The Quickening

by Yvonne Heidt

  Synopsis

  Tiffany Curran has the ability to read places and people by touch, and although it’s a gift she uses to help people, it’s also a curse that prevents her from having much human contact. She tries to keep life simple, but that all changes when Katerina Volchosky calls in the Sisters of Spirits paranormal team for help.

  Kat is tired of reporting about violence in the city and vows this story is her last. She is hoping that S.O.S. can connect with a serial killer’s victims to help provide clues. When she meets Tiffany, she dreams of a promise made centuries ago to a flame-haired priestess.

  Ancient whispers of curses and witches haunt Tiffany’s nightmares, and the closer she and Kat get to the murderer, the louder the whispers get. Worse, Tiffany has a horrific suspicion she might know who the killer is.

  The Quickening: Book Two of the Sisters of Spirits Trilogy

  Brought to you by

  eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  Please respect the rights of the author and do not file share.

  The Quickening: Book Two of the Sisters of Spirits Trilogy

  © 2014 By Yvonne Heidt. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-014-0

  This Electronic Book is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, New York 12185

  First Edition: January 2014

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editors: Victoria Oldham and Cindy Cresap

  Production Design: Susan Ramundo

  Cover Design By Sheri (GraphicArtist2020@hotmail.com)

  By the Author

  Sometime Yesterday

  The Sisters of Spirits Trilogy

  The Awakening

  The Quickening

  Acknowledgments

  Once again, I get to thank all who are involved in the creative process. How cool is that?

  To Radclyffe and the entire gang at Bold Strokes Books—my appreciation for all you do is immeasurable. Meeting several members of the BSB family has been one of the major highlights of my year!

  The last twelve months has been a journey of extreme highs and unimaginable loss. Through it all, I have met some wonderful people—thank you for your support.

  Shelia Powell, thanks for burning the phone lines with me, literally! Any theoretical errors are completely mine. I shall call it—creative license.

  Jove Belle, Stephanie Keeler—best beta readers ever! Thanks for the advice and encouragement—even when I didn’t like it. I know that going through my creative process was crazy for you at times.

  Sheri Milburn, thanks for making me laugh and holding my hand when I needed it.

  Maralee Lackman for being the best friend in the universe. You and Sandy are the reason I believe in soul groups.

  For my parents and family—thank you for loving me just the way I am. Every family needs the hippie kid to make life interesting. Even if it’s for nothing else but something to talk about at the holiday gatherings. Where do you come UP with this stuff, Yvonne?

  To my amazing editor, Victoria Oldham. Thanks for showing me how to weave rather than juggle too many balls in the air. I appreciate your time and patience. I don’t think I’ve lost more than a tiny handful of hair this time around!

  To my readers—thank you for filling me with joy on a daily basis. I appreciate and thank you for your continued support.

  Dedication

  For Sandy,

  My very own warrior

  Prologue

  Tiffany Curran raced down the driveway and reached the car before her mother could catch her. She slammed the passenger door and turned to her best friend, Sunny Skye. “Drive!”

  “Don’t you want—?”

  “No. Go, Sunny.”

  Tiffany peered into the side mirror and saw her mother standing in the middle of the street, shaking her fist at the retreating car. The only part of the tirade she caught before they turned the corner was “hell!” She closed her eyes and rested her head on the seat. Why did her mother have to be so difficult?

  Sunny glanced over at her, her expression amused. “Tiffany, are you still in league with the devil?”

  “Apparently.” And because she knew that Sunny could feel her emotional pain, Tiffany made an effort to tamp it down. She’d become very good at that particular trick over the last five years. “Where’s Shade?”

  Sunny was quiet for a minute. “She’s running late. She’s going to meet us there.”

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  “She’s fine.” The answer was short, almost curt, and didn’t invite any further conversation.

  Tiffany didn’t want to intrude. When Sunny wanted to talk about it, she would. But Tiffany still wished she could offer some comfort or something to lighten Sunny’s mood.

  But unexpectedly, Sunny began to talk. “Her mom is trying to get her committed again to Western State in Tacoma.”

  “So she wants to dump her so she can take off with some guy again?”

  “You know the routine, Tiff.”

  Yes, she did, and it royally pissed her off. Whenever Shade’s mother got itchy feet, she had her committed. “She could pretend she doesn’t see the dead people, and then her mother wouldn’t have an excuse.”

  “Shade’s too proud for that.”

  “I know,” Tiffany said. At least her mother never had her locked up. No, she just dragged her to the church where the priests prayed and threw holy water at her. She had counted three new crucifixes hidden in her bedroom over the last week. She couldn’t wait to turn eighteen and get out of the house.

  “Only two more years,” said Sunny.

  Tiffany smiled. “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Since when has that mattered?”

  Tiffany reached over to take Sunny’s hand. “If it weren’t for you and Shade, I don’t know what I would do. Life would be unbearable with her.”

  Sunny pulled into the full parking lot. The energy emitting from the teen club, The Punk Palace, vibrated the car windows. Several groups of young people grouped together around different vehicles. “I hope there aren’t any fights tonight.”

  “You and me both. It’s crazy here. How are we going to find Shade?” Most of the people there were wearing black and looked alike in the dark. But before Tiffany finished the sentence, Shade appeared at Sunny’s door to open it for her. “Well, never mind. How silly of me.”

  They walked into the building and were blasted by music. Heavy bass pressed against Tiffany’s chest, altering the beat of her heart and speeding her pulse. People were dancing and body slamming in the pit. She wanted no part of it. Why people would hurt each other on purpose was beyond her.

  Tiffany scanned the crowd. “Oh look, there’s Mark!” She had to shout to be heard above the music.

  Shade sneered. “So? What do you see in him anyway?”

  Tiffany sighed. “Look at him. He looks just like Brad Pitt in the movie, Legends of the Fall.”

  As if he knew she was watching him, Mark gave her a quick nod that tossed his hair back from his face. God, he had such beautiful blue eyes. His smile lit a path through the crowd to warm her face. “He’s so fine.”

  “Whatever. Where did Sunny get off to?”

  “She’s over there talking with Suze.” She
pointed to the area, and when she looked back, Mark was gone. Disappointed, she began searching the crowd again. Tiffany saw the flash of hurt before Shade turned to go to Sunny’s side. It was almost uncomfortable, Shade’s constant flash of hormones. She wished that Shade would just make a move on Sunny and get it over with. She startled when someone came up behind her and wrapped arms around her waist.

  “Been waiting for you. What took you so long?” Mark whispered in her ear.

  Tiffany felt herself flush and shivered at the contact. His hot breath warmed her neck. That he was interested in her always surprised her. Little internal bells and whistles went off whenever he was around, a roller coaster rush of emotions that thrilled her. “Oh, you know,” she tried to sound casual. “The flight in from Paris was delayed.”

  “I hate it when you’re late.” His voice sounded tight, but his hands ran along Tiffany’s sides, warming her body against his, melting her. “I missed you. Let’s get out of here and go somewhere, and you can make it up to me.”

  Sunny and Shade came out of nowhere and flanked her. “We have to go now,” Sunny said.

  “Right now.” Shade extracted Tiffany from Mark’s grip. “Say good-bye.” The look on her face was serious. Sunny appeared frightened.

  “Wait,” Mark said. “What the hell? You just got here.” He grabbed her elbow to keep her from moving.

  “Let her go,” Shade said and grabbed her other arm. At her touch, Tiffany could feel Shade’s temper simmering. She also felt panic, which was scary and puzzling. She knew she’d better go with her friends and see what it was about. Mark, on the other hand, didn’t want to release his hold.

  “I’ll take her home. She can stay here with me.” Shade tugged on one arm and her new boyfriend tugged on the other. Suddenly, she knew what the rope in a tug-of-war felt like.

  Sunny interceded and tried to talk in a soothing voice over the loud music. “It’s an emergency. We have to take her home.”

  Shade took the lead and half dragged Tiffany to the door. “Let go of her, asshole.”

  Tiffany managed to step away from both of them. “You’re hurting me.”

  “Wait. Are you really going to leave with them?”

  Tiffany nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow after school.”

  “Whatever,” Mark said. “There’s plenty of other girls here.”

  The words, along with his building black rage, crushed Tiffany, and she wavered on her decision to leave. Before she changed her mind, Sunny herded her through the door and toward the car. “Please, Tiff. Get in.”

  Sunny got into the driver’s seat and peeled out of the parking lot.

  “Does someone want to tell me what’s going on here?”

  Shade turned in the passenger seat to look at her. “You can’t see him anymore.”

  “What?” Tiffany was shocked, then angry. Who the hell was Shade to tell her what to do? She got enough of that from her mother and the priests.

  “Tiffany,” Sunny said. “He’s not good for you. Listen to Shade.”

  “Why are you guys ganging up on me? He’s the first boy I’ve ever liked.” And that ever paid attention to me.

  “We’re not ganging up on you. You can’t see him anymore.”

  Tiffany could feel her own temper building, adding its energy to Shade’s, and the atmosphere snapped inside the little car. She felt the telltale tingling on her scalp that meant Shade was trying to get in her head. “You fucking stop that. Quit trying to read my mind.” She knew her tone was venomous, but Tiffany felt almost outside herself, powerless to stop the words she was throwing out in her angered state.

  “Tiffany, please calm down.” Sunny spoke quietly. “What we want to tell you is for your own good.”

  “No. I am not going to calm down. Stop giving me the psychic eyeball. I’m tired of everyone telling me what to do.” Tiffany narrowed her eyes and pointed at Shade. “She’s just jealous.”

  “Jealous? Of what? I have no interest in that dick.” Shade gestured angrily.

  “No, you’re just pissed off because Sunny doesn’t want you and you can’t get laid.”

  Dead silence followed. It stretched into long, awkward minutes and sucked the air from the enclosed space.

  Tiffany wanted to take back the words, but the negative power of them echoed back to her. Shade had told her in confidence how she felt about Sunny, and Tiffany had sworn she’d never tell her. She wanted to apologize, but her throat felt tight. Instead, tears gathered in the corner of her eyes. She hated to cry when she was mad. And that just pissed her off more. After all, it wasn’t as if Sunny didn’t know Shade had a major crush on her; she was a psychic empath for God’s sake. She was tired of being in the middle and not having someone of her own to love.

  Sunny stopped at the curb in front of Tiffany’s house. “We’ll talk when everyone has calmed down.”

  Tiffany hesitated before opening the door. “Shade—”

  “I don’t want to hear it.”

  So now everyone was mad at her: her boyfriend, her best friends, and oh, goody—her mother who was waiting inside to punish her for leaving.

  She had been looking forward to this night all week. How had things fallen apart so quickly? Tiffany walked up the driveway and forced herself to not look back. The porch light came on before she reached the house, and her mother opened the door.

  Chapter One

  Thirteen years later

  Tiffany paid the babysitter and locked the door behind her when she left. She rested her forehead on the doorframe and finally drew her first deep breath of the evening.

  After finishing her nightly routine of checking the windows and double-checking the locks on the doors, she checked in on Angel. She kissed her forehead and tucked the comforter under her chin. “Sweet dreams, baby.”

  It wasn’t until she got to her own room that she began to replay the evening and her reaction to Jordan’s reporter friend, Katerina Volchosky.

  The woman was tall and stunning, in a beautifully masculine way. Her short, spiky blond hair suited her perfectly, and her dark eyes appeared to hold invitations and secrets. Tiffany inhaled sharply, reacting to an instant rush of heat. Every instinct in her had told her to move, to get back on that elevator, but instead she had stood as still as the proverbial deer in headlights while her pulse raced and her throat closed. Butterflies circled in her stomach as the woman approached.

  Tiffany had automatically zeroed in on the odd look on Sunny’s face as Kat’s long legs and strong, stalking pace brought her to Shade’s side. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what her reaction was based on, so Tiffany had put up all her psychic guards and shut down.

  “Hi, Tiffany, I’m Kat. It’s so nice to meet you.”

  Tiffany ignored the outstretched hand and kept her hands at her sides. The woman’s dark eyes were too intense. There was something behind her voice, an undercurrent of emotion being withheld, and it made her nervous. She mumbled a greeting, made excuses, then left. She had felt the stunned silence behind her as she quickly left the gathering.

  Okay, Tiffany admitted as she burrowed down in her bed. I ran away. She had been frightened of Kat, and she didn’t know why. She’d never met her before, which was kind of odd in and of itself, being that she was Jordan’s friend and Jordan was her best friend’s partner.

  She would have to talk to Sunny about it and maybe ask Shade to peek for her. There was something about Kat that hit her psychic notes, and she needed to know why so she could protect herself. That her own apprehension had kept her from being able to touch or read Kat for herself was a little disconcerting. Not that it was unheard of―sometimes she simply couldn’t read some people. They could fall into two categories, gifted individuals who had psychic blocks in place or someone who had something to hide. Which category did Ms. Volchosky fall into?

  Tiffany forced her thoughts from the strange encounter and focused on traveling to her safe place. She deliberately slowed her breathing, imagining a waterfall cascad
ing down a rocky cliff to fall into a pool surrounded by ferns and lush plants. She saw herself sitting on a slick, flat rock just outside the reach of the spray of water in the moonlight, while crickets sang in the distance behind her. It was the comforting meditative vision she created to calm her mind before falling asleep.

  Thunder growled through the sky and rain fell in sheets, blinding her. Tiffany blinked in an attempt to clear the water from her eyes while she shivered in the cold wind that whipped through the small valley, adding to the destruction the small army had left in its vicious wake.

  Bolts of jagged lightning lit the sky, illuminating the carnage that surrounded her. Dead. They were all dead. Blood ran in rivers through the rain-soaked ground. The smell of scorched flesh burned her throat, and the only sounds she heard were the sizzle of water on the huts and the beating of her own heart.

  The sky continued to roll with anger, shaking the ground beneath her, and in the flash of more lightning, she could make out a fast approaching horse galloping straight at her. The rider bent low over the horse’s neck, and mud and water sprayed from under the hooves. Terror held her still and time slowed to a crawl. A scream sounded somewhere behind her, but before she could turn, it was silenced. She was terrified and knew she no longer had the strength to fight, run, or hide. She fell to her knees in the mud and covered her eyes with her hands. She didn’t want to see the deathblow coming from the rider’s hand as he bore down on her.

  Tiffany jolted awake and pushed her hair out of her eyes. The nightmare had stalked her sporadically for years. The terror in her throat and chest lingered, and in her mind’s eye, she could still see the horse and rider bearing down on her in slow motion. It took a full minute to calm her pulse and untwist her legs from the tangled sheets. Her nightshirt was damp and stuck to her skin.

  Tiffany stood under the hot spray and tried not to think about why it had come back after so many years. It was always the same, right down to the last detail. The storm raged, the screams of women echoed around her, and the rider, always the rider, who bore down on his massive horse to kill her.