Unleashed: Book 2 in the House of Shadows Series

by Michelle Areaux

  The sky was a bright canvas of oranges, yellows, and deep reds. I wondered if Salem, Massachusetts would look the same, feel the same. My eyes burned and I scolded myself. Don't you dare cry, don't you dare cry, I told myself, coaxing my subconscious to wait until I'd reached my black Honda Accord. Instead of jumping into the car, I stood motionless beside it, looking at myself in the window, and felt as if I was looking at a stranger. The reflection in the window had the same big blue eyes and dark auburn red hair that reached just above her shoulders as I did, her almond complexion resembled mine, she was the same, petite, five foot three, but I felt like I was staring at a stranger. I didn’t know that girl anymore, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.

  When I made my way up the short driveway to my house, I looked past the moving trucks, and the boxes on the driveway that had yet to be packed away. I kept my eyes down, so my parents wouldn't see the red glow that lurked there. I was upset, and I didn't want to get into a deep conversation with them. After I'd finished packing a few outfits and necessities into my suitcase, I scanned my room again. All I wanted was to crawl into my bed one last time and drift off into a deep sleep.

  Chapter Two

  Our plane landed at exactly 4:58 p.m. in Boston. The first thing I noticed when I stepped off the plane was the difference in temperatures. California was hot, but the atmosphere in Boston was a comfortable 75 degrees. Our rental car, a shiny new silver Audi, was waiting for us at the airport–of course my parents would want to arrive in style. Their vehicles would be sent to us in a week or so. My dad's black BMW and my mom's candy apple red Mercedes were being delivered by truck. My car would arrive sometime later‒only the best for our babies. I hated leaving my car behind, even if it was only for a few days.

  "The house should be ready," my mother announced, trying to make small talk as we loaded our bags into the car.

  "The drive should only take about an hour," my dad said, a little too enthusiastically. He rested a hand on my shoulder. "Come on, kid, perk up. It won’t be that bad."

  "Okay, Dad," I replied.

  In preparation for the long drive ahead I leaned my head against the cool glass of the passenger's window. The scenery outside became a blur, and I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the darkness inside my mind. My fingers wound themselves around the long white cord of my earphones, connecting me to my iPod. It was a restless habit I had: my hands were always fumbling for something to hold. It was a calming mechanism I'd discovered after self-diagnosing my extreme boredom. I usually ran when I was stressed or nervous, but at the moment I was a prisoner in a rolling cell. I needed something to keep my mind off of Charlotte, Amber, Lia, and everything I had left to worry about.

  "Sadie, wake up," Mom called from the front seat of the car. "We're entering Salem. Look at how majestic the town is!" I'd been dozing off, but Mom's voice woke me, and I pulled the earphones from my ears just as my favorite Jack Johnson lyrics were about to play.

  I looked up in time to see the dark sign welcoming us to Salem, Massachusetts in black, gothic lettering etched onto a rustic sign. I couldn’t help but feel an eerie sensation course through me as we entered the town. It was already evening, and the sun was hidden behind large gray clouds creeping slowly through the sky. A brick wall lined the sidewalks, separating a small wooden area from white-washed homes in desperate need of repair.

  As we passed by the corner of North and Essex Streets, I got my first glimpse into what life in Salem would be like. The animated town was nothing like I'd imagined.

  There was a three-story, gray, wooden home standing alone on the corner. An awning protected the short entryway walk-up to the large home. Seven large windows tempted onlookers to become curious as to what lurked behind the walls. It was hard to take my eyes off the building. I placed my hands on the window and pressed my face against the glass. In that short moment, I felt a strange sensation come over me. It wasn’t fear‒more of a scared curiosity. I dismissed the feeling, noting how I definitely wasn’t in California anymore.

  The car continued to move, unaware of my interest in the town’s historical monuments, as we traveled through the town, and made our way to the historical downtown area. Old, rust-colored brick buildings lined the cobblestone streets and black iron lamp posts were situated on every corner. I rolled down the passenger's window, to let a fresh breeze enter the car. In the distance, behind a set of older homes, I could see small sailboats leaving the harbor. The sapphire water was choppy and uninviting. White waves broke harshly against the golden beach. The sweet, salty air wafted into the car as we passed.

  Mom pointed out the window and shrieked with excitement, "Sadie, look out at the water. We should go out on a sailing trip once we get settled in."

  She'd always been infatuated with sailing. The city had contained my mother inside a cement fence. She'd felt trapped between the millions of people and Starbucks Coffee Shops. Sure, we had beaches, but the overcrowded scene just wasn't her thing. She needed a more natural setting, something to remind her of her childhood home. She'd loved her life in Massachusetts, where she'd lived until she and my dad went off to college in California.

  "We're about to pass by some of Salem’s witch museums. I'll bet you'll find something interesting in there," Dad said, continuing Mom's trip down memory lane. I contemplated the irony of his statement. I've been haunted by enough spirits; I'm not about to go looking for any on my own.

  I may be weird, but I'm not crazy.

  Mom was enthusiastic as we passed a street with two ancient brick buildings on it. Large trees cast shadows on the sides of the buildings, partially obscuring their view from the road.

  "Sure, Dad, maybe I could also have a séance in one of the cemeteries and conjure up a witch to invite over for dinner."

  He chuckled and mumbled "maybe" under his breath.

  I laughed off the idea of actual witches. Sure, I'd learned about the Salem Witch Trials in history class, but they were just stories to me. The real scary stories were the ones I lived every day, dealing with stalker dead girls and crazy deceased teens on a mission.

  As I watched the scenes pass, I couldn’t help but notice the town seemed obsessed, almost fanatic, with the idea of witches. Every street corner had some sort of historical monument or witch-themed restaurant. I didn’t want to get caught up in the hype and act like some deranged tourist, but this was my new home and I felt the need to embrace every part of its charm. As much as I hated to admit it, the drive was exhilarating. I tried not to look too excited, hoping the curiosity I felt would be masked by my face.

  "This is where you'll go to school, Sadie." My dad pointed to a large brick building to the left of our car. Enormous oak trees outlined the long drive leading up to the school. My old school in California was much larger.

  I had to stop making comparisons‒Salem and California were two totally different places; hopefully, my new start in Salem here would bring better memories.

  After what seemed like an eternity our car finally turned onto a cobblestone street. I peered out the window, glaring at the large homes, most of them displaying historical plaques with names and dates beginning in the 1600s, mounted in the front yards.

  My dad stopped the car and my parents introduced me to our new home. I opened the car door, stepped out onto the sidewalk, and peered up at the house. It looked like a creepy Victorian doll's house. Six cement steps invited me up onto the covered, white-columned, front porch. The front door, made of stained Cherrywood, stood to the right of a round, bay window. I looked up to gawk at the three-story home, which seemed too much for our small family.

  After both sets of my grandparents passed away my parents had inherited a large sum of money, allowing my dad to retire early and my mom to focus on her painting career. And this was where they'd decided to do it, in the town where they'd grown up.

  The gray shingled exterior had many levels, painting the picture of an architect’s dream. Three large trees occupied the front yard, and one
large oak tree sat in the side yard, scraping its long arms against the side of the house.

  I grabbed my purse and phone from the car and made my way through the overgrown path leading to the front porch. Thanks to the trees in the yard, the path was covered in a dark shadow, and the front steps were almost impossible to see. I stepped lightly onto the porch, slowly inspecting the delicate, hand- crafted, gingerbread woodwork adorning the front door jamb. My hand ran along the edges, feeling every crevice of the intricate design. I looked up to paint chipping off the front door and in dire need of a paint job, but the rest of the façade of the house seemed nicely restored. My dad, who was a sort of handyman, planned to fix the rest of the house up. The last tenants had renovated the home before my parents purchased it, and partially furnished some of the rooms with antique furniture, which was a huge selling point for my mom.

  I placed my hand on the gold doorknob and felt an invisible push from behind. I turned quickly around expecting to see one of my parents, but to my surprise, no one was there. I turned to look at my parents who were discussing possible landscaping ideas while standing on the front lawn.

  That wasn't weird at all.

  "Sadie, go and pick your room," Mom called. The door should be open. The realtor came by this morning and left the keys in the kitchen. The moving truck should be here tomorrow with our furniture and other things. You can start by deciding where you want to put everything."

  I took a step closer toward my new home. "Sure thing," I shouted back, trying to sound as enthusiastic as her.

  I hesitated and then pushed the large door open to step into the dark foyer. To my right was a large entrance way leading to a small room that would probably become my mom’s studio. Two glass French doors were standing wide open, welcoming me into its embrace. I stepped in to take a look at the small but manageable space. To my left was another entranceway leading to another room which was connected to the kitchen. It was large enough for a kitchen table in front of the wonderful bay window that faced the front yard. In the corner of the foyer was a grand staircase leading to the second story. The dark cherry paneling of the staircase shone as if it had been recently polished. Directly in front of me was a long narrow hallway leading to a larger living room. I took a step forward; the hardwood floors creaked, even underneath my meager weight. A dusty rainbow hovered before me as I walked through the home, a testament to the fact the home had been abandoned for quite some time.

  At the top of the stairs was a landing, where four bedrooms greeted me. I walked through each one, disappointed with the choices I'd been offered. When I finally reached the last room at the end of the narrow hallway, I felt the urge to go inside. The other bedrooms were plain and square with no character, no pizzazz. I turned the knob of the last room, but the door was locked, and I couldn't open it. I attempted to open the door a second time, using all of my one hundred and five pounds, but the barricade continued to antagonize me, enticing me to question the secrecy of its contents.

  "Mom, this door is locked," I called down to her from the landing.

  "There's another set of keys for the rooms in the master bedroom, first room on the right. Try one of those," she yelled from downstairs.

  I made my way back through the hallway to enter the master bedroom. The keys were on the large Cherrywood dresser sitting against the far wall. I grabbed the keys and left the room.

  I went back, past the landing, stopped in front of the mysteriously locked door, and fumbled with the keychain, searching for the matching key. It took me several tries before I finally found the right one, a small bronze key‒the last one on the ring.

  I pushed the key into the keyhole, turned the key, and then turned the knob. A dusty mist swept through the air as I opened the door making me cough, but I pushed through the mist and walked to the window in the corner of the room. The sun was radiating through the panes separating me from the cool air outside. I peered out the window at the shaded sidewalks to see a group of children ride past on their bikes, laughing. A small smile crept across my face‒maybe this place wouldn’t be so bad after all. I mean, nothing could be as bad as the life I'd been living back in California.

  Want to read the rest? Check it out here on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Wicked-Cries-Book-ebook/dp/B07L9KNRK9/ref=sr_1_1?crid=144FFZ3NH2P5O&dchild=1&keywords=wicked+cries+by+michelle+areaux&qid=1586900981&sprefix=wicked+cries+by+%2Caps%2C169&sr=8-1

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  Did you love Unleashed? Then you should read Evershade by Michelle Areaux!

  How well do you know yourself? Sixteen-year-old Elle thinks she's got life in Shady Oaks all under control until new boy Asher comes to town. Elle can't explain it, but she can't deny the connection she feels to him. Things with Asher are going great until they're out one night and nearly attacked by a large wolf. Before she knows it, Elle's life is spiraling out of control: Maddox is in love with her, she and Asher are in danger… and she learns she's a shifter! If that wasn't bad enough, she finds herself in the middle of an ages-old war between shifters and hunters. What else can she do but join the cause? Will Elle stay with Asher or break-up with him to be with Maddox? What does it mean to be a shifter? Who will emerge victorious in the battle?