We crunch through a foot-deep carpet of dead leaves that swish softly past our ankles. Jonas sticks a hand out and pushes aside brambles that would rip at my skin. He also ducks first under the sticky woven spider webs I somehow never see until they’re netted over my face, suffocating me with panic. The sun is gone. I smell the dense grey smoke of a leaf fire somewhere nearby.
His voice breaks through the hush of the twilit forest all of a sudden. “Last term during debate, I didn’t agree with the issue, Wren. I was on the opposition side for reparations.” He lifts a tree branch over his head so I can pass under unscathed. “I hated Mrs. McKenna for assigning that debate.”
The moon is big and bright as a silver dollar through the old trees’ reaching branches. In the pale glow, his face is tense, his mouth a slash of frustration.
“I shouldn’t have overreacted.” My overloud voice echoes around us. I tone it down. “McKenna was fair. You and I were slotted to debate.”
“But reparations? It was insensitive of her. I mean, for you.” His hand tightens slightly around mine, and all my blood sings and whirls like Maria on those big green hills in The Sound of Music. As corny as that movie is, I always get choked up right at that part, because I want to twirl like that and feel that way, and now, even sans all that altitude, I think I might know exactly how she felt with her arms whipped out, spinning around like a mad woman.
Jonas Balto is making me feel musical-giddy with one little squeeze of our hands.
“She made Nevaeh debate affirmative action that year. And she gave her con, so it’s alright. She wanted us to break out of our comfort zones. Or whatever.” Something that had a strong hold on my heart loosens, and everything feels lighter—the air swooping in and out of my lungs, my feet crunching the leaves, our hands linked and warm. “But I appreciate it. I mean, that you apologized. You didn’t need to, but it means a lot to me to know for sure that you were just doing the assignment.”
He tugs at my hand. “I know I can be a jerk sometimes, but I don’t actually think it was fair for the government to screw an entire group of people just because of their background. If you thought otherwise, you don’t have much faith in me.”
“I don’t know you that well.”
“We’ve been in the same school since kindergarten. I live ten minutes away from you and have all my life.” He lays the facts out, but neglects the obvious.
“Okay. So we’ve been around each other a lot. Being around someone doesn’t mean you know them well.” I’m surprised when he squeezes my hand again, and I turn to look at him.
When he flashes me a smile, the moonlight glints brightly off of his sharp teeth. “We should remedy that.”
We stop walking and huddle for warmth. His face is close to mine. I take in the dark curve of his eyebrows, the hook of his nose, the gold prickle of five o’clock shadow that covers his sharp jaw. Suddenly his features blur and my eyes close.
I expect warmth, but there’s only the cool brush of the wind, and when I let my eye slit open, he’s looking at a dark collection of trees far off and I’m left trying to play off my missed-kiss disappointment. The trees are black against a navy sky, bordered by a moon-silvered edge of leaves; it would be a scene devoid of any color, except for a red ball that bounces toward us. The fox darts straight to my feet and drops something on the toe of my shoe.
I close my eyes again and swallow hard. “Jonas? Did that fox just drop a mouse on my foot?”
He kneels down and picks it up. “No.”
The word is flat and harsh. I doubt he’s holding anything as innocent as a dead mouse on his palm.
When I lean closer, there’s a roll of money, secured with a rubber band. I poke it to make sure it’s real, then pick it up. The dense weight tells me it’s probably a good amount. I peel back a few bills and my mouth goes dry.
“Thousands,” I say when Jonas gives me a questioning look. The fox twitches its tail, then dashes back towards the truck. I make a move to chase it, but Jonas grabs my arm.
“Wren, where did it get that money?”
Suddenly the moonlight doesn’t feel so romantic and the hush of the forest has distinctly sinister undertones. Where did all of this money come from?
“I have no clue. What do you think?”
Jonas looks around. “Someone must be out here.”
“Shhh!” I shush him and glance around anticipating some mob of meth heads to jump out of the bushes or a guy in a sharkskin suit with a gunshot wound to fire a few rounds in our direction. “Whoever lost that money is not someone we want to get involved with.”
“You don’t know that.” Jonas refuses to whisper. “There could be a logical explanation for this money being here.”
“Like?”
“Someone could have dropped it while they were…hiking.” The last word pulls long and weak as warm taffy.
“Hikers? You think a hiker was carrying a small fortune in cash wrapped with a rubber band?” I hiss. “Let’s leave the money here and go. Now.”
I let the wad of money hit the ground and stomp away without a glance back. But I’m not positive what direction I should head in. I followed Jonas blindly into the woods, and nothing looks familiar to me. Maybe I should have paid less attention to his big hands and chiseled jaw and looked for some damn landmarks.
“Wren! Wait!” He crashes through the forest, making more noise than an elephant would. “You’re headed the wrong way! Let’s just look around, okay?”
“Why? Don’t you understand that if we find the living owner of this money, chances are they will hurt us? Badly? And if they’re not alive anymore, then they’re a corpse? I don’t want to get killed and I don’t want to find a dead body. Drop the money and let’s go!” By now I’ve forgotten that I’m supposed to be quiet, and I’m yelling. Whoever might be looking for us will be able to find us, no doubt. On the bright side, at least if they’re following my voice, they’ll realize that I don’t want to steal their money.
But no one comes. The forest waits in silence. Clouds eclipse the moon, and I instinctively move closer to Jonas in the encompassing dark.
He presses the solid roll of paper in my hand. “It’s for you, Wren. Take it.”
I flex my fingers, squeeze tight, and feel the edges of the paper bite into my palm. This isn’t play money. This could pay for a live-in nurse to stop by for Bestemor a few times a week. The dishwasher needs repair. The roof leaks in at least eight different places. Normally I try not to think about any of those things because I can’t help fix them. What little money I make goes to groceries, gas, and a tiny bit of fun.
I need this.
I nod and Jonas takes my hand, grabs the keychain hanging from his belt loop and shines a beam of bright white light into the dark. After a few silent minutes of walking, we’re back at the truck. The fox is curled next to the tire, and I feel a glow of relief.
“There it is.” I sigh and head towards it at a run, shocked by the relief bubbling through me. I’m so happy the fox is safe and sound, I drop my hand and bury my fingers in the silky layers of fur at its neck without a second thought for the tiny mouth armed with barbs of razor teeth. The fox rubs against my hand and looks up at me with eyes that flash with unmistakable intelligence, and it occurs to me that this fox is smart. Not like a trained animal or an obedient pet…this fox strikes me as a creature that has the ability to actually reason on some kind of higher plane, and that realization is kind of creepy. And also very cool.
“Do you have AAA?” Jonas’s voice trips through my musings.
“No. Or maybe my grandma does. I don’t know. Why?” I follow his pointed finger and see a new tire leaning on the side of my truck.
Jonas paces towards it, kicks it with the toe of his boot, leans over and squints, then narrows his eyes at me.
“This is exactly the right tire for your truck.”
One hand is deep in fox fur, one grasps the mysterious roll of money. My eyes strain in their sockets.
“Leav
e it.” My voice shakes, and every hair on my body stands on end.
Jonas picks it up and tosses it in the bed, then shoots me a warning look. “That spare is a piece of crap. I don’t care who left it or why, but you need it. I’ll change it when we get to my house.”
“No!” I head to the bed, grab the tire with one hand and make a futile attempt to yank it out while Loki squirms in my other arm. I try again, then give up in disgust and head back to the driver’s side. “Fine, it can stay back there, but it’s not going on this truck. Okay? It’s not. Something freaky is going on, and I don’t want any trouble.”
I pass the warm circle of fox across the seat and Jonas places it on his lap. I shrug his coat off and shove it at him. Nothing makes sense, and I’m unreasonably annoyed with Jonas and his calm, logical refusal to see the insanity of the situation.
“At least put your coat on,” he says, watching me shiver stubbornly.
“I told you, I don’t have a coat with me,” I snarl.
“Then what’s on the back of the seat?”
I crane my neck and my cheek brushes against rich, warm velvet. I swivel my head and see that it’s not just any velvet; it’s the vintage black velvet coat with a pink satin lining that I saw on Etsy for a couple hundred more than I’d ever dare to spend on a coat. Especially when I own a perfectly serviceable pea-green parka purchased during my unfortunate military-inspired phase last year.
Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe this isn’t what I think?
“Jonas, can you see the buttons on this coat?” I ask. They’re folded away from me.
“Yeah.”
“What do they look like?” My voice is a nervous squeak.
“Little silver owls.”
I drop my head on the steering wheel and shake for a few minutes. What the hell is going on?
Acknowledgements
I’ve thought about this moment for a long time. I’m through with the Dark Betrayal Trilogy and it is one of the most bittersweet moments of my life. To say that I love these characters would be an understatement. They have been part of my family for years. So, it’s with a certain amount of sadness that I bid them adieu… for now.
I owe so many people thanks, I find it hard to know where to start. My husband deserves the lion’s share of the cake, for believing in me, pushing me, and never letting me down. My daughter, who has been incredibly patient for a three-year-old, deserves a year at Disney World. (The other day she told me that she wants to write books. My heart almost exploded with pride.) My sister, also, deserves thanks. Without her, I may never have finished Mortal Obligation. She has been my Writing Warden. My friends, Heather and Tina, deserve huge shout-outs for believing in me and being my personal cheerleaders. My parents will always receive thanks for encouraging my crazy imagination. I’m thankful for my friends, Shawn and Laurie, who designed my website and put up with crazy requests. I am eternally indebted to Liz Reinhardt for going through my book and picking apart my grammar and weird phrasing. (And didn’t once threaten to put me in her pocket while doing it!) It took a lot of time from her own projects and I hope that her fans can forgive me. Elizabeth Hunter, who is an inspiration and my writing hero, for going through and reading my work, even when I thought it sucked. Thanks to my wonderful friend and editor, Anne, who never pushed me to hurry up and finish. Anne, you’ll never know how much your support meant when I was trying to make this book the best that it could be. Kathie from Kats Eyes Editing was a god-send in my moment of need. She has been spectacular to work with and I’m grateful to have met her even through difficult circumstances.
For my writing family: thank you, thank you, thank you. The FP has been an incredible inspiration and source of support. Not only are you all amazing authors, I’m honored to call you friends.
Thank you to my readers. The ones that have gone out of their way to tell people about my books. The ones that left reviews or just thought about my characters when they should have been doing something else. You guys are the reason that I write. Thank you for your support and thank you for your patience.
About the Author
Nichole Chase is a daydreamer. No, really, just ask any of the math teachers that had the misfortune of seeing her name appear on their class schedule. For years she has had storylines and characters begging for attention, but she resolutely pushed them aside to focus on more normal (read, boring) jobs. Well, no longer! She is currently heeding the voices in her head and frantically writing their stories. Nichole resides in South Georgia with her husband, energetic toddler, three dogs, and two cats. When not devouring novels by the dozens, you may find her writing, painting, crafting, or chasing her daughter around the house while making monster noises.
Mortal Obligation is the first book in The Dark Betrayal Trilogy. If you would like to learn more about Nichole and her projects, please stop by her website, check out her blog, and follow her on Twitter. Nichole also has a FaceBook fanpage that she updates on a regular basis.
www.NicholeChase.com
www.nicholechase.blogspot.com
Table of Contents
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Epilogue
Preview of Flukes
Preview of Inherit
About the Author
Table of Contents
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Epilogue
Preview of Flukes
Preview of Inherit
About the Author
Immortal Grave (The Dark Betrayal Trilogy) Page 25
