Scion of the Sun

by Nicola Marsh

  I was still the Scion.

  I still had to find Arwen before Cadifor did.

  As for the answers I’d so desperately craved from my mom, guess I had the big one answered when she ignored my invitation to escape and walked away from me.

  First she chose Shona over me; now she’d chosen Cadifor over me.

  Thanks, Mom, got the message loud and clear. You don’t give a rat’s ass about me. You never did.

  Have you ever thought your mom’s doing what she can to survive and to keep Shona safe?

  You’re not supposed to read my mind from a distance.

  Lucky guess. It probably killed her to leave you behind, but what if she had no option? Keenan would’ve threatened her somehow, maybe even threatened to kill you, the one she left behind, perhaps your Nan too, if she didn’t go with him. What choice would she have?

  She could’ve fought back, she could’ve fought for me, I wanted to scream at him. But I knew that wasn’t true. I’d stood against the monsters now, knew what they were capable of. No way could Mom have fought Keenan, not when she had two babies to protect.

  Joss might have been right, but it didn’t change what had happened less than thirty minutes earlier.

  I’d given Mom a choice.

  Me or the monster.

  And she’d walked away from me a second time without a backward glance.

  Holly, you okay?

  Yeah, just thinking about happy families.

  And how through all of this, the Sorority, Quinn, and Raven had stood by me. They’d been more of a family to me than my mom ever had. At least at C.U.L.T. and at Eiros I’d gained the acceptance I’d craved for so long.

  Mack, Maeve, and Oscar are here. They say hi and thanks for everything.

  I didn’t do anything. Not really.

  You did plenty. Lowering his voice, he said, You’re amazing, Holly. I want you to know that.

  Right back at you, Warrior Boy.

  He chuckled. Lie low for a day or two, let us check out the fallout here, then contact me and we’ll talk about how soon you can come back, okay?

  Okay.

  I didn’t want our chat to end yet, not when I had so much to say but no idea how to say it.

  Joss, about that soulmate thing—

  You weren’t the only one who learned a thing or two today. I had this fear I’d fail, that not being a born warrior, I wouldn’t be able to protect you when it counted, that maybe my feelings would get in the way, but you know something? No matter how much I stay away from you and treat you like my protégé, I still care.

  My heart did a somersault and a goofy grin spread across my face.

  In fact, I used my feelings for you to summon strength after Keenan clubbed me, so ultimately this thing between us? It’s kinda special.

  Cool! I silently cringed. Could I sound any dorkier?

  Stay warm, my Holly. Until we meet again.

  Soon, I added, easing the crystal from my forehead with regret. My Holly echoed through my heart and made me want to go back this very minute.

  “About damn time. A girl can’t wait around all day, you know.”

  My eyelids cranked open to find Raven grinning at me, her heavily kohled eyes sparkling with mischief. “Whatever you were just doing, whoever you were talking to? Must’ve been some chat.”

  I glanced at a stony-faced Quinn. “Why?”

  “Because you had the soppiest smile on your face. And you kept blushing.”

  I fanned myself. “That’s because it’s hot in here.”

  Raven jerked a thumb at the carefully arranged stone roof. “I’m not surprised, with all those rocks. It’s spooky and claustrophobic in here.”

  Quinn darted a knowing glance overhead, obviously connecting the shape of the stones in the roof to the stone archways around the school. “Though something tells me you haven’t exactly been conscious when you hang out here.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Did you tell her?”

  He nodded, his mouth in an obstinate twist, while Raven bounced on her heels.

  “Can’t understand how that moron didn’t believe you could teleport. With the range of abilities in this place you’d think he’d accept whatever you said.” She glared at Quinn, poked her tongue out. “Especially from a friend.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, “I don’t blame Quinn for not believing me, considering all I’ve kept from you.”

  Raven shrugged. “You must’ve had your reasons.”

  My heart twanged for the second time in as many minutes. This was the true meaning of family: acceptance, non-judgment, loyalty, being there through good times and bad.

  I’d never shut my friends out again.

  “Yeah, there was some heavy stuff going on for a while, and I wished I could tell you, but it wasn’t safe.”

  Understanding lit Quinn’s eyes as the familiar quirky smile I’d missed curved his lips. I had my friend back and I could’ve hugged him. “You were protecting us?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He took a deep breath and puffed out his chest, stopping just short of beating it, and Raven rolled her eyes. “Those bumps on your chest? Not muscles. They’re the start of man-boobs ’cause you acted like such a girl and wouldn’t give Holly the benefit of the doubt.”

  Quinn flipped her the bird. I snorted. If he’d had Drake’s talent, Raven would’ve been ashes. As it was, she blew him a kiss and we started laughing.

  I’d needed the tension release, and once I started laughing I couldn’t stop. Raven didn’t help when she made cupping actions on Quinn’s chest and mimed snapping his bra straps, which set us off again.

  “You’re an idiot,” he said, his wide grin telling us he’d enjoyed the joke as much as we did. “But can Holly continue the story?”

  Raven poked her tongue at Quinn before focusing on me.

  Thankful to be back here, surrounded by my friends, I hugged my knees to my chest. “Cutting a long story short, I’m a descendant of Belenus, the Celtic sun god. Apparently I’m the Scion, the only one who can find Arwen, a biokinetic icon capable of achieving immortality.”

  Raven’s eye lit up. “Just like the philosopher’s stone. Wicked!”

  I chuckled. “Harry Potter I ain’t, because I didn’t find it and I didn’t defeat my version of Voldemort.”

  Raven patted me on the arm. “Not to worry. Harry had seven books to do it. You’ll get another chance.”

  Just like that, the magnitude of what I still faced hit me.

  I had to find Arwen, defeat Cadifor, and save the world. To do so, I had to continue my studies at Eiros and learn what being a true Sorority member meant—all while mastering my abilities at C.U.L.T. and passing high school.

  Not to mention the other questions bugging me: Was there a deeper reason behind my mom’s defection to the dark side? What was Shona’s story? Who was this mysterious Queen of Elphame? How soon would Cadifor come after me again?

  Quinn offered me his hand and I took it, allowing him to pull me to my feet. He didn’t release it when we stood almost toe-to-toe.

  “I’m sorry for doubting you, for not being there for you when you needed me most.”

  I squeezed his hand. “You’re here now, aren’t you?”

  “But—”

  “Listen up, you two. You’re the best friends I’ve ever had and just knowing you’re on my side is enough.”

  I could’ve sworn Raven sniffled, which made me tear up. Quinn rolled his eyes. “If you two start blubbering, I’m out of here.”

  Raven and I smiled through our tears. In that moment, the bond between us and the friendship we shared gave me courage.

  I would find Arwen.

  I would conquer Cadifor.

  Or die trying.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Thanks to the following people who were onboard for this book’s publication ride:

  Georgia McBride, founder of Month9Books, who fell in love with my story super fast and snapped up the entire series. Great working with
you, Georgia.

  Hallie Tibbetts, my editor, for her insight and wisdom. (And invaluable assistance in showing me the difference between Aussie-isms and Americanisms!)

  My writing buddies Natalie Anderson and Soraya Lane, who are with me every step of the way with every book I write. Your support is invaluable. Thanks from the bottom of my heart.

  Jennifer L. Armentrout, who took time out of her busy schedule to read Scion of the Sun and provide a fabulous cover quote. Much appreciated.

  To all the supremely talented YA authors out there, like Suzanne Collins, Cassandra Clare, Richelle Mead, and many others, who sparked my love for all things YA.

  To my supportive readers, who buy my books, whether contemporary romance or spooky YA. You’re the best!

  To my hubby Martin, keep the laughs coming, babe. You keep me on my toes and young enough to write YA.

  To my amazing sons, you’re my inspiration for everything I do. I can’t wait until you’re old enough to read this book! Love you infinity plus infinity. And then some more.

  Nicola Marsh

  USA TODAY bestselling author Nicola Marsh writes flirty fiction with flair for adults and riveting, eerie stories for young adults.

  Based in Melbourne, she has published 40 books and sold over 4 million copies worldwide. She writes contemporary romances for Harlequin Mills & Boon and Entangled Publishing. Her first indie release, Crazy Love, was a 2012 ARRA (Australian Romance Readers Award) finalist. Banish, a thriller with Harlequin Teen Australia, was her young adult debut, closely followed by the release of a paranormal YA series starting with Scion of the Sun from Month9Books.

  She’s also a Waldenbooks and BookScan bestseller, a National Readers’ Choice Award winner, a multi-finalist for awards including the Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award, RBY (RWAus Romantic Book of the Year), HOLT Medallion, Booksellers’ Best Award, Golden Quill, Laurel Wreath, and More than Magic, and has won several CataRomance Reviewers’ Choice Awards.

  A physiotherapist for thirteen years, she now adores writing full time, chasing after her two little heroes, barracking loudly for her North Melbourne Kangaroos footy team, and her favorite, curling up with a good book!

  She also loves interacting with readers. She blogs at http://nicolamarsh.blogspot.com, Tweets incessantly at http://twitter.com/NicolaMarsh, chatters on Facebook at http://facebook.com/NicolaMarshAuthor, and answers emails at nicola@nicolamarsh.com. Come say hi!

  A Preview from LIFE, A.D. (Life, After. Dez.)

  by Michelle E. Reed

  Coming from Month9Books in December 2013

  CHAPTER ONE

  The world around me is fuzzy.

  I’m lying on the ground and my face is wet. I blink. Drawing in a shot of frigid air, I shudder at the sensation of a million needles in my throat. Pain sets fire to my leg and shoots up my spine. My left arm is numb, useless. And my right arm is—gone? Mangled?

  I don’t know.

  Don’t panic. The fear grows and festers, running through my bloodstream like a virus.

  My breath comes in short, desperate gasps. The drumbeat rhythm of my heart pounds against my chest, sending shockwaves to my fingers and toes.

  My thoughts reach across five years, coming to rest on my last memory of Aaron. His lifeless body was still and silent, an empty shell of the boy I loved. I’m not ready to be with you. Not yet.

  I jerk my head off the ground. A scream escapes my lips as burning pain engulfs my every molecule. I fight to move. My unresponsive limbs refuse to help me shift position.

  I need help.

  Panic steals my concentration and threatens to drag me away. Blackness creeps into the edges of my vision, sending my labored breathing into overdrive.

  I’m going to die here.

  “Somebody, please … ” My voice is unrecognizable, deep and gurgling. I gag on blood and saliva.

  Where am I?

  I lift my head again in a frantic effort to get my bearings. I’m on the side of the road by a forest. Only the tiniest of buds peek from the trees and shrubs, and after staring at them for a bit, I swear I can see them shiver. I, too, tremble, cold and shaken.

  A chickadee sings out its springtime call from a nearby tree, whistling “sweet weather” and waiting for a reply. A crunch of snow from the nearby forest signals a passing animal.

  Frost is still rooted in the ground, and the sky refuses to allow sunshine through the thick layer of haze. There is a freshness to the air. That must be what people mean when they say it smells like spring.

  The deserted stretch of highway offers little hope; the animals and forest are the only witnesses as life slips from my grasp.

  No one is coming.

  The blackness advances. I’m getting colder, the numbness spreading down my body from my arms.

  The sound of my ringtone snaps me back to reality. Where’s my phone? My teeth clench in agony. I manage to turn my head.

  How did I get here?

  The phone is well out of reach—ten feet or so away, ringing despite being trapped under the crumpled remains of the overturned car. My shoulder spasms, and what’s left of my mangled right arm flops into view. My mind resists the image: twisted, bloodied flesh ripped from the visible bones of my forearm.

  My outstretched fingers refuse to budge, even to escape the slow-moving pool of red creeping toward them.

  My ragged breathing accelerates, my heart races, and I do something I’ve never done before: I pray.

  Stay calm.

  Survive.

  The sound of a distant whistle breaks through my raspy, disjointed plea for mercy, for life.

  ***

  My breath fogs up the window as I stare into the dark night from my seat. The landscape is a stark and eerie blur whipping past with unimaginable speed.

  “A train?” A strange echo distorts my voice. Terror threatens to roll over me like a tidal wave.

  How did I get here?

  There was a crash. A car accident. It was early morning.

  Why is it dark out?

  I cover my face with my hands, and it hits me: my arms work again. I stretch out my hands and wiggle my fingers. Both of my arms are unharmed. Pristine.

  What’s happening to me?

  The vast expanse of nothingness outside the window provides no clues—no hint of place, time, or destination. The only certainty is my need to get home.

  A pale hand comes to rest on my shoulder. An older man in an immaculate suit and overcoat braces against me for support as he sits down. “Sorry about that, sweetheart.” His voice is distant, hollow.

  I close my eyes. The scream of crumpling metal rings in my ears.

  I smell gasoline. Burned rubber. The engine hisses as fluids trickle through the overturned car to the pavement.

  There’s the rumble of an approaching diesel engine. The gravel pops as the vehicle comes to a stop. A door opens and shuts.

  “Aw, shit,” a man says. His footfalls are quick as he approaches. His phone beeps three times. “I need an ambulance! I’m on County D, about half a mile north … ”

  “Haven’t used my legs in a long time,” says the man in the suit. He tips his hat as he settles in his seat. “Looks like I need a refresher course.” The hollow ring to his voice is gone. He turns his attention to the window and shakes his head, his eyes bright with fascination. “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

  A moan seeps from me like a toxic cloud.

  He puts a gentle hand on my arm. “Oh, now, everything’s going to be fine. You’ll see.”

  “I need to get out of here. My mom must be getting worried by now.”

  “She’ll be okay.”

  “No, she won’t! I wrecked the car. I have to explain. I have to get home.”

  “I don’t think we get to go home—not from this.” He gives the car a calm, methodical appraisal and nods.

  Why isn’t he panicking?

  “Don’t say that.” Grief and terror shak
e my body as I lean into this stranger’s shoulder and allow myself to fall apart.

  Time eludes me. For five minutes, or perhaps five hours, I cry ugly, desperate tears.

  “Feel better?” he finally asks.

  My breakdown has reduced from a crescendo of panic to a quiet sniffle. I nod, catching my breath. “A little.” My tears have run dry, but the feeling of dread remains. I try to wipe the mess I’ve made of his lapel clean with the back of my hand. “Your coat’s ruined.”

  He waves off my concern. “Don’t worry about it. They may have sent me in my best suit, but I don’t think it will matter where we’re going.”

  Panic grabs me again. “No. God, no. We can’t be—”

  “Ten minutes ago, I was lying in the hospital bed that’s crammed into my living room. Now I’m on a train.”

  His words are a punch in the gut, driving me to my feet. “I have to find my mom.”

  Even if it’s to say goodbye.

  His blue eyes are calm as he looks up from his seat. “Doesn’t seem right, you being so young and all.” He extends a steady hand to me. “The name’s Sam, by the way.”

  “I’m Dez.”

  “Nice to meet you, Dez. The train’s a bit of a shocker, huh? Did you hear it coming? The distant rumble before it all went … ” He trails off as he searches for the right word. “ … lopsided?”

  I collapse back into my seat. “Can we please talk about something else?”

  “We sure can.”

  “This is all so … ” I scan the car, still looking for answers. Gleaming hardwood moldings in a rich, deep red run the length of the car. I run my fingers across the repeating lotus flower pattern. The wood is smooth as glass. Soft light filters down from the octagonal stained-glass fixtures above, leaving multi-hued patterns on the royal purple seats and plush emerald carpet. The colorful lights shift and dance on my arms.

  This must be what it’s like inside a kaleidoscope.

  Sam settles back into his seat. “Have you ever been on a train before?”