if, for the first few exams, the family remain in the hallway.  I promise she’ll be in good hands.”  My mother and Seth both nodded their understanding and stepped out in silence.
The doctor turned his attention back to me, “I’m Doctor Gracie.  You sure kept us on our toes last night.  You lost at least two quarts of blood before you got here.  When we hooked you up, you were bleeding faster than we could pump back in.”  
He checked my eyes, listened to my chest, checked my pulse, etc.  After a few minutes he smiled, “Your vitals are very good, so barring any big surprises, you’re going to be out of here in no time.”
“What exactly is no time?”  I’m not a big fan of hospitals.  
“Assuming no complications arise, I would say the day after tomorrow you should be sleeping in your own bed.”
“So I can go home in two days?” 
“Assuming everything continues as well as you are now, you bet.  By the way, Max has called me three times checking on you.  I’m glad I’ll finally be able to give him a good report.  How do you two know each other anyway?”   
I paused for a moment trying to understand the question, trying to place Max…a few seconds passed, then it all came back to me.  What was the right response to this question?  Max had called several times to see if I was okay?  
The doctor seemed mildly curious as he waited for my response, and I finally responded, “We don’t know each other that well, we just met recently.”  This was the truth.  I had only just met him in person last night, although I’ve had hundreds of conversations with him – at least I think I have.  I’ve spent so many nights dreaming of this guy that I even gave him a name – Destiny.  Now my destiny’s name is Max.
“Huh, I would have guessed you were old friends.  He did compressions on you in the ambulance and refused to switch with anyone until you were prepped for surgery and we were ready to bring you in.  I just assumed you two were close.”
“You said he called checking on me?”  I tried to be as nonchalant as possible.
“Yeah, I just hung up with him a few minutes ago.  He wanted to know if you were awake yet.  Max asked if he could come into recovery to see you.  I told him you were already out of recovery and we had set you up in a room.”
“Into recovery?”
“After surgery we keep patients in the recovery room until the anesthesia wears off and vitals are stabilized.  It’s normally about an hour; you were in a little longer than most.”
“But why would he ask you?”
“Recovery is for medical staff only.  Family and friends have to wait until someone is cleared from recovery before they can see them.  Max was trying to get around the rules with his hospital credentials.  I like Max and would’ve bent the rules for him, but there wasn’t any need.  By the time he asked, you had already been moved into your room.”
“So, did he say if he would be stopping by?”
“No, but since he was on last night, he should be getting off work soon.  He may decide to check on you himself.”
I hoped that the doctor couldn’t see the flush on my face, as I did a momentary flashback to my time with Max in the ambulance.  His amazing green eyes peered at me through my mind, and I felt giddy that he might pop through the door at any time.    
“I’m going to give you a sedative to help you rest.  I need you to get as much rest as possible, your body needs it.”  The doctor put a syringe into my IV bag.  
“You haven’t mentioned anything about my leg.  Was everything okay with the surgery?”
“The bullet fractured - well shattered is a better description, a section of your femur and clipped your femoral artery.  We were able to repair your artery in surgery and stop the bleeding.  You’re young and in good health, so after we got the bleeding to stop and the bullet out, I kept you open a little longer.  We put an intramedullary rod in your femur, screwed it in place, and did a bone graft to speed the healing process.”
The image of pins in my leg brought with it a flash of Frankenstein.  I looked down at my leg to see metal pins sticking out of either side of my thigh.  Gross!  My leg was propped up on pillows, without a cast.  
The doctor continued, “This would normally have been two surgeries, but the damage to your leg was pretty extensive and we wanted to get the rod in right away.  We’ll need you to stay off it today.  Tomorrow we’ll have you try crutches and see if we need to put a frame on it for stability.”
“No cast?” I felt my senses slowing down as the sedative made its way through my bloodstream.
“The rod we inserted acts like a cast, from the inside.  We’ll wait for the swelling to go down before we have you work on mobility.  With any luck we may not need to put a frame on.”  He laid down my chart and made his way to the door.
The doctor seemed surprised as he crossed the threshold and declared, “Well - speak of the devil! We were just talking about you.”
My eyes were so heavy I couldn’t keep them open.  I saw someone step through the doorway in a blue uniform shirt, just as my eyes closed.

Find out what happens next in Meeting Destiny! Meeting Destiny can be downloaded for FREE from all major bookstores! It is the first in Nancy Straight's Destiny Series.  Destiny's Revenge (Book 2) and Destiny's Wrath (Book 3) are also available electronically and in paperback from all major bookstores.

Find out more about Nancy Straight:

Blog: authnancystraight.blogspot.com

Twitter: @nancystraight


Therian
(The Bloody Crescent #1)

Roxanne Kade


Prologue: Therian


“Push! Push!” Anxiety was clear in Guiliana’s voice. “Please Lenora, I know you’re tired but you have to.” 
The young midwife sat on the edge of the bed at Lenora’s feet, urging her to continue. 
Carmine knelt beside his wife and whispered gently into her ear, “My love, please forgive me. If I had known, I never would have done this.” He dabbed her moist forehead. 
 	Many hours had passed and Lenora still battled with the birth of their baby. It appeared that the child was far too strong-willed to want to come out anytime soon. When Lenora had first gone into labor, Guiliana had begged Carmine to call a doctor from the local hospital, but he had been adamant about no one seeing his wife. 
“Argh!” Lenora threw her head back and cried in pain as yet another spasm waved over her body and up her spine. 
She clutched her huge stomach that was covered in blackish-blue marks, unusual signs of how active her unborn baby was. She’d never imagined childbirth to be such a terrible thing and wished at that moment, for only the slightest instant, that she were not pregnant, hating herself for her thoughts. Lenora wrapped her fingers around the pendant at her neck, drawing on all of the power and serenity it possessed; feeling its sharp edges dig into her skin. And then, using as much of her strength as possible, she pushed again. Only she was far too weak. The child in her had sapped the very last energy she had. 
“I…I can’t.” Tears poured down her cheeks and she looked over at the man she loved with her entire soul. 
His face portrayed his fear and anguish. He looked old and tired; his eyes were like hollow pockets, deep and purple, not the usual bright, warm emeralds that had swept her off her feet all those years before. The flickering candlelight in the dimly lit room played over his features, casting more shadows over his face. 
“I’m…sorry.” She hated disappointing him. 
 “No please, don’t be sorry for anything, my love. I am to blame for all of this. Please just say you forgive me. Your pardon of my sins is all I can ask for now.” Carmine couldn’t believe that she was the one pleading for his forgiveness. 
Lenora reached up and laid her hand against his cheek, enjoying its coolness. The last few months of her pregnancy had been a trying time for them both and she didn’t want to stop now, she didn’t want to be the weak one. She’d been terrified when she’d found out she was pregnant, but when her belly started to swell, she was filled with such joy and elation at the thought of the tiny life growing inside her. It was only when she had felt her baby kick for the first time that she realized there was something wrong. The immense pain that had ripped through her abdomen was too much to bear and she declined quickly, becoming bedridden in the early stages of her second trimester. There were days when Guiliana had to hold Lenora’s head over a bowl as she vomited large amounts of thick blood, but no matter how much she suffered, Lenora wanted nothing more than to see her baby. Carmine did everything he could to get her through it all, always staying strong and positive, sitting up with her night after night, and to see him now, a broken man, was too much for her. If she could just hold on a little longer, it would all be worth it. 
Guiliana had been brave too. She’d stayed on, even after Martha—her mother, and Lenora’s original nurse—had fled during the night without a word to anyone, only a letter stating she had left the country and would not be returning. The incident had happened shortly after Carmine had come home one evening and found a surgeon from the Gypsy Creek Medical Clinic at his wife’s bedside. He’d been outraged, and from that moment he had banned any strangers from ever setting foot on the eighteenth century estate he’d purchased for his wife as a wedding gift only months before. Carmine had argued with Martha all night, Guiliana remained awake until she’d finally cried herself to sleep. When Guiliana awoke the next morning, all she found was a note from her mother explaining she had to leave and that she felt the deepest regret at having to abandon her. Something about the note didn’t sit right with Guiliana, though. Her mother would never have left like that. Guiliana was sure of it, and she was positive that Carmine had something to do with her mother’s abrupt departure. What if she hadn’t left at all? What if Carmine was so angry he had seriously hurt Martha? What if he killed her?  But Guiliana feared Carmine so much that she didn’t ever question the note. If he had killed her mother, he’d have no qualms about doing just the same to her if she ever stepped out of line. She also had to be realistic; she had no one to turn to. So she kept her mouth shut, stayed loyal and used every skill her mother had taught her to help Lenora. Although the strange symptoms that had riddled Lenora’s pregnancy baffled her, from a bloody blister rash to a constant sensitivity to the smell of blood, she’d done everything possible to make sure both mum and baby stayed healthy. 
Lenora stared hard at Carmine, forgetting the pain she felt. He looked so tortured and if a few simple words would ease his agony, she’d tell him, although she doubted she’d ever understand why. 
“I forgive you.” The stress on his face did not ease, but his eyes looked less haunting and it brought a tiny smile of hope to her lips.
Lenora, still looking at her husband, let out another urgent cry and dug her fingers into the bed sheets. Carmine hung his head, unable to look at her, not wanting to see the pain writhing on her face, hating that he wasn’t able to help in any way. If only he’d accepted his feelings the second he knew he’d fallen in love with her, but he’d been too stubborn and even feared that it proved him to be weak. He should have stopped it months before, but it was too late now. He’d allowed things to continue, knowing full well that Lenora’s life was at risk. She wasn’t strong enough to survive her pregnancy.
“Please forgive me.” He repeated over and over. 
His whispers became more urgent with each passing second. “Please forgive me, please forgive me.” 
His penance was now reserved for a higher power, one he hadn’t believed in before. One he now turned to for solace.
“A head! I see a head.” Guiliana danced nervously at the bottom of the bed. 
Carmine looked up and stared at Lenora. He saw the relief brighten her face and knew she would not have been able to hold on for much longer. She’d fought a courageous battle and it was about to be won. He sighed, allowing some of the tension to leave his shoulders.
“Oh, there’s an arm!” Guiliana announced with more excitement, reaching between Lenora’s legs to give some assistance to the child that had finally chosen to enter the world. “Okay, this is it, Lenora. Just one last push.” 
The tired woman clenched her muscles and pushed with all her might and when a strangled cry escaped her baby, she relaxed back into the pillows piled up behind her. Carmine let go of her hand and raced over to look at his child. Guiliana allowed him to make the careful snip of the umbilical cord and, after she’d wiped her clean, handed the baby to him. He cradled her in his arms. 
“It’s a girl!” He moved back to Lenora’s side, allowing her to have a look at their daughter. 
She had a thick mass of black hair. Lenora’s heart grew with the love she felt for the little being. 
“Amberlyn.” She wiped at the tear that had slipped down her cheek, one of complete happiness.
“Amberlyn.” Carmine echoed the name. 
Lenora wanted to hold her little girl in her arms for the first time, knowing it would be a moment she’d never forget, proof that all the suffering had not been in vain. The perfect little angel that she now saw before her was far more precious than any comfort she had lacked in the last few months. 
Carmine waited for Guiliana to remove the bloodied sheets from the bed, making it more comfortable for Lenora, before reaching over to place Amberlyn in his wife’s arms. But as he lay their little girl down, Lenora let out another agonizing scream, its resonance causing the blood in his veins to run cold.  
Guiliana came rushing from the bathroom and all the blood drained from her face. Carmine whisked Amberlyn away from the bedside and placed her in the tiny crib he’d spent months building. He rushed back to his wife’s side. Her lips had turned a light shade of purple, almost grey. Her face was pale and clammy and he couldn’t help but be terrified, forgetting everything he was in that moment. Guiliana grabbed several towels from a nearby closet and laid them on the bed around Lenora’s lower half. She wasn’t sure what to do. She’d never been prepared for something like this and there was so much blood, she didn’t know how to stop it. Its dark stickiness left a metallic scent in the air. Lenora kept gasping with pain and clutching the bed sheets. Her body convulsed as more blood gushed from her. 
“How do I stop it? There’s so much. Too much!” Guiliana yelled. “We have to get a doctor. We have to call 911!”
She backed away from the bed. The white towels had already turned a deep crimson. Carmine had his hands on Lenora’s shoulders, trying to keep her from shuddering. He looked over at Guiliana, who was now huddled in the corner of the bedroom, shaking her head, her own body quivering as she sobbed. Her bloodied arms crossed over her chest, staining the white cardigan she wore. The latex gloves on her hands that had once been a bright yellow had changed to a sickly dark beige color.
Carmine ran over to her. 
“Do something!” His voice was fierce and his face showed a menace that panicked Guiliana into a calm state of shock.
“Get over there and help her.” He lashed out in anger and slapped her across the face, but she didn’t even flinch. 
She sat, still huddled in the corner, deliriously rocking back and forth. She was only sixteen, what was she expected to do? Carmine held his head in his hands, trying to think of something he could do. 
Amberlyn’s shrieks reached out to him from across the room. It was like she knew there was something wrong. Lenora’s body still jerked with fits, but they were not as violent as before. The blood flow had stopped, but there was so much of it soaking into the bed, blending with the rich burgundy of the delicate linen, that it had begun to drip onto the cream rug below. Carmine thought of the only thing possible to save Lenora, to give her life again, because she was losing hers fast. He paced back and forth, wishing he knew if it were the right thing to do. He’d already caused so much damage. 
He listened to Amberlyn again, still wailing in her crib. He’d have to do it. There was really no other choice, if not for Lenora, then for their baby girl. 
The air in the room suddenly changed. It became thick and stale, like all the oxygen had been sucked from it, disappearing as death stepped in. Carmine ran back over to the bed. Lenora’s skin was transparent now. Her eyes were open and staring straight past him. It was too late, he’d deliberated too long; he was a fool and a coward. Lenora’s soul had slipped from her lifeless body. Her eyes were nothing more than a glassy image of death. 
Carmine hugged her tightly to his chest. He had to change things. He had to bring her back. But his powers were limited and there really was nothing more he could do. Instead, he wept; for the first time ever, he shed tears. 


Chapter One: Therian


She opened the envelope with trembling hands and slowly pulled the letter from it. Unfolding the piece of paper, she looked quickly at the first line, searching for the one word that would change the rest of her life. Nothing else it said even really mattered.
“Congratulations!”
Amber read the word again, allowing it to repeat in her head a few times just to make sure it was true. 
“Congratulations.” The excited whisper slipped off her tongue. 
She had done it. She had finally found her freedom­­­­—a way out. For so many years she had been confined to the inner walls of her family estate, but now she would spread her wings and enter the world of the normal college student. She’d finally be able to breathe, to become her own person. She ran quickly down the stairs toward the kitchen, where she was sure she’d find Guiliana fussing over the icing of freshly baked cupcakes. Their sweet aroma greeted her as she entered the hallway. 
“Guiliana! Guiliana!” Her cries of joy brought the round-faced woman through the swinging door, almost crashing into her. 
“Amberlyn, what is it?” She looked flustered and her voice showed a trace of panic.
Amber held the letter out to her. 
“We did it! I made it in.” 
Guiliana slowly read the letter and then stared up at Amber. 
“Oh, I’m so excited. This is the best news ever.” 
They embraced and danced excitedly in the hallway. For months the two of them had worked on her applications to different colleges and universities around the country. Guiliana had visited the local high school to find out about the application process and she’d even attended an open day which gave students the opportunity to see firsthand what the colleges had to offer. Of course the two of them had to be very hush-hush about everything because if Carmine had found out, he’d have had the housekeeper’s head and would never speak to Amber again. But all their hard work paid off. Now all Amber needed to do was find a way to tell her father; after all, he would be her financier.
“What is the best news?” Carmine’s booming voice echoed behind them and they stopped abruptly.
“Nothing, Mr. Darksky. I’ll go see to finishing dinner.” Guiliana fidgeted nervously with the apron around her waist.
Amber noticed the deep fearful look in her eyes; it was one she’d seen so many times before, but could never quite understand it. The housekeeper disappeared back into the kitchen leaving Amber alone with her father. 
“Amberlyn?” He raised his brow and stared down at the girl who looked so much like her mother, the love of his life. He tried to keep his voice stern and in control, but seeing her, looking so young and delicate, just weakened his defenses.
She tried to hide the letter but it was of no use, he had already seen it and was stretching out a hand for it. Amber heaved a heavy sigh and slowly gave the paper to him, all the while knowing what his reaction would be, preparing herself for it. Carmine had never allowed her to venture off the property. Since her mother’s death, he had done everything he possibly could to make her life happy and comfortable, but the one thing she craved was the one thing he’d never consent to. When she’d expressed a great need to go out running and hiking through the woods, he’d had a fully equipped gym installed in one of the upstairs bedrooms. He had even tried to make up for her lack of a social life by bringing her gifts that a teenage girl could only ever dream of. Fendi, D&G and Gianfranco Ferre were just some of the designer labels she was used to receiving after his return from one of his many European business trips; and the items he brought her couldn’t be bought in any store, they were carefully selected, one-of-a-kind pieces. But Amber felt no excitement at receiving such gifts. What was the point of owning a gorgeous pair of Christian Louboutin stilettos if the only place she was going to wear them was between her bedroom and the downstairs parlor? 
He’d had the best tutors flown in from around the world to teach her subjects that were reserved for institutes of higher learning just so she wouldn’t have to attend school, and now she was asking to go off to college to a real campus—even though her tutor had covered most of what she would learn there. It was absurd and she knew he wouldn’t approve. 
Carmine read the letter and his eyes darkened. A fierce scowl covered his face.
He crumpled the page. “What is the meaning of this?” His voice was deep and steady as he spoke through clenched teeth.
“I…I’ve been meaning to tell you, Daddy, but I just never got a chance.” The words stumbled from her mouth, revealing the lie. 
“Have I not given you everything you’ve ever needed?” He was angry now and did not care much for her excuses. “Were the private lessons not good enough for you? Are you that ungrateful?” 
Tears sprang up in her eyes and her lip trembled. Amber had never, in all her life, witnessed Carmine’s rage, but she saw it rising in his deep emerald eyes like a sudden thunderstorm ready to strike with its lashes of lightening.   
“No, it’s not like that. I appreciate all you’ve ever given me. But I’m eighteen now and I think it’s time for me to go out into the world. I need to meet new people…people my age. I want to feel normal.” 
“Normal?” His mouth twisted into a wicked smile. “Amber, you are in no way normal. You have a gift, one that the world will never understand. Do you really want to take that chance?” His tone was mocking and more tears welled in her eyes.
He still saw her as the naïve child who had been forced to ignore her own ideas and thoughts to believe his. Always using the same excuse to keep her trapped, telling her that the world beyond the boundaries of the estate would never accept her. But she wasn’t a little girl anymore, and her mind was bursting with the most imaginative thoughts about what the world was like, and she wanted to see it for herself.
“Yes!” Her screech had Carmine shaking his head. 
He stared at her incredulously, trying to figure out what had sparked such defiance in his daughter. She definitely had her mother’s fire and it was pointless to argue any further with her. All he could do was hope she’d realize just how cruel people were to those who were different in any way. Then she’d come running back home.
“Fine, but I will have no part in this.” He strode past her, still clutching her acceptance letter. “I have never felt such disappointment as I have today.” He glowered at her before pushing through the heavy wooden door, slamming it behind him.
Amber looked after him. Her eyes were wide and she wasn’t sure if she should scream or cry, or just run to her room and lock herself in it. She was seething with an anger that was deeply rooted in her soul and every bit of it was directed at her father. But at the same time, her heart was in her throat and she wondered if he would ever forgive her for not telling him about her plans. Maybe it wasn’t fair that after everything he’d done for her, she was so eager to run the other way. Maybe she was being ungrateful—even selfish. 
Guiliana walked back into the hallway and put her arms around her young charge who was shaking after the confrontation with her father. She’d been listening through the kitchen door and heard the cruelness as Carmine spoke. Even though she knew the reason Carmine wanted to keep Amber locked away from the world, believing he was protecting her, he had done so in a way that made the girl want to escape the prison of her own home all the more. Amber just wanted what any other young person her age wanted. Why couldn’t he see that? Amber buried her face in Guiliana’s neck and the tears streamed down her cheeks. 
“There, there dear. Don’t worry, he’ll come ‘round. No use spilling your tears over his stubbornness.” 
“He’s so angry with me, Guili. I just wish he’d understand how it feels to be locked away. What’s the point of having all of this knowledge, knowing how to speak so many different languages and never getting to share it with anyone?” 
“Perhaps a steaming cup of tea will make you feel better. You go rest in the parlor and I’ll get it for you.” She patted Amber’s cheek affectionately and rushed through the door again. 
Amber dried her cheeks. She was relieved to have a friendly woman in her life. Guiliana was the only person who seemed to understand her; she was the only mother figure Amber had ever known. She’d been there from the time Amber had been born and they held a strong bond.
Amber often stopped to think of how things would be if she hadn’t stolen her mother’s life all those years before. Lenora Darksky had been brave and when faced with the decision to end her own life or that of her child, she had chosen to allow the tiny person growing in her belly to have an existence of its own, and for that, Amber would be eternally grateful. She knew that if she were to ever have to make a decision like that, she would echo her mother’s rationalization. How would she be able to happily exist if she’d committed murder in the foulest way? 
Amber’s thoughts drifted back to the night she had been born. The sights and smells were strong in her mind. She knew without even seeing her mother that she was beautiful and her silent heartbeat was a soothing melody. Carmine’s heart had also beaten softly until he’d realized her mother was in trouble. The quickening of it scared Amber at the time and she had somehow understood the bad things that were happening. The air had filled with a strong chemical smell, and when her mother had cried in pain for the first time since the birth, an overpowering metallic scent had touched Amber’s nostrils. She’d seen the fear in Carmine’s eyes as he laid her down before rushing to Lenora’s side. There had been so much blood. The bed sheets were soaked and all hope of keeping Lenora alive was lost. The pain in Carmine’s heart was so intense that Amber had felt it as if her own heart were aching. 
She’d never understood how as a newborn she’d been able to remember every detail, but it was her gift. She had not seen or even really heard the events of that day, at least not any that she could have remembered. Rather, she had been given the ability to see every happy and joyful or sad and painful memory that had been imprinted in anyone’s mind with just a simple touch. 
Carmine had cradled her in his arms for hours after her mother had died, and with just one of his fingers lightly caressing her cheek, she was able to see his memories. She saw nothing of his early life. The only memories he seemed to have were those that involved her mother: from the first time he’d laid eyes on her to the moment they had decided to elope to escape Lenora’s father’s stubborn rage. It was as if he had only started to live when he’d met Lenora. Or maybe his childhood had been so terrible he’d blocked it from his memory. 
The night she’d been born stood out the most; it had haunted her dreams for so long. She felt every bit of despair and anguish that her father had felt. Amber became accustomed to the continuous replay of the horror, but would never get used to the pain and fear it caused her to feel. 
Her gift was a curse. 
Carmine had insisted she keep it their secret, but very soon Amber had confided in Guiliana—the one person she truly trusted. But it was not for this reason alone that she had told Guiliana. She had seen the pain the lovely woman had gone through when her mother had abandoned her. Amber felt a kinship with her; they had both lost their mothers in some way.
Amber entered the parlor and looked over the room she was accustomed to sitting in on a daily basis. The polished mahogany floor stretched to a large Victorian fireplace. Its deep varnish stain was in direct contrast with the cream and white Baroque wallpaper that covered every inch from floor to ceiling. Bright bouquets of fresh flowers filled the bare spaces, all thanks to Guiliana’s love for gardening. She spent hours each morning choosing only the best roses to add splashes of red, pink, and yellow color throughout the space. Their fresh, clean aroma had always made Amber feel more at peace. But the room repulsed her now; she hated being in it. Even the ancient artwork, with its heavy gold framing that filled an entire wall, no longer appealed to her. It was frozen in time and Amber was dying to spruce it up with something more modern, but Carmine was opposed to change, no matter how slight. The only thing in the room that Amber would never stop loving was the large, black grand piano that stood in one corner. 
She was at peace when sitting on the small leather stool, running her fingers over the black and white ivories. She’d learned at an early age to appreciate classical music and enjoyed every minute of her lessons. Carmine had given her a beautiful white violin for her fifth birthday and she’d loved it, spending every waking hour practicing until finally she’d perfected the art. The house would fill with a noise that was sweet and soft and tempting, but also very haunting and melancholic, whenever she played.  
Guiliana entered the room with a tray of tea and a rainbow of colorfully decorated cupcakes topped with chocolate sprinkles. An hour and almost a dozen cupcakes later, the two still sat on the parlor floor discussing Amber’s hopes of what college life would bring. 
She needed to feel normal; for so long she’d felt like a freak. For so many years she had sat at her bedroom window watching the other kids walking home from school. She’d seen and heard their hurtful jibes whenever they passed the house. Even adults walking by would cross the street so that they weren’t too close. It had become a normal thing for children to huddle on the sidewalk across the street from the house at Halloween, each daring the other to ring the doorbell. Of course none were ever brave enough. Rumors had swept through town about Carmine being evil and dabbling in witchcraft. Martha’s hasty retreat years before had started many stories; people had said that Carmine had murdered Martha and buried her somewhere in the woods behind the house. People had also speculated on Lenora’s death and wondered why he kept their child hidden from the outside world. Automatically, Amber had become a monster—an outcast in society. She’d heard Guiliana arguing with Carmine about it one night. “It’s not fair that she be punished for your sins,” Guiliana had yelled at him. Amber just hid her head under the pillow and blocked out the words, not caring about what anything that was said might have meant.
With her growing gift and her strange father, even she had started believing that she was some kind of monster. Why else would Carmine refuse for her to lead a normal life? Perhaps he was ashamed of her, or worse still, maybe he didn’t want the world to acknowledge her existence because he wished she didn’t have one. There were many nights that she cried herself to sleep with these thoughts, but now it was time for change and she’d show the world just how normal she really was. Guiliana even hinted at the chance of a first love and true romance at college, but Amber doubted her chances of that ever happening. She wasn’t sure if she’d allow anyone close enough, let alone give them power over her heart. 


Chapter Two: Therian


It was nearing midnight and Carmine hadn’t returned. The dinner Guiliana had made remained untouched in the kitchen. Amber had dozed off on one of the cream chaise lounges and Guiliana left her to sleep. When she woke up, the room was dark with only slivers of moonlight reaching through the windows, and the house was silent. The night air had cooled to a slight chill, so Amber was happy for the chenille throw blanket Guiliana had draped over her. She stretched out of her curled up position, walked through the double glass doors at the end of the hallway, and strolled toward the end of the garden. She came to rest at a concrete plaque that had been placed amongst the rose bushes. The plaque was in honor of her mother. Amber would come out here from time to time, whenever she needed to clear her head. Just feeling a little closer to Lenora diminished her unease. She knelt in front of the plaque and ran her hand over the engraving—Your life is eternal, your memory a treasure.
“Mom, give me the strength to get through this and make Daddy understand,” she whispered.
She wrapped the blanket around her bare shoulders and gave a heavy sigh. Amber stared into the darkness of the woods just in front of her. There was a sudden rustle in the bushes just behind the plaque that made Amber’s heart beat rapidly. She strained her eyes, peering harder into the darkness, looking for any sign of movement. There wasn’t even a hint of the slightest breeze that could have stirred the leaves. Another rustle of the bushes had her on her feet, backing away toward the house. The rush of blood in her ears was deafening and she was gasping for breath by the time she reached the porch. The forest was full of terrifying creatures, so she wasn’t going to take any chances. But the sudden bone-chilling sensation that entered the atmosphere made her think that there was something more sinister watching from the shadows. The sensation crept up her spine like icy, skeletal fingers, finally resting on her neck, causing the fine hairs to stand on end.  
She was surprised when Carmine appeared from the darkness. He was dressed in his best suit, a Tom Ford creation, so why was he wandering around in the woods? Amber stood on the porch and watched her father. He hadn’t noticed her. His face was blank and he looked as if he were in a trance. He rushed toward the porch and Amber stepped back into the shadows. He hesitated at the door of the house before turning and running down the steps and back into the garden, disappearing again into the woods.
His behavior was strange, something she’d never experienced. As she’d grown, Amber had become more aware of her father’s quirks and peculiarity, but she had brushed it off as her own teenage intolerance for parental behavior. Now, the more she thought about it, the more she wondered what drove him to do the things he did. He had never been one to eat, always finding an excuse to skip dinner, and he was always up at odd hours, but she attributed that to his constant traveling. It was just odd for him to be rushing around in the woods, in the dark, and in his best attire. He’d looked so torn—tormented even—like he was struggling with something. She just wished she knew what. Amber wasn’t about to question him or even run after him. Instead, she rushed into the house and escaped to the sanctuary of her bedroom. 
***
Nearly a month had passed and Carmine still hadn’t returned. The last time Amber had seen him was the night he rushed back into the woods; she feared that something terrible had happened to him. She imagined a bear or wolf attacking him.  He’d be alone and no one would know where to find him; he’d have no way of finding anyone to help him. Guiliana hushed her fears, telling Amber that he had been scheduled to leave on a business trip, so that was probably where he was. But Amber was still worried and even more disappointed that he wouldn’t be around to bid her farewell on the new journey she was about to begin. He had been angered by her decision, but Amber felt that surely he would not be so stubborn to let her go without saying goodbye. 
Amber sat at the wooden dresser, staring at her reflection in the large mirror. Her eyes were strained and a dark purplish tinge had appeared under them. She ran a hand through her long, raven hair that shone a deep plum color in the sun. Guiliana had often compared her to Lenora. The light spray of freckles on her cheeks was the same as her mother’s, as was her hair and delicate features. The only feature she shared with Carmine was his shimmering, emerald eyes. 
Tomorrow she’d fly to Cyprus Falls Airport and make her way to the place she’d call home for the next few years: CFU– Cyprus Falls University. Amber moved to her bed and sat on the edge with the musical jewelry box Carmine had given her on her tenth birthday, on her lap. She ran her fingers lightly over the intricate carvings of the wood, resting them on a finely etched crescent moon that had been painted dark red. The box had belonged to her mother and each time Amber listened to the soft, haunting melody that flowed from the tiny box, her heart ached. It was the only personal item of Lenora’s that she still had to cling to. A spark of electricity flashed up Amber’s arm and she dropped the jewelry box. What the hell was that? she thought. The unexpected spark had shocked her and her hand still ached with the weird sensation of pins and needles. She picked up the box again and turned it over in her hands. What could have caused the feeling? Amber ran her hand over the crescent moon and again she felt the spark run though her fingers and up her arm. She jerked her hand back and stared closely at the carving, feeling a strange pull that made her entire body ache. She was tired and stressed and lacking sleep; it was the only way to explain the strange happening.
There was a light tapping on her bedroom door. Amber placed the box on top of her drawer and opened the door to Guiliana.
“Everything alright, dear?” She stepped into the room and looked at Amber with concern. 
“Yup, everything is just fine.” Amber tried to sound upbeat.
“I got you something. I hope it cheers you up a little.” 
Guiliana held out a sparkling blue and pink gift bag. Amber couldn’t stop the grin that started on her lips and reached her eyes. Guili’s kind face was enough to make her forget the heavy weight on her heart. Amber peered inside the bag and squealed with delight. 
“Oh Guili, thank you!” She hugged Guiliana with all her might.
She pulled a box from the gift bag and opened it, holding up her new Blackberry mobile phone and admiring its sleek, glossy finish that gleamed under the light. Carmine had refused for her to have a mobile phone; besides, it was useless for her to have one when there was no one she could call. At least now, when she made friends—and she was sure she would—she’d be able to keep in touch with them.
“This is the best gift ever.” She smiled again at Guiliana. “But how did you…”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. Your father will be thanking me when he finds out I used some money to get you that device.” She shrugged off the question before Amber was even able to ask it. “I’ll leave you to play around with it.”
Amber lay on her bed and explored all the different applications and functions of the phone. She’d never used one before, but she was sure it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out how to use it. After an hour of playing with her new phone, Amber placed it under her pillow and stared at the mountain of clothing strewn on her floor. She had been deciding what to pack before the incident with the jewelry box, and she still wasn’t sure what to take with her. She didn’t care much for the expensive clothing that hung in her closet.  Besides, she was going to college, not some Hollywood red carpet event; and she was looking to start anew, without any reminders of the lonely years she had spent growing up. She sorted through the heap, only taking the few items she thought she’d need, adding one or two of the more luxurious pieces because she didn’t really know what she was in for. When she’d packed everything she wanted, she dumped the leftover clothing into a huge box and marked it for charity. The clearing of her possessions was like a cleansing ritual and she immediately felt less troubled. Now she was ready to enter a new phase of life.
***
Amber stood at the door of the taxi that would take her to Gypsy Creek Airport. Guiliana stood with tissues in her hand, ready for the steady flow of tears that were sure to come.
Amber stared over to the woods where Carmine had disappeared. She really wished he had come back to say goodbye. Perhaps he had left on his business trip as Guiliana had said, but Amber couldn’t help feeling that there was something terribly wrong. She was just about to slide into the back of the car when Carmine appeared at the far corner of the house. Amber stopped and stepped back out of the cab. She smiled at him, but he did not even acknowledge her, even though he was staring right at her. His eyes were blank again. She waved at him, one last attempt to get his attention, but he still ignored her and strode up the porch steps and into the house. Amber’s sigh was heavy. Guiliana saw the glisten of a tear in the girl’s eyes and cursed Carmine in her head. The two of them hugged quickly when the driver gave a loud grunt, showing his annoyance. 
“Are you sure you have everything you need?” Guiliana asked and Amber nodded. “You have your mobile?” 
 “Yes, I have everything.” She paused and stared at Guiliana. “I’m really going to miss you,” she told her, and before Guiliana had a chance to burst into a flood of tears, Amber jumped into the back of the taxi and they drove off. 
Amber thought of Carmine as the taxi drove through the small town she had called home for eighteen years. She’d never seen it, but was not interested in looking at its many attractions right then. 
Her heart was heavy and the tears rose again. A single tear passed through her lashes, leaving a wet stain on her cheek. Amber could not give in to Carmine now; she’d worked too hard and come too far to turn back. This is what she wanted more than anything and there was no way he was going to change her mind. She chided herself for the tears she shed for her father and wiped her wet cheek. A sudden feeling of nervousness and excitement grew in the pit of her stomach. Life was about to begin.


Chapter Three: Therian


 Cyprus Falls was wet and cold with freezing temperatures in the winter. A city in Minnesota, it was a ten-hour drive from the town Amber had called home.  
She arrived at the city’s small airport and jumped into the first taxi she found, eager now to get to CFU. The taxi drove down the winding road and she took in the beauty of everything around her. Trees stretched for miles, forming a thick wall along the road—their leaves painted in different shades of green, brown and orange with the onset of fall.  
She thought of Carmine again and how angry he had been when he’d read her acceptance letter. She wished he’d allowed her to explain the reasoning for her sending out the applications. Feeling trapped for so many years had made her desperate to interact with people her own age. But she knew that no matter how much she tried to tell him how she felt, he’d never truly understand.  
The taxi pulled up in front of the main building of the University. Amber breathed in deeply and held her breath for a few seconds before letting it out, slow and steady. Nerves were getting the better of her and she tried to relax. She got out the car and the frostiness of the wind shook through her. She wrapped her arms around herself and looked around. The campus was alive with excited new students and their parents. Another sign of just how odd her life really was. Carmine should be with her, helping her find her dorm room and making sure she gets settled in; instead he was aloof, running around the woods and ignoring her. Amber didn’t have much luggage, only two duffle bags. She was not the sentimental kind and didn’t need to bring the soft teddy bear she’d had since she was three-years-old or the small potted flower she’d kept healthy over the past few years. These things were too normal and she was anything but. All she needed were the bare essentials, and of course her mother’s jewelry box, for that was the only material possession she held close to her heart.  
The campus was huge, with large buildings surrounded by bright green lawns and tailored gardens. It looked every bit like the pictures in the brochure Guiliana had brought home for her. The original campus had been founded in 1863, but now the buildings showed only a trace of the Victorian era, having been revamped over the decades—although they still held a sense of history and romance. Amber breathed in the fresh air. Her lungs swelled and the anxious feeling in her stomach disappeared. She grabbed her bags and hurried up the wide path to the main administration office. The people around the building took no notice of her. Relief washed over her at this thought. There were no silent whispers and snickers as she passed. Here she was normal, as normal as any other young adult entering this stage of life. She didn’t feel like an outsider. A tall, skinny guy ran into her as he rushed past with his head down. He looked up and she recognized his anguished expression; his memories flashed through her mind, replaying the terrible bullying he’d been subjected to throughout high school. No wonder he looked so fearful. He apologized with a harsh whisper and continued running up the path.  Amber took a deep breath and stared at the people around her. There were so many different nationalities and ages. Amber hadn’t imagined she’d be meeting so many wonderfully interesting people. Her stomach flipped at the thought of all the memories she’d see. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to handle the assault of emotions that came with every memory. The more she looked around, the more the nervous tingle ran over her body. Her palms were sweating and she felt jittery. Amber ran through the doors of the administrative building, but it was just as crowded with students and campus staff. A bead of sweat ran down her back and she needed to desperately find a place to escape before she had a nervous breakdown in front of everyone. She turned down a stark white corridor and was relieved to find the ladies bathroom. It was empty which she was thankful for. Amber splashed her face with cold water and leaned against the basin, squeezing her eyes shut, taking deep breaths. It’s going to be okay, everything will be fine. This is what you’ve always wanted. She gave herself a little pep talk and felt herself calming. There was no doubt that seeing so many memories was going to take a lot out of her, but she’d just have to take it one step at a time, avoiding as much contact with people as she could.  She regained her composure and left the bathroom. The main admin foyer was still full but she didn’t feel as nervous. She edged her way around the room and made it to the main desk without coming into contact with anyone. The woman behind the desk greeted her with a warm smile. Amber took another deep breath and smiled back.
After getting all the information she needed: a map of the college, class schedule and dorm details, Amber was ready to go in search of the dorm room she’d call home for the next few years. She tried to make out the confusing map, but the campus was huge. 
“Need a little help?” someone asked from her left.  
Amber looked up and caught her breath. She was staring into the deepest, liquid hazel eyes she’d ever seen. The handsome guy in front of her smiled and inclined his head. She kept staring, taking in his tall frame and wide shoulders. He wore a bright aqua t-shirt that hugged his hard chest and contrasted beautifully with his deeply tanned muscular arms. Amber’s heart fluttered and a rush of desire erupted in her chest and spread over her entire body. She’d never felt such overwhelming emotions before and she wondered if this was what “love at first sight” felt like. She was aware that she stood with her mouth gaping open like a fool, but she just couldn’t stop herself. He was beautiful, handsome, sexy…Oh my God! He’s smoking hot! Amber couldn’t find her voice either, and his brow furrowed when she still hadn’t spoken. 
“Ah, I...I’m looking for East Wing Hall,” Amber blurted out, her skin burning red-hot. She hated that her cheeks betrayed her embarrassment, and desire, so easily. 
“Oh, that’s easy. It’s this building over here.” He pointed to a row of blue oblong shapes on the map and above the shapes “East Wing Hall” was printed. “My sister stays in the same building. I can show you if you want?”
His frown disappeared and was replaced by a huge smile that showed off his perfectly white teeth. Who is this gorgeous person standing before me? she wondered. He had a certain confidence about himself, but it was not filled with arrogance. The smile on his lips was warm enough to melt the iciest heart and Amber’s refused to stop its erratic beat. She was sure she’d suffer a heart attack if she didn’t distance herself from him very soon. But she didn’t care; her soul was singing, and she enjoyed the feeling. The very sight of him made her feel alive. 
“Thanks.” She smiled back. Calm down, she told herself. Try to at least act normal before he starts thinking of you as a freak as well.
Amber turned to pick up her bags, but her handsome escort had already grabbed them.  
“I’m Taye.”
“Amberlyn.” She shook the waiting hand he managed to hold out between her bags, forgetting about her gift and her promise to herself to avoid as much physical contact as she possibly could.  
In the few seconds it took for his memories to flash through her head, she discovered many things about the guy whose hand she held. It was like watching old home movies. He’d had a mostly happy childhood. As a boy, he had a small dog named Timmy as his companion. Sadness filled her heart the day Timmy had been knocked by a car. Taye’s best friend had passed on that day. Her heart broke as she saw the young boy crying, holding onto his father and asking why, why had such a terrible thing happened? The pain and sorrow he’d felt ripped through her chest. From there the memories took a happy turn. Taye had two siblings and, as was normal, they bickered often but there was a strong bond between the three of them. Amber felt a pang of jealousy pass through her. She wished she had someone with whom she was so close, a brother or sister she could have spent her lonely adolescent years with.  
Taye was strong and confident. He was liked by almost everyone who met him and his passion for life kept those around him happy. He’d had one serious girlfriend in high school but when it had come time for college, they had split to go their separate ways. He was most excited and energetic when playing football and he had received a scholarship at the university when a scout had recognized his talents. His father was his role model, but when a terrible fire had swept through the woods, Taye’s dad had somehow gotten involved in trying to put it out and had lost his life to the raging flames. Taye had taken his father’s death really hard. He’d fallen into a dark depression and refused to speak to anyone. He became rebellious and started fights for no good reason. It was only when his mother had been involved in a serious car accident that he’d snapped out of his gloom. During that time, he’d been forced to look after the family while she recovered at the hospital.
There was something else, something that was hidden behind a dark cloud of confusion that she was unable to see. It left Taye with a feeling of excitement, but also fear. She recognized this as anticipation for something that was still to come and it made her wonder what could be causing such feelings? And then, as quickly as the memories had entered her mind, they disappeared.  
Taye stood looking at her, waiting for her to let go of his hand. Her unusual behavior had obviously not been lost on him. She quickly withdrew her hand and shoved it in her jeans pocket. Taye just smiled and turned to walk out of the building. Great, so much for acting normal, she sighed. 
It was a far way to the dorm, which was at the opposite end of the university. As they walked, Taye pointed out the different areas of the campus. He was at ease around her, but she couldn’t stop her own head from spinning.  
Amber noticed things about him that most people would have never seen at first glance. Like the tiny gold flecks that seemed to float and swirl in his beautiful eyes. He had a tiny scar on his chin and a slightly larger one above his right brow. Amber held back the urge to reach out and touch a finger to them. She flushed at the thoughts that entered her mind just then. He kept looking over at her, smiling, and then looking into the distance as if he were thinking of something. Every now and then he would chuckle lightly as if he found something funny. Perhaps it was the stiffness of her walk or the distance she kept between them. She didn’t mean to seem standoffish, but she’d never actually spent time with someone of the opposite sex before besides Carmine, but that didn’t count. And the fact that Taye was gorgeous and friendly and charming did nothing to ease how she felt; it only made her more nervous and turned her insides to jelly. She was worried that if she opened her mouth, she’d say something stupid, or if she seemed too eager to be in his company, then he’d think she was just another naïve freshman. If only he really knew just how naïve she really was. A few passersby greeted Taye. Amber guessed he was a well-known student, probably a junior or even a senior. He seemed like the type of guy that everyone knew, regardless of whether or not they had ever met him. She thanked him again when they reached the dorm building.  
“Sure, anytime you need help, just give me a shout. You can find me over at Lyndon House. Ask anyone, they’ll know where it is.”
He handed her the bags and gave her an even bigger smile. Then he turned and jogged back the way they had come. Amber felt a wave of elation sweep over her. Her body tingled and she wondered when she’d get to see Taye again.  
Amber found her room and stepped inside. It was surprisingly bigger than she had expected. Directly opposite the door was a large window with bamboo blinds and a valence of orange and chocolate silk. A dark wooden desk stood at the window and was flanked by two beds. A large dresser stood at the foot of each bed against the wall and there was a small dressing table to the left of the door. The walls were a brilliant white and the lighting was sparsely spread around the room, giving it a dim, but inviting appeal.  
She noticed that the right side of the dorm room was already occupied. A mess of books and clothing was piled high on top of the bed. The jumble belonged to Luna Cree, her roommate. Luna was certainly a unique name and Amber tried to imagine what she’d be like. She just hoped they’d get along since they were expected to share a room for the next year.
Amber put her bags down and unpacked quickly. She was feeling more eager to have a look around campus. Perhaps she would run into Taye again.  
Directly opposite the dorm was an open picnic area with tall pine and maple trees. To the right was Kenley Hall, a covered courtyard where students mingled. It was more modern in design and styling than the rest of the campus buildings and couldn’t be more than a few years old. It housed a number of different food vendors, from burgers and pizza to a salad bar, and it even had a shop that sold text books and other school supplies. Amber was desperate for a steaming cup of coffee, but the Java Shop was really busy so she had to queue. She noticed the guy standing beside her kept looking her way expectantly. He was cute with a messy mass of sandy spikes and deep brown eyes. He was a little taller than her and quite lean, kind of like a track athlete, but she couldn’t help comparing him to Taye’s wide frame.  
She turned to look at him and he smiled. Her returned smile was all the encouragement he needed to start a conversation.  
“Hi.”
“Hi.” She nodded back at him.  
“So it’s the perfect day for coffee, right?” He stumbled over his words, grasping for something to say, anything that would keep the conversation going. 
It was cold outside, but Amber was enjoying the weather. She nodded in agreement anyway.  
“Tristian Richards.” He offered her his hand.  
She hesitated at first, but then shook it and told him her name. His memories hit her full force and she had to take a second to calm herself. Trisitan’s family was close-knit and very supportive. He hadn’t been the most popular guy in high school but his father’s money had bought him many friends. Tristian seemed satisfied but Amber caught glimpses of a lonely guy who wanted to break free from the Richards’ influence. He’d wanted to attend MIT, but his father had insisted he come to CFU because of the family legacy at the Omega Phi Kappa fraternity. His refusal had caused a huge fight and Tristian finally surrendered after his father had threatened to cut him off.  Amber felt a tinge of sorrow for Tristian but, no matter how complicated his life was, it was nothing compared to Taye’s mix of memories and emotions. Tristian had led a very sheltered life. And just like his memories, he really was plain compared to Taye. His eyes weren’t swimming with an intense glint and he certainly wasn’t able to get her heart beating faster the way Taye had.  
As she was making the comparison, the barista asked for her order. 
“Two Mocha Javas?” Tristian spoke over her.  
His statement was more of a question and he was looking at her expectantly, waiting for confirmation that this was what she desired. She felt a little annoyance, but smiled back and nodded in agreement. Tristian refused to let her pay and also refused to leave her side for the next hour. She had wanted to take a stroll around the beautiful gardens by herself, but there was no way of escaping him. They walked for a bit, taking in the beauty of the large campus grounds that were edged by a thick wood of conifer trees.  
Tristian wasn’t very eager to talk about his family—Amber couldn’t blame him after what she had seen in his memories—although, he did speak about his family’s legacy at CFU with a lot of pride. He loved to play football so at least there was some consolation to being forced to attend CFU. But he was probably just bragging, thinking she’d be all the more interested in him knowing he was a quarterback. Amber was glad that he never once asked about her family; she wasn’t ready to discuss the strange relationship she had with Carmine, and her mother was a subject she’d rather not bring up, because the memories of her were too painful to think of. When her coffee was finished, Amber thanked Tristian and quickly escaped to her dorm room.  
Luna was admiring herself in the full length mirror when Amber walked through the door. She was a tiny, dark-haired girl, slightly shorter than Amber. Her straight black hair framed her face with blunt layers and spilled down her back. Her dark eyes filled with excitement and she smiled at Amber before waltzing over and hugging her. 
“You must be Amber. You don’t mind if I call you that, do you?” She was hesitant.   
Amber greeted her back and assured her she was fine with the shortening of her name.   
“Um, I hope you don’t mind, I took that side of the room.” She gestured to her bed. 
Amber was confused by the mix of emotions that swept over her when Luna hugged her. She hadn’t seen anything, well, really nothing except for a blur. There were no childhood memories that popped up or anything else that might give Amber some insight into her roommate. All she got was a rush of fear, excitement, and pure joy, and mixed up in it all was sheer anger. Her body felt like it was on fire and she could swear that the room around her began to spin. 
Amber shook her head, realizing Luna was waiting patiently for a response. “No, any side is fine.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I guess I’m just tired from the flight.”
Luna eyed her warily, but then went back to her bed where she had been trying to decide between a chunky blue sweater and a thinner green cotton pullover. She held them both up for Amber to look at. The blue was so beautiful against her sun-kissed skin and she was pleased with the choice, throwing it over the tank top she was already wearing.   
“So, I’m going to a party down at Tilfon Lake Park tonight, want to join me?” Luna looked over at Amber who now sat on the edge of her bed. 
“Uh, I’m not really sure. I just arrived and I’m pretty tired.”
The truth was that Amber didn’t think she could pull off the whole “party animal” thing. She knew it was common college life to party as hard as possible and hope to successfully pass every class, but she didn’t think she’d enjoy large crowds of drunken people. Although she’d never experienced it, she feared the onslaught of memories it would bring. Amber chided herself; was this not the very reason she had come to college? To escape everything she was, to do normal college student things? How did she expect to get through the rest of the year? She’d just have to suck it up and get it out of the way. Perhaps being bombarded with so many memories on her first night here would prepare her for the days to come. There was no way for her to get used to seeing what she might see, but she’d just have to try and remain calm. 
“Oh, come on. There will be plenty of great looking guys there.” Luna’s grin widened.   
Amber couldn’t help smiling. Maybe she would meet a few interesting people. Besides, she didn’t want to disappoint Luna; she felt they could be great friends. As if reading her mind, Luna squealed with excitement and Amber found herself wondering if Taye would be there. 


What if normal was everything supernatural and legendary? Find out in the first book in The 
Bloody Crescent trilogy.


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Fate Fixed
An Erris Coven Novel

Bonnie Erina Wheeler


Chapter One: Fate Fixed
LEXIE


Lexie ran with a confidence only found in dreams. She propelled her body through a lush forest that was full of rich colors and intoxicating scents. She knew where the trail would take her and smiled knowing she would see him again. As she rounded the corner of the worn trail, he stood there motionless. Surprise once again filled those intense blue eyes of his.  She could never see his whole face, but his eyes always captivated her, drawing her in.  Wrapping her arms around him, she breathed in his heady scent. His arms encircled her and she hoped the moment would last, that she could will herself to stay long enough this time to hear the sound of his voice wash over her. There was so much to say, but the sudden vile presence of death crawled up from behind her as her words turned into a scream….

Lexie reached out and felt the cool space next to her on the bed. As always, she was alone. The images were so real. As much as the ending always terrified her, she could almost smell his pleasing scent on her pajamas and feel his touch. Her dreams were easily forgotten, but not this one. She had been having the same one, with a few slight variations, for months. Even while lost in slumber, she always recognized him and hoped for a different outcome, but it never happened. Of all mornings, she wished it had a happy ending.  
Mornings were never her specialty, but the hurried sounds of her new stepbrothers banging through the small condo made this particular morning disturbing.  They awoke with their obnoxious shouting of directions and generalized complaints.  Over the last month of getting to know them, it had been their noise that required the biggest adjustment. She no longer lived in a calm home with just her mom Ruby and sister Ella, she now lived in what felt like a testosterone zoo. 
Or a psychotic reality show. 
	Stretching across her bed with a complacent smile, Lexie decided not to allow them the privilege of making her last morning in her childhood home unpleasant. They could try rushing her all they wanted, but she would take her sweet time getting out of bed.  
Once her heart rate settled from the dream’s frightful ending, the warmth and fulfillment of his embrace left her feeling content and flushed. As she rolled onto her side and hugged her pillow, she grasped on to the lasting image of him just behind her eyelids and wished her dreams of him didn’t always end so abruptly.
 She never met anyone like him – tall and dark haired, he was intense but beautiful. Although he was an illusion, thinking of him was comforting.  As a rule, Lexie never bought into the idea of ESP or the guy on TV acting like The Ghost Whisperer, but sometimes she wished she could.  If there was a possibility he was really waiting for her in the woods somewhere, she would shake inside out with excitement and search the great northeast to find him.  
My subconscious created perfection for me.  It’s just a shame he doesn’t really exist.   
With that thought, her enthusiasm faded. Even if she did find him here, she would be leaving him behind, just like she was leaving her home, friends and the remnants of her dad. 
Why Lexie was being forced to move to the “Moose Capital of the World” was not her favorite topic to think about. She had so many plans for her senior year of high school, plans that would form lifelong memories with her best friend Liz. They were going to hop on a train and catch a Broadway show in New York, maybe visit some colleges in Boston, and most definitely skip a little school to go to Six Flags. 
What will I do without her? She has kept me going through this last year.
Lexie’s father Ed died the year before. It was such a painful time; she did not think she would ever accept that he was really gone. His lasting presence in her condo was wrapped in the memories of him sitting in the living room grading papers, or coming through the door after being at the college all day. The worst part was, she caused his death and moving was not going to ease that memory. 
After Ed’s death, her mother was lost in her grief. They all were. Lexie wondered if her younger sister still hated her for the accident. Did Ella believe if she stopped being angry, it would mean she didn’t love their father enough? Maybe I hold on to my guilt for the same reason.
Last spring, Ruby started talking about the possibility of dating again. She had been hounded by her girlfriends to get back out there and go on a few blind dates. She resisted them for as long as she could until her closest friend Ginger started her on an internet dating site. Intrigued, Ruby went out on a few dates at first, but nothing serious. 
Then come June, the most shocking words spilled from her mother’s mouth:  Ruby was going to elope in Las Vegas with the love of her life, in less than a month.  Despite the fact that Lexie had always thought her father Ed had been the love of her mother’s life, she couldn’t believe how serious the relationship had gotten in such a short time between her mom and Dragos Serov. The tall burly blond was a widower from Romania who had been living in New York with his three sons. 
Ruby met Dragos through E-Harmony, the online dating service that Ginger connected her to.  At first Lexie was skeptical. Assuming the man must be in need of a green card, she expected him to scam her poor dear mother out of her savings.  But once Lexie met him, she could see the older couple had found their match – just like the cheesy commercials.
Lexie suspected the relationship was something special the evening her mom came home from her very first date. Ruby glowed with pure happiness. She chattered incessantly about Dragos’s charisma and how as an older woman, she never thought she would find a man so physically attractive again. Although that was a blatant TMI, Lexie was relieved her mom would not be alone. After all, she knew she would be going off to college in another year and Ella wasn’t a baby either. 
Dad wouldn’t have wanted her sad and lonely – he would have wanted her happy. 
By the end of July, she and Ella flew out to Vegas with Ruby and Dragos, and like that, the couple united in holy matrimony. Although she was not sure how the drive thru chapel in Vegas could make a marriage holy, at least it was legal.  
Right after the wedding, the parentals revealed the second part of their inspired plan:  they were going to bring the two families together all right – but not in Lexie’s hometown of Torrington or in Dragos’s city of White Plains.  Dragos purchased a large, five bedroom Victorian in Erris, Maine.  It was the home of Erris High and the “Mighty Moose.”  In a month’s time, she got a stepdad, met her peculiar stepbrothers, and found her life packed in cardboard boxes from the grocery store. All while the realtor’s promised to sell the beloved condo to UConn students by Christmas. 
The calm and contentment from her sleep diminished and gave way to tears she had been trying so hard to deny. What she hadn’t told her mother was that she was terrified of leaving the only home she had ever known. Although scared she wouldn’t be able to make a new life for herself in Maine, she was willing to bear her burdens alone. Lexie couldn’t hurt her mother, not ever again, so she said nothing.    
Lexie’s new stepbrothers were not easy to live with.  Especially the oldest, Maxim.  He seemed to dislike her although she didn’t understand why. Despite her attempts to be civil, even friendly, the oldest Serov brother had yet to warm up to her.  Sometimes she could feel him staring at her. If she met his gaze, he would just grunt before turning away. She didn’t get it.  It wasn’t her horrible idea to move to northern Maine, and if she knew her mother and shared any mitochondrial DNA with the woman, it wasn’t Ruby’s brainchild either.  
Ruby claimed to love Torrington and lived in the small city her whole life. She had a great job as a child life specialist at the hospital and a network of adoring friends.  Even when Lexie’s dad passed away, her mom found support and an abundance of casseroles from all of her devoted girlfriends and colleagues.
Dragos insisted moving to Maine was important to him. He wanted to get them all away from the fast paced life of city living with its growing crime rate. Maine was ideal with its small schools and the economy made it a perfect time to invest in property. He maintained it was a wonderful opportunity to come together as a family and have a new beginning. Just like that, her mom agreed and plans were made, forever uprooting both families. Ruby never put up a fight about leaving, nor did she ask Lexie and Ella if they were okay with it.
So far, she hadn’t heard any complaints about moving from her stepbrothers – Maxim, Alik, or Nicolai, but even they must be somewhat concerned, considering Erris was in the middle of nowhere.  She hoped they would be friendlier in time. Maybe they just needed to adjust to the idea of having a new mother and sisters – just like she and Ella had to get used to the idea of a brotherly presence in their lives. That and the move anyway, unless they were used to their father dragging them to parts unknown.  From what little they had spoken about themselves, they could have lived in Timbuktu prior to New York for all she knew, maybe even Mars. But the welcoming streets of Torrington were all she and Ella had ever known.  
Ella. Lexie tried to stop her self-inflicted pity party when she thought of her thirteen-year-old sister. A tyrant most of the time, she made it her job to be a know-it-all whenever possible. Lexie admired Ella’s ability to play sports as well as the strongest boys in her middle school.  All summer long, she had a ball in one hand and was gripping her skateboard with the other. Lexie noticed that Nicolai seemed to be fond of Ella; at least they would play basketball out in the driveway after dinner each evening. That was the only time she saw one of the guys doing much more than eating. Boys... 
Ella wasn’t beastly towards her, but the two sisters no longer had an easy relationship. They were fine until conversations about their Dad came up; that’s when Ella would shut Lexie out. They had both been exceptionally gifted at getting under each other’s skin, but not lately – since news of the move, there had been an unspoken truce between them. 
Looking at her now blank walls, the room didn’t look quite the same with all of her posters down and packed for the move. She gave her Enrique Iglesias calendar to Liz, which already had the back to school dates for Torrington High penned in. 
Liz might as well take advantage of my OCD organization while admiring Enrique. 
Lexie thought of Liz. How long would it take to make a friend like her in Erris?  A friend who will hang out after school and always be there if it’s a miserable day, someone to hit the mall with or even share a ride home. Lexie knew that Liz could never be replaced; she wouldn’t have survived the loss of her father if it wasn’t for their close friendship. Could she make new friends if they felt she was too different and were uninterested in getting to know her? Where would she sit in the cafeteria?  
A sarcastic thought crossed her mind - well, at least I’ll have my new brothers to suffer with.  Maxim was almost nineteen and a year older than Lexie.  The more approachable Alik was seventeen and Nicolai, the youngest, was going into ninth grade.  They could walk around town with her, hang out, do homework, and sniff her.  
Seriously, the random act of smelling people was too weird.  Ruby suggested they had allergies, but Lexie could swear she felt each of them lean in beside her and take a big whiff.  Rolling her eyes, she snickered at their weirdness – she either had bad taste in perfume or they were part beagle.  
If it turned out her new brothers were the only ones to hang out with, she would spend all of her time locked in her bedroom until she could escape to a residential college far away from Mooseville.  
Lexie closed up the final box beside her bed.  In the two hours since she had awoken, she managed to pack away the remainders of her life:  her pajamas, toiletries, and even her weird Garfield slippers, which were a gift from Liz. She wrapped her most prized possession in newspaper and set it gently into the case. It was a picture of her dad holding her when she was in the third grade. It was the only photo she had of just the two of them together. If anything happened to it, she knew she would lose it.  
Twisting her light brown hair up into a ponytail, she pulled on a pair of low rise jeans and her favorite 30 Seconds to Mars Echelon t-shirt. No point dressing up when you’re going to be in the car for eight hours. This time tomorrow she would be awakening to her life in purgatory as a Maine resident, but for today she was determined to leave Connecticut on her terms. 
Heading down the stairs to the barren kitchen, she could see all the essentials were packed and loaded, aside from a few Styrofoam cups and plastic spoons on the counter by the coffee pot. Lexie poured herself a steaming cup full and inhaled the rich aroma. She and Liz had been drinking the brew in secret since they were twelve, but only recently did she start helping herself to a mug at home. Her mom had never allowed minors to drink the caffeinated beverage, but lately Ruby had become a lot more lenient. Drinking coffee was just one small gain in a life filled with too many losses. 
The fridge was empty, not a new occurrence with four males now under her roof. In the last two weeks, her hummus and string cheese had been replaced with family sized packages of pork chops and rib eye steaks. But, after scanning the kitchen, all that could be found to eat for breakfast was a package of glazed donuts sitting on the counter. On closer inspection of the box, she noticed it was empty except for a few crumbs. 
The house was silent.  After all of the noise and the chaos of the morning, they pulled out rather quickly. Peeking through the doorway into the living room, she could see there was nothing left to be loaded onto the U-Haul except for her things upstairs and the sleeping bags the boys had been using for the last two weeks since moving from White Plains. 
Returning to the counter, she leaned over the Formica to look out the window at the driveway. She hoped to find it empty. Lexie grinned at the fantasy of them moving to Maine without her.  But the moving van was still parked in the driveway and only her mom’s Prius was gone. They must have gone to breakfast. 
With the sudden wedding and subsequent move, Ruby had been acting forgetful and high strung over the last few weeks. Before Dragos entered her life, Ruby never would have left without telling Lexie or leaving a note.  Her mother was usually very warm and thoughtful, even a bit of a helicopter-parent. She was constantly hovering over her and Ella, making sure they were always comfortable and had plenty to eat.  Lexie sighed with reluctance; she knew her mother was just trying to adjust to managing a large family.  
A sense of unease blanketed her as the little hairs on the back of her neck stood up.  
I am not alone….
Turning slowly, she found Maxim standing behind her.  His penetrating gaze fixed on her as she looked up into his hard face. 
Did he just smell my head? 
For a brief moment, his expression softened and he appeared almost curious before masking it with his usual aloofness. Unsure how to respond to his proximity, Lexie questioned if he could possibly get any creepier. 
Feeling awkward, she stepped to the side and pretended to warm her coffee by adding more steaming Joe to the flimsy cup.	
“You weren’t up with the rest of us,” he chastised.  
He looked at her like she was a confusing word problem, one that was impossible to solve. His brows furrowed and his steel grey eyes examined her own for some sort of explanation. Oddly, she realized that he was not an ugly guy, just menacing.
Should I be nervous or should I be pissed off?  He wouldn’t get violent...would he? 
In the short time they'd shared their residence, Lexie had not seen him hit his brothers, but she had not spent any time with them without the folks around. His blond hair looked damp as if he had just showered, so maybe he was not ready to leave either.  
Lexie bit back her tongue although she wanted to tell him to go play in the street with moving cars.  What she did or did not do wasn’t going to become a concern of his. Up until then, she had been trying to be exceptionally nice. It was a long drive to Maine and they were supposed to “bond” and “attach” and all of her mom’s other social-worker terms, but he was pressing his luck. 
“Yeah,” she mumbled into the tasteless coffee, “I didn’t sleep well.” Her face reddened with a mixture of embarrassment and anger.  “So, why didn’t you go with them?” she tried redirecting the attention away from herself.
“I waited for you. You need to eat before we leave.” He grumbled and tilted his big head to the side. Lexie was almost touched by his thoughtfulness until he blurted, “It’s a long trip and we won’t be stopping a lot. I’ll drive you in my father’s Jeep. No more time should be wasted.” 
Maxim stood too close for Lexie’s comfort. He’s totally invading my purple circle.  He outweighed her by a hundred pounds and she knew the extra was all muscle. Until standing so close to him, she never realized how big he was.  What did Dragos feed him when he was a baby, Miracle Grow? Nicolai and Alik were both tall too, but they didn’t have Maxim’s mass.
“Ah, that’s nice Max, but I thought I would stop by Liz’s house before we leave and say goodbye. I’ll eat there.”  
His expression was unreadable, but she noticed his hands clench into tight fists as he twisted away from her without saying another word. Seizing the opportunity to flee, she grabbed her cell phone and bolted out the backdoor, text messaging Liz on the way to meet at their halfway mark for old time’s sake.  	
She shrugged off Maxim’s bad mood. Instead, Lexie contemplated her neighborhood while trying to memorize every single detail of each house, tree and yard. It had not changed much in the years she'd lived there, yet as she moved along she could not help but feel like she was seeing it all new for the first time. Would she remember it? 
Lexie saw her best friend rounding the corner next to the park. Her tall, lithe figure looked stylish in the all black ensemble that was truly a Liz original.  Her smile had not changed one bit since the day they became best friends in the fifth grade.  
Looking at Liz, warmth filled her heart when she realized one certainty in life – her friendship with Liz and their shared adventures would always be a central aspect of her life. Just like the memories of her father and his smile and what it was like to have him as her dad, it was all a part of who she was – even the emptiness once he was gone. 
Although Lexie did not want to leave her hometown, she wanted to see her mom content. If Ruby’s happiness meant she had to move to the moose capitol and have aliens for step-brothers, then that was what she would do. Lexie knew deep inside she could cope with the transition if she had to, it would not be the hardest thing she had ever done.
Her eyes met Liz’s.  Lexie smirked and then gave a brave smile. They both pledged to not dwell on the fact that she was leaving. They had done nothing but that for weeks and did not want to spend their last morning together repeating the same conversations. It was time to begin planning new memories.


Chapter Two: Fate Fixed
TORIN


Torin’s sleep had been restless.  When he awoke, his sheets were in a tangle around him and he was damp with perspiration.  The closer he got to the change, the harder it was to sleep through the night. For weeks he had tried to at least get in three or four hours, but sleep eluded him until the early hours of the morning.
Had he really dreamed of her again? Her skin was soft and her long caramel hair felt like silk when it ran through his fingers.  It was her eyes, a deep green with flecks of gold, which struck him – they had the power to keep him dreaming of her. 
Frustrated, he climbed out of bed and looked at himself in the mirror.  He was only eighteen, though he knew he looked much older.  He was muscled and lean, with defined broad shoulders and a mature face framed by his dark, chestnut hair. His blue eyes seemed more acute every day and his hearing amplified. Full of power, he was becoming the hunter he was meant to be. 
 Braden, who was the oldest by six months, had already made the change and he said it was the best possible pain you could ever imagine.  Torin doubted he would turn out as well as his cousin.  Braden did not look much different on the outside, maybe taller with more build, but Torin could see the evolution in his mood, gait, and speed. Although their elders, including Torin’s father, were exceptional themselves – it was as if his cousin had discovered an untouched energy source that was more impressive than any of them anticipated.  
After a few short months, Braden was already hunting with Donovan and the others. Braden was one of Torin’s closest friends. He always knew that when it came time for Braden to make the change, his cousin wouldn’t give into the temptation to follow the darkness. Even during the final phase, when it was hardest to resist, he knew Braden would master his blood thirst.
Torin simply wished that he had the same confidence in himself and his younger cousins, Cian and Teagan.  The three of them were so different from Braden. The eldest was a natural born leader from the time they were young up until they graduated from the small private school their parents had them attend in Nova Scotia.   
Torin didn’t share Braden’s enthusiasm over what and who they were. He hated that he had no control over his future and that he could just cease to exist without thoughts and desires, living only to hurt others. His entire life he was forced to remain distant from outsiders, pretending to be something he wasn’t, with only his cousins and family to turn to. Now that he was eighteen, the finality of the change would be coming over him and once again, he would be restricted to the caged life his ancestors imprisoned him in. 
What Torin could not understand was why he was dreaming of her. It went against the order of things. She exuded innocence and kindness, so different than how he felt inside. Every time she touched him, he could feel his own body ease and meld into hers. 
Anger began to simmer just under his skin – maybe it was a cruel guise and she was going to be his downfall. After all, it always ended the same way. She ran to him with such readiness, without any alarm and just after he embraces her, she screams in horror…Maybe he will feed on her and unleash his own damnation. 
If she knew what I was capable of, she would run in horror, all right.
He looked at the digital clock on the nightstand.  No time for trying to find sleep now.  She was out there somewhere awakening to the sun streaming through her windows.  He wondered if she thought of him during those first few moments of consciousness, confused as to why she was dreaming of him, too. 
Maybe she will think of me today.  
Torin gathered his clothes from his closet and headed to the shower.  He might as well make good use of what was left of his time. It would be his turn to face his fate soon enough. He would see if his fate was fixed, or if he could control his destiny. 
He didn’t want to hurt her – he just wanted some of her gentleness in his life. If she was his, he could hear the ring of her laughter and learn what she found exciting.  He would spend eternity discovering if being with her for real was as wonderful as his imagination, or better. 
The dream’s ending still bothered him. He couldn’t harm her though, as much as the dream left him cautious. Besides, if he fed on anyone, then Braden and the others would have to hunt him down and kill him. He felt sick with dread just thinking of it. If that time came, he would try to find the ones already cursed to darkness and kill a few of them first.


Chapter Three: Fate Fixed
LEXIE


Without even having to discuss it, the two friends began to walk towards their favorite coffee shop.  Lexie was determined not to cry; she just wanted to share a muffin with Liz like it was any other Tuesday morning.   
It was in the seventh grade when Liz was the ‘new kid’ in school that the two became best friends. None of the other girls in class would sit next to her because she was different, with her nails painted black and a Buffy the Vampire Slayer novel always in her hands. Lexie found Liz intriguing; she seemed different than all of the other girls who looked alike in their matching pastel getups.  
By the end of the first week of class, the two were back at Liz’s house eating apples with peanut butter and designing outfits for her Bratz Dolls.  Liz’s favorite had been a Jade doll with her hair chopped off into a Mohawk and eyes darkened with black sharpie, a memory that made them both laugh.  Neither of them had to try to impress each other, their friendship was just natural.
Lexie always loved Liz’s unique style.  Her mom never would have allowed Lexie to highlight her hair or even wear makeup if it wasn’t for Liz. Ruby warned her to not take it too far, the way Liz did, and end up looking like she belonged in a manga book.  Not that she would have anyway; Lexie’s look was more relaxed – with jeans and fitted tees being the go-to outfit of choice. A late bloomer, Lexie was naturally slender and petite. Only Liz knew the secret relief she felt when her breasts finally developed.  At five foot three, she was only a little bit taller than Ella.	
After arriving at the coffee shop and ordering their usual, the two found a seat next to the window. 	
“So, this morning, you wouldn’t believe who actually spoke more than one consecutive word in a row to me,” Lexie instigated with a grin, knowing Liz loved to make fun of her new stepfamily.  
“Yikers, what would have brought that on? Did he want you to load his jock strap on to the truck for him?” Liz joked as she stuffed a bite of cappuccino muffin into her mouth. 
“Nice visual! Thanks for that.” Lexie’s nose wrinkled with the thought.
“No prob.”  Liz was the funniest person Lexie knew and her dark haired friend took great pride in that fact. “So, what did his Mighty Prickness want so dearly that he was willing to converse with someone as low as yourself on the food chain?” 
“He wanted to take me to breakfast,” she offered with a sly smile.
“Shut! Up!”  They both laughed in unison at Maxim’s unexpected behavior.  “I knew it! He wants you, Lexie.  That is why big Blondie is so hostile. It’s all that pent up sexual frustration!” Liz was animated and a few other patrons looked over at them with scowls. 
“Okay, now you have managed to agitate my gag reflex,” Lexie grinned. “I’m hoping he’s going to try to act human, which is best case scenario.  Most likely, he was afraid I would slow down everyone even more by taking off, which is what I have done anyway.” With a laugh, she nibbled away triumphantly at her half of the muffin and washed it down with her mocha latte. 
“Speaking of time, when are you hitting the road?” Liz asked, although they both had discussed it all week. 
Glancing at her cell phone, Lexie knew she should be heading back. It was already close to nine.  
“I can stay another ten minutes. I don’t want to appear too eager, but I don’t want Mom anymore stressed than she already is. She said last night that she thinks her hair is starting to fall out.”  Suddenly Lexie wasn’t feeling up to laughing anymore. The stress was getting to Ruby, and even Lexie noticed all the extra hair plugging the sink.
“You know Lex, if it’s a total hole up there, Bev said you can crash with us.  I already talked to her about it. She said just give it a chance, and if you are not happy by the time Christmas rolls around, she’ll talk to your mom and you can stay with us. We have plenty of room.”  
Liz’s Aunt Bev was a proud Avon representative who had a passion for cupcakes and British Literature. It was easy to see where Liz got her individuality from. Lexie thought it was pretty amazing that Bev allowed Liz to live with her so her niece wouldn’t be forced to follow her single father all over the world each time he was reassigned to a different naval base. As a career navy man, Liz’s dad knew a lot about sailing and military strategy, but nothing about females. Perhaps that is why Liz’s mom vanished before her first birthday. 
“I know Liz, but Mom and Ella need me, or I would have already applied for emancipation when I was old enough to research it on Wikipedia.”  She swirled the liquid around in its cup.  
The truth is, she had thought about pleading her case to her mother, but just could not bring herself to say the words that would devastate the woman who had sacrificed so much to raise her and Ella alone for the last year.  Lexie knew she needed to show the same courage now that her mom did over those first horrible months after her dad died.   
 “Well, my bestie can’t leave without some presents…so close your eyes!” Liz asserted with satisfaction.  
“Okay, but just so you know – I’m peeking.”
Liz reached into her tattered back pack and pulled out two gift boxes in ivory tissue paper with black satin ribbon.  
“Here, this one first.” 
Lexie took the smallest package and opened the delicate wrapping, unveiling a small box. Lifting the lid, she discovered a beautiful silver cross with a little emerald stone, on a choker length chain. It was gothic enough for Liz to qualify it as cool, but simply stunning to Lexie.  
“Liz, I don’t know what to say, it’s so pretty.”
 “I just knew you would love it.  It’s a little tame for me, but the green in the stone looks like your eyes.  Besides, it will protect you from vampires.” 
Lexie laughed at their ongoing joke. She always told Liz if she saw a vampire, she would turn and flee, but Liz would run it down and tackle the unsuspecting creature of the night.  
Lexie fingered the delicate chain, loving the sterling silver and admiring the green in the stone. Liz was right; it was a lot like the pigment in her eyes.  She knew that whenever she missed her friend, she would wear the necklace to think of her. 
“Okay, next gift…you’re going to love this.” She handed Lexie the weighted package. 
This time, Lexie didn’t take her time; she pulled away the tissue paper to discover a black leather address book. She flipped it open and ran her fingers through the feather light pages. When she got to the “L” section, every single page had Liz’s name and address penned in it. 
Lexie reached out and hugged her best friend. She knew no matter how far apart they were – Liz would be up visiting soon enough.


Chapter Four: Fate Fixed
WOLF


The wolf’s claws extended out and burrowed into the dank soil. The smells of decomposing foliage deep within the earth aroused his appetite. It had been too long since he shed his skin and the feeble form he was trapped in. He wanted to hunt. 
He walked a tight rope. Always pretending he was just a backdrop in everyone else’s world. It angered him how oblivious humans were. They were so caught up in their supremacy that they couldn’t see they were nothing but cattle at a slaughter house. They spit on him and made jokes at his expense when he held their lives in his hands. 
It was the moment of capturing his prey he loved most. Seeing the fear and acceptance in his victims' eyes as they flailed beneath him in surrender, that really did it for him. His body shivered with pleasure at the thought of tasting blood again. It had been months and he could barely contain his desire for it. 
With his nose in the air, he raced into the vast forest following a decadent smell. The others yelped as they fell into formation. Staying low to the ground, he could smell his prey’s fear and knew he would be the first to go for the throat.  He tensed with anticipation, his excitement made him want to do more than just kill. 
Change was in the air and he was ready to mate. He wouldn’t wait in the background any longer.

To discover what happens next to Lexie and Torin, please read:
Fate Fixed: An Erris Coven Novel,
by author Bonnie Erina Wheeler.

Connect with Bonnie Wheeler online:

Website: http://fatefixed.blogspot.com/ 

Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/BonnieWheeler1


Bridger
(Bridger #1)

Megan Curd


Chapter One: Bridger


An ambulance siren screamed in the background. Red and blue lights bounced off the frigid water of the neighbor’s pond.  My once-wet clothes were now frozen stiffly in place.  Hypothermia was becoming a very real possibility, but it didn’t matter.  Dad was the only thing that mattered. I rocked back and forth on the solid ground, grief and panic overtaking me.  My hands were on either side of Dad’s face, but nothing was working to get him to respond.  What tears didn’t stick to my cheek splashed down onto his forehead.  Dad’s eyes were lifeless and empty as Chris continued to do compressions on his stiffening chest.
Pump.  Pump.  Pump.  No response.  Pump.  Pump.  Pump.
Keeping up a steady chant to the rhythm of his frantic pounds, Chris was crying as well.  His voice trembled.  “Dad, you can’t do this.  Dad, come on.”
Seconds felt like years.  With every passing moment that Dad didn’t respond, the tension rose.  Chris was growing frantic in his thrusts to bring Dad back.  The EMT training class was compulsory for freshman.  I’d gotten a higher grade than anyone else last year.  However, there hadn’t been a chapter on how not to freak out while your brother was performing CPR on your dad.  That had been missing.  Nothing in that class could have prepared me for this.
Every time it had been necessary, Dad saved the day.  What happened when there was no way to save the day for him?  I willed him to respond by shaking his head once more.  His red flannel shirt stuck to my frozen pant leg.  “Dad, you gotta stay with us.  Please, for Mom, for Memaw, for us.”
I knew he was gone; he took his last breath minutes ago in the lull between Chris’ CPR.  There was no way to tell Chris.  Saying it out loud would make it final, make it impossible to take back.  Besides, maybe God would still give him back to us.
A man in a white medical jumpsuit pushed Chris out of the way, causing him to slide down the slippery bank toward the deadly pond.  “Kids, let us do our job.”
Chris didn’t have anything left in him, so he lay motionless in the snow.  His eyes were shut tight, as though he was trying to escape this endless nightmare.  My heart broke for him. He was in so much pain.  The paramedic pounded rhythmically against Dad’s chest, the only sound being his thrusts against Dad’s still body.  There was no option but to look away.  It was too much to bear.
Mom came from behind, trying her best to pull me away to give the paramedics room to work.  Tugging once more, she caused both of us to tumble backward in the snow.  Finally free to work, the other paramedic moved in.  He put three of his fingers on Dad’s neck in search of a pulse.  Looking up at his partner, he minutely shook his head.
It was official.
Dad was dead.
I lost it.
I screamed in defiance.  Mom buckled under the news, collapsing into a heap in the snow once more.  And Chris?  Where was Chris?  He had become as still as Dad, his eyes devoid of all emotion as he stared at us from the bank.  Leaving Mom in the heap she’d become, I was back at Dad’s side, administering CPR once more.  “If you wouldn’t give up on him, he’d be fine.  He’ll come out of it.  He’ll wake up.  He has to wake up.  Mom, Dad’s gonna wake up.  He’s – ”
 “Ma’am, please, let us take care of him.  You’ve got to let us do our job.”  The man sounded annoyed, as though I wasn’t allowing him to take our trash.  Infuriated by his callousness, a scene from the movie I’d watched the week before came to mind:  a bounty hunter slamming a man against a wall, the man dangling off the ground.
I found myself pinning the man against the back of the emergency vehicle a moment later.  Usually my voice was lower, but now it cut through three octaves.  The paramedic had brought me to the breaking point.  “Do you not understand my dad just died?”
Hanging three inches off the ground, he struggled to free himself.  I slammed him against the back once more.  The metal protested, contorting to the shape of the man’s body.  He stopped fighting.  I’d never practiced slamming people up against cars but here I was, doing a better job of it than an actor.  It was as though I had memorized the move from simply watching it on the screen.
The sudden hostility distracted Mom from Dad.  Fear was evident in her voice.  “Ashlyn!  What are you doing?  You’re hurting him!”
“Ma’am, I understand,” the man blustered, searching for words to make me feel like letting go of the death lock on his shirt.  His eyes were unfocused.  Mom was trying to separate us. I pushed her away with my free hand, still completely focused on the man.
My voice cracked. “No, I don’t think you do.  He was everything to me.”
Memaw appeared out of nowhere as always.  She grabbed the collar of my shirt and yanked backward with surprising force.  “Ashlyn, what do you think you’re doing?” 
Losing my balance, the man and I landed in the snow at the same time.  He shuffled backward on all fours, slipping in his frantic attempt to get away. Shaking my head did nothing to clear the countless thoughts and emotions fighting within. Looking at him once more, I started to apologize but was cut off by his horrified look.
Memaw responded before I could string something coherent together.  “Don’t worry about her, doctor.  Why don’t you go take care of my son?”
Memaw was as hard and cold as the ice her son had fallen through.  She had no tears in her eyes at all, but instead a look of resignation. When I reached out to her, she recoiled in her customary fashion. She shivered to cover it up and began barking commands.  “Sarah, go be with Peter before they take him to the hospital.  Ashlyn, get inside.  You don’t need to see this.  Take your brother with you.”
I opened my mouth to protest. “But – ”
“But nothing.  You’re lucky that man isn’t severely hurt.  You could have killed him.  We’ll talk later.”
She turned to retrieve Mom, who was still sobbing in the snow.  There was no arguing with Memaw.  Looking around, chaos and pain were in no short supply.  The surrounding neighbors had come to try and help, or maybe just to get a look at the scene.
Chris was sitting at the bank of the pond, his head in his hands. Running over to him, I pulled his hands away and looked into his eyes. The words he needed to hear almost broke me in half from the weight they carried. “Chris, you did everything you could.  There was nothing more you could have possibly done.”
“I couldn’t pull him out, Ash.  It was like he weighed a ton.”
“I know. It’s not your fault.”
Chris looked down, trying to hide the tears he was wiping away.  The salt froze on the cuff of his sweater.  “Pulling Ryan out of the fishing hole he fell through last year was hard, but it wasn’t like this.  It was like someone was underwater, yanking him deeper.”
Arguing with him was out of the question.  He could have said the Loch Ness Monster had been on the other side of the ice waiting to attack.  Nodding, I put my arm around him.  We were frozen to the core.  “Memaw said to get you inside.”
Chris dipped his head in shame.  “She’s going to blame me.”
Anger flared inside of me as I listened to him become worried about Memaw’s reaction to it all. Why did it matter what she thought?  Didn’t she always think the worst in every situation anyway? “No one’s going to blame you for anything.  It's not your fault.  You didn’t know the ice was weak.”
“That’s the thing, it was like five inches thick!  I don’t know what happened.”
Pulling him up, the tears still streamed silently.  “Let’s go.  We’re going to freeze to death.”
We staggered toward the house, each of us pulling the other forward. His body shivered against mine. The twinkling Christmas lights that Dad had strung up mocked our grief. I glanced back at the haunting scene unraveling at the pond; the shimmer of ambulance lights glinted off the ice and broken section of water. A ripple broke the still surface of the water, moss rising to the top and sinking back down as soon as it had appeared.
Once inside, Chris turned to gaze back down at the pond, his hand on the frosty window. He fought against the chatter of his teeth to make a coherent sentence. “I’m going to have to look out there every day of my life and know he died because I didn’t get him out in time.  I don’t know if I can do that, Ash.”
Not knowing how to respond, I walked to the bathroom in search of towels and dry clothes that may have been left on the floor.  Making myself do something other than focus on what had just happened made it feel like it might not all be real.
Not thirty minutes had passed since Dad died in my arms.  Then I had somehow pinned a grown man against an emergency vehicle and made his rear end a permanent imprint in the metal.  The need to run from the day’s events gnawed at my insides, eating away everything that wasn’t frozen already.
Walking back out, Chris took the towel and pair of dirty jeans without a word.  I turned and went downstairs to my room in the basement.  There was no way today could have seriously happened.
Dad couldn’t be gone.  Not really.  How had I pinned that man?  Nothing made sense.  My mind was racing.  The weight of the day threatened to crush me as I lay staring at the ceiling that was covered in posters of my favorite bands.  This had to be a bad dream.  Dad had to come thundering down the stairs to say my best friend, Jamie, was at the door any time now.  Sleep wasn’t an option.  Closing my suddenly tired eyes would give way to images worse than the ones playing out in my head.
I curled under the thick comforter as I tried to warm up. Even with the layers of warmth surrounding me, I still felt cold. Rolling over, I punched the pillow, causing it to fall off the bed. As it hit the floor, the manila envelope full of information on my upcoming trip fell out.  I had hidden everything there in excitement, wanting to look at it each night before going to sleep.
Dad and I had been planning the adventure to Ireland forever.  Just the two of us, we were going to go visit family from his and Memaw’s side after Christmas.  Now that would never happen.
Gathering up the travel brochures, tears spilled over again.  The happy faces of the people on the fronts made me ill.  Dumping the contents of the folder into the trash, all the smiling faces were purposely pointed down. 


Chapter Two: Bridger


Pinning the man against the ambulance had been an adrenaline rush. That’s what Google chalked it up to.  Nothing budged when I tried to pick up the dresser, bed, or desk.  When did it seem like a good idea to try those ideas?  Frustration peaking, I turned on my music, sat down on the bed and leaned against the wall.  Eyes closed, I tried to focus on remembering what had happened.  It had happened, right?
The other unavoidable issue to wrestle with was Memaw. Sure, she was seventy years old, but that didn’t change the fact that we had never gotten along since I was old enough to walk and talk. She’d never wanted a granddaughter; it was always clear in her demeanor. I couldn’t even remember doing anything with her like a normal grandparent would. Not that I wanted to start now. Maybe I could get out of the house before she yelled at me some more with how horrible I was for beating up a paramedic. Memaw was old, but she was fierce.
Not five minutes later, Mom barged in unannounced and broke my concentration by turning the music off.  Memaw was with her, holding onto her arm.  “Ashlyn, Memaw wants to talk to you.”
“I don’t want to talk.”
Memaw limped forward.  “I don’t care what you want to do.  We’re talking.  Sarah, could you leave us alone, please?”
Mom nodded, still in a daze, then walked upstairs. I sighed, grabbed my pillow and held it tight to my chest. Memaw stood at the side of the bed, her eyes boring holes into me. “What in the world were you thinking out there, grabbing the man like that?  You could have killed him.”
“It would be great to know what I was thinking out there, but the problem is, I wasn’t!  Why are you acting like I did it on purpose?  It was in the heat of the moment; it was just an emotional thing.  There’s no way I could do it again anyway, so why does it matter?”
She looked at me with pursed lips, then quickly turned away. That was a sure sign she was holding something back. I stood up and threw the pillow back on the bed.  “Is there more?  Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t act like there’s no Irish fairy tale story to tie into this. You always have one that refers back to me as a horrible person, anyway.”
We stared at each other.  Memaw was impossibly stubborn.  Luckily, it was a family trait. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Silence.
This was stupid.  What was the point of her yelling if she wasn’t even going to explain what crime had been committed?  I stormed away from her and kicked the trashcan, which ricocheted off the wall and flew toward Memaw.
I watched her eyes as they landed on the manila folder. “You threw away your flight tickets?”
“What’s the point in them if Dad’s gone?”
She picked up the folder, examining everything.  “You need to learn about your heritage.  Your past.”
“You know a lot.  Why don’t you just tell me?”
Her face turned red.  “Ashlyn Marie McVean, respect your elders.”
“Why?  It’s not like you respect me.”
She stomped over and grabbed my face. Memaw had never felt like a threat, but her grasp was stronger than I had imagined possible.  A wave of fear washed over me.  She felt like…more.  There was no logical way to explain it.
Jerking out of her reach, I turned my back on her.  “You’re hiding something.”
“You’re not ready.”
Bingo.  “So there is something!  You just yell at me for almost killing someone, but you won’t explain what happened.”
She reached out once more to try to connect.  I took another step away.  Then, an idea struck.  Snatching the folder from her, I stood on my toes and looked in her eyes.  “You know, maybe I’ll use those.  Jamie would go.”
Memaw’s face changed.  Instead of angry, she looked scared.  “You’re not going anywhere with Jamie.  She’s an accident waiting to happen.  We’ll have to pick you up from the airport in a matchbox.”
“Just watch me.”
“If I told you how you pinned that man against the ambulance, you wouldn’t believe me.”
My phone was on the stairs across the room.  Crossing the space in three strides, I grabbed it and texted Jamie quickly.  It was already a fact that she’d say yes. Her life was the envy of everyone at school.  Her nomadic, carefree lifestyle came from having parents who were always gone and didn’t seem to care what she was doing.  Returning to the conversation at hand, my focus returned to Memaw.  “You’re right.  I won’t.  I did a Google search and it was an adrenaline rush.  You don’t know anything that the Internet didn’t already explain.”
The reverse psychology worked.  Finally driving her to the edge, her Irish accent was thick once more.  “Seen any action movies lately?”
I stopped, stunned.  Did she know Jamie, Reese, and I had gone to see that bounty hunter movie?  No, she couldn’t.  We didn’t tell anyone, especially our parents.  Sneaking into R-rated movies wasn’t something you discussed over dinner with them.  It kind of killed the point.  “Why would that matter?”
She smiled.  “I thought so.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you’re more than you think. It means we need to have a talk. You and I. You need to start listening to the things I’ve been telling you.”
“You never tell me anything but one more of your Irish legends. I’m not interested in –” I wanted to continue, but at that moment the phone went off.  Reading the text, a smug grin came over my face. “Jamie can go to Ireland.  We just need to call the airline and change the name on the ticket.”
Memaw was as white as the sheets on the bed.  “Ashlyn, don’t.”
“Why not?  Will I kill Jamie by accident?  Snap the plane in half?  Shoot fireballs from my eyes?”
“Just…don’t.  You’re a –”
“I’m a what?  A girl who overreacted after watching her dad die?  That’d be right.  A freak? If so, it doesn’t change the fact that Jamie’s my best friend and we’re going to Ireland next week.”
With that, I stormed up the stairs, leaving Memaw to fend for herself.
Mom was standing at the top.  She must have been eavesdropping.  “Ashlyn, you’re not a freak.”
I grabbed my coat and headed for the door.
Mom started again. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To see Reese.”  I slammed the door before she could respond.
***
Reese opened the front door before I could even knock.  There was worry etched in every line of his face.  “Hey, Ash.  Shouldn’t you be with –”
“No, I shouldn’t.”
“Ah. Okay.”  He opened the door wide and gestured in, asking no other questions.
We went to his room, where Jamie was sprawled across his disgusting, faux leather couch.  He’d “rescued” the thing from someone’s yard down the street this summer.  Jamie couch surfed between friends’ houses, so tonight must be Reese’s turn.  She was always staying with someone, as her house was usually empty and devoid of food. Bobbing her head, she kept time with the music we couldn’t hear.  Pulling one ear bud out, she smiled.  She was never very good with being sensitive to a situation.  “Hey, Sis. How are you holding up?”
I shrugged.  “Not great.”
Reese grabbed my hips and pulled us onto his full-sized bed.  He was my best friend besides Jamie, but he thought it was more.  It wasn’t.  Today I didn’t have the energy to fight the blurred lines he’d created.  He pulled me close, and I was thankful for the comfort he brought.  “Let’s hear it,” he said.
“Remember Bounty Line Blood?  The movie we snuck into last week?”
Reese laughed.  “Yeah, we all do.  It was crap.”
Jamie nodded.  “Waste of eight bucks.  At least the concessions guy was hot.”
“Jamie, you think any guy with two legs and a face is hot.”
Shaking my head at their rabbit trail conversation, I brought them back to earth.  “Remember when the main guy pinned the runaway against a wall? Well, I pinned a guy against the ambulance exactly like that. The scene popped into my head, then out of nowhere I was doing it.”
Reese snorted.  “Riiight.  Was he a midget?”
“He was the size of Chris.”
Jamie sat up, tossing her iPod onto the nightstand made of three milk carton crates.  Reese didn’t have the cleanest room, nor did he have the sort of furniture that anyone considered normal.  “Woah, Ash. Chris is six-five.  Are you sure you’re not exaggerating?”
“Pretty sure.”
Jamie eyed me carefully.  Reese slapped me on the back.  “Way to put that dude in his place!  Too bad no one YouTubed it.  We could have been the next big thing.”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I wanted to do.  Slam him into a vehicle to put him in his place and have it all over the Internet. The thing is, when Memaw started yelling at me about it, she said we had to talk. That I was ‘more’ than what I thought.”
Reese snorted. “Do you really believe anything that old bat says? How many times do you come over here and complain about the latest leprechaun story she’s told? How the McVean side is somehow related to King Arthur and she’s the last of a dying breed? Now’s probably not the best time to buy into her stories, Ash.”
I sighed as I nodded in agreement. His bias towards Memaw was only fueled by my complaints. I was pretty sure she’d never said a word to him that wasn’t kind. She reserved her comments for me alone. “She just seemed so weird today. Everything about today is wrong,” I began to tear up and looked down to avoid the embarrassment of them watching me cry. “This can’t be happening. Dad can’t be dead.”
“Ash, this probably isn’t the best time to ask you this, but what the heck is wrong with your eyes?” She hopped off the couch and stared at me with confusion.
“Nothing, why?”
“Your eyes aren’t naturally black, are they?”
I darted to the bathroom in search of a mirror, Reese and Jamie following behind.  My stomach dropped to the floor.  My true eye color was on a need to know basis, which meant only the family knew.  Memaw had always said it was a bad omen to have black eyes.  To keep her from quoting even more Irish folklore, I had taken to wearing every color of contacts available.  “Oh, crap.  Yeah, they are.  I forgot to put my contacts in this morning with…with everything.”
Jamie was staring as though she’d never seen me properly before. She didn’t even flinch after hearing the obvious hesitation in my voice. “How long have your eyes been black like this?”
“Since forever.”
“You were born with black eyes?”
I shrugged.  “Not sure, actually.  I don’t remember anything before turning four and Mom has next to no pictures from before then.  It’s weird but she blows it off, so we don’t talk about it.”
Jamie looked at me differently than she ever had before. She almost looked hungry. Her eyes roved over me with what felt like suspicion.
I tried to make a joke out of it to lighten the tension she’d created for no apparent reason.  “I can go put some contacts in if it’d make you feel better.”
Reese’s mom interrupted our strange pow-wow in the bathroom, making us jump.  “You guys want to find a room with a little more space?”
This overanalyzing of everything was out of control.  It felt like I was just waiting on some serious calamity to strike.  Well, besides Dad…I couldn’t bring myself to say the truth. It couldn’t be real. Could things possibly get any worse? For some reason, it felt like they could.  “Sure, Mrs. Williams.”
She smiled.  “Jamie, want to help me finish up the Christmas cookies in the kitchen?  You guys are welcome to come have some before Reese and his dad demolish all of them.”
Reese grabbed my hand and tugged me back toward his room, while Jamie went with his mom.  “We’ll be right there.”
She put her arm around Jamie as they disappeared down the hallway.  “Don’t be long.”
He practically dragged me back to his room.  As he shut the door, his face was all business.  “Let me get this straight. You pulled a Karate Kid on the paramedic, your eyes are black, and you don’t know anything about the first few years you were alive?”
These people were beginning to give me a complex.  “Sorry.  I’m not on top of my life.”
His expression was grave.  “You know what this means, don’t you?”
An icy feeling doused my insides.  “What?”
He suddenly grinned.  “You’re the freak I always knew you were!  Now we can make a horror film and get rich.”
I punched him.  “You’re a jerk, you know that?”
“Guilty as charged.  But you know you love me.”
We smiled at one another.  Looking around his room, I felt more at home here than across the street at my house.  Maybe it was escaping from the necessity to deal with today.  My stomach turned to lead as my thoughts returned to Dad.  I choked on the tears that threatened to emerge.  Reese wasn’t allowed to see this.  “Reese, I don’t know what I’m gonna do without my dad.”
He pulled me into one of his signature bear hugs, the kind only a varsity football player could manage.  “You know I’m here no matter what, right?”
“Yeah, I know. I appreciate it.”
“You mean the world to me.”
I buried my face into his shoulder. “You know you mean the world to me, too.”
“I’m serious, though.  If we could make some money off of you…”
I grabbed the foam finger sitting on top of his overflowing trashcan and whacked him with it.  He sprinted out of his room before he could receive a more respectable flogging and headed to the kitchen.
It was there we found a gigantic spread of food.  Reese’s mom was always doing things like that; filling us up until we were about to burst.  Tonight she had pulled out all the stops.  She put her hand on my back, smiling sympathetically. “Ash, don’t you think you should go home for the evening? You know, after everything that’s happened? I’m sure your family needs you right now.”
Mrs. Williams was right, but there was no part of me that wanted to face what going home meant. I choked on my words, mumbling most of them unintelligibly. “No, I’m okay here. They’ll be there after dinner. I just need time.”
She nodded, going back to the countertops to wipe things down. “Alright then. Just make sure you don’t pull away from your family. They’re what you need the most right now. By the way, all the food is egg-free, so you should be good to go. I know you’re allergic to them.”
I blushed. Having an allergy to a ridiculously common food caused problems for everyone around me.  I tried not to be embarrassed by the extra work she had to put in when I was around.  “Thanks, Mrs. Williams.  I appreciate it.”
We all sat down and had dinner together.  They were merciful and allowed me to eat in silence.  My phone had vibrated nonstop through the meal; no doubt Mom trying to call.  I ignored it.  After we’d finished the meal, Jamie smiled sympathetically at me. I was starting to feel like a charity case, and I knew better than to be here. Chris needed me right now and I’d just bailed on him. It was a pretty crummy move to come here, but I’d been selfish and wanted Reese to make things all right for at least a moment.
Jamie smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. It seemed she was finally taking in the day for herself. “Ash, the cookies are for you.  You can take some home for your family, if you want. You might need something sweet for…you know…” She trailed off. She was never good with emotions.
“Thanks, Jamie.  You’re awesome.”
She left to get the cookies from the counter, then began passing them out at the table.  She handed me a Christmas tree, still smiling.  Breaking off a large chunk, I popped it in my mouth.  “You know, this isn’t half – ”
My tongue cut off the sentence halfway through.  Suddenly my throat was too thick.  Gagging, I fell to all fours on the way to the sink. 
The room began to spin.  Where had all the air gone?  My lungs burned as I tried to breathe.  What once were my hands had swollen to the size of small dinner plates.  I looked up to find that Jamie’s eyes were full of shock. Suddenly, a look of comprehension swept across her face and she sprang to life.  At that moment, I doubled over, succumbing to the heaves sweeping my body. 
Reese began to yell. I couldn’t breathe.  I was going to die.
There was a crushing blow against my back.  A pair of arms appeared around my waist, thrusting up and into my stomach.  Another pound crashed down between my shoulder blades.  Why was I being beat to death from the inside and out?  There was no way to figure out what was going on, why there was no air in my lungs.  For a second the blows rescinded, leaving me weak and disoriented.
Reese was still yelling.  “Jamie, where’s her EPI pen? Go get it! It should be in her bag in my room! We can stop the reaction if we use it in time!”
Jamie gave no response.  In the absence of being shaken like a rag doll, I struggled to get back to my feet.  Attempting to grasp the table for support, I slipped once more and pulled off the tablecloth on the way down.  A sharp stab of pain reverberated through my skull as my head connected with the table.  There was no time to breathe between the convulsions and vomiting. 
The instinct to breathe fought with the fear taking over. Somewhere Reese screamed, “Dial 911!”
Whose foot did I have a hold of?  Was it Jamie’s?  No, it was Reese. He was yelling as he pointed and gave directions to his mom and Jamie.  He was saying something to me now, but my pounding heart drowned him out.  He raised his hand with what looked like an EPI pen, about to bring it down.  Without warning, everything went black. 


Chapter Three: Bridger


Spending three days in the hospital had not been on the to-do list.  What had happened?  One minute I was completely fine, having a normal conversation with friends.  The next, I’m on the floor getting the Heimlich from Reese to no avail.  Other than that, there was no recollection of the past two days.  
When I woke up, Memaw was by the hospital bed muttering something in her native tongue, Gaelic.  “Uh, hi,” I croaked, repositioning myself slightly.  My head spun from the minor movement.
Memaw jumped.  “Ashlyn!  Oh, thank God, you’re alright.”
Tears wound down her weathered face and dripped off onto her hand that held mine.  Shocked she was holding my hand, I pulled away without thinking.  A small smile played across her lips in acknowledgement.  “You’re all right. You really are a McVean, fighting through this. I didn’t know if Reese had gotten to you in time,” she shuddered.  “I need to go get your mother. She’ll want to know you’re awake. Will you be okay?”
“Yeah, that’s fine. What happened, though?”
Memaw stopped short of the doorway, her hands going white from squeezing her cane so tight. She didn’t turn, but replied in a clipped tone.  “There was egg residue in the cookies somehow.  Mrs. Williams said she mixed cupcake batter in the bowl a few days earlier.  She thinks that’s where it came from.  She’s very upset with herself.  You had an allergic reaction to the eggs, not to mention you needed six stitches in your head. You’re hard-headed, but not quite hard enough to beat the dinner table it seems.”  
With that, she sighed and crossed herself like she always did when around me.  You’d think she was in the presence of a demon or something.  She leaned on her cane for support as she limped out of the room.
Chris found Jamie to be overwhelming without someone to temper her extreme buoyancy.  We caught up while Memaw was away finding Mom.  “Ash, Jamie’s been staying at the house.  She’s driving everyone nuts.  I don’t think anyone would miss her if my snake accidentally got loose tonight…”
I laughed.  “I’m pretty sure someone would notice if she went missing, if nothing else because the world would be a much quieter place.”
“We’d all have more oxygen. It could be considered an act of humanity.  I might even get the Nobel Peace Prize or something. Jamie nearly had a nervous breakdown while you were out.  She started Googling your symptoms to make sure the doctors weren’t incompetent, irritating everyone within a twenty-room radius.  The person next door had a rare South American disease according to her, when the doctors had confirmed it was a bad case of shingles.  Dr. Jamie’s been on a warpath.”
I shook my head, stifling a laugh.  “She’s my best friend.  Give her a break.”
“Well, it’s crazy enough around the house without Jamie sleeping over all the time, jabbering away like a parrot.  Mom’s mad at me right now.”
Grinning slightly, I rolled my eyes.  “Mom’s mad at you?  Her prince?  What’d you do?”
He looked to the ground.  “I kind of asked her if we should put Memaw in a nursing home, but she’s not hearing it.  She says Dad wouldn’t want us to ship her off.”
“Whoa. Why would you wanna put her in a nursing home?”
“Well, it’s been kind of weird. I’ve found Memaw in your shower three times since you’ve been out.”
“Wait, what? She was in my bathroom downstairs?”
“Yeah. I don’t know how she got down there; you know she’s bad with stairs.  Mom couldn’t find her and she was freaking out, so I went down just because it was the only place we hadn’t looked. She was there. It was weird. She was all shocked when I found her and kept saying she didn’t know how she’d gotten there. It kind of worried me. She’s not that young, you know?”
Jamie interrupted our conversation with her arrival, her eyes swollen and rimmed with red.  I felt horrible to have caused her carefree world to crash in on her, even if it was for just a moment.  Chris looked at me and rolled his eyes as he got up and left the room. “I’ll leave you two to catch up.”
Chris shut the door as he walked out, leaving Jamie to rock on her heels awkwardly in the middle of the room.
“James, you look like crap.  When’s the last time you slept?” I asked.
She looked at her watch and shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I was too worried to sleep.”  
“Well go get some beauty rest.  It’s gonna be okay.  Your doctoring skills are superb according to Chris.”
She smiled.  Looking away for a moment, she did a double take.  “Do you really think anyone here in the hospital cares about your eye color?  You’re way too self-conscious, girl,” she teased.
“What are you talking about?”
“Well, I just didn’t think you’d be worried about putting contacts in, considering the circumstances.”
She really needed to sleep if she thought I had put contacts in.  “Sis, I haven’t worn contacts for two days.  Comatose, remember?” I said jokingly while tapping my head, assuming she would laugh as well.  She didn’t.  Instead, she inched closer and for some reason seemed afraid.
“Look in the mirror,” she commanded as she fished a small compact from her purse and handed it to me.
I took it from her with curiosity.  Those eyes couldn’t be mine.  Where there were only black irises before, they were now emerald green, like Memaw’s.
“Um, wow. Mom?”
Walking in from right outside the door, she must have been giving Jamie and me time to catch up. Her eyes were puffy and red; between Dad being gone and my trip to the ER, she must not have slept in a few days. “What’s wrong, hon?” she asked as she gently pulled the hair out of my face and placed it behind my ears.
“My eyes. Look at them.”
Taking her focus off the rat’s nest of hair and glancing at my eyes, her own bugged out of her head. “Emily! Come here!”
Although she hobbled in slowly, Memaw made it clear she was the matriarch of the family.  No one could ever forget it, but she hip-checked Jamie on her way over anyway.  Hovering inches above the bed, she placed her hands on either side of my face, holding it in place as though I might try to pull away.
Her face mimicked the shock that had been in Jamie’s a moment ago.  She seemed uncertain as to what to think.  Instead of betraying her usual confidence, she made a joke.  “Well, apparently the eggs gave you a little color along with nearly killing you.  Not a bad trade-off, if you ask me.”
Memaw could joke, but the worry on her face was evident. Realizing she had given herself away, her face once again became a hard mask.  She knew something, and I needed to know what it was before leaving for Ireland.


To learn what comes next for Ashlyn, read Bridger, the first book in the Bridger Trilogy.

Connect with Megan Curd:

Website:www.megancurd.com
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Beg For Mercy
(Cambion #1)
 By Shannon Dermott


Chapter One: Beg For Mercy


pompous (adj.) – having an excessive sense of self-importance

This had not been a good idea.  I’d known from the beginning nothing good would come from it.  But my best friend, Maggie, had begged and begged.  Her Irish green eyes had been intent on mine with a facial expression that wouldn’t take no for an answer.  Even though my instincts had warned me against it, against coming to this stupid party and possibly risking the very lives of anyone around me, I hadn’t.  Wasn’t this what best friends were for? Maybe not. 
But here I sat in a small disorganized circle, loud music pounding against the walls in muted thumps, secluded amongst the “elite students” of my school.   I had ignored the very reasons why I shouldn’t be in this room.  This is where I’d made my second mistake of the night.  
It was here where I posed the most danger to those around me.  My eyes bounced around to the beat of the music, watching everyone laugh and have a good time.  Everyone wanted to be here except me. There was a sudden burst of laughter so boisterous I had to assume there had been a joke I’d missed while caught up in my own self repugnance.  
My eyes roved around the room, glossing over a huge wooden desk, an oversized brown leather sofa and a bookcase the length of the whole wall. This supposed library was just as big, if not bigger, than the size of any two rooms in my house. We all sat in the middle on an intricate plush rug, with me as the odd person in a chain of paired couples.  Desperately, I needed a way out of this mess before it got out of hand.     
I first caught a glance at Maggie with her flaming red hair.  Her eyes twinkled with delight in my direction.  I tried to give her the silent look that would let her know that I wanted to leave as soon as possible.  But she averted my gaze, her eyes in favor of the guy on her left, letting me know she wasn’t quite ready to leave.  And who would blame her?  She was sitting next to Brent Mitchell. I had heard his name come from her lips ever since the first day of our freshman year at Everett High. He’d been the one that she’d always pined over even while she dated other guys. So now he had finally asked her out. And for that one reason alone I’d tagged along to this party.  
Following her gaze, my eyes then roamed over to Brent.  In doing so, I was reminded why she was so into him, with his dark tousled hair and brooding good looks.  He wasn’t handsome in the traditional sense, but rather a raw attractiveness that fit with his hulking body frame. And not only was he good looking, but he was a star football player for our school’s team.  He was a force to be reckoned with on and off the field.  I was truly happy that Brent had finally noticed her. 
I met his brown eyes and caught him smiling with faint amusement. Startled that he’d been looking at me watch him, I adverted my eyes in favor of the guy next to him.
That guy, the man of the hour, was Jay Brisentine.  He was tall, blonde, beautiful and the host of this senior party.  Normally I wouldn’t call a guy beautiful, but there just wasn’t a better way to describe him. He too played on our illustrious football team, but he was better known as the leader of the Lacrosse team. 
His longtime girlfriend, Kathy Peterson, was curled next to him with her dark hair, stormy eyes, and equally good genes.  I couldn’t help but wonder what their kids would look like, because if any couple would survive high school and get married, it would be them.  Their history together started way back in middle school.
Continuing my venture around the group, my eyes led me to Amanda Edmond. She was Kathy’s best friend and head cheerleader. Her fit of giggles had cooled as she tossed her bombshell blonde hair over her shoulder, her eyes settling on mine.  Her pouty mouth turned into a frown.  I was puzzled by her look of disapproval because she hadn’t protested against my being here in the first place. 
Quickly, I looked away from her to give Flynn McCallister, leading bad boy, and Amanda’s boyfriend, a glance.  He was the only other junior besides Maggie and me in the room.  I would have known without looking that his sandy brown hair was swept up in a modern faux Mohawk, which had that slightly messy touch to it that hot guys alone could only perfect. And that his eyes were cold and blue, set on a face that was more than amazing. 
Maggie made a noise to get my attention.  My head snapped back to her.  I didn’t quite get the message that I saw on her face. She gestured with her head at an odd angle.  I gave her a quizzical look, mouthing ‘What’ until I followed her eyes down to the center of our circle.  What I saw chilled me to my very core.  I really shouldn’t have come here tonight.  
A hand on my arm jolted me.  I turned to meet Flynn’s gaze.  I hated how looking at him always seemed to melt my heart and render me speechless.  It was the same effect he had on most girls, including me unfortunately.  He was too gorgeous for words, and worst yet, he knew it.  And being a junior and football team captain didn’t help his inflated ego either.  It had only given him the respect of the seniors above him, as well as the rest of the school.  His abilities to throw the ball and lead the team to State the past two years had sealed his position as the most popular boy in school. He walked down the halls of school like he owned them and to tell the truth, he did.  I hated him because of it.  Girls were aware of his reputation of breaking hearts, yet they continued to throw theirs at him time and time again.  But I wasn’t going to fall for his shenanigans. Nope, not me.
“Flynn, she has a choice you know,” a voice said from somewhere beside me.  I turned my head to see it was Luke, I-couldn’t-remember-his-last-name.  He too, I realized, was crush-worthy, but paled in Flynn’s shadow.  It was hard to imagine that looking at him now.  He was all golden skin and blonde curls, looking much like the perfect California surfer.   How had I forgotten he was sitting next to me?  Staring at him only made me realize more just how cute he was. 
Flynn and Luke were best friends, but I had hardly paid any attention to Luke these past two years.  I’d been too busy ignoring Flynn with the best of my abilities to know much about him.  Then it dawned on me. I had forgotten to count Luke.  There weren’t seven of us.  Luke made eight.  Each pair was a couple except Luke and I. Was I being set up with him?   
Faintly, I remembered hearing that he’d broken up with his girlfriend a few weeks ago.  But at the moment, I couldn’t remember the full story.  I was too busy trying to reconcile with how I’d allowed myself to get into this situation and how I could even be in the same room, filled with what most of our classmates dubbed as the wealthiest and most beautiful people of our school, “the elite.” No one else in the school compared to them.
When I felt Flynn’s hand drop from my arm, I turned my head to look down at fate as it pointed at me.  “Come on, what are you going to do?” 
I looked up this time to find it had been Amanda who’d spoken.  Her voice was filled with disapproval, but not of the anger I would have expected if I’d been Flynn’s girlfriend.  But that was not how I operated.  In fact, I simply didn’t date.  I couldn’t, even if I wanted to.  It wasn’t just a moral decision as most would assume.  I did it because I didn’t want anyone to die.
Angry murmurs of protest at me holding up the game shocked me into action.  I looked down again at the bottle that pointed at me before sneaking another glance at Maggie. Her eyes were wide in frustration and a hint of embarrassment.  Clearly, she wanted me to make a decision and not make her look bad in front of this group of seniors she desperately wanted to impress.
“Take the shots, Mercy, or give Flynn a big wet one, make your choice,” a voice said that could have been Jay’s. I wasn’t sure. The room was beginning to blur with the commotion and my emotions over what was to come next.
We, of course, were playing spin the bottle.  The game wasn’t without consequences.  The surface ones were to spin the bottle and kiss the person the bottle points to.  If you didn’t want to kiss that person, then you drank a shot of Jack.  Added to it, if the person took the kiss, the shot poured was added to a pool of shots.  What sat before me now was a bouquet of four shots of Jack Daniels.  If I drank those shots, I wouldn’t just get a buzz.  It would definitely get me drunk.  I couldn’t afford that.  Again, it was not only the moral value that stopped me.  It also wasn’t only because my mom would kill me, though she would if she found out.  Truthfully, it was because I couldn’t afford to lose control.  Not with death a possible consequence.  Added to that, I really didn’t want to kiss Flynn.
“Don’t make me beg for Mercy,” Flynn said, dragging out my name.  The slight slur in his voice led me to believe he was on his way to being drunk if he wasn’t already.  I’d heard this little joke far too many times to find it funny.  In fact, it really just ticked me off.  Why my mother decided Mercy was a good choice for a first name so I would suffer my teen years as the butt of everyone’s jokes disturbed me.  Did she think at all before naming me?  Anger at myself for the situation I was in, and anger at the boy whose insufferable conceitedness still sent butterflies in my stomach, pissed me off to no end.  So I turned, baring daggers with my eyes, at him.    
Looking at him, I couldn’t help to see how he personified my word of the day, pompous jerk.  Well, pompous was the word.  I always checked and remembered what my SAT word of the day was.  I tried to use it at least once in a sentence the same day. With the test looming in March, I was trying to expand my vocabulary.    
I wouldn’t let this pompous, self-centered jerk who thought he was the next thing to God embarrass me.  With my cheeks flushing anyway, I faced him.  A quick peck on the lips wouldn’t kill him, would it?
His hand came up towards me.  He must have assumed my choice with my movement.  He swiftly cupped the back of my head and pulled me to him.  I didn’t even have time to catch my breath before his mouth was on mine.  It should have been quick.  Nothing could possibly happen if it had been a quick peck.  But he held me there for what seemed like an eternity with his mouth parting mine to explore me.  I felt warm, a bit light headed and confused.  After a lingering moment of absent judgment, I pushed him back to separate us.  He rocked back with a burst of laughter which brightened my cheeks more.  I glared at him.  Our lip lock should have him pale and unsteady.  But he seemed fine and a little flushed himself.  I didn’t understand.  How could it be possible?  He should be lying on the ground unconscious, or at least his face should be drained of any color.  I shot up to my feet.
“Where’re you going Mercy?  It seems Flynn may have found his match?” Brent said with another howl of laughter.
I brushed my hands down my tee, still unsure of what to do.  With everyone looking up at me, still giggling and laughing, I hastily turned and said, “Maggie, I’ll be back.” I walked across the room and away from the onlookers still in the circle when I heard a slap.
“Shut up, Brent,” Kathy said.  She must have leaned over and hit him.  The laughter just intensified.
I was out of the room in mere seconds, closing the door tightly behind me.  Music pulsated around me as I stood in the empty hallway where I could see everybody else milling about.  The makeshift dance floor in the middle of the living room was still filled with teenage lust.  So I headed in the opposite direction. There were only two more doors in this direction in this massive hallway before it ended abruptly.  I could only pray one of them was a bathroom.  
Almost out of luck, I opened the second to last door and stepped into a small bathroom with nothing more than a toilet and sink.  Moving to the sink, I gripped the sides as I leaned in to look into the gold-framed mirror.  What I saw in the reflection was a complex mix of a younger version of my mother and my father.  Although I looked a lot like my mom, I never felt effortlessly beautiful like she was.  I’d gotten a lot of her facial features but my coloring and hazel eyes I’d recognized countless times in a picture my mom kept of my father.  And that should have been my sober reminder of my fate.  I couldn’t understand why I had allowed myself to be baited into kissing Flynn.  If things had gone badly, which it should have, how could I have lived with myself?
I pulled back my long wavy brown hair as I bent forward.  Turning on the faucet with my free hand, I splashed water on my face, remembering Paul and what happened that awful day.


Chapter Two: Beg For Mercy


abnegation (n.) - denial of comfort to oneself

It was my freshman year when I started hanging out with Paul Bowman.  He was a year ahead of me, and the cutest nerdy boy I’d ever met.  He was tall and awkward but had the most amazing smile.  He had a thick short mop of wavy black hair that had grown just beyond the baseball cap he liked to wear.  We were in the same Honors Geometry class back then.   
We’d started out as study buddies, or so I’d thought.  It easily progressed to hanging out at school events.  When he’d held my hand the first time, I’d been over the moon.  This had been all new for me.  And though it felt perfect, he seemed just as nervous as I was.  
One day, I needed to stay after school to meet with a teacher.  Afraid I was going to miss the bus, he’d offered me a ride home.  Maggie, with her strong personality and quick advice, insisted that I agree.  She’d already had her first kiss and felt sure since my mom was working late that day, it could be the day for mine.  I wasn’t really an overly shy person, but who wouldn’t be nervous their first time alone with a boy she liked?
Paul had driven his mom’s old brown Buick back then.  When he pulled it to a stop in front of my house, I made the move Maggie coached me on.  It wasn’t much at all, but she told me it would signal to him that I might be ready for the next step.  So I turned to him.  “Want to come in?” I invited with a smile.
He looked at me for a second in surprise with his gray eyes, flecked with hints of silver, before he nodded and said,   “Sure.”  His tone hadn’t been gleeful, but rather filled with minor shock.
To say I was anxious was an understatement.  My hand literally shook when I twisted my key in the door.  I had to psych myself out of looking like a total freak, calming myself down. This is no big deal, Mercy, I said to myself.  Taking several steps inside to my left and down a step, I dropped my bag on the coffee table in the living room.  When I turned to ask him if he wanted a drink, I nearly barreled into him.  He’d been on my heels, following me closely.  I looked up at him and met his eyes.  “Uh, you want something to drink?” I mused.
His smile was radiant.  “Coke,” he said.  Before I turned to go to the kitchen, I was sure he’d flushed a bit.
“Okay,” I said, shimming around him to go to the kitchen, located in the back of my house.  Quickly grabbing two Cokes from the fridge, I headed back.  I admit I wasn’t sure of what to expect next.  He was sitting on the sunny yellow sofa my mom so loved when I came back into the living room.  The flower-decorated pillows were at his back.  I didn’t know if I should sit next to him or on the flower-printed chair across from it.  I didn’t want to send the wrong signals.  
Making my decision easy, he scooted over so I wouldn’t have to go by him and evade the table in front of him.  So I sat next to him.  Kicking myself, I realized I should have really talked more to Maggie about this before I left her at school.  This was all so new to me.  
Handing him his Coke, I cracked open mine.  I took a swallow before setting mine down on the table.  It felt awkward now.  I didn’t know what to say and, well, he hadn’t struck up a conversation either.  I looked to the table and noticed he hadn’t opened his Coke.  He’d just sat it on the table.  So I angled my head to look at him, thinking of conversation to make.
“When are baseball tryouts?” I asked.  I had this unbearable need to break the silence.
“Next month,” he said eagerly. He must have been searching for a topic of conversation as well. “Are you going out for softball or track?”
“Softball probably,” I answered.  I’d played sports every year at school.  I was surprised he noticed enough to ask.
“Cool,” he said shaking his head and looking away from me.
“My mom’s not going to be home for a while,” I said before thinking.  I quickly cursed myself and closed my eyes at the blunder I'd made.  I didn’t want him thinking this was an open invitation to anything.  But well, I did want to kiss him.
His head snapped back to me, although he was still leaning forward with his arms on his knees.  I glanced away from his stare because I was totally embarrassed by my words. Their meaning, to him, was apparent by the look on his face.  I felt the couch shift with his movement.
When I turned back to look at him, his lips met mine.  I had no time to prepare.  The rush of heat was instant.  I closed my eyes like they did in the movies to take in the sensations.  It felt magnetic, as if we couldn’t be parted.  Waves of something I can’t describe rolled over and into me.  I would understand later just what that sensation was.
I thought I'd died and gone to heaven until the front door opened and my mom walked in.  I jerked back, horrified, staring at my mother in the doorway, when Paul’s head hit my lap.  Dumbstruck, I pushed him away urgently, never looking from my mother’s furious eyes.  It was too late to warn him of the impending danger when he simply rolled off my lap and thudded on the floor.
“Paul,” I gasped when I saw him unmoving on the floor.  Heart pounding, I fell on my knees next to him, ready to do CPR. Looking at him, however, I couldn’t remember the life-saving technique I’d just learned last week in health.  My hands were shaking when I leaned down over him to check if he was breathing.  Thankfully, my mom moved into action, dropping the grocery bags with a crash on the floor.
“Don’t, Mercy.  Move away and don’t touch him,” she rambled on as I felt for a pulse, ready to give him mouth to mouth.  
Lightly, she shoved me away and tilted her ear to his mouth and listened.  She then placed her hands on his throat and counted silently in her head.  My mom was an RN, so I trusted she knew what to do.  I felt hot tears stream down my cheeks while I waited.  
“Should I call 911?” I asked, breaking her concentration.
Shaking her head, she continued to count.  Finally, she turned back to me and said, “He’ll be fine.  Help me move him.”  She shoved the coffee table toward the flower chair and we positioned him in the spot it had been.  In the process, the two Cokes tipped to the floor and then opened one spilled its dark contents, staining the carpet while it fell.  Neither of us paid it that much attention.
“Mom, what’s wrong with him? Should we call a doctor or his parents?”  I asked, hand trembling.
She patted the sofa before she got up and sat on it herself.  I looked at her, stunned.  Paul lay on the ground and even though she was an RN, he wasn’t moving.  Now wasn’t the time for a chat.
“Mom, we can’t just leave him like this,” I pleaded.
She continued to pat the seat next to her without saying anything, but giving me a look that said not to challenge her on this. Finally I obeyed, but not without throwing another worried look at Paul, who looked like he was sleeping, if not anything else.
She faced me with her somber blue eyes and her easygoing close-cut blond hair spiky from her recent hand rubbing through it. I knew there was trouble coming in the words that would follow her mouth parting.  “Mercy, there is something you should know.”
I looked in befuddlement.   What does this have to do with anything? Paul needed help, I thought, looking helplessly at him. 
She took my hands and looked down on them before meeting my eyes again.  “I thought I had more time before I’d have to tell you this.”
“What?” I asked, still confused as to why this was the right time for this.
She looked at Paul, who lay still on the ground.  “Apparently, I waited too long,” she said with her hands folded, creating a triangle shape under her chin.
“Mom,” I said, wanting to get Paul to the hospital, seeing as he was still, so still.
She looked at me for another long moment, then said four words I will never forget, even though I didn’t know or understand their meaning at first. “You are a succubus,” she said with a heavy sigh. “And this is what will happen to any boy you kiss.”
I frowned. “Is that a slang term for a slut or something?  If so, I’ve never kissed a boy until today,” I said, not understanding the meaning of the word succubus.  I should have been mortified at my mother walking in unexpectantly on my first kiss.  I was at first, but now I was on the defensive.
“No, and I know that you haven’t kissed a boy before.  That is something that wouldn’t have gone unnoticed,” she said tersely.
My eyes glazed over as she began to explain that I was half human, half succubus.  In a gist, it meant I stole the life force of any human being I kissed.  It got weirder when she explained the birds and bees to me and how sex was also deadly, at least for me.  With all my dreams of boys, prom, dating and such, I didn’t think my life could go on.  Abnegation was my only option now.  There would be no boy who would date me and be content forever to only hold my hand.  My mom did explain that later in life, I would be able to contain the “demon” within me.  She said I would be able to have normal relationships in the future.  But now, while my hormones raged on, I wouldn’t be able to control it.  Thus, if I didn’t abstain from everything, I could kill someone unwittingly as I almost did with Paul.
I was so embroiled by what she was telling me that we didn’t notice Paul had regained consciousness.  His eyes were wide open and it was clear he’d heard enough of our conversation to know just what I was.
She’d sworn him to secrecy and shooed him off as my life as I knew it ended.  I thought that my life would be ruined more the next day by his words if he chose to tell, or even give any version of the day’s events.  But my worry for the next day of school proved fruitless, because Paul proved himself loyal to his word.  More than that, he didn’t ignore me either.  We remained friends, even best friends as time passed.  He knew more about me than I could share with Maggie.  
The memory faded.  Back in the bathroom, I wished he hadn’t worked tonight, so he could have come.  Paul had changed in these last few years from cute nerd to cool nerd.  He was really good at baseball and was considered among the elite seniors in school.  If he’d been here, he would have gotten me out of the mess somehow.
Thinking of my second kiss ever, I pondered why nothing had happened to Flynn.  I hadn’t kissed anyone out of fear since Paul. Maybe my mother had lied to me so I wouldn’t date.  Maybe it was some extreme no teen sex talk.  Looking at myself in the mirror again, I gathered tissue to pat my face dry.  I was unconcerned with the consequences of the wetness, because I hadn’t been wearing much in the way of makeup except a little lip gloss today.  I pulled the tube out of my pocket.  I looked at it a second.  
Maybe the kiss had been too quick, or I’d been too nervous, and somehow that protected Flynn.  I applied my lip gloss and headed out the door.   On the other side, Luke stood with his hand in midair, apparently ready to knock on the door. 
“Hey,” he said. “I just came to see if you were alright.”
I had to look up to see into his marine blue eyes.  They seemed so sincere. He was surely cute, but totally off limits to me.  I looked away from his face, staring into his chest.  I’d known that the guys in the room were tall, but being so close to Luke let me know just how tall he was.  Clearly he was over six feet, because I stood five feet six inches.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m fine.”
“The guys can be jerks at times, but they don’t mean anything by it.”
I looked back up at him and gave him a tentative smile.  I was surprised by his honest intention to make me feel better.  I thought Maggie would have followed me to the bathroom, but instead here was Luke looking at me with eyes that spoke volumes.  I stepped back, creating distance between us, thinking how great it could be if I could actually have a boyfriend without killing him.
Luke didn’t move and I was embarrassed.  I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.  So against my better judgment, for the third time tonight, I took a step back in his direction.
“Are you coming back in?” he asked.
I couldn’t leave Maggie, as much as I wanted to.  The worst was over, right?  “Yes, I guess I’m in total abnegation.  Lead the way,” I said, holding out my hand in a gesture mimicking my words.
He smiled and didn’t ask the meaning of my word of the day before turning and leading me back into the private room.  Points for him, I thought.  I’d only just sat back down when the door opened and Paul peaked in.  I had to contain myself from jumping up and crossing over to him at the sight.  I needed him now more than ever.  But when he walked in followed by his new girlfriend, Amber, my heart was crushed.  He still looked much like the same boy I'd kissed two years ago, only he wasn’t as gangly.  He’d grown into his tall frame and even added muscle definition to his physique. The only difference was tonight he didn’t sport his usual baseball cap.  
I relished our friendship more than he could ever possibly imagine.  But secretly, I wished for more.  Where Flynn spawned a quick burn of lust with his gorgeousness, Paul inspired a longing for something more.  I’d long ago considered Paul my soul mate, even if he didn’t know it.  He understood me and he accepted all of me just the way I was.  In my heart, I longed not to be a weird half demon, and just a regular girl.  
Paul and I had liked each other and who knew what could have been if I hadn’t almost killed him?  But that was one secret I kept from him and Maggie alike.  She would never understand why it couldn’t be between the two of us, unless my mom would let me let her in on our secret.  After tonight, I would seriously consider telling her despite my mother, because I couldn’t do this again.
I looked up into Paul’s eyes and he gave me a quick smile before greeting his other friends.  What would come next could possibly cause me nightmares.


Chapter Three: Beg For Mercy

calumny(n.) an attempt to spoil someone else’s reputation by spreading lies

“You’re just in time,” Flynn announced to Paul.  “Mercy here was about to take her turn in a friendly game of truth and dare.”
Stunned, I turned from Paul’s warm eyes to what had to be the devilish eyes of Flynn.  I just couldn’t wrap my mind around why he seemed to be picking on me tonight.  
Catching the anger I expressed with my own eyes, he smiled back at me and said slyly, “You didn’t think your escape would get you off that easy,” Flynn said.
Tongue in cheek, I bit it to choke off the slew of expletives I wanted to spew.  Although the verbal barrage would soothe my anger, it would do no more than fuel whatever Flynn was trying to incite in me.
“So what will it be,” he said smoothly: “Truth or Dare?”
Everyone who’s played this game knows that either choice is a trap.  If you say truth, you will be asked a completely embarrassing question that can have no good answer.  The choice of a dare was no better, as it would set you up to do something equally embarrassing.  If I hadn’t wanted to back down from the challenge in Flynn’s eyes, I would have turned to give Maggie a view of my anger.
With an impenetrable stare and equally daring challenge, I said sternly, “Truth.”  It was the lesser of the evils.  
Flynn narrowed his eyes, as if he hoped I’d answered dare.  I waited for his question, wondering what he could possibly ask me that would embarrass me, knowing that had been his plan all along.  There could be no other reason.  So, focusing in on plausible questions, I couldn’t really think of any.  I wasn’t dating anyone and had no crushes in this room except, of course, Paul.  The thought made my stomach sink.  If he asked me about Paul, even if I lied, the rumor mill would still spread.  
A grin erupted on Flynn’s face as if he’d come up with the wickedest question to ask.   “Are you a virgin?” he announced.
Astounded, I could have melted into the floor.  I should have guessed.  This was the worst possible question.  I didn’t understand where Flynn’s calumny rooted from.  The “Paul” question I could have lied through, and even with speculation, that rumor would die soon. Paul and I could survive scrutiny.  But this question had no good answer.  I repeat none.  I was in a room full of seniors and the most popular ones at that.  If I said I was a virgin, I look like a total dweeb, a social misfit, and certainly not worthy of sitting in this room.  Name calling would be poignant and brutal.  My sexuality would be put into question.  I certainly didn’t measure up in the beauty scale with this bunch.  I should be out there with the other seniors, dancing with the rhythmic music.  I didn’t belong here.  I was just an average girl who couldn’t date.  
But if I said I wasn’t, well, of course I’d be admitting to being a slut because nothing’s changed when it came to girls and boys.  Girls who do are loose and slutty, where as boys who do are studs; so unfair all of it was.
“Well,” I heard a female voice ask in the background.  I didn’t turn to look.  I didn’t want to see anyone’s face.  But I was certain it was Amanda because of the snarky tone and smirk to the question.
My eyes hardened on Flynn.  I wanted him to see my total disdain and contempt for him.  I should have stood and walked out without answering the question.  That would have been the wise choice.  It would have been better not to give into him.
Instead, I answered truthfully. “Yes,” and I stood with all the dignity I could muster and this time walked to the door without any further words.  Stepping out of the room, I quietly closed the door behind me, even though my temper wanted to slam it.  It didn’t matter, I tried to tell myself. I didn’t stop my forward progress and never did I glance back at Maggie on my way out of the room.  I was furious.  Not really at her, but at me for coming in the first place.  And, of course, my resentment was directed at Flynn, the giant ass.  
When I heard the door open again behind me, I didn’t turn around.  I assumed Paul or Maggie had come after me.  I felt the tug on my shoulder from behind, I whirled around ready to spout my anger.  Instead of Paul or Maggie standing before me, it was Luke.  
“Hey,” he said, looking into my angry eyes. It was as if he could read me.  Then he said, “I told Maggie and Paul I’d check on you. I was odd man out anyway with you gone.”  Funny, I’d thought I’d been the odd man out as well.
He was so close I could hear him over the blasting music.  His blue eyes weren’t cold like Flynn’s. They were warm like the ocean surrounding a tropical island.  Warm waves of comfort seemed to pour off of him and into me.  I felt the heat of anger course out of me, slowly replaced by calm.
“Thanks,” I said, taking a deep breath.  It wasn’t his fault I was here.  I wouldn’t take my fury out on him.  “I’ll be fine. You can go back to your friends,” I added, half turning.
He kept his eyes steady on me. “You know he was just joking. He’s really not a bad guy,” he said, trying to smooth things over.
I let out a choked laugh. “Yeah, right.  He’s got total calumny against me.”
He didn’t answer. But with a serious face, he asked, “You want to dance?”  
He was so cute and it was terribly sweet of him to come and check on me, not once, but twice tonight.  He didn’t flinch at either of my SAT words, so another point for him.  What was the worst that could happen? “Sure,” I said with a smile.
He took my hand and twirled me around, taking the lead.  I followed him to the middle of the living room, where the furniture was pushed off to the walls, leaving the space open for a makeshift dance floor.  He didn’t stop on the outskirts of the swaying bodies.  He pulled me into the throngs of the middle, encapsulated by the activity.  We began to dance.  I wasn’t self-conscious dancing with him like I thought I might be.  We were squished in the middle of everyone.   No one was even watching me as drinks were passed to open hands.  I wasn’t a bad dancer.  In fact, I liked dancing a lot.  Maybe it was all the dance classes my mother subjected me to as a child.  
Luke took a long pull on what surely was a beer bottle that was handed to him.  He then offered it to me.  I shook my head no in favor of speaking, because I knew I couldn’t be heard over the head banging music.  He shrugged and continued to dance with the bottle in his hands.  He wasn’t a bad dancer either.  Most guys, if not groping you, stood and just bobbed their heads like they were way too cool.
The music changed several times before I felt sweat begin to form on my back.  I used my hands to gesture that I was hot, and pointed in the direction to the right side of us to let him know I was going to take a break.  He nodded and began to follow me.  His hand met the small of my back, guiding me through the crowd.  I didn’t feel uncomfortable from his touch.  He hadn’t groped me on the dance floor, so I felt at ease with him.  He’d actually been a perfect gentleman. His fingers were light and not pushy, so I barely noticed them there after a few moments.
Once the dancers parted, we walked toward the kitchen to get away from the masses. I was about to pass what surely was Maggie.  Although red locks covered her face, which was plastered to Brent, her hair color was too distinctive not to be her.  There were other redheads in school, but the others' hair color was much more muted.  Not to mention the clothes she wore were the ones I had helped her pick out earlier today at her house. 
But what I saw had me stop when I noticed what she was doing. I admit, I gaped. Maggie O’Bannon, the girl I have known forever since we'd both played candy canes in our kindergarten holiday play, was sitting on Brent’s lap and kissing like she was the succubus.  But before I was able to move to peel them away from each other, Luke tugged at my hand.  He gently dragged me forward through a door that led into the kitchen.  As the door closed behind us, I was grateful the music was a bit more muted in here.
It appeared that the truth or dare game had broken up sometime after my departure.  I would have expected Maggie or Paul to check on me.  But apparently, Brent held Maggie’s interest more than I.  Still, I was her best friend and needed to give her a good dose of reality.  But Luke hadn’t let go of my hand.  His grip was light but secure.  I wanted to go back and stop my friend from being stupid with a senior boy who hung out with the likes of Flynn.  Before I could speak, Luke turned to the refrigerator and pulled out a green bottle and placed it in my free hand.
I shook my head and said, “I don’t drink.”
He met my gaze before looking down at the bottle.  I followed his eyes and saw it was a bottle of Sprite.  I looked back up at him as he raised his eyebrows and said, “I know.”
I closed my lips and grinned at him. “Thanks,” I said, wanting to put my foot in my mouth again.  He too had a bottle in his hand, but I didn’t ask what it was because my mouth was already full with my foot.
Still holding my hand, he led me out the back door to an expansive deck and I let him.  Maggie was a big girl, I reminded myself.  We sat in the cool night air, gazing at the stars on the steps from the deck that lead down to the gardens that made up Jay’s backyard.  He’d let go of my hand, so I fisted it in my lap, not sure what to do with it now.
When I thought about Maggie again, and debated on whether or not I should go stop her from doing anything reckless, Luke looked at me.
“People in life have to make choices,” he said, surely reading my mind.  “And you shouldn’t be ashamed of yours. I think being a virgin is admirable.”
I was stunned into silence for the fourth time tonight, but for far different reasons.  My face flushed while I looked at him.  He took another long drink from the brown bottle.  His words seemed a bit old for his age and way too wise for the company he kept.  I didn’t know how to answer, nor did I really want to. I hadn’t even talked about my virginity with Maggie lately, much less with a guy I barely knew before today.  But there was something in his eyes that made me want to.
Feeling at ease all of a sudden, I responded in kind.  “Purity isn’t always a choice, but rather a lifestyle.” I said half joking. I wanted to say more, to open up about who I was, but I didn’t know him at all.  In a weird way, I felt safe with him.  But I was sworn to silence and I couldn’t even tell Maggie, my very best friend.  Had she known, she wouldn’t have dragged me here tonight, I thought.  Funny enough, I needed to unload.  Paul had his girlfriend now and we didn’t talk as much between school, homework, his job and now his relationship.  So I wondered what I could say without revealing anything that would sound crazy to the average person.  He wouldn’t have believed me anyway.
“Still admirable,” he said with the bottle to his lips.  After another pull that surely finished the contents inside, he took my hand again and said, “I like you, Mercy.”
I turned to him to see his eyes, and I was surprised by his admission.  It felt like déjà vu all over again.  His face was leaning in to kiss me.  I turned in just enough time for his lips to brush the side of my mouth when a loud crash resounded through the silent air.  We were up on our feet, heading back inside the house before either one of us could register the moment.

If you want to read more about what happens next, you can find Beg for Mercy on sale at:
http://www.amazon.com/Beg-Mercy-Cambion-Series-ebook/dp/B005GGMC3G/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1330735566&sr=8-2

To find more about the author, Shannon Dermott, please check out the following links.
Website – www.shannondermott.com
Facebook –http://www.facebook.com/pages/Shannon-Dermott/237824696261512
Twitter - @Shannondermott
Goodreads –http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5121644.Shannon_Dermott

Beg for Mercy
Book Summary
Everyone dreams of that first kiss. Of that magic moment when your lips finally meet those of that special person you’ve waited your whole life for. A little awkward, a little scary, a little hot and every bit amazing. We speculate that the whole world will shake and time will just stop. No one, however, ever imagines that kiss would be lethal.

Sixteen year old Mercy Moore's life got more than just complicated. The kiss that originally could have meant she would finally have a boyfriend, now was the kiss that could have very nearly ended his life. A small detail her mother conveniently never told her will take her life for an abrupt u-turn. Dating, no love, was now completely and utterly impossible. 

But life, however cruel, goes on. Far too soon for her taste, Mercy finds herself at a party with the elite students of her school and her best friend. And of all things, playing a stupid game that could very well mean the death of someone in that small room. If it were not for her best friend, the hottest guys in school, and a small need to fit in, she may have been able to escape the disaster that was to come. Her worst nightmare, her personal curse, her very life, only gets dangerously worse.

Sweet Blood of Mine

Jeff Corwin


Chapter One: Sweet Blood of Mine


I glanced at the time on my phone as I strode for the exit of the high school.  My Kings and Castles after-school club meeting had run a bit long thanks to some over-excited nerds who didn't like a few rule changes the national committee had passed down.  As if the committee cared what Justin Case and his fellow nerds thought.  Now I was running late for "sword" practice with my two best friends, Mark and Harry, and dying to test the new foam sword I'd constructed for the upcoming tournament.
The squeaky wheel of a mop bucket echoed faintly down the empty grid of halls, the soft step of my sneakers on linoleum making the only other sound as I strode for the exit.  Something clattered ahead.  Shoes scuffled and a girl squeaked in alarm.
"Nathan, I'm not kidding!  Let me go," said the girl.  Not just any girl.  I'd recognize that voice anywhere.  It was Katie Johnson.  I'd had a crush on her ever since first laying eyes on that angelic face my freshman year.  Her voice emanated from Mrs. Dalton's classroom, so I hurried to the doorway and gaped at the scene inside.
Nathan Spelman had wrapped one of those meat-hooks he called hands around Katie Johnson's narrow waist.  He grinned.  "You know you want to kiss me, Babe."
I stood in the doorway for a stunned moment, unsure if my skills as a Kings and Castles woodland elf had prepared me to take on a challenge like this.  Nathan could pass for an ogre.  His neck had more girth than one of my legs, which was probably why he was an all-star football player.  It would be suicide to attack that monster.
Then Katie started to cry.
Something in me snapped.  Probably my sanity.  But I couldn't care less. Nathan held her helpless in his iron grip. I might be short, chubby, and require a B-cup manzier, but I was still a man.  I had to do something.  In Kings and Castles, I was a level twelve woodland elf.  Unfortunately, reality had graced me with all of five feet, six inches of height and the slender dimensions of the Pillsbury Doughboy after a few too many cartons of buttermilk biscuits.  I needed a weapon to stand a chance, preferably a bazooka.
I sprinted to the janitor's closet.  Sprinted might be too strong a word since I was huffing and staggering and begging for mercy by the time I got halfway there.  The closet door hung open.  I peered inside the small space and grimaced at the chemical fumes stinging my nose. A metal shelf held several containers of various cleansers.  I supposed if Nathan needed a chemical bath, any of them would be perfect, but they wouldn't do much good in a fight.  I spotted the only serviceable weapon:  a broom.  It was a far cry from what the Lady of the Lake offered King Arthur, but I didn't have much of a choice.  I grabbed it.
At that moment, my skull decided to turn inside out.  A blinding flood of pain superheated my eyeballs and pounded on my brain like a midget playing whack-a-mole in my head, as a migraine hammered my forehead.  I dropped the broom and pressed both hands to my temples in a vain attempt to soothe the pulsating agony.  My sight blurred and I fell against the nearby shelf.  Spray cans rattled on the floor and a bottle of something green shattered and spread across the tiles, overpowering the other scents with the cloying odor of pine.
The vice on my head loosened after a few seconds, the pain abating as though nothing had happened.  It felt like brain freeze, only a gazillion times worse.  These nuclear-fueled migraines had been plaguing me for weeks.  I was pretty sure they weren't growing pains unless my head planned to expand to grotesque proportions.  A rush of endorphins tingled through my body in an electric rush as the agony completely dissipated and left me lightheaded and weak.
A shriek from Katie reminded me an altercation with Nathan might supply a permanent fix for my migraine problems.  I grabbed the broom off the floor and unscrewed the handle.  I chugged down the hallway with my walrus-like gait and made it back to the classroom in time to see Nathan forcing his lips on Katie's tear-stained face.  His massive arms held her immobile while she writhed in disgust.  I was too angry at the sight to wait for my panting to slow.
  "Release her!"  I smacked the metal end of the broomstick on the ground and pretended it was my elven attack staff with a plus twenty chance of a critical hit, like say, in the enemy's crotch.
Nathan snapped his attention to me, anger boiling behind his ferocious gaze at the interruption.  Katie froze and her eyes widened with the same look I'd seen everyone give scrawny Jeff Boyd when he'd challenged monstrous Kyle Denton to a fight over a girl.  Kyle had outweighed him by about a hundred pounds, been held back two grades, and was the first kid in middle school to grow a mustache and a goatee.  Things hadn't ended so well for Jeff.  I probably should have learned from his lesson, but I was a trained woodland elf who was too angry to be pooping his pants.
"Justin?" Katie said.
Nathan shoved her into a chair behind him and snarled.  "If you know what's good for you, you'll get out of here and keep your mouth shut."
It just so happened I did not know what was good for me, so take that Nathan!  I pushed my bottle-bottom glasses up my nose—to stall for time—and tried to speak, but my lips wouldn't move.  Granted, I hadn't planned this out past—well, this point.  The only time I'd saved anyone had been when two goblins took Queen Alexandria prisoner.  I'd beaten the goblins with my level twenty sword by sneaking up on them and stabbing them in the backs.  Of course, Queen Alexandria was really Gabby Hughes, a pimpled fatty who could pass for a goblin in real life, and the goblins were a couple of newbies to the Kings and Castles scene who didn't even know how to make their own foam weapons.
Nathan, on the other hand, had practice beating up nerds.  A lot of practice.  He glared at me from across the room and probably decided I wasn't going to flee like most rational people would have at this point.  He plowed through three rows of desks, sending them screeching and skidding to the sides, his hands outstretched.  I froze and nearly wet my pants.  He lunged.  I threw up the broomstick in a defensive gesture.  He snatched it from me and snapped it over his knee like a twig.
Reason fled from me like a gibbering madman.  I yelped before dodging to the side as Nathan threw the broken handle at me.  One half nailed me in the head.  I tripped on a desk.  It flipped and I rolled over the top of it, somehow landing on my side while the desk clattered against the floor.  Nathan laughed.  I rolled onto my back in time to see him grab another student desk by its metal legs and lift it over his head like a club.
Katie screamed.  "Stop it!" She ran for the door.
Sheer panic, the kind that convinces your body to forget potty training, punched me in the guts.  Agony paid a visit to my cranium once again in the form of a skull-shattering headache.  In a few seconds, that desk was going to make the headache seem minor.
Time seemed to slow.  The light in the room brightened.  The odor of sour fear mingled with Old Spice and the chemical bite of industrial floor cleanser, attacked my nose.  The volume of Katie's scream spiked to an eardrum-rupturing wail.  My eyes swept across the room, picking out minor details I'd never noticed before.  A crack marred the surface of the chalkboard.  Someone had carved curse words on Mrs. Dalton's desk.  Five number two pencils jutted from the ceiling tiles.  Mustard stained Nathan's faded red T-shirt.    A ghostly presence demanded my attention and drew my eyes to Katie's slow-motion fleeing form.  It drifted from her body in a halo of steam, vanishing into the ether just inches from her skin.  What was it?  Gas?  Vapor?  A part of me could feel it.  It felt hot and sensual and—
Holy crap a desk is about to crush my face!
Time sped up again.  My hands shot up, palms out in a vain attempt to intercept the desk as Nathan swung it down on me.  Life was at an end.    Horrific images flashed past:  how the impact would shatter both hands and crush my face to a bloody unrecognizable pulp.    Only dental records would identify me after this mauling.
Plastic surgery, here I come.
Although plastic surgery might be a good thing.  I could use a few tweaks and some serious liposuction.  Lasik eye surgery wouldn't be bad either.  It occurred to me that putting a positive spin on my imminent face smashing was a very odd way to be spending the last split second of my life.
The desk smacked against my hands with a loud whack.  I gritted my teeth in anticipation of imminent agony.  Pain apparently had gone on holiday because it never arrived.  I cracked open an eye.  One hand gripped the front edge of the desk.  The other gripped the vinyl seat attached by metal tubing to the rest of the desk.  Nathan's scarlet face glared at me from above the desk.  He was trying to force it down on my face.  And failing.
This came as quite a shock to me.  It didn't even feel like I was straining.  I let my arms relax ever so slightly so I could bend my elbows.  Nathan grunted in triumph.  I shoved back with everything I had and let go of the desk.
Nathan's nose gave a sickening crunch.  He bellowed and pinwheeled like a ballerina on drugs and rollerblades, smashing backwards through several desks until he bounced off the wall and landed on his butt.  Then it was all over but the screaming—Nathan's screaming.  I felt my undamaged face to make sure I wasn't dreaming.  My glasses rested halfway up my forehead.  I pulled them down over my eyes just as my body went limp as overcooked spaghetti.  It was all I could do to wiggle my toes.
Katie raced back into the room.  Apparently, she'd run into the hall to yell for help.  "My God, you're alive," she said, sounding as surprised as I felt.
"Ungh?" I said.  My mouth didn't want to work.  Neither did my legs.
Katie tugged on my arm, but she wasn't about to pull me off the floor without a winch.  I rolled onto my knees and slowly pushed myself to my feet while she grunted and tugged on my arms.  I hoped she didn't give herself a hernia.  Nathan, thankfully, was too busy bleeding and crying for his mommy to do much else.
One of the school security guards raced into the room, gave a wide-eyed look at the disarrayed desks, and then bent down so I could throw an arm over his shoulder.  He helped me stagger from the room. 
"It was so scary," Katie told the guard.  "Nathan and I were supposed to be doing an after-school project but he kept asking me to go on a date with him.  When I told him no, he freaked.  Like, totally capital-F freaked.  I should have listened to my dad and taken karate."  
Katie continued her rapid-fire narrative while the guard directed her—and dragged me—into the Home Economics classroom and told us to wait there while he handled the situation.  The room had no desks, only a couple of old couches and an industrial kitchen.  I dropped onto a couch.  Katie pulled up a chair and sat opposite me.
She stood my height.  Long golden-blonde hair hung just past her neck.  A freckle adorned her pert nose.  And her eyes—those green eyes could start a rainstorm.  She and her family had moved into town a couple of years ago.  From the first time I'd laid eyes on her athletic body and gorgeous face, I had been utterly smitten.  Katie knew the popular crowd but never sold her soul to be a part of them.  Cheerleading didn't appeal to her and forget beauty queen contests.  She was the real deal, a hot chick with a brain in her head and my heart in her back pocket.
Ugh, I'm such a romantic.
"You saved me," Katie said, lighting up the vicinity with a radiant smile.
My heart melted.  "I did?" I said in my usual confident manner.  "I mean, uh, I guess I did."
"What happened?  How did you break his nose?"
Considering I could hardly lift my arms, I was certain an insane spike of adrenalin had saved my life.  But I couldn't very well tell her I overpowered Nathan.  Then every other football player would decide to put that braggadocio to the test.  As it was, I would probably suffer in horrible and creative ways for this encounter.
"He tripped," I said.
She hugged me and pecked me on the cheek.  "You're my hero.  He could have killed you."
I shrugged.  "I had to save the damsel in distress."
She put her hand over mine.  Heat rushed up my arm and into my body.   She smiled.  "Did you feel that?  I'm pretty sure we just became best friends."
Oh, I felt it all right.  I wanted to burst into song and dance around the room.  I felt like the man.  The Westley to her Buttercup.  Her knight in shining armor.  I was on top of the world.
Unfortunately, it also meant that I had a very long way to fall.


Chapter Two: Sweet Blood of Mine


The next day, as I hopped on the school bus, all eyes locked onto me.  Word had gotten around about my "fight" with Nathan.  People whispered.  Someone laughed.
"Congrats, Justin.  You almost got our best football player expelled," said a guy from somewhere behind me. 
I didn't turn to look.  I didn't stop moving until reaching the back of the bus and settling into an empty seat next to the window.  A wad of paper flew through the air and landed in the empty seat ahead of me.  I hunched down and looked out the window, watching as my tree-lined neighborhood vanished from sight and was soon replaced by the tall buildings of downtown Decatur, Georgia, one of many towns swallowed up in the sprawl of metro Atlanta.  It was all I could do to ignore the jibes and taunts lobbed at me, but I was in no mood to get my butt kicked by standing up for myself.
I could hardly believe the school board had almost expelled Nathan.  They never punished football players, especially not all-stars.  The Quarterback Club was legendary for getting its way with anything.   I probably should have been more worried about the potential fallout, but all I could think of was Katie and how she'd reward me for coming to her rescue.
After the bus reached the school, I trudged into the basketball gymnasium where school officials liked to corral the students before homeroom began.  I looked for Katie and noticed she sat with her two best friends, Jenny Matthews and Annie Holmes.  The three of them looked at me, then turned back to each other, glee in their eyes, mouths chattering at light speed.  They could be talking about knitting sweaters for all I knew, but it didn't matter.  It felt like every stray gaze was meant for me and every moving mouth was gossiping about my fight with Nathan.
I wanted to sit next to Katie.  Wanted to see her smile, the curve of her lips, and know the light in those jade eyes of hers was meant for me.  Instead, I veered right, walked up the bleachers, and took the first empty seat I found.  I cursed myself for my inability to man up and take my rightful seat next to her.  Then again, what made me think I even had a chance?  My chubby frame, thick glasses, and long hair didn't exactly make me God's gift to women.
A group of Goth students entered the gym.  Hoots and hollers rang out from behind me.  I looked up and saw Nathan Spelman and the other football flunkies hurling insults at the odd group.  My body went cold.  I hadn't realized how close I was sitting to them.  I tried to make myself small and unnoticeable.  My generous proportions didn't cooperate.  If the school board had almost expelled Nathan, why was he already back at school?  I'd expected a suspension at the least.  Stupid jocks get away with everything.
The Goth group, two guys and a girl, tromped past in their platform shoes.  Thank God they existed to take unwanted attention off me.  I might be nerdy, but at least I didn't look bizarre.  As they passed me, the Goth girl's eyes widened and settled on me with such intensity that I turned away and checked for loose boogers.  I couldn't tell if she was sizing me up for a cannibalistic ritual or wondering if I might be a good recruit to her group of weirdoes.
I stared at my Lord of the Rings backpack instead and decided now would be a good time to catch up on homework.  Pushing my worries away, I made the finishing touches on my History essay due in another week.  Going to MIT was my dream.  History class wasn't exactly going to get me there, but I had to maintain decent grades across the board if I wanted to stand a chance.
The bell rang.  I jammed my books into my raggedy backpack until it was bursting at the seams.
"Woops!" said a deep voice.  A large foot connected with my History book and notebook, sent them skidding down the bleachers and into the crowd of students filing out of the gym.  Pages of my essay scattered, floating down to the floor to be walked on.
Nathan gave me a sarcastic look of surprise as he and his group of guffawing toadies sauntered past. 
"Letters to your mommy?" one of them said.
Pure rage infected my body.  I gripped my Calculus textbook in white-knuckled anger.  Thankfully, some rational part of my brain locked my muscles in place before they led me to certain doom.  I packed up my other books and waited for the crowd of students to die down so I could find my book and essay.  My heart pounded anxiously.  All that work, probably rendered illegible from footprints.
I retrieved the book from the bottom bleacher as the last few students filed out of the gym.
"This yours?" said a feminine voice.
I turned and was shocked to see the Goth girl handing me a sheaf of papers with dirty footprints all over them.
"Yeah, th-thanks," I said, stuttering slightly.
Her eyes were an amazing light violet hue lost in a sea of black eyeliner.  Her gaze seemed to lose focus as if she were looking through my skin and into my mind.  I felt very uncomfortable being the subject of that questing stare.  I looked down at the trampled essay to avoid her eyes.  When I flicked my gaze up again, she was already leaving the gym.  I felt like a jerk for not being more grateful, but she creeped me out.
I made my way to homeroom which was bound to be another unpleasant experience since Katie's two best buds sat right behind me.  Sure enough, Annie and Jenny's eyes widened the moment I stepped through the door.  They huddled together and started whispering.  Probably something terrible about me.  I did my best to ignore them and dropped into my desk.  I shuffled through my essay, wincing at how dirty the pages were.  I had planned to type it out anyway.  Just as long as I could still read it, I was good.
Jenny tapped my shoulder.  "I'll bet you think you're the man now, don't you?"
Annie giggled.  "Justin?  The man?  More like the boy."
I gritted my teeth and tried to think of something witty to say.  Nothing came to mind except possibly calling them demonic parasites, which, while descriptive, probably would not help me out with Katie.  I made a show of reading my essay, pretending I hadn't heard them from all of two feet away.
"Guys are such creeps," Jenny said.  "I don't even know why girls put up with it."
Annie gave the sigh of the long suffering.  "Tell me about it.  Like that skeezy Alan Weaver.  He's such a stalker, always staring at Cindy Mueller like he wants to rape her."
I had a feeling these two would fit right in on a morning talk show some day, gossiping about movie stars, or maybe starring in one of the Real Housewives reality shows so they could tell a national audience about their terrible sex lives.
My eyes wandered toward the open door of the classroom.  The hulking figure of Nathan stood there.  He bared his teeth at me.  Cracked his knuckles.  Walked away.
I had the queasy feeling saving Katie had doomed me to an even worse fate. 


Chapter Three: Sweet Blood of Mine


My phone beeped as the bell rang for first period.  My heart raced when I realized it was from Katie.
Justin, you take Calculus, right?  Want to study together?
Joy flooded me with warm buoyant ecstasy.  Nathan could pummel me to a pulp.  I didn't care.  Katie liked me.  Why else would she text me and want to study together?  I was probably getting well ahead of myself, but I had visions of me and Katie riding off into the sunset on a white stallion.  Maybe even a unicorn.  With wings.  This was my chance to impress her with my mad math skills.  She would fall in love with me, and BAM!  Happy ending.
Yeah, I'm totally delusional.
I could hardly wait for lunchtime so I could tell Mark and Harry, my best friends, the great news.  I couldn't wait to tell them how Katie was going to fall in love with me all thanks to the power of Calculus.
Lunchtime arrived and I snagged our usual table.  They arrived moments later.  The two of them could have been brothers with their tall lanky frames and unruly brown hair.  I delivered the good news about Katie and showed them her text on my phone the second they sat down.  I'd been expecting some high-fives, a congratulatory speech and maybe even some jealous looks.  Instead, they wrecked my world.
"Dude, Katie just started dating Brad Nichols," Mark said.
The screen on my phone cracked from the intensity of my grip.  "Brad Nichols?"  My dreams of happily ever after faded to misery.  "But I saved her from Nathan!  What did Brad effing Nichols ever do for her?"
"It totally blows, Man."  Mark sighed.  "I'm really sorry.  But hey, I hear Gabby Hughes is available."  He winked.
My heart pounded and ached.  My stomach clenched.  I wanted to throw up and roar with rage at the same time but ended up getting a bad case of hiccups instead.
I scanned the crowded lunchroom and spotted Brad sitting with a group of girls at another table halfway across the room.  Katie didn't have the same lunch period or she might be sitting with him right this very moment.  Brad had on his usual leather motorcycle jacket and bad-boy "I don't give a crap" smirk.  He probably kept his black hair cropped close so he wouldn't walk around with dorky helmet-hair after zipping around on his crotch rocket.
I noticed Mark staring at Brad as well, a mix of jealousy and awe mixed on his face.  "Don't tell me you wish you were him," I said even though somewhere in the back of my mind, a part of me raised its hand and shouted, I want to be like him!
Mark gave me a guilty look and locked eyes with Harry.  "I dunno.  I mean, we're almost done with high school and what do we have to show for it?  It'd be nice to at least have a girlfriend."
"We're number one in Kings and Castles," I said.
Harry shrugged.  "So what?  Don't get me wrong—I still love it."  He glanced back over at Brad.  "But why can't we have it all?"
Just great.  Not only did Brad have Katie, but he was also luring my friends away from me.  I wished fervently for the zombie apocalypse to strike so I could rescue Katie from the clutches of zombie Brad with a shotgun blast to his ugly face.  I'd steal his motorcycle, grip Katie around the waist and pull her on with me before roaring away to safety.  Scorching anger scalded my heart.  It came unexpectedly in a boiling flood, washing away all reason.  My face grew hot and fists balled so tight my knuckles cracked.
My forehead felt like twin volcanoes were erupting in my brain.  I clenched my teeth in agony and pressed my hands to my face.  Something sharp poked my fingers.  Powerful odors overwhelmed my nose.  Armpit stench.  Hair chemicals.  Old Spice.  Why is it always Old Spice?  Underneath it all was something different.  Something sensual.  Something very female.  I unclenched my eyes and looked, but all I could see were blotches of color and blurs.
Another pulse of pain jackhammered my brain and the headache vanished.  My eyesight snapped to normal.  Mark and Harry regarded me with wide-eyed concern.
"You okay?" Harry asked.  "Your face was beet red for a second there."
Mark chuckled.  "I thought your eyes were gonna explode out of your skull."
"I'm fine," I said as the headache faded in an instant like the mother of all brain-freezes.  I gave Brad Nichols the evil eye again and almost asked my friends what Brad Nichols had that I didn't.  Stupid question.  Over the course of my short life I'd made choices.  Unhealthy choices, obviously.  I'd eaten comfort foods and made myself fat.  I'd never worked out at a gym or expanded my interests beyond Kings and Castles.  In short, I was the blubbery sum of seventeen-plus years of bad decisions and now I was paying the piper.  Maybe those choices were the reasons these horrific migraines were suddenly nailing me out of the blue.  I might be dying from a brain tumor, but all I could think about was Katie.  I wanted to steal her from Brad and make her mine.
Unfortunately, I had an acute streak of romanticism in me that wanted True Love, Princess Bride style.  I wanted love and marriage before sex.  Call me old-fashioned, but what could be better than having your first time with the girl of your dreams?  Probably having wild sex with lots and lots of hot girls, said my second brain.  My first brain chimed in agreement causing me to wonder which brain was really the one in charge.  Ugh.  Why couldn't girls come with manuals?  Or maybe even picture cards like the ones airlines use?
I looked up from my brooding.  Mark and Harry gobbled down the school cafeteria mush and talked animatedly about our upcoming Kings and Castles tournament.  A patch of darkness caught in my peripheral vision.  I glanced right.  Large black-lined eyes gazed back at me.  The Goth girl.  Her raven-dark hair cascaded like a curtain over the white makeup covering her face.  I looked behind me and then back at her.  She was definitely looking at me, I decided.  She quirked an eyebrow and then scribbled something in a notebook.
Just great.  Was she jotting down something about me?  I could just imagine her notes:  subject is still alive but death by football players is imminent.  Will drink his blood for the Dark Master.
I arrived home from school and whisked into my room, easing the door shut and locking it.  I didn't want to deal with my parents right now.  They were such a happy couple; I felt like a complete failure for being such a loser when it came to love and life.  Oh boo hoo hoo.  Stop feeling sorry for yourself.  Easier said than done.
I buried myself in homework to forget my troubles.  Loud voices jerked me from a particularly difficult calculus problem some time later.
"It's foolish, Alice," my dad said.  "They'll never let you or her come back."
"I don't care, David.  I don't give a damn what they do to me," Mom said, the words raw with anger.
"But I do."  The tremble of pain in my dad's voice stabbed me in my heart.  What in the world was going on?  Had something terrible happened?
I rushed from my room and crossed the hallway to theirs.  My parents were hugging, their tear-streaked faces red and tortured.
"Who died?" I asked, unsure what to feel since I didn't really know any of my relatives and I didn't think my parents would be this upset over one of my classmates.
They leapt apart like two teenagers caught on the couch, wiping away tears from wide, startled eyes.
"Your aunt Petunia," Mom said, first as usual to regain composure in a pressure situation.
"Tragic," Dad said, offering me a timid smile though his eyes looked red with grief.
I stared at the two of them with narrowed eyelids for a moment.  They were hiding something, but Mom already had her cool façade back in place.  She crossed the room and pressed a hand to my head.  "Are you feeling okay?"
I sighed and pushed her hand away.  "I'm fine.  Everything is peachy keen and perfect in my life."  I turned to walk out the door.  "Which side of the family is dear Auntie Petunia on?"
"Mine," Mom said.  "She was a fine woman."
"Since I've never met any of my relatives, I guess I'll have to take your word for it."
"Justin, we've been over this before," Mom said.  "Your father's family and mine don't get along."
"That's putting it mildly," Dad chimed in.
She gave him an exasperated look.  "David, please!"  She turned back to me.  "As a result, we're not on the best of terms with either of our families."
"But Aunt Petunia is special?"
"Yes."
Dad clapped his hands together.  "Now that's settled, how about some supper?"
In the kitchen five minutes later, Mom dropped a microwaved meal in front of me.  It made a moist squishy noise when the plastic tray hit the table.  The poof of steam rising from it looked vaguely like a mushroom cloud.  I couldn't remember the last time she'd made something in the microwave.  She loved to cook.  I loved to eat what she cooked.  That was part of the reason for the extra-large spare tire around my waist.
"How are you feeling, honey?" she asked, pressing a hand to my forehead and murmuring the same mumbo jumbo she did every so often.  She said it was good luck and I think she'd brainwashed me into believing her superstitions because my forehead usually tingled afterward.
"I told you earlier I'm fine, Mom."  I wasn't about to mention my headaches to my parents.  They seemed to be real worrywarts when it came to my health and I was irrationally frightened of the hospital.
She kissed me on the forehead, stood, and vanished down the hallway to her office.  Dad pulled his dinner from the microwave and sighed.  He looked down the hall toward Mom's office with a sad expression.  I didn't blame him.  This microwaved stuff sucked.
"Dad, did you ever want a girl who was out of your league?"
He raised an eyebrow and took a moment to answer.  "Of course, Son."
I'm strictly heterosexual and not incestuous or anything, but my dad is a fairly handsome man.  I'd overheard Myra Bergenhoff and another woman swooning over him in the grocery store once.  Sometimes women would give him this really intense stare, like he was a celebrity or wearing chocolate body spray.  The only woman who never looked at him that way was Mom.  I guess being married helps you look past a person's charm.  Unfortunately, I didn't have Dad's good looks or his chocolate BO.
"Having girl problems, son?"  Dad actually seemed kind of happy I wasn't tearing it up with the ladies.
"Sort of."
"Anything weird ever happen?"  He winked and said "weird" in a mocking voice, but his eyes looked oddly worried.
I decided to play dumb since I didn't have a clue where this was going.  "Girls are just weird."  Then again, maybe he was questioning my sexuality.  "Not that I don't like girls, of course.  I totally like girls and females of…uh…the human variety."  I didn't want him thinking I was into bestiality either.
"You know, if you ever have any questions, you can ask me."
Eww.  "I'll keep that in mind."  I could sense a well-intentioned but useless father-son chat coming, so I grabbed my microwaved mush and dashed into my room.
My phone beeped.  Another text from Katie.  Want to study tonight?
Despite the crushing sense of defeat overwhelming me upon learning about her and Brad, a tiny ray of hope blossomed.  I'm so optimistic it makes me sick.  I knew I was only setting myself up for another dose of hurt, but it didn't matter.
I agreed to meet her over at her place in half an hour.  I spent the next few minutes putting on my best pair of cargo pants and an XXL T-shirt to cover my fleshiness, and brushed my Gandalf-like hairdo until it looked somewhat presentable.  I took Dad's Jetta and scooted over to her house with a dash of sunshine in my heart.
I parked at the curb near Katie's house and walked up the driveway.  Soft sobbing noises emanated from ahead.  Katie sat under the glow of the outside lights near the front door.
"Katie?" I said.  "Are you okay?"
She sniffled and wiped at her eyes.  "Oh God, I'm so embarrassed."
I sat down next to her.  "What's wrong?"
She blew her red nose into a tissue and shook her head.  The girl might be gorgeous under normal circumstances, but she was an ugly crier.  I didn't care.
She pulled out a fresh tissue and wiped her nose.  "You know Brad, right?"
"Of course," I said in a tone that indicated Brad and I went way back.
"He's a real jackass."
On the outside, I managed to craft a concerned look instead of smiling or laughing maniacally.  On the inside I danced a jig.  "What did the jerk do?"
"I've seen Rebecca talking to him a lot.  He always tells me they're just friends."
I nodded solemnly.  "Yeah.  Not a good sign."  Rebecca was one of the perpetual beauty pageant girls in the school.  Pretty hot, I had to admit, but nobody topped Katie, not in my book.  And what in the world was so special about Brad "I have a motorcycle" Nichols that made the girls want to talk to him?  He didn't play sports, he wasn't muscular, and he seemed dumb as a brick.  It had to be the motorcycle.  That in and of itself probably added plus ten charisma to his character.
Riding the school bus put me somewhere in negative territory on that count.
"Jenny told me she saw Brad riding through Midtown on his motorcycle with Rebecca."  Another sob shook her.
Anger crept up my chest in a wave of heat.  How could guys like Brad get away with garbage like this?  He had the most perfect girl in the universe crying over him while guys like me could only dream of even kissing a girl like Katie.
My brain abruptly decided now was the time to attack its bony prison again.  Katie's face blurred and an incredible musky aroma tickled my nose.  Steaming sensuality lingered at the edge of my senses, teasing me, beckoning me to take it and make it mine.  A part of me reached for it.  But a searing flash of agony ripped me back to reality.  I winced and gritted my teeth, but Katie didn't seem to notice.
"…I thought it was something really special.  He told me he loved me.  I just don't understand, Justin.  I really need a guy's perspective on this.  What do you think I should do?"
The headache vanished, leaving me in a slightly euphoric state as endorphins flooded my system.  The blurry shape in my view sharpened into Katie's face.  She was looking at me, probably waiting for a response to Brad's outrageous behavior.
"Probably dump him," I managed to croak.
"Why can't I find a nice guy?"
I'm right here! I wanted to scream in her face.  Outwardly, I plastered a concerned look on my face.  "I've heard some bad things about Rebecca.  I wouldn't doubt it if they slept together."  Katie sobbed even harder.  It made me feel a lot better.
"I can't believe he would do this," she said between gasps.
I couldn't believe she was taking this so hard.  Hadn't they just started dating?  Was she really that head-over-heels in love with the guy?  And then it hit me.  And my mouth spit out what my brain was thinking without me meaning or wanting to say it aloud.  "You slept with him."
Her eyes widened.  Her face blanched.  "Is it that obvious?" She blew noisily into a tissue.  "Please, you can't tell anyone." 
I couldn't believe she hadn't just denied it.  "I won't."
A single tear trickled down her wet cheek.  "I can't believe I let him be my first.  We had so much fun together.  And now I feel horrible."  Sobs wracked her body.
I put an arm around her shoulders.  At some point I might have fantasized about this moment, about squeezing Katie's hot body to mine, but the magic turned to ashes, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth and an ache in my heart.  So much for true love.  So much for riding off into the sunset.  Katie had wrecked her virginity against the uncaring shores of Brad Nichols.
I wanted to kill him.
When she finally calmed down—which took a while—she hugged me back.  "I feel so bad for unloading all of this on you, Justin.  You're such a great guy.  I wish there were more like you out there."
"You want more overweight nerds in the world?"
She laughed.  "See, nothing bothers you.  I know we've known each other a long time, but I guess we've never gotten to know each other."
A dull throb pulsed in my forehead.  Great.  All I needed was another headache.  Katie's face blended into an indistinct blur as the pain increased.  This cranial assault wasn't as sudden as the others.  It crept from my forehead to the back of my brain and slithered down my spine, all ice, fire, and needles.  I sensed that strange presence again.  It was Katie, but at the same time it wasn't Katie.  It ached to be free.  It begged me to grab it by the hair and drag it into the closest cave.
Katie gasped.  Our lips met.  She pressed herself to me willingly and all thoughts of the world faded into bliss.
And then a bomb went off in my skull.
I wrenched away from her and the ghostly presence slipped from my grasp.  The pain flashed away as quickly as it had come.  I stared at Katie.  She stared at me.  I didn't know what to say about the last few seconds.  We'd kissed, right?  It hadn't been a dream?  Maybe these migraines were making me hallucinate.  I didn't know what to think anymore.
Katie's huge green eyes focused on me.  "Justin, that was…unexpected."
So we had kissed.  "All part of my master plan for world domination."  Where in the world did that come from?
She smiled.  "I can't figure you out.  You're brave—I mean just look what you did to Nathan.  And now you've made me feel so much better tonight."
"Probably my Axe body spray," I said.
A giggle burst from her lips.  "You're funny too."  She looked at me for a moment and I could see the uncertainty looming in her eyes.  "Justin, I really like you.  But I don't know—"
"Hey, it's fine," I said, standing up and brushing leaves off my cargo pants.  "Look, I have a Kings and Castles tournament this Saturday.  You want to come?"
"Is it like that restaurant with the jousting knights in it?"
"Um, not exactly. It's mostly a bunch of nerds clubbing each other with foam weapons."
"Ooh, that sounds fun to watch."
"Cool.  I'll text you the details."  I waved goodbye and made for the car before she could overanalyze what just happened.  I felt heady.  Unstoppable.  I kissed Katie Johnson.  Holy crap, I had really done it.  I hooted with laughter and smacked the steering wheel.  I tried to forget the dark stains on this otherwise flawless victory.  Brad Nichols had taken her virginity.  And he might not like me stealing his girlfriend.


Chapter Four: Sweet Blood of Mine


Mark and Harry couldn't believe what I'd done when I told them in the gymnasium the next morning.  Jenny and Annie sat in their usual spot, but Katie wasn't there.
"You are fearless," Mark said with awe in his voice.
"Balls of steel," Harry said, slapping me on the back.  "And she's coming to the tournament, too?  You are the man."
I felt like the man.  Kind of, anyway.  I also felt a bit apprehensive about Brad Nichols finding out too.  The bell rang and I headed for homeroom, walking down the barren cinder-block hallways of the school.
A commotion echoed from around the corner ahead.  A few wads of notebook paper sailed into the hallway behind the hurrying form of one of the Goth guys I'd seen hanging with that creepy Goth girl.  Nathan and his gang rounded the corner, hurling insults and paper at the guy.  I felt bad, but not bad enough that it was worth getting whacked.
One of Nathan's linebacker friends said something to the others, then jogged after the Goth.  He had something in his hand and I knew that whatever it was wouldn't be good for his prey.
Don't do it!  Noooo! The rational part of my mind screamed at me.
I couldn't stand by and do nothing.  So I tripped and fell right in front of the very large guy chasing down the Goth.  The air exploded from my lungs as his weight thudded on my back. 
The football player cursed at me while the others laughed.
"Holy crap, Case, you clumsy idiot," Nathan said as he roared with laughter.
The football player I'd tripped pushed himself up.  "I guess you get the present then," he said and lowered a clear plastic baggie toward my face with something inside that looked and smelled suspiciously like a turd.
"Ahem," said an authoritarian voice.
We looked to see Mr. Turpin, my former boxer-turned-English teacher staring at us, his muscular arms bulging threateningly.
"Stay on task, Steve," he said in a gentle voice and held out his hand.
Apparently Steve was the name of the buffoon who had almost smeared poo on my face.
"Aw, we're just playing around," Steve said.
Mr. Turpin stared at the baggie and then at his proffered hand.
Steve pshawed and handed it over.  "Whatever."  He shoved past me.  "Guess we'll get something fresh for you later, Case."  He and the others laughed as they went down the hall.
A strong hand gripped me by the bicep and helped me up.  I turned, expecting to see Mr. Turpin's large hands on my arm and yelped as I came face to face with Goth Girl and all the metallic horrors piercing her face.  She drew in a deep breath through her nose.  I could swear the girl was sniffing me.  I pulled away from her, slightly so as not to be too rude.
"Thanks," I said.
She smiled, showing me neat rows of white teeth.  The rest of her face was a mess of dark eyeliner, white powder, and piercings all over the place.  I tried not to shudder or imagine what other places on her body might be pierced.
"Never give up," she said in a low voice and walked away without looking back.
"Kids these days," Mr. Turpin said, shaking his head.  "They never stay on task."
I had a feeling Mr. Turpin had been hit in the head a lot during his boxing days.  He was a nice, soft-spoken guy, but he repeated "stay on task" like it was holy mantra, even if it didn't fit the occasion.  Then again, who was I to talk?
On the way home from school, Katie texted me, asking if I could study tonight.  I told her I would after dinner.
As I approached home, a shout from inside grabbed my attention.  I paused at the front door and pressed an ear against it.  I heard indistinct voices but nothing loud enough to understand.  I sneaked through the garage, past Mom's burgundy Volvo, and around the pile of rakes and other yard implements that still looked new as the day Dad had bought them.  The garage door didn't offer any better eavesdropping so I twisted the doorknob slowly and eased the door open into the kitchen.  I peeked through the crack and caught a glimpse of my parents standing just inside the den.
"…won't happen to him," Dad said.  "We would know for sure by now."
Mom sighed.  "And I told you it doesn't matter.  Everything depends on this.  Everything.  You need to keep it together or dear old Daddy Slade might—"
"Wait," Dad said, holding out a hand and sniffing the air.  He motioned Mom further into the den and out of sight.  "Do we need groceries for tonight?"
"Nope.  Dinner is in the freezer."
"Not again."
"Yes, again."
A few seconds later, a door slammed shut. Something was seriously wrong with my parents.  Arguments, microwaved dinners, and Dad sniffing the air like a coon hound.  Maybe Aunt Petunia's death was screwing with their minds.  And who was Daddy Slade?  It sounded like the name of a trumpet player for a swing-dance band.  I didn't know what to think.  I entered the door, acting all casual and nonchalant.
"Hey, son," Dad said in a tone tinged with false enthusiasm.  He reached into the fridge and grabbed a six-pack of beer.
"When did you start drinking?"
Dad popped open a beer bottle and took a swallow.  He made a face.  "I've always enjoyed a beer or two."
"Or six?" I asked, looking at the container in his hand.
"Justin, I know you don't like to tell us everything.  I was the same way when I was your age."
"I think keeping secrets goes for people of all ages."  I gave him a pointed look.
He chuckled.  "What I'm getting at is—"
"Sorry, Dad, but I've got a study date with a girl tonight and I really need to get a move on."
Dad took another swig of beer and winked.  "That's great."  He looked as though he wanted to say something else, but instead took his beer into the den and tuned into a reality show featuring a bunch of women screaming at each other.
I nuked a meal in the microwave and gussied myself up before heading over to Katie's. 
"Hey Justin," she said, giving me a quick hug when I arrived.
I tried to say something witty but my brain failed me.  "Hi."  Where was all my bravado from last night?  Apparently it was taking an extended vacation because we actually studied Calculus until nine.  We didn't say a thing about Brad or our kiss.  It was like it never happened.  Or maybe I was supposed to man up and kiss her again.  Why couldn't she just tell me what she wanted?
Katie walked me outside after we finished our homework.  "Thanks for helping me out.  Calculus is so hard, but I have to get better at it if I'm going to get into a good college."
I could hardly stand it.  She was so unlike most of the hot girls I knew—or knew of, in any case.  She seemed smart and yet she was going for smacktards like Brad.  I tried to muster the courage to kiss her, but her hug came fast and her body language seemed to indicate a kiss was off the table.
Grow a pair and kiss her.
Yeah.  It wasn't going to happen.
When I arrived at home, Dad was still up watching TV.  A pile of empty beer bottles littered the coffee table.  I went into my room and changed into cargo shorts and a T-shirt.  The rest of the house was silent.  "Where's Mom?"
Dad kept his eyes on the tube.  "Girls' night out."
"Shouldn't you be doing a boys' night out then?"
"This is boys' night out," he said, motioning me over to the couch and thumbing the cap off another beer bottle.  He handed it to me.
"Seriously?  Won't Mom kick your butt for contributing to the delinquency of minors?"
"That's all life is, kiddo.  When you've had enough contributions to your delinquency, then you're officially an adult."
"Deep stuff," I said and took a swig.  Beer always tastes great for the first few sips, then it tastes like carbonated toilet water.  Of course this was one of those major father-son milestones and I wasn't about to spoil it for Dad or myself.
Dad turned the TV off and studied me for a moment.  "I know we haven't talked about girls much, Justin, mainly because it's kind of uncomfortable talking to a parent about…some things.  How are things with women overall?  Anything strange ever happen?"
His question struck me as odd.  "Strange like how?"  I thought about the headaches, the blurry vision, and the way odors—especially Old Spice—seemed to attack my nose at random.  That was strange, but I figured it had to do with growing pains and the popularity of Old Spice.  I almost told him about those occurrences but stopped myself.  He'd just tell Mom and then she would freak out and probably take me to the emergency room.
Dad examined me with narrowed eyes.  What was he looking for?  After a moment, a look of relief settled into his face and he shrugged.  "Well, girls are tough business, so let me know if I can give you some tips."
I did not want him going all after-school special on me, so I took a long guzzle of beer.  By the time I'd finished my second bottle, I had my first alcoholic buzz going.  I felt warm, fuzzy, and happy, like I was drinking hot chocolate on a freezing cold day.  I also felt very clever.  Apparently alcohol increases charm and courage by at least ten points.  I tapped out a text to Katie.  Dad snatched my phone before I could send the masterpiece and put the phone out of my reach.
"Not a good idea," he said, chuckling.  "You'll thank me in the morning."
"But everything is so clear.  I have to tell her now."
"Yeah.  Sure it is.  That's your last beer, kiddo.  Drink a lot of water if you don't want to feel like crap tomorrow."
I took his advice and drank water until I felt it might leak from my ears.
***
I woke up the next morning with only a mild hangover and a bursting bladder.  My phone lay next to my computer.  I looked at it and the text I had almost sent to Katie.
U R teh most beautiful perfect creature that will ever walk this Earth and I am ur king 4eva.
I grimaced and deleted the atrocity before my fat fingers accidentally sent the thing.  Adults really do know what they're talking about sometimes.  I thanked Dad under my breath for saving me from publicly castrating myself via sheer idiocy.  I'm sure my message would have found its way to the Texts from Last Night website if Jenny or Annie had gotten hold of Katie's phone.
I looked at the clock and realized I'd never be ready in time for the school bus.  I popped a couple of ibuprofen to quell the slight ache in my skull and got ready.  I drove Dad's Jetta to school since he had one of those stay-at-home jobs and hated driving cars—he much preferred his ancient Indian motorcycle which I thought looked kind of dorky by current standards.  As I looked for a parking spot, I noticed a mass of students milling in the parking lot near the school entrance.  Strange.  Usually everyone went inside, especially considering the cold and the freezing wind.  Gray clouds scudded across the sky.  Rain puddles dotted the asphalt.  It was not a good day to be outside.  I figured the principal must be running a fire drill.  
After heaving my backpack on my right shoulder, I made my way toward the chattering crowd and the doors to the school.  My breath frosted in the cold morning air and my glasses fogged up a bit thanks to the knit cap I had shoved low onto my forehead.  I stopped for a moment to take off my glasses and wipe them.  As I stood there, I noticed how quiet the crowd had become.  I pushed my glasses back on and looked ahead.  Dozens of eyes stared back.  I looked behind me expecting to see the latest pre-pubescent pop star step out of a limo.  Nope, nobody there.
My stomach writhed and scurried away to hide in my bowels.  Something was seriously amiss this morning.  Nathan.  He waited for me.  I just knew it.  I almost backpedaled and made a run for my car, but that would be postponing the inevitable.  I had to think my way out of this.  The crowd parted as I reached the edge.  Familiar green eyes locked onto mine as I stepped into an arena in the middle of the mob.  Katie stood a few feet from the glass doors leading into the school.  Next to her stood a person that made my heart join my stomach in hiding.
Brad Nichols punched a leather-gloved fist into his palm and grinned. 


Chapter Five: Sweet Blood of Mine


If there ever was a time for me to soil my underwear, it was now.  Thankfully, that didn't happen.  Brad approached, malice gleaming in his eyes.
Katie gripped his arm.  "Stop, Brad.  Please!"
He jerked his arm free and promptly ignored her.  He looked me up and down.  It didn't take long, considering I was at least a full head shorter.  He wasn't nearly as tall as Nathan, but that didn't matter.  I waited for him to say something.  Instead, he buried his fist in my stomach.
My backpack fell from my shoulder.  I staggered back, gasping for breath and wheeling to the right.  A low leafless hedge tripped me.  My face planted in a puddle of muck.  I jerked my head clear and took in a shuddering breath but got a mouthful of brown slime instead.  Mud caked the left side of my glasses and dribbled down my cheek.  Through the right side, I saw Mark and Harry snorting with laughter next to a couple of other guys I didn't know.  They caught my gaze and sobered, apologetic expressions on their faces.  Rage flared in my chest.  I pushed myself to my knees.  I didn't care what happened.  I was going to beat the crap out of Brad.
Before I could stand, however, Brad grabbed my jacket and hauled me backwards over the hedge.  He snatched off my knit cap and tossed it away before shoving me on my back.  Cold dampness seeped into the seat of my pants.  He'd dropped me right into a freezing water puddle on the sidewalk.  I tried to spring to my feet, but my clumsy girth hampered me and made it a slow climb instead.  I rolled onto my knees, soaking the front of my pants.  My hands went numb with cold.
Katie had Brad by the arm again.  He shoved her away and she hit her head on the door.  Raw fury flowed into my veins.  Do something, you fat idiot!  Pain burst into my skull.  It wasn't from Brad this time.  It was my stupid migraines flaring up again.  Brad's fist caught me in the cheek.  My glasses flew off.  My jaw ached but didn't hurt nearly as much as it should have.  I roared.  Brad howled with laughter.  I probably looked like an infuriated chipmunk.
"Look at the angry little pig," he said.  Gales of laughter chimed in from the onlookers.
I jumped to my feet.  He came at me again, fist cocked, eyes smug.  I swung.  My fist connected.  His jaw made a terrible popping noise.  His legs wobbled.  An astonished look came over his stupid face and he dropped to the sidewalk right into the same puddle he'd put me in.
The headache vanished but everything went blurry, which was odd because it usually happened while I had the headache.  I fumbled on the ground for my glasses.  A gentle hand touched mine and pressed the glasses into it.  I put them on.  The filth had been cleaned off.  I looked up, expecting to see Katie smiling at her new hero.  Instead I choked back a gasp as the Goth girl came into focus.
Katie hovered over Brad, tears in her eyes.  She put his head in her lap and smoothed his cropped hair.  My mouth dropped open.  Why was she babying that asshole?  I almost screamed in frustration.
Harry and Mark walked up.
"Holy crap, man!" Harry said, his eyes full of suppressed laughter.  "Didn't think you had it in you."
"I hope it was entertaining," I growled.
Harry smirked.  "Look, man, it was kind of funny."
I lunged at him and knocked him on his butt.  The smirk vanished.
"Thank God I have such great friends," I said, shouting for everyone to hear.  "People I can count on when some asshole is beating the crap out of me."
Mark placed himself between me and Harry.  "What the hell, Justin?"
Harry leapt to his feet, pushed past Mark, and shoved me.  "You idiot," he spat.  "You never had a chance with Katie.  You're just a delusional nerd like the rest of us."
Hot tears threatened to break loose, but I fought them back.  I wouldn't give these people the satisfaction of seeing me cry even if they were tears of fury.  I glanced at Katie as she helped Brad off the ground.  She didn't even look at me.  The Goth girl was, though.  She stood near the entrance, a curious expression on her face as students filed inside the school now that the spectacle was over.  It amazed me how anyone with so many piercings could ever look sympathetic.  I didn't want her sympathy or her pity.  She was an even bigger loser than me.  Her devil-may-care attitude and devil worshipper clothes begged for the attention she craved.  Her reality probably included an abusive family and a trailer park.
I grabbed my backpack off the ground and made a beeline for the Jetta before my rage caused me to do anything else stupid.  I climbed into the car and slammed the steering wheel with the palm of my hand.  I stared back at the school.  I had to go home and change clothes.  Grime coated my shirt and pants and I wasn't about to go inside looking like this.
I screeched out of the parking lot, but didn't make it far before a fat tear clouded my vision.  I pulled over in front of a liquor store to fight the sudden storm of angry tears that threatened to break loose.  I would not cry, dammit.  I looked at myself in the rear-view mirror.  Muddy rivulets streaked my cheeks.  Dirt glommed onto my sweaty face.  I looked like something from a horror film.  Maybe I was a monster.  A hunch-backed Igor, destined to be the untouchable low man on the totem pole forever.  Life had been so easy on me up until this point.  Good parents, good friends, and harmless nerdly pursuits.  It was like God had come down and kicked my life in the balls.  It hurt like crazy.
An approaching bum gave me a wide-eyed look.  He pulled an about-face and went to beg money from someone who didn't look as psychotic as I did.
I pulled out my cell phone.  It took me several minutes to calm my mind enough to compose a text to Katie.
Are you okay?
I waited and waited for her response.  Minutes ticked by and nothing.  Stupid hussy.  How could she help that jerk after what he'd done to her?  I screamed in impotent rage and balled up my fists.  
"Why don't you want me?" I asked the absent girl that I craved so badly.  I almost heard the snap as my heart broke in two.
My phone chimed.  My heart lightened.  Finally, she'd responded.  Instead, it was a text from the wireless company, telling me my bill was ready to view.  I fought the urge to smash my phone through the car window, instead gripping the steering wheel as if it were the last thing preventing me from falling into a ravine.  There had to be a poem in this pain somewhere.
A cheerful ding informed me the Jetta was almost out of fuel.  I pounded the steering wheel and drove to a Quick Trip gas station before I compounded my misery with a long walk.  
As the gas gallon counter slowly ticked upward and the dollar amount skyrocketed to epic proportions, a low growling caught my ear.  I looked at the dumpsters about twenty feet to my left.  A large brown Rottweiler snarled at a huddled black form trapped between a brown metal dumpster and the brick wall bordering the refuse area.  I took a few cautious steps forward until I could make out the black furry shape of a very perturbed cat.  It arched its back and hissed at the dog.
The Rottweiler pounced.  The cat leapt back.  Huge slobbering jaws snapped on empty air.  Why did the big guys always have to pick on the little ones?  Bullies like Brad and Nathan and this stupid dog were one and the same.  Anger-fueled lunacy replaced the final dredges of logic in my addled mind.  I ran at the huge dog, yelling and waving my arms like an idiot.  The dog turned toward me, hackles raised, and bared its very sharp and very scary teeth.  It lunged for my leg, teeth clacking.  I shrieked and jumped back.
The beast snarled and charged.  I swung my leg in an awkward defensive gesture.  Somehow, my foot caught the dog right in the nose with a loud crack.  He yelped and rolled on the ground.  The little black cat had jumped to the top of the dumpster during the fray and seemed to be quite entertained.  I reached for him while the dog staggered dizzily nearby.  I was afraid the cat might claw me but he settled into my arms and meowed happily as I raced for my car.  I didn't want to be anywhere near that dog when it recovered.
I miraculously remembered to pull the gas pump nozzle out of the fuel filler and to screw on the fuel cover even as I trembled like someone whose stomach had just informed them the Indian food they'd eaten was, in fact, about to tear their digestive system to shreds.
I sat in the car and put the cat in the passenger seat.  For a moment, all I could hear was my own panicked breathing.  I couldn't believe I'd done it.  That dog could have rabies.  It could have maimed me.  I figured a good old-fashioned mauling would have fit right in with today's fantastic milestones.
My parents weren't home when I arrived.  I went in and washed up, fed the cat some leftovers while I figured out what in the world to do next.  The cat meowed in what I interpreted as a voicing of sympathy and complete understanding of my fragile emotional state, his midnight-black fur rubbing against my outstretched hand.
"Thanks," I said, taking a deep breath to calm my palpitating heart.  "You're kind of a brave little cat, aren't you?"  I took a moment or two to properly contemplate what I should call him.  "Welcome to my world, Captain Tibbs."
He cocked his head to the side and meowed, a clear indication he loved his new name.
I stared at the clock on the wall.  It was almost lunchtime and returning to school seemed stupid at this point.  Only pain and misery waited in that place.
I went into the garage and opened Dad's fridge.  Beer crammed every shelf.  
"Holy crap," I said.  Was dad going off the deep end?  I found a six-pack of the beer he'd given me last night and grabbed a couple of bottles from it.  I shut the door halfway, hesitated, and opened it again.  I took the entire six-pack to my room.  Anger burned in my chest every time I thought about Katie or Brad effing Nichols, not to mention my supposed friends who'd laughed at me while Brad used me for a punching bag.
I guzzled two of the beers and felt a little better.  I guzzled another one, burped, and tasted the nuked lasagna I'd eaten the day before.  Captain Tibbs settled into my lap and purred.
"At least you're my friend, aren't you?" I scratched behind his ears.
A warm comfortable feeling spread out from my stomach.  I chugged another beer and decided things weren't so horrible after all.  By the time I finished the first six-pack, things seemed great.  In fact, my mind felt clearer than ever about what I needed to do.  I went into the garage and grabbed another six-pack.  Time to put my plans into motion.

Found out what happens in next in Sweet Blood of Mine:

Justin Case and women do not mix. Man boobs, a love of Kings and Castles, and being tight with the "nerd" crowd certainly don't win him any points either. After rescuing Katie, his crush, it turns out she might not be the girl he thought she was, while Elayna, the school's Goth Girl, turns out to be more. Can high school get any more confusing?

Determined to improve himself, he joins a gym and meets a sexy girl that just oozes a "come hither, Justin" vibe. Until she attacks him in the parking lot, and Justin realizes she's no ordinary girl but a being with supernatural speed and strength. After a narrow escape and an excruciating migraine headache, he wakes up with supernatural abilities all his own, including the ability to seduce every woman he sees.

While that might sound like the perfect combo for any hormonal teen, Justin is a hopeless romantic who wants his first time to be special. Is that too much to ask for? But he doesn't know what he is or how to stop his carnal urges. One thing is clear: if he doesn't find answers there are other more sinister supernaturals who would like nothing better than to do far worse than kill him.

Connect with John Corwin online:
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/johnhcorwinautho...
Blog http://johncorwin.blogspot.com/
Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/John_Corwin

Books by John Corwin:
Sweet Blood of Mine
No Darker Fate
The Next Thing I Knew
Outsourced
Seventh

About the Authors
Dave Ferraro grew up in Brooklyn Park, Minnesota, where he was warped by a steady diet of comic books, horror movies and young adult novels.  He is the author of the paranormal fantasy series Hunters of the Dark, as well as the gay teen paranormal romance Twice Bitten.  He graduated with a B.A. in English and creative writing from Saint Cloud State University, and currently resides in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

Nicole Passante is a happily married mother of two boys, Dominic and Drew. Her husband and best friend is a web programming genius and she helps run his company as well as her own. Her passion for books led her to start ShareAread.com, which helps connect authors with the readers who love them. Her favorite genres are paranormal romance, fantasy and dystopian. Nicole resides in Tampa, Florida with her family and her dog Tiki, and enjoys frequent trips to Disney with her boys. She is H. D. Gordon's agent/publicist, and has helped H. D. tremendously in becoming a bestselling author.

H. D. Gordon is the author of The Alexa Montgomery Saga. Blood Warrior, the first book of the Alexa series, was her debut novel and has held a spot in the top 100 fantasy bestsellers for over a month.  Half Black Soul is the second book in this series and H. D. plans to complete Alexa's tales by the end of 2012. In May of 2012, Joe, a fantasy novel about a young clairvoyant, will be released as well. H. D. is a lifelong reader and writer, a true lover of words. When she is not reading or writing, she is raising her two daughters, playing a little guitar, and spending time with her family. She is twenty three years old and lives in the northeastern United States.

Krystle Jones was born and raised in the small, southern town of Tullahoma, Tennessee.  Reading and writing have been lifeling passions of hers.  In addition to being a novelist, she is also an award-winning flutist, and moonlights as a voice actress.  Her voice can be heard in the popular online game, Alice is Dead 3.

Christie Rich spent her childhood dreaming about other times and places. She has spent the majority of her adult life working in the health care industry, but has rediscovered her love for make believe. When she is not writing, she enjoys painting, spending time with her husband and two children, and trying new ways to express her creativity.

Kristie (K.C.) King’s love affair with books began with Charlotte’s Web when she was eight.  A true Aquarian, she’s a dreamer whose John Grisham obsession resulted in her choice to study linguistics and law.  When she’s not travelling or enjoying cappuccinos in kangaroo cups, you’ll probably find her in her own world: somewhere between Metropolis and Austen’s 19th Century England.

David Estes was born in El Paso, Texas but moved to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania when he was very young.  He grew up in Pittsburgh and then went to Penn State for college.  Eventually he moved to Sydney, Australia where he met his wife.  A reader all his life, he began writing novels for the children’s and YA markets in 2010.  David is a writer with OCD, a love of dancing and singing (but only when no one is looking or listening), a mad-skilled ping-pong player, and prefers writing at the swimming pool to writing at a table.

Nancy Straight, born in Sioux City Iowa, left the cold of the Midwest in 1991 and only returns to see family in the Summer time. She spent ten years traveling the world as a US Marine and settled in rural SC with her husband, two children and three dogs. She enjoys RVing with her family, writing Paranormal Romance/Urban Fantasy and reading all types of Paranormal and Young Adult literature.

Roxanne Kade knew she wanted to be an author as early as the fifth grade.  She grew up in a suburb of Johannesburg, South Africa before moving to Kwa-Zulu Natal during high school.  It was here she spent the next fifteen years finding her voice and practicing her talent.  During that time, Roxanne worked a number of odd jobs from waiting tables to a one day stint as a Can-Can dancer.  It took forgetting who she truly was before a devastating turn of events made her remember the joys and escape of the written word.  Through writing, Roxanne was able to rediscover herself and her passion.  She currently lives in wonderful Durban, South Africa and when she is not writing, she’s often with family and her dog, Blade.

Bonnie Wheeler, a senior at the University of Connecticut, is an author of both young adult paranormal romance and women’s contemporary fiction.  In addition to her novel Fate Fixed, she is going to be publishing Body of Ash, Blood Twist: An Erris Coven Novel, and Midnight Fireflies: A Collection of Poems and Short Stories, within the next year. As a resident of Litchfield County, Bonnie enjoys spending her time with her husband, Jerry, and her three children: Miranda, Justin, and Bobby.

Megan Curd is a graduate of Northwestern College in St. Paul, Minnesota. While having always enjoyed reading any books she could get her hands on, Megan didn't begin writing until a friend encouraged her to do so while in college.  When not writing, Megan enjoys spending time with her family and friends. Traveling and snowboarding are hobbies she loves, and doesn't turn down the opportunity to play xBox with her brother and friends when it presents itself.  Megan currently resides in Eau Claire, Wisconsin with her husband and son, where she haunts her local cafe while escaping into new stories.

Shannon Dermott's first love is reading, to dive into other realities, to explore and brave new worlds. To share her writing is the best experience of all. Her first series explores the life and trials of being Mercy Moore, a teenage cambion. When Shannon isn't writing, she loves to shop and watch horror movies that make turning out the lights seem like a stupid idea. You can explore more about her at her website www.shannondermott.com, on facebook, goodreads, and twitter.

John Corwin has been making stuff up all his life. As a child, he would tell his sisters he was an alien clone of himself and would eat tree bark to prove it. In middle school, John started writing for realz. He wrote short stories about Fargo McGronsky, a young boy with anger management issues whose dog, Noodles, had been hit by a car. The violent stories were met with loud acclaim from classmates and a great gnashing of teeth by his English teacher. Years later, after college and successful stints as a plastic food wrap repairman and a toe model for GQ, John once again decided to put his overactive imagination to paper for the world to share and became an author.