Welcome to my stop on the blog tour for Awakening! Today I have a great excerpt from the book to share with you - and don't forget to enter the giveaway!
Awakening (The Dark Rituals #1)
Author: Catrina Burgess
Genre: YA Paranormal Romance
Release Date: October 7, 2015
Publisher: Full Fathom Five Digital
Author: Catrina Burgess
Genre: YA Paranormal Romance
Release Date: October 7, 2015
Publisher: Full Fathom Five Digital
Synopsis:
In Awakening, the first installment in the Dark Rituals series, a former healer turns to the Death Arts to seek revenge.
Seventeen-year-old Colina was born a healer. But after a horrific event forces her to leave her clan, she becomes desperate to learn the dark magic of the death
dealers, mages who draw their power from the spirits of the dead. Colina was taught to fear and hate death dealers, but becoming one of them is the only way for her to get the revenge she seeks—and the only way for her to survive.
Colina asks a young death dealer named Luke to help her, but he’s reluctant to train her in the Death Arts. Little does she know convincing him to teach her will be the easiest part of her journey. To become a death dealer, Colina will need to undergo three dark rituals, each more terrifying than the last. At the same time, she’ll have to deal with her growing feelings for her mentor. Too bad the first ritual involves him strangling her to death.
As Colina undergoes the trials, she discovers an untapped darkness within herself. If she survives the horrific rituals and gains dark power, what will she become?
Catrina Burgess’ Dark Rituals series originally appeared on Wattpad with over three million reads. Awakening is the first book of four and was named Wattpad’s Best Suspense Story of 2014.
CHAPTER 1
“You want to learn the Death Arts?”
The look on his face was hard to read. It couldn’t be every day that someone wandered into the shop and made such a request.
I
tried to look more confident than I felt. He couldn’t tell my hands
were slightly trembling inside my jacket pockets, could he? I forced
myself to keep my gaze steady and resisted the urge to take to my heels
and run out the door.
My mama always said, You can always ask.
The worst they can do is say no. But I don’t think Mama was thinking
about revenge and murder when she dealt out that piece of homespun
advice.
He stood behind the counter with a questioning look in
his eyes. He looked about my age—seventeen—and had shoulder-length blond
hair. His black tank top sported a picture of a large red phoenix
surrounded by fire.
I couldn’t seem to get the words out of my
mouth, so I decided to look around the shop to buy me some time. Every
wall in the place housed a set of shelves, and scattered around the room
were waist-high, freestanding glass cases. Statues with menacing faces
stared back at me from between leather-bound books on shelves. Every
flat surface was crammed full of exquisite bottles filled with colorful
liquids, dried herbs, exotic feathers, and cloth pouches tied with
ribbon.
Mixed in with these harmless-looking objects were other
things. Misshapen bottles filled with red liquid—probably blood—from a
human, goat, or pig…who could tell? In a dark corner, I could make out
the shapes of animal skulls. And something else. I leaned forward to get
a closer look. What were those small objects hanging from a wooden pole
over in the corner?
A chill ran down my back as I realized they were shrunken heads.
This
was a magic shop, dimly lit, with items peering from the shadows where
they hid. Some of them I’d only seen in pictures, and at another time I
would have been tempted to spend a lazy afternoon exploring every nook
and cranny in the place. But not today. I was here with a single-minded
purpose.
“I was told the owner of this shop could teach me the Death Arts.”
“I’m sorry, someone’s playing a joke on you. No one here can help you, not with something like that.”
I’d
anticipated that my request would be met with anger or disbelief, but
he seemed almost indifferent. Almost. Those dark eyes had a hint of
wariness about them. He might act as though everything was fine and dandy, but I had the impression that, at any moment, I was going to get tossed out on my butt.
“Luke,
you know who she means.” A pretty girl with the longest hair I’d ever
seen spoke from a doorway behind the counter. Her hair was the color of
sweet yellow corn and fell just short of the ground.
“Darla, shut up.”
Darla
looked a few years younger than Luke. She had on a long, flowing blue
skirt covered in yellow flowers and a white bohemian shirt, the sleeves
trimmed in blue lace.
“You’re looking for our Uncle Franklin.
He’s out of town.” She glared at Luke as she came out and took her place
next to him. “Ignore my brother. He’s worried you’re a Redeemer.”
Goddess,
do I look like a Redeemer? Everyone knew about the cult by now. They
started up two years ago—a group of non-mage born who hated all magic.
Most members were innocent enough, but there were fringe sects that not
only reviled magic, but also sought out anyone who practiced magic for
the sole purpose of “cleansing” those offenders.
In the last
month, five people had been found drowned in local lakes, their hands
and feet bound by thick rope. Obviously this fringe sect of
Redeemers—aka psychopaths—were watching too much of the History Channel
when they came up with that idea. They believed anyone who was a witch
would float and the innocent would drown. These crazies proclaimed poor
souls who drowned cleared of all charges. Little help it did them, being
dead and all.
A group of Redeemers did take credit for the
deaths, but not in any way law enforcement agencies could track. The
news reported that flyers proclaiming THE CLEANSING HAS BEGUN and
REDEEMERS WILL TAKE BACK OUR WORLD had appeared on various city streets.
How does someone prove they aren’t a nut job on a religious
cleansing mission? I tried to look as mentally stable as possible and
replied, “I’m not a Redeemer, I swear.” I was told that you’re death
dealers. From the Phoenix Guild.” I looked pointedly at his T-shirt.
Darla
laughed. “She’s got you there,” She reached behind the counter, pulled
out sticks of incense, and held them up. “What do you think…?” She
cocked her head to the side.
“Colina. My name’s Colina.”
Her
lips split in a smile. “Hello, Colina. I’m Darla Cross, and that’s
Luke, my brother.” She waved the incense sticks around. “Lavender or
root beer?”
“Root beer.”
She grabbed a box of matches from
a nearby shelf, pulled one out, and struck it. The flame flickered
wildly before she lowered it and carefully lit one of the brown sticks.
She held the stick up to her mouth and blew out the flame at the tip.
The smoke continued to rise, curling up in swirls around her face.
“Root beer is my favorite.” She smiled and placed the incense down into a carved wooden holder sitting on the counter.
The
sweet smell filled the room. Darla pushed the wooden holder to the side
and hopped up on the counter. Once settled, she swept the mass of her
hair over her right shoulder. It slid down her body like a golden river.
I wondered how long it took her to wash and dry such hair. It
had to be heavy and, I’d think, very hot in the summer. I watched,
mesmerized as her nimble fingers divided the strands into three large
sections and she began to braid it.
“Your uncle… When will he be back?”
Luke
didn’t answer. He was starting to look annoyed. I waited two beats, and
when he still didn’t respond I turned to his sister.
She looked
up from her braid and watched her brother for a few seconds before
answering.
“Not for at least two weeks. He’s put us in charge of the
store while he’s gone.”
I was desperate—there was no way could I
wait two weeks. Chances were if I didn’t get help soon, I’d be dead in
days, not weeks.
“Can you help me?” I couldn’t keep my voice from trembling a bit.
This
time Luke responded. “Help you learn the Death Arts? So you can what?
Take out your frustrations on the world?” He turned to Darla. “I’m
betting someone pissed her off. You ever notice that it’s always the
angry ones who think they can come and learn our craft? Think they can
be taught our art during a weekend course? Why not just buy a gun? Oh,
yeah, because guns don’t work on our kind.” He turned his attention back
to me. “If you don’t mind me asking, who’s this almighty enemy who
pissed you off? Ex-boyfriend? Some clerk at the local mini-mart?” His
voice was dripping with sarcasm.
My chin came up, and I looked
him straight in the eye when I answered. “I’m not asking you to train me
in the Death Arts so I can take out a busload of nuns.”
This
proclamation brought a half grin to his face. I wondered if he would
take my request seriously. He was looking me up and down. I wore no Goth
clothing, no long black trench coat. I wore the uniform of the middle
class in my part of town: a striped white and blue sweater covered by a
dark sailor coat, a pair of faded blue jeans, and black Vans.
I
was beginning to regret the coat. The moment I entered the store a wall
of heat had hit me. It was autumn outside, but someone inside liked to
keep things toasty. Small beads of sweat were forming on my forehead. I
considered taking my coat off, but the reception I was getting made me
think I wouldn’t be staying long.
I tried not to wither under his
scrutiny. I knew what he saw standing in front of him—a
seventeen-year-old girl with dark brown hair pulled up into a ponytail.
An average-looking girl. I’m not the type to stop traffic. A chin and
forehead that were a bit too pronounced, thanks to my Scottish heritage.
Blunt bangs fringed my forehead, coming to rest above nondescript hazel
eyes, and my build was more tomboyish than Playboy Bunny. Nothing
screamed, “Look at me!” I blended into a crowd, and that was something I
counted on.
“I can pay.” I pulled a wad of bills out of my right jacket pocket. “I understand that you people prefer to work in cash.”
The
cash made him frown. Worse, it made him move from behind the big glass
counter faster than I could have anticipated. I barely had a chance to
take a step back before he reached out and grabbed my arm.
“Who are you?”
He
was much bigger up close. I looked up and our eyes locked, and I
suddenly lost the ability to speak. He’d seemed amiable enough when I
stepped into the shop, but now his whole body language took on a more
threatening vibe. Those dark eyes shone not with anger, but with
violence.
Normally a big, pissed-off stranger manhandling me
would have freaked me out, but I needed to be strong. After what I went
through—after the terrible things I dealt with—this guy couldn’t scare
me. I gave myself a mental shake. I was past being intimidated. Fear
left the building a few days ago when bullets were flying and bloody
bodies covered the floor.
I couldn’t think about that now. I’d
locked those images into the deepest, darkest corner of my mind, and
maybe one day I would deal with them, but not today. Today I was on a
mission. I didn’t have a lot to lose, and this guy might be the only one
who could give me what I needed most.
I pushed the money at his chest with my free hand. “If this isn’t enough, name your price.”
His fingers curled around the bills, and he let go of my arm and took a step back. “You’re serious about this?”
“Yes. If you tell me no, I’ll go find someone else.”
The only problem was that there weren’t a lot of people willing to teach outside their guild, and we both knew it.
“You think you can handle learning the Death Arts?”
I wasn’t sure I could handle it, but I wasn’t about to admit my doubt. I kept quiet and nodded.
“Luke,
you can’t be serious. You can’t teach her.” Darla had finished braiding
her hair and her attention was now on the two of us.
“Stay out of it, Darla!”
“There’s
no way Uncle would let you do it.” Her brown eyes blazing with anger,
Darla jumped down from the counter and rounded on him.
He took a step away from her and turned to me. “Have you had any training?”
I
lifted the sleeve of my jacket and turned my forearm, revealing the
small tattoo of a blue swallow inked into the skin just above my palm.
“You’re a healer.” He couldn’t have sounded more shocked.
I could feel tears starting to form, but I forced them back. “I was.”
“You
can’t learn the Death Arts. Your people would never allow such a
thing.” He frowned. He’d looked at me first with ridicule, then
amusement, and now he was watching me as though I was some kind of puzzle he was trying to work out.
It
was true. I’d taken a sacred oath, and if anyone from my clan caught me
learning the Death Arts, let alone using them, I’d be punished,
possibly imprisoned. I knew the risk, but I didn’t care.
“Will
you teach me?” I knew he could hear the desperation in my voice. I felt
it in the very core of my being. My hands were visibly trembling. I’d
done a pretty good job of keeping it together until now, but hunger and
exhaustion washed over me. I’d been on my own, trying to deal with what
happened, and it was suddenly all too much. If seeing me fall apart in
front of him was the only way to convince Luke of my sincerity, then I
didn’t care if he saw my fear and desperation. He was my last hope. This
was my only chance to stay alive. Maybe, if I lived long enough and I
got lucky, I would have a chance to take my revenge.
He didn’t
answer right away. Darla stood next to him, her eyes wide but her
expression unreadable. She watched us both in silence. As we stood
there, the silence stretched on and on, and all the while Luke’s
unyielding dark eyes surveyed me. I had a feeling he was trying to
figure me out, trying to coax out my secrets. I wasn’t about to make it
easy. I pushed down the urge to shift from foot to foot while I waited
for an answer. When he finally broke the silence, I physically jumped.
“Come back tomorrow night after midnight.” He pocketed the bills.
“The
witching hour.” I said the words through clenched teeth. It was not the
response I was expecting. The witching hour was a time when people
slept and the world seemed tranquil, but it was really more than that.
It wasn’t truly tranquil and safe, not for people like us. For those of
us who knew better, it could be wild, chaotic, and dangerous.
“Yes, the witching hour.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
A shudder went through me. What the heck am I getting myself into?
“There’s still time to change your mind.” His voice was low.
“I know what I’m doing.”
“Do
you? A healer? Yeah, you’ve seen the life leave a person, watched their
energy dissipate into the ether sea. But have you ever called on that
same energy? Ever felt its pulse swirling and circling around you? It’s
not for the faint of heart.”
What could I say? He was right. I’d
never called on spirits. Honestly, I only had an inkling of the type of
magic his guild used. I knew it was the strongest magic. If I was going
to survive—if I was going to exact my revenge—it was the magic I needed
to learn no matter the consequences. I had no choice but to head down
this road. That knowledge didn’t stop fear and panic from settling into
the pit of my stomach.
I knew that, theoretically, magic is
magic, but healers and death dealers were on the opposite ends of the
spectrum. More powerful clans could do different types of magic, I’d
heard, but my clan had always been healers. In theory, I should be able
to do the basics of
the Death Arts, even if I didn’t have the inborn talent to become a master of them.
A phone rang before I could reply. Luke made his way back around the counter, picked up the receiver, and started talking.
I
had gone looking for a death dealer, with no leads other than a piece
of paper with an address and a brief description of the shop. I’d made
it here in one piece and someone had grudgingly agreed to teach me. It
was a victory. A small one, but I’d take what I could at this point.
I
realized I was standing there like an idiot, watching Luke talk on the
phone when I should have been hightailing it out of there. We’d
completed our business. He might have reservations, but he’d taken my
money and agreed to teach me. I had no reason to linger. If I hung
around he might change his mind, yet here I was—staying and staring.
Luke
was good-looking, with piercing, dark-gray eyes, dirty-blond hair, and a
rugged jaw. He had broad shoulders and a long scar ran down his left
shoulder, the end of it lost beneath his tank top. I wondered how far
the scar traveled underneath the black material, and immediately felt a
heat rise inside me. My cheeks flushed, and for a moment my heart
pounded. I reminded myself that he was a death dealer, not someone to be
trusted. I didn’t know if all the rumors I had heard about his kind
were true, but I did know for sure that his kind were to be avoided. He
dealt in dark magic—magic that my people both feared and hated.
I
realized in horror that the phone conversation was over, and Luke was
talking to me, but I had been so caught up in my own thoughts that I had
missed everything he said.
I felt another blush spread across my cheeks. Like an idiot I mumbled, “Uh, what?”
“You can’t go back out in the streets.” He looked dead serious.
“Who’s going to stop me?” I regained my composure, but my voice was more than a bit defensive.
“The
Triads. I just got a call from a neighbor. The Triads are hanging out
down the block.” He walked around the counter until he stood in front of
me. “You’ll have to stay here. At least for a couple hours until the
coast is clear.”
No way was I staying—I had what I came for. It
was time to leave. The Triads didn’t scare me. I was a healer and even
they had a code against harming a healer.
But I’m not a healer
anymore, I reminded myself. I was going to delve into the forbidden
magics—I would soon become someone on the fringe of society. No
respectable people mingled with the Phoenix Guild.
A wave of
exhaustion suddenly hit me. I grabbed the corner of the closest table to
steady myself. Making the decision to come here, surviving the last few
days, convincing Luke to take me on…it all had taken the energy out of
me. The anger, the desperation, the
determination—everything suddenly evaporated.
“Are you okay?” Darla asked, coming to my side.
The words came out in a harsh whisper, “I’m fine. I skipped a couple meals.”
It
had been at least three days since food had entered my mouth. I had
forced myself to drink, but every time I tried to eat, the memories came
and nausea set in.
“I just felt dizzy for a second. There’s no need to make a fuss.” My voice sounded unbelievably weak even to my own ears.
Darla bent down, and her fingers grazed across my forehead. “She’s not okay. Luke, bring her upstairs.”
I began to slump and Luke reached out and put an arm around my waist, supporting me.
I tried to pull myself out of his grip, but he was extremely strong. “You can let me go, I’m okay.”
“Darla,
lock up the shop. With the Triads out there, best thing to do is lock
up and sit tight until they get bored and move on.” He ignored my
protest and began to lead me behind the counter and through the doorway
into a small hallway. I felt like a helpless rag doll in his arms as he
moved us along the hall to the foot of a wooden staircase.
“Since
you can’t leave, you might as well come upstairs. We haven’t had a
chance to eat. We can get some food into you. Can you make it up the
stairs?” The harshness had gone from his voice. He sounded almost kind.
“I’m fine, I just need to—” I couldn’t finish the sentence as the world around me started to fade away.
“Hey,
don’t pass out.” He leaned down and lifted me into his arms. He carried
me up the stairs and delivered me across a large room onto a brown
couch sitting against a bright, red-painted wall.
I needed a
moment to catch my breath and gather my strength. Showing so much
weakness in front of strangers embarrassed me. I had been an idiot to go
so long without food. Sleeping was also something I was not doing a lot
of lately. Every time I closed my eyes, nightmares rushed in. It wasn’t
surprising that my body suddenly rebelled and gave way. I told myself I
would lie here for a minute or two, catch my breath, and then head out.
Suddenly Luke was standing over me. He had a bottle of soda in
one hand and two plastic cups in the other. He handed them over to me.
“We’ve got some cheese and salami in the fridge. Darla picked up some
fresh bread at the local bakery this morning.”
What choice did I have? If I kept going this way, I’d end up passed out on the streets.
I looked up at him and forced a smile. “Thanks for the dinner invite. I accept.”
* * *
The food was good. I ate until I couldn’t take another bite. I leaned back
against the leather couch cushions, my coat draped next to me, and
relaxed for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime.
My
gaze kept going to Luke. There was little resemblance to the imposing
figure I had dealt with down in the storefront; the Luke upstairs was
relaxed. He hadn’t said much while we ate, and now he sat back in his
chair, finishing a bite of bread.
Every time I glanced his way he was looking at me, his stare openly inquisitive.
He
was not what I had expected. He didn’t hide like the rest of the
members of his guild. He was wearing a phoenix on his T-shirt for
Goddess’s sake. This was not a guy trying to keep to the shadows—this
was a guy living openly in a society that deeply despised his kind. Did
he feel alienated? Did he have friends outside his guild?
And
what about his sister, Darla? I wondered if she practiced the arts. She
sat quietly, finishing off her meal. It was hard to tell if someone
possessed magic just by looking at them. Was she also a death dealer?
Would the Phoenix Guild initiate someone so young?
I wondered how
different her life was from mine. I had become a healer like my mother
and her mother before her. The path to becoming a healer started at
fifteen, but at that age I had only learned the basics about plants and
medicine. Mama hadn’t allowed me to delve into the magics that went
along with healing until I hit my seventeenth birthday. My training
started three months ago and, in that time, I’d learned as much as I
could as fast as I could.
No other career choice had ever entered
my mind. It had been assumed that I would follow in my family’s
footsteps and, honestly, I didn’t have any regrets. I loved working with
plants, being out in the sunshine, my hands pushed into the dirt of
Mother Earth. Growing fragile things with care and love, creating
medicines to heal the sick, mixing potions, learning the craft that had
been passed down through the generations—there was no part of being a
healer that didn’t make my heart swell with joy and make me leap out of
bed every morning full of excitement. The world once seemed a place of
endless possibilities.
But all of that was now behind me. The
path before me was full of shadows and darkness. I was going to become a
death dealer, and I didn’t have the faintest idea what kind of lives
they led.
I took a good look at my surroundings. I was in a
studio apartment, but the space was enormous. A well-outfitted kitchen
with granite counters and cherry cabinets stood at one side of the room.
The middle area had been arranged as a living room and office. The
couch I was on sat against the wall on a large, patterned rug surrounded
by two oversized chairs. To the right of the couch in front of a row of
tall windows stood a desk with a laptop computer and printer. Next to
the desk was a small row of black metal cabinets. On the other side of
the room were three large partitions—walls that didn’t quite make it all
the way up to the ceiling. Bedrooms, I imagined.
“This is a nice place.” It was an expensive place. Every piece of furniture, every knickknack, screamed money.
“It’s
our uncle’s.” Luke leaned forward and put his plate down on the old
blue steamer trunk serving as a table for our meal. “Are you going to
tell us what brought you here?”
“Good food, terrific soda—what’s
not to like?” My answer brought a scowl to his face, but I wasn’t
intimidated. I was paying for his services—I wasn’t about to fill him in
on the details of my life. “My understanding is that your type of work
comes with a certain assurance of anonymity. Like when you pay a shrink
or a lawyer.”
“Client confidentiality.” He leaned back in his chair and took on a thoughtful expression.
“Exactly.” I poured myself another glass of soda.
He watched me in silence for a few moments. “I would like to know who pointed you to our doorstep.”
Again with the questions.
“Someone
who wishes to remain anonymous,” I answered cautiously. Luke could keep
asking questions, and I would keep being evasive. This might be a long
couple of hours.
“A lot of people know the type of work we do,
but most of them, I’d imagine, don’t run in the same social circles as
someone like you.”
The way he said “social circles” made it clear it wasn’t a compliment.
“And what would you know about the social circles I run in?”
Luke
took his time answering, his eyes scanning slowly over my appearance.
“I haven’t seen you in this part of town before. If I had to guess, I
would figure you for a Middleton gal.”
Middleton—a quiet, sleepy
suburb about thirty minutes from the city. He wasn’t wrong. I’d lived on
the outskirts of Middleton most of my life.
“Let me guess: your father’s a plumber and your mother’s a school teacher.”
Actually,
he couldn’t have been further off the mark. I forced a smile onto my
face. “Do you do fortunes? Are you going to tell me my horoscope next?”
“Not something I normally dabble in, but I could if you wanted me to.” His eyes focused on
me in a way I found disconcerting.
Darla spoke up, “Luke, stop being so rude.”
“Why?
What’s she trying to hide?” Luke looked over at Darla, an amused
expression on his face. “Does she have top government secrets hidden
away in the recesses of her mind?” He didn’t wait for an answer, but
instead got up from his chair and started clearing away the dishes.
“I’m
the private ‘no trespassing’ type. Let’s leave it at that,” I answered
quietly to his retreating back. “What’s with all the questions?”
He
spun around so fast my breath hitched in the back of my throat. He put
the dishes down none too gently, and they rattled loudly as they hit the
surface of the trunk. “What’re you really doing here?”
I closed my hands around my now-empty plastic cup, crushing it before taking a deep breath and relaxing my grip. This guy would not
scare me off. I had food in my stomach and was feeling less shaky. I
needed his help, and it would be best if I could get him to see me as
strong and capable first.
I took a deliberately long pause before answering. “Paying you a lot of money.”
He took a step toward me. “To learn the Death Arts?”
I
could almost feel the wave of violence and intimidation wash over him.
He clenched his fists and towered over me menacingly. Here I was in this
stranger’s apartment. No one knew where I was. At any moment, Luke
could decide I was not worth the hassle and—what? Kill me? He already
had my money. I‘d paid him the money upfront like an idiot. I had heard
stories about his kind—most of them seemed outlandish, but I knew there
was truth buried within the tall tales. Anger I could handle, but not
violence, not now, not after what had happened. At the very thought of
it, my stomach clenched and my mouth trembled.
I looked over at
Darla. She was watching us, her expression sullen. So far she’d shown me
only kindness. She wouldn’t let Luke hurt me, I was almost certain of
it.
He glared down at me, and I tried to look confident and fearless, but I didn’t trust my voice not to betray me, so I nodded.
“Why did you come here? Why are you so desperate to learn the dark magics?”
I
forced myself to sit up. I used to have a backbone, and if there was
ever a time to show it, it was now. I wouldn’t tremble like a scared
rabbit in front of this guy anymore. I could feel the anger growing
within me. I tried to hold on to the feeling, will it along, forcing the
flames of it to warm my blood and fuel my words.
“Why does it matter? I need to learn, and a friend told me that I could find someone here who would teach me!”
My reaction didn’t seem to surprise him. He’d been pushing, and I’d finally pushed back.
The
anger abandoned me as suddenly as it had come. “Look, you guys seem
pretty open about what you do. The shop even has a phoenix on its sign.
It’s not like you’re hiding who you are.”
“I’m not ashamed of what I am.”
“A lot of people don’t share that view.”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you one of them?”
I slumped back against the pillows. “I’m the live-and-let-live type.”
His face softened, and he took a step back. “A healer.”
“I
told you I was.” I was so tired, so sick of all the questions. All I
wanted to do was go somewhere safe, somewhere I could try and get some
rest.
“But not now?”
Why did he keep pushing? When I put down the crushed cup, my hands were openly trembling again. “Not anymore.”
“I’ve never heard of one of your kind walking away from the calling.”
His voice was softer now, less demanding.
I
was anxious to change the subject. “You said the Triads are out in the
streets causing havoc. Do they do that a lot?” I knew the Triads were
one of the largest street gangs in the city. They were mostly mage-born,
many of them vicious human beings. Part mage and a whole lot of
natural-born killer types—a deadly combination any way you looked at it.
“Recently more than usual.”
“So it’s not safe for me out there?”
“No.”
Those dark eyes were watching me. Once again, I felt like a puzzle he was trying to work out.
“I could pay you to be my bodyguard and escort me home.”
He shook his head. “It’s not safe for even the likes of me out there these days.”
Now
that was something. I had never heard of a death dealer being afraid of
anything. They were what I considered the top of the magic food
chain—the hardest of the mage-born to kill.
“And you’re proposing what? I should bunk down here tonight?”
“It’s
getting late. The streets are dangerous, and you don’t look like you’re
up to fighting off trouble at the moment.” He did a sweeping gesture
with his arm that took in his sister. “We are offering a place of
refuge.”
Darla got up, walked over, sat down next to me, and
patted my hand as if trying to offer some kind of comfort. “We’re about
the same size. I have some sweatpants and a T-shirt I could lend you.
Luke’s right, it’s not safe out there. You should stay with us.”
It
had been a long time since anyone had offered to help me. I wanted to
say no, but it would be foolish to go out and risk my life.
I
moved my hand away but gave her a smile so she wouldn’t be offended.
“I’ll take you up on the clothes, but what I could go for right now is a
hot shower.”
She pointed across the room. “The bathroom’s over there. You can find clean towels in the
cupboard.”
I
walked over and opened the bathroom door. The tub was an old-fashioned
one. It had a metal circle at the top that held a white and black polka
dot shower curtain. A handheld showerhead hung from a long, retractable
metal coil.
I slumped down on the side of the bathtub and
wondered if I had the energy to take a shower. A pile of clean clothes
sat on the toilet seat. The hot water would feel good against my skin.
It might clean away the dirt, but what about the guilt? Could it wash
that away?
I forced my body up and got undressed. If I had any
sense I would get the heck out of here, but I knew I couldn’t. Not
yet—not until I got what I needed. I looked in the mirror and shook down
my hair. Now free, it came to rest at my shoulders in waves. I turned
away from the mirror and stepped into the bathtub. I reached for the
showerhead and held it over my head with one hand as I turned the knobs
with the other. The hot water felt amazing as I sprayed back and forth
across my body. When I finally got out, I rummaged through cabinet
drawers until I came across a towel and a boar hairbrush. I dried
myself, and then took my time brushing my hair. When I was done, I
changed into my borrowed clothes.
Darla was wrong: we weren’t the
same size. She might be younger than I was, but she had a lot more
curves. Everything was a bit too large. I tied the bottom of the white
T-shirt into a knot and pulled the drawstring on the gray sweatpants
tight. For some reason, I felt more vulnerable when I came out, even
though I was fully clothed. I realized it was because I was wearing
someone else’s clothes.
I was in a strange place, with people I’d
just met, and I was about to bunk down like a guest. An unwelcome
guest. Even though he said I should stay, Luke did not have a welcoming
expression as I came out of the bathroom.
“You were in there a
while.” He was standing against the row of windows. He looked even
bigger than I remembered. Was it possible that he’d grown five inches
since I stepped into the bathroom? Impossible. It was just the play of
shadows against his body.
“Sorry, did you want to take one? I didn’t mean to hog all the hot water.”
“I usually take my showers in the morning.”
I
was having a hard time keeping my eyes off him. He’d changed and
currently sported no shirt and a pair of black sweatpants. His broad
shoulders tapered down to a very cut stomach. Suddenly an image of him
dripping wet, stepping out of the bathtub, flashed across my mind. I
couldn’t help it—I blushed, and like an idiot, the only thing I could
think of to say was, “Oh, okay.”
“Darla put an extra blanket on the back of the couch in case you get cold.”
“Thanks. Where is she?”
He gestured toward one of the partitioned sections. “She went to bed.”
I stood there feeling like a moron, not sure what to say next.
He
pointed to the couch. “The sheets are fresh, but the pillow is a bit
lumpy. We aren’t set up for houseguests. I’ll leave the light on in the
bathroom and the door ajar, that way you’ll have a bit of light in the
room if you get up in the night.”
“I doubt I will. I’m a pretty
sound sleeper.” It wasn’t a lie…not really. I used to be a sound sleeper
until the nightmares set in. Chances were I would wake up in a cold
sweat, trembling from head to toe. I desperately hoped I wouldn’t wake
up screaming at the top of my lungs.
I gave him a smile and moved past him to the couch.
He walked across the room and flipped off the overhead lights.
I
settled under the covers and watched the shadows from the window play
against the ceiling. “Thanks again for the food, the shower, and the
place to crash.”
Luke stopped, but didn’t turn around. “No problem.”
“I like your place. It’s—comfortable.”
“I’m glad you approve.” His voice sounded amused.
“Good
night.” And as I said the words, I swear I heard my brother’s voice
whisper in my ears, “And don’t let the bed bugs bite,” but it had to be
my imagination. Lack of sleep was starting to affect my ability to
function. A good night’s sleep and I’d be stronger tomorrow—and maybe
ready to take on whatever challenges came my way.
Follow the Awakening by Catrina Burgess Blog Tour and don't miss anything! Click on the banner to see the tour schedule.
I write because it helps keeps the darkness away and reminds me that there is magic in the world. I live with one husband, two dogs, and a cat named Shitty Kitty in a small mining town in Arizona. At night this place is definitely spooky. I swear I’ve heard the wind giggle, and sometimes there’s a very odd breeze. Luckily, I love all things that go bump in the night. I adore old movies. I’m a huge Joss Whedon fan.
I’ve been known to eat pizza and cold Chinese food for breakfast, and I’m the queen of the board game Stratego. I’ve never been beaten. NEVER!
I think it looks like a great read with an awesome cover. Hope I did this tour right. A little confused as to doing daily for past dates.
ReplyDelete