Aura

by Rebecca Lynn Talley

  DuBon Publishing

  Copyright 2012 Rebecca Lynn Talley

  DuBon Publishing

  Kindle Edition

  Cover Design by Karlene Browning

  Edited by Annette Lyon

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, situations, dialogue, names, and places are fictional and from the author's imagination. They are not to be construed as real and any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The opinions and views contained herein are the author's and do not necessarily represent the views of DuBon Publishing.

  Except in the case of brief passages contained in critical reviews and/or articles, no part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, whether that be print, electronic, film, microfilm, or by any other means, without prior written, dated, and signed permission from the author.

  Thank you for purchasing this book and respecting the work of this author by not participating in piracy.

  I wish to thank all of those who have supported me and encouraged me throughout the process of writing this novel. I am grateful to each of you.

  Thank you to Rachael and Braden, my wonderful critique partners, who spent endless hours reading my manuscript, answering my questions, and allowing me to bounce ideas off them.

  Thank you to Annette Lyon, a fantastic editor, who made this book so much better, and to Karlene Browning for the beautiful cover design.

  Thank you to my amazing family—my husband who never complained about frozen burritos for dinner and who always had (and has) an encouraging word for me, my children who answered questions, read and proofread for me, and told me I was "the most awesome writer" when I wanted to delete the whole manuscript. I'm so thankful for such a network of support.

  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

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-one

  Chapter Forty-two

  Chapter Forty-three

  Chapter Forty-four

  Chapter Forty-five

  Chapter Forty-six

  Chapter Forty-seven

  Chapter Forty-eight

  About the Author

  The brisk late-night air wound itself around Matt's neck while the house keys shook in his hand. He glanced over his left shoulder. Over his right. His heart thundered against his ribs. He scanned the neighborhood. Nothing out of the ordinary—but nothing was as it seemed. Never would be again. He wiped perspiration from his forehead and drew in a breath.

  In one swift movement, he opened the creaky front door to the rental house, stepped inside, and closed the door. He locked the door and rested his head against it for a moment before turning around. With three strides he was standing next to the couch, where his wife lay sleeping, bathed in the glow of the television. He knelt next to the couch and attempted to calm his breathing while he watched the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest. So peaceful. Relaxed. Unaware.

  He tugged on her arm, trying to rouse her. "Pam, honey, wake up."

  Her eyelids fluttered open. He took several breaths, hoping to settle his raging heartbeat.

  "Matt? What's wrong?" She lifted herself on one elbow and pushed a few strands of her long, blonde hair from her face. "You look terrified."

  He didn't want to panic her or scare her. But he had no choice. "We need to leave."

  She cleared her throat. "What are you talking about?"

  "We can't stay here anymore." It sounded crazy and unreasonable—even to him.

  Pam raised her eyebrows. "Why? You aren't making any sense."

  "I can't explain right now." He raked his fingers through his hair, a stone of sadness in his stomach.

  Pam sat up and adjusted her flannel nightgown.

  Her pale face forced him to focus on her. "Feeling nauseated?"

  She nodded and placed her hand on her belly. "All day and night. Whoever named it morning sickness got it wrong." She leaned her head over the small white trashcan next to the couch.

  "I'm sorry you're sick. But we have to go. Now." Matt stood and crossed over to the window. He parted the curtains and searched the street. Had anyone followed him? The clock on the wall mocked him with its constant tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.

  "What are you doing?" Pam asked, wiping at her mouth.

  He turned to faced her. "I was offered a promotion."

  "That's great—"

  "No. It's not great." He licked his parched lips. "Not great at all." A shudder rippled down his back.

  Images. Bits of conversations. Paperwork. It all made sense now.

  "Why not?" She tilted her head and peered at him.

  "The company isn't what it seems. Nothing is as it seems." He stepped over to the couch and reached his hand out for hers, pulling her up.

  "You're shaking." She placed her soft, warm hand over his. "What's going on?" Her eyes searched his.

  "We need to get out of here. Tonight."

  Pam stared at him, the fear and confusion apparent in her blue eyes.

  "Please," he said. "Go to our bedroom and grab whatever you can. There isn't much time." He let go of her hand and turned back to the window again, looking urgently from side to side. A siren sounded in the distance, and several dogs barked in concert. The scene seemed ordinary enough, but he knew better.

  "But—"

  He faced her. "Pam, please. Hurry."

  She reluctantly walked down the hall toward their bedroom. He rushed into the kitchen and emptied his pockets of the money he'd cashed out earlier from their bank account. Rummaging through a drawer, he found a piece of paper and pen and scribbled a note to the landlord. He didn't want any loose ends when they left—no trail that could lead back to them. Not if he hoped to protect his wife and unborn child from the monster who had once been his best friend.

  He slammed his fist against the counter. Why hadn't he noticed it sooner? The muscles in his neck constricted. All he'd wanted to do was provide for his growing family by working for a legitimate business. He shook his head at his stupidity and misplaced trust.

  Pam's footsteps interrupted his thoughts as she neared the kitchen. He finished the note telling the landlord they were leaving and wouldn't be coming back. He tucked it under a cup with enough bills to cover the remainder of the lease and turned to face Pam. She stood in the doorway, wearing a solemn expression, dressed in a grey sweatshirt and jeans with a brown suitcase in hand.

  "I packed as much of our stuff as I could." She tried to smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. Matt sensed her misgivings. How would he ever explain this to her?

  "G
ood." He took the suitcase.

  She stood firm. "I want you to tell me what's going on and why we're leaving in the middle of the night."

  "We don't have much time—"

  She crinkled her forehead. "What does that mean?"

  "It means we need to go." He reached his hand out for hers but she didn't reciprocate.

  "I don't understand what's happening."

  Matt stepped close to her and ran his hand down her arm, grasping her hand in his. "I know this all sounds confusing and crazy, but I need you to trust me. Please. I'll try to explain everything after we leave." His eyes pleaded with her, hoping she wouldn't ask any more questions or weaken his resolve.

  "You're acting so erratic. You're scaring me."

  Matt set the suitcase down and pulled her to him, losing himself in the familiar strawberry scent of her hair. He wished things were different. But they weren't. All he could do now was run—run fast and run far, without looking back. Their lives depended on it. He stepped back and gazed deeply into Pam's eyes. "We have to go before they realize that I've left."

  "But—"

  "Our lives are in danger."

  Pam's eyes widened. "Danger?"

  Matt nodded. "Yes. Let's go."

  "Where are we going?" A tear snaked down her cheek. "What are we going to do?"

  "Disappear."

  I glanced up from my world history textbook, and when my gaze met Ms. Neal's, fear slithered up my spine. Her eyes were dull and lifeless. For a moment, she held me captive. I tore my gaze from hers and cast it onto my book. The words jumbled together while I sucked in a jagged breath.

  Erin, the closest thing I had to a best friend, nudged me from behind. "What page are we on?"

  I half-turned to her and shrugged, still processing what I'd seen, or at least what I thought I'd seen, in Ms. Neal's eyes—like they weren't hers. Obviously, they were her eyes, but it looked like she'd plucked them from someone else's head. A dead someone else's head.

  "The Aztecs believed that sacrifice kept the universe going. They believed that the gods sacrificed for them so they were required to pay the endless debt by sacrificing back to the gods," Ms. Neal said in her raspy voice. Her arm jerked slightly.

  I struggled to calm down, hoping to reel in my famously overactive imagination and convince myself I'd only imagined that look in her eyes. I forced my eyes to focus on the passage in my book.

  "I think it's so disgusting that the Aztecs did human sacrifice," a girl said from across the room.

  "Many ancient cultures, not just the Aztecs, practiced human sacrifice, including sacrificing children," Ms. Neal said.

  A chorus of groans sounded through the room.

  "For your project assignment, I want you to choose one of the civilizations we've studied and do a presentation on how sacrifice figured into their religious belief system. You can do an oral presentation, a Power Point, a paper, or something else creative." She paused. "You may work on this with a partner or in a group."

  The room turned to commotion as students started talking and moving around. Erin tugged on my shoulder. "Come back here and sit in this empty desk so we can work together."

  I gathered up my things and moved next to Erin. She chomped on her watermelon-scented gum and played with her large, silver hoop earring. "What should we do?" she asked, tapping her neon pink nails on her chin.

  From my peripheral vision, I could see Ms. Neal walking around the classroom. I tried to suppress my overactive imagination about her soulless, zombie eyes—eyes that sent icicles through my veins.

  "Crystal?" Erin waved her hand in front of my face. "What's with you? You look all freaked out or something."

  I didn't dare tell her that I thought Ms. Neal had corpse eyes. Even saying the words in my head sounded ridiculous. Just my imagination. This is high school, not a horror movie. "I'm fine."

  "Are you sure?"

  I nodded, and Erin began thumbing through her textbook.

  I'd already taken a world history class at my last school, but it was the only history class that fit in my schedule and I had to take it to graduate from Silver City High School. Though I liked this part of Colorado, as soon as I graduated, I was off to college to study theater and then my final destination: Broadway.

  "We should do a scene." Erin's vibrant green eyes brightened while she placed her thick, brown hair into a loose ponytail.

  "Maybe." I shrugged. "But with prom this weekend, and late nights for play rehearsal starting next week, I don't think we'll have a lot of time." Adding another big project to my already overgrown to-do list overwhelmed me.

  "I'll write it and then we can work on it while we get ready for prom on Saturday. You're still coming over, right?" She looked at me with her over-sized eyes and dark lashes. If I were to ever covet something, it'd be Erin's eyelashes. She didn't even need mascara, unlike me, who needed an entire tube every day just to make my lashes show up.

  "Of course. I'm excited to get ready with you." I was counting down the days until my first formal dance. A formal dance with my boyfriend. I loved how that word danced my tongue.

  Ms. Neal walked past us toward the front of the classroom and I noticed a strange tattoo on her neck, next to her hairline. My stomach cramped, like someone was grabbing it from the inside and twisting it. Why am I feeling weird all of a sudden?

  "Hey, what're you thinking about so hard?" Erin said, pulling me out of my stupor. I blinked. "Sorry."

  "Hey, Ms. Neal," a guy yelled from across the room.

  "Yes, Paul?" Ms. Neal said.

  "Can we do something on virgin sacrifices?' He laughed. The guys sitting around him started laughing too.

  "There has been some debate as to whether the Aztecs, Incas, or Mayans sacrificed virgins. That has been the common belief, supported by recovered mummies wearing jewelry, but some now believe those remains are actually of young men."

  "Bummer," Paul said.

  "However, the Sumerians did sacrifice virgins," Ms. Neal said. "Then afterwards they consumed their flesh."

  "You mean they ate them?" one of the girls sitting near me asked.

  "Yes, they did," Ms. Neal said.

  "Why would they do that?" another girl asked.

  "They believed that virgins represented purity and only a pure sacrifice was appropriate for their gods." Ms. Neal scanned the class, but I cast my gaze downward before she looked at me. "Many myths and accounts through history denote a special power connected to virginity. The Sumerians believed that eating the virgins' flesh would give them strength and power."

  "Pretty disgusting, huh?" Erin whispered.

  "Totally." A strange sensation crawled up my back and settled at the base of my neck. My skin pricked and sent tiny impulses through my scalp. I tried to shake it off, but I couldn't. I figured I needed to stand up and move around.

  I stood too fast and the room started to tilt, so I moved toward an open window. The air felt heavy against my chest, as if I were hiking through deep water. I'd never experienced such a bizarre sensation. I gazed out the window.

  Under a large evergreen tree, not far from the classroom, stood a tall guy who looked like he was in his twenties. He had black hair, and his gaze was locked on me. I felt someone come up behind me so I spun around and faced Ms. Neal. When my eyes met hers, fear blasted through my veins. I took a few steps back.

  "Are you lost, Miss Scott?" she asked in an ice-filled tone, a facial tic flashing across her right cheek.

  "Um, no." I swallowed hard. Her eyes again. They were flat and glassy, like she was in a coma or something. And, even though the lights were on, there was a shadow across her face. I rushed back to my desk and plopped down. Definitely not my imagination.

  "What's wrong?" Erin asked.

  "I don't know." I stared at the floor.

  "What does that mean?"

  I cupped my hand to my mouth and whispered, "Ms. Neal."

  "What about her?"

  I looked quickly between Erin and the floor. "I
can't explain it. She freaked me out, that's all." Not to mention the guy staring at me from under that tree. Why were these bizarre things happening today?

  "Did she say something?" Erin jolted me out of my thoughts.

  I leaned in to Erin and peered at her. "Just the way she looked at me. Her eyes were . . . and her face was . . ."

  "Huh?" Erin gaped at me like I'd grown another head.

  "Her eyes are all weirded out, and her face looked dark." As soon as I said it, I realized I sounded like an idiot. Make that a crazed idiot. I wanted to forget what I'd said because out loud it sounded even more absurd than it had in my head. "Never mind."

  "Her eyes were weird and her face was dark?" Erin crinkled her nose.

  "Forget it."

  Erin craned her neck to look at Ms. Neal.

  "Stop it. I don't want her to come over here." I wiped my moist hands on my jeans.

  "You think she's gonna do something to you?" Erin smirked.

  I shielded my face with my hand trying to hide from Ms. Neal. It used to work when I was a kid—if I couldn't see someone, she couldn't see me. Actually, it never worked. I just wished it would. I muttered, "I don't know. Let's—"

  "Uh, oh."

  My heart back-flipped in my chest. I didn't know why I was suddenly so petrified of a teacher I'd had for months. She'd never bothered me before, but now I wanted more than anything to bolt out of the classroom and never come back.

  Erin studied me. "You look like you're going to—"

  "Miss Scott, may I speak with you?"

  I didn't know what to say, only that I didn't want to look at her eyes. Or at her. I wanted to run.

  Erin whispered, "Crystal is feeling sick. She needs to go to the bathroom. You know, girl problems."

  I mentally hugged Erin for thinking so fast.

  "Can't you wait?" I could hear hesitation in Ms. Neal's hoarse voice. "Class is almost over."

  "It's an emergency. And she needs my help. Please?"

  "I suppose." Ms. Neal paused. "You may both be excused to the restroom. Don't forget your hall passes."

  "Thank you," Erin said with a big smile.

  I nodded but didn't make eye contact with Ms. Neal. I couldn't leave the room fast enough.