In Malice (The Stolen Queen Book 1)

by A. M. Hodges

  "I'm serious old man. I saw the uneaten plate of lasagna last night. You have to start taking better care of yourself. You know I just turned eighteen in September and I won't be around to pester you forever." That’s a lie. I’ll always be here to take care of him,

  just like he took care of me.

  He sighs, "I know. It's just this case. It's a big one. The kind that could make or break my career. I've been staring at it for days now and I'm just as stumped as the investigators are."

  "Well," I clap my hands, "maybe what you need is a home cooked meal and a good night's sleep, in a BED, and to look at it with fresh eyes in the morning. Come on old man," I rest my hands on his shoulder, "take a break and have a dinner with me. The case will still be there tomorrow."

  He smiles and reaches up to pat my hand on his shoulder, "Maybe you're right kiddo. Chicken potpie it is. It has been a while since we've just spent time together."

  I smile and walk to the kitchen to start pulling out everything I need to make to make dinner.

  Jackson can't cook for shit. I learned how to cook from Mrs. Becky. On days that the auto shop was slow, she would take me down to the store and teach me to cook.

  "Someone ought to take care of that man," she would always say, "Lord knows he can't do it himself."

  So, I handle the cooking, Jackson handles the bills, and we continue our lives in an easy harmony.

  We have a nice dinner together, eating at the table for once, and then we cozy up in the living room to watch the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie. Jackson knows that it's my favorite so, on rare nights like this it is always the movie that he picks. When the credits roll, I turn off the TV and look over at Jackson.

  Once again, he is asleep in his recliner. Like most nights, I grab the ratty old green afghan and cover him up before going through my nightly routine and heading up to bed. I go into my room and change into my pajamas that consist of a worn band tshirt and some sleep shorts before tying up my hair and crawling into bed. Today was exhausting so, sleep comes easily tonight.

  I am standing in a clearing in the forest outside of town. Once again, he is waiting for me. Only this time is different. This time, he beckons me to him. Without even realizing it, my legs begin to move of their own accord, taking me towards him. When I finally reach him, I drop down to my knees in front of him and bow my head.

  It's like I have no control. Like I am outside of myself watching this happen. He finally looks down at me and puts a hand on my head. A slight shock tingles through my body with his touch. He's never touched me before; my heart is starting to race, and my breathing is getting shallow.

  There I sit there on my knees waiting, for what I'm not sure but I can't seem to move. Finally, I hear him inhale deeply. Then, he speaks, only two words.

  "I'm coming.”

  Chapter 3

  I wake up feeling highly unrested, covered in sweat, and with an odious sense that I just can't shake. What a weird dream.

  My head is killing me, and I am feeling extremely nauseous. I’m so out of it that it takes me a solid ten minutes to realize that I woke up before my alarm. I look at the clock and see that it's only six o'clock in the morning. Hopefully, I can catch Jackson before he leaves for the station and ask him to call out of school for me.

  I must be coming down with the stomach bug that's going around. I'll have to text Heidi and ask if she will get me all my notes for today and drop them by after school. Hopefully, it won’t be too much trouble since we share the same classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I stumble downstairs to find Jackson. It isn’t surprising that I find him sitting in his recliner drinking a cup of coffee and watching the morning news.

  So that's what he does in the mornings. I've never been up early enough to catch Jackson's morning routine. It's a bit weird to see him this relaxed. I always catch him at the end of the day, after work has worn him down and stress has taken over.

  "Reyna," he puts down his cup of coffee and leans forward in his chair, "you're up early- Oh Lord honey you look terrible. What's the matter?" his forehead crinkles with worry.

  "I don't know I just woke up and felt like someone was taking an axe to my head and the pain is making me insanely sick to my stomach."

  Now that I mention it, Uh oh.

  I take off running for the downstairs bathroom and make it to the toilet just in time to expel my dinner from last night. It just keeps going and going to the point that I am now dry heaving and attempting to catch my breath. Shivers rack through my body.

  A knock sounds on the door, "Reyna honey," Jackson calls through the door, "are you alright?"

  "I'm fine," I heave, "Could you please just call the school for me? I will text Heidi and ask her to get my notes for the day." Shivers rack my body again as I move to lean back against the sink cabinet.

  "Sure baby, don't you worry about a thing. I'll go by the corner store before going to the station and get you some Ginger Ale and crackers to help settle your stomach."

  "Uh huh," is all that I manage before another bout of puking starts.

  Once I gain control of my stomach and the shaking subsides, I crawl out of the bathroom. Using the wall to pull myself up, I shuffle to the kitchen to find a soda and a box of crackers left on the table with a note that reads, "Feel better soon kiddo, Love

  Jackson."

  I grab my soda and the box of crackers and shuffle upstairs to my room. After closing the door and placing the items on my dresser, I practically fall face first onto my bed. I don't even make it under the covers before falling back to sleep. There are no dreams waiting for me this time. Just a calm emptiness.

  Hearing a ticking clock, I peel my eyes open and stare out of my bedroom window. It takes me a minute to get oriented, everything feels a bit hazy for some reason. I sit up and grab my cell phone that had fallen out of my hand next to me.

  Four texts are waiting for me. The first is a response from Heidi, promising to get my notes for me and drop them off after school. Then there is another text from Heidi saying that she came by, but no one answered the door, so she left my notes on the swing on our front porch. Jackson has also texted to ask how I'm feeling and to let me know that he is working a double at the station tonight. My last text is from Miles.

  'Hey killer, you missed class today. Everything okay?'

  What? Missed class? I look over at the clock and see that it's 6:15. I had slept for over ten hours. Good news is I am no longer nauseous. Bad news is my head feels like its full of faeries with jackhammers. Holy shit, that really hurts.

  Flopping back down on my bed, arms spread out beside me, I sigh up at the ceiling. I guess I should go downstairs and grab my notes off the porch before they get lost or ruined. I pad down the stairs and head out the front door. Waiting on the swing, are my notes in a perfect organized pile. Thank you, Heidi, for your OCD and organizational skills. All my notes have been written in perfectly legible handwriting and organized by period.

  It doesn't look like I missed any test reviews today, so luckily all of this should be easy to make up by Thursday. Unfortunately, I still have all my calculus homework to do for tomorrow. I grab the stack and walk inside, kicking the door shut behind me.

  I trudge up the stairs and exchange my notes for my calculus book and study guides and head back down to the kitchen. Setting my things down on the table, I go to the fridge to grab some orange juice and a fruit cup before sitting at the table to begin my homework.

  This chair is unnaturally uncomfortable today, and my back really hurts. It must be sore from my puking spell this morning. I probably pulled a muscle or something. Trying to focus on completing my study guides, I shift around in my chair still attempting to get comfortable. I even go up to my room to get a pillow to use as support for my back. That doesn't help at all.

  After about fifteen minutes of shifting I realize that it's just not happening and decide to go for a run to blow off this funk. Standing up from the table, I go upstairs to change into my running gear. Af
ter tying up my hair and securing my phone in my arm band, I head down the steps and out the door to begin my run. As I break out into a jog, "Devil's Night" by Motionless in White sounds in my earbuds.

  Woodberry doesn't have any running paths or a track, but the town is calm enough that I feel safe running on the streets. Not a lot of people drive around here since everything is within walking distance and we don't get many tourists. We are mostly just a stopover on the way to Savannah. Following my usual root, I run down the street and pass Big Al's and the coffee shop.

  After four more blocks, I make a left turn at the dry cleaners and take-off towards the school. Usually once I reach the steps, I turn around and head back to the house, but a swim sounds nice and the pool stays open until nine o'clock during the school year. Looping around to the back of the school, I take the back entrance into the pool and head for the locker room.

  The pool is empty, like it always is after five o'clock, and I'm looking forward to doing some laps. Maybe the water will help ease some of the tension in my back, which now feels like it is on fire after my run. Entering the locker room, I remove my earbuds from my ears and walk to my locker.

  When I open it, my suit is waiting inside, clean and folded ready for practice tomorrow. Coach is always the best about keeping our suits clean and ready. Most teams take theirs home and bring them to practice every day. We are lucky to have him, and a gym laundry room.

  I sit down on the bench to unlace my shoes, kicking them off and stuffing my socks in them before placing them in my locker. I then peel off all my sweaty gear and slip on my swimsuit. I leave my swim cap and goggles in my locker, since I never wear them outside of practice, and head to the shower to rinse off before entering the pool.

  I walk over to the free swim side that is clear of all the lane markers. I walk down the steps and wade into the pool as I take a deep breath. Exhaling, I release my tension to be washed away in the water. The water itself feels amazing. It's never too hot or too cold, it’s always just perfect. I wonder how they regulate the temperature.

  Swimming out to the middle of the pool, I start just messing around doing flips and handstands. Finally, I kick up and float, watching the water ripple around my body. The usual inner calm that I feel in the water is there, but the burning pain in my back has now increased. Tears well in my eyes as I swim back to the stairs and get out of the pool.

  Grabbing my towel from the bleachers, I limp back to the locker room. I don't limp because my legs hurt. No, I'm limping because each step that I take sends searing pain down my back. It takes effort not to whimper as I walk.

  Once I'm back in the locker room, I go to my locker and peel off my suit. In an effort to stifle the pain in my back, I limp to the shower and turn the water all the way to hot. Maybe the scolding water will relax my back muscles. I try to do some back stretches to relieve the tension, but nothing seems to be working. Even standing still feels like someone is dragging hot pokers down my spine.

  As I stand under the running water, the pain becomes so immense that I sit down and curl up into a ball. Looking at my locked arms around my knees, I notice that a brand-new mark has appeared on my left arm. Great. Another thing for this town to talk about. I should have known it was coming, they always do.

  This one just showed up way later than the others, so I guess I just had hopes that I was done adding things to the freak show that is me. The water is starting to turn cold, so I pull myself up and stagger back to my locker. By the time I get into my undergarments and shirt, the pain makes my head spin and I sit down on the bench. The ripple of pain that suddenly goes through my back has me white-knuckled gripping the edge of the bench. Just breathe Rey.

  In. Out. In. Out.

  Once I feel like I have gained enough strength to stand again, I finish dressing and shoot a text to Miles.

  R: 'Hey are you busy, I'm at the pool and not feeling so hot.

  Think you could swing by and give me a ride home?'

  I set my phone down on the bench and begin pulling my wet hair up into a tight bun when I hear my text chime.

  M: 'Sure thing. Be there in 10."

  I decide to take the shortcut through the school and wait on the front steps for Miles. The tears are freely falling down my face now, the pain is increasing with every breath I take. After what seems like forever, I hear Miles's mustang coming down the road.

  When he sees me curled up on the steps his smile instantly drops. "Holy shit Rey, what's going on?"

  "It's my back," I whimper, "I think I pulled something in it and it just really freaking hurts. I'm having a difficult time walking; think you could help?"

  Miles runs over and scoops me up into his arms without a second thought. Normally, I would punch him and demand that he let me down, but I am in too much pain to even care at the moment. Miles isn't a huge guy. He stands eye to eye with me and has an athletic build. He’s defined but not bulky. I let out a sigh as my head falls onto his chest.

  When we reach his car door, he slowly lowers me to my feet and I let out a yelp as they touch the ground. He rushes to open the door and helps me lower myself into the car. After a rather painful bumpy ride home that felt like it took forever, they really should look into fixing those godforsaken potholes, Miles helps me into the house and up to bed.

  Before leaving he checks to make sure I have everything I need before tucking me into bed and giving me a quick kiss on the forehead. I murmur my thanks as he walks out of my room and heads to his car, locking the front door behind him.

  The kiss is innocent. It has never been like that with me and Miles. He takes care of me like a sister. I even asked once if he ever thought of being something more. The look of absolute horror on his face had us both breaking out into a fit of laughter. He is just a good guy, and the ultimate best friend, but that is all that he will ever be. I am totally okay with that.

  Before closing my eyes, I pull out my phone, grunting at the movement, and send a text to Jackson asking if he will bring home some Aspirin. Shoving my phone under my pillow, I get onto my knees and curl up into fetal position trying the alleviate some of the pain. It doesn't work. It just made it worse. This is exhausting.

  Catching a brief ten-minute break in the pain, I saunter out of bed to put on my pajamas. When I take off my shirt, I catch more marks out of the corner of my eye in the mirror. Only these marks aren't like the usual symbols that appear on my arms. These marks are just two lines running diagonally out from the center of my shoulder blades, to about midway down my ribs like the top half of a triangle. What in the hell.

  Curling back up into my bed, I check my phone for a response from Jackson. Instead of a text, I find a voicemail from a number that I don't recognize.

  "Hey Reyna, it's Paisley," I shoot up from my bed at the sound of her voice on my voicemail, "we missed you at practice today. Coach wanted me to tell you not to worry about the meet on Saturday. I am going to run lead and we are going to pull in one of the alternates as a sub. You just work on feeling better. Give me a holler if you need anything."

  With that, she hung up and a blinding rage flies through me as I hear a loud Crack. The noise is followed by a ripple of pain down my back that sends me screaming as I drop down to my knees next to my bed. Crack. Crack. Whoosh.

  The pain radiating through my body is so immense now that I am dry heaving as tears run down my face. I spend twenty minutes taking deep breaths as the pain finally subsides, but I am left with an uncomfortable weight on my back. As I grab onto my bed and pull myself to my feet, I catch my reflection in the mirror across the room and my jaw drops. Are those fucking WINGS.

  I rush to my window and drop the blinds before walking over to the mirror. My eyes are starting to burn so, I take out my contacts and find my eyes literally glowing. They look like someone melted blocks of gold and poured them into my irises, the color visibly swirling around inside. If that isn't weird enough, there is also about eight feet worth of wings on either side of my body draping down to the fl
oor.

  The wings are stunning. With various shades of brown and black they stand about a foot above my head on each side and have another foot on each side draped across the floor. And there's fucking feathers! So many feathers!

  I reach up to touch one and it twitches, responding like a muscle, as a tingle rushes throughout my body. Holy shit. I FELT that. Wait, how the hell do I make them go away.

  Standing in front of my mirror, I flex my back muscles trying to make them disappear. When that doesn’t work, after five minutes of straining myself with a constipated look on my face, I close my eyes and start to do my Jiu Jitsu breathing exercises. I breathe deeply, holding each inhale and dragging out each exhale. Another ten minutes go by before I finally start to feel the weight in my back lifting.

  Another five minutes and I open my eyes to find the wings completely gone. The only reminders left are the two marks on my back. Completely freaked out, I hurry to my bed and climb in, pulling the blankets over my head. Trying to control my breathing as I stare into the dark, my mind wonders and tears pool in my eyes.

  This is an entirely new level of freaky and I’m not sure how to handle it. What am I supposed to do?

  What the hell am I.

  Chapter 4

  Jebediah

  "It's time Rune. I must go to her," I keep my face impassive, even though inside I am on the verge of getting on my knees and begging.

  "She knows nothing of this world. It needs to stay that way until I'm ready," he snaps at me as he paces by the window with his hands in his pockets.

  "It doesn't matter if you are ready. She needs guidance. She needs protection. What if they find her Rune? You know they will kill her, and you need her." Logic. Rationality. That’s what I need to use to get to her. Appealing to his emotions will get me nowhere, not anymore.