by K. Webster
The snoring pauses just as I pass the room he shares with my mother and I freeze. My heart thumps wildly in my chest as I hope that he isn’t getting up. I’ve gone the entire weekend without a shower and I simply cannot go to school in the state I’m in. I don’t want to give them any more ammunition.
ABOUT THIS STORY:
Life for Leif has always been about having fun and staying out of his father’s frigid shadow. But after one fateful car accident that sends him careening down a hillside and into a thick, remote pocket of land, he stumbles upon an unusual group of people.
Will Leif figure out who these people are and what they want for him before it’s too late?
Skip to Track 5
Prologue
Five years earlier…
Emily
“Run!”
Momma’s strained hiss into my ear before she pushes me away chills my already frigid heart and I jerk into action. I want to stay with her but I can’t. A plan has been put into motion—a plan that involves me. Staying would mean death.
And seventeen is too early to die.
My boots clomp across the wooden porch as I tear off toward the line of trees that are nearest to our property. When I reach the edge, I hop down into the dirt and don’t hesitate before sprinting toward the woods. With each panicked stride, the thick dress I’m wearing tangles between my long legs. I trip and nearly topple over, but instead manage to grasp the fabric and yank it up above my knees.
“Emily!”
The voice, a familiar one, shouts at me from somewhere. I won’t stop though. Momma told me to run and never look back. To never step foot again in Empyrean. My past and present. But not my future.
The place I’ve called home for seventeen years has morphed into something dark and malevolent overnight.
When the tree line seems within reach and my lungs threaten to burst inside of my chest, I slow. It’s growing dark and the woods are dense. Papa and my older brother Jordy have shot plenty of bear and elk just inside the thicket.
What if a bear attacks me?
But if I stay, they’ll attack me. And, it’ll be much worse.
With a new fire fueling me, I pick up my speed and charge into the darkness. The shouts aren’t as loud and I thank my lucky stars for making it this far. Branches whip at me, scratching and biting my exposed arms, but I don’t slow. The tiny pricks of pain only drive me to move forward. Away from this wicked home of mine. Away from my family.
The woods become almost black the farther I get away from the lights of Empyrean. If I can keep up my pace for a few more hours, surely I can make it someplace safe. Maybe find a nice family to take me in for the night. To protect me from the bears and much worse, those whom are after me.
I’m so focused on my escape that I completely miss the fallen tree in front of me before it’s too late. My boot catches and I flip face first over the tree. I cry out the second my face slams into the trunk of a much thicker tree growing from the earth.
Dizziness washes over me and blood, from having gashed my lip with my teeth, gushes down my chin.
I have to get up.
Blinking several times, I attempt to push away the lightheadedness and regain my strength to keep running.
Get up!
The ground tilts and shifts below me which only serves to cause me to grow nauseous.
“There!” a voice shouts from nearby.
Jordy.
Tears well in my eyes and I want to call for him to help me—to pull me into his arms and take me back home. But I know it is a little girl’s dream, an attempted escape from this evil. Jordy isn’t looking to save me—he’s trying to capture me.
With newfound determination, I rise on wobbly legs and keep pushing through the forest growth, away from the voices and bouncing lights that are now becoming visible.
Keep going, Emily.
I think I’ve finally managed to chase away the vertigo from my fall when my hair is yanked with such force that I yelp in pain.
“And where does the little virgin think she’s running off to?”
Hot breath that reeks of onion, skitters over my neck, tickling me. I struggle to free myself, but the man tightens his grip around my waist and holds me against his large, thick frame.
“Let me go! You can’t do this!” I scream.
He chuckles, malice leaking from it and it saturates my pure soul with his dark one. “This is the way it has to be, Emily. It’s your time.”
The voice finally registers and I recognize it as that of my father’s dearest friend, Jude. He’s always been a rule follower and his sights have always been set on a seat in the council. Capturing me will no doubt earn him his beloved chair.
“Please, Jude,” I beg, “They’ll kill me. I thought you loved me!”
For almost eighteen years Jude has been in our lives. Every birthday, except my very next. Every autumn gathering. Every Sunday dinner. Every waking moment, helping my father in any way he can.
“Of course I love you, Emily. You’re like a niece to me. But you know the law.”
His grip never wanes and my hopes are squashed. I’ll never get out of here, despite my Momma’s wishes. She showed me what my future holds. And even though she wanted me to create my own future, the truth is that I have no future.
My future ends tonight.
“Excellent work, Jude,” my father’s voice booms as he nears.
I’m not sure why I thought it would be any different—that Papa would somehow disagree with the council. The sick pleasure in his voice at my imprisonment in Jude’s arms tells me otherwise.
It is the law.
And Papa always abides by the law.
“Take her to the circle. Everything is prepared and the elders in town are waiting. Time is of the essence,” Papa grumbles from behind us at Jude, clearly annoyed that I nearly foiled their plans.
I let out a strangled sob and stop wiggling in Jude’s arms. “Papa, please. Don’t do this. I don’t want to die. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
He steps into my line of vision, his lamp casting an eerie glow on his rugged, bearded face, and scowls. The strands of grey aren’t visible in the darkness, but his dark hair instead takes on a yellow, sinister hue.
“You’re giving our town the greatest gift, Emily. It will be done.” His tone is firm and unyielding. “Jude, you know what to do. I want her ready.”
Papa turns on his heel and trudges away from us without so much as a backward glance at his only daughter. My heart shatters and all hope is lost. It all ends now.
When Jude’s palm slides up over my breast through my dress, I let out a garbled scream.
“There, there, Emily,” he growls into my ear and yanks on the fabric, ripping the buttons off that hold my dress together from my collarbone to my belly. The cool night air chills my now exposed flesh and I become dazed again. “It’s time to show the elders your pure, white flesh before we stain it red with your blood.”
No future.
Only certain death.
I pass out in his arms.
Chapter One
Present…
Leif
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
The bass from my speakers I’d installed myself pounds with the beat of the music that just so happens to match that of my heart. Music is my life. It’s a part of me, and my soul rejoices any time I hear the strum of a guitar or a tap of the drums. I don’t give a rat’s ass about what my dad thinks about it either. I’m finally running my own life and it isn’t under Dad’s thumb.
I’m free.
And my brain buzzes with a vivacity that never before existed.
Grinning at my newfound freedom, I turn up the old Mother Love Bone jam and pick up my speed as I weave down the dark, deserted highway. The drive from Seattle to LA is a long one, but I’m not in a hurry. I don’t adhere to schedules and rules anymore. Now, I make my own rules and do whatever I goddamn please.
A year at the
University of Washington, attempting to please my impossible father, had been torturous. I was never cut out to be a businessman or the recipient of his legacy. He is one of Seattle’s wealthiest and most admired engineers. His company, Hyde Engineering Systems Inc. or HESI, is a Fortune 500 company and provides thousands of jobs around the globe.
I was to take over one day.
Run a multibillion dollar corporation with an iron fist like good ol’ Daddy.
But instead, I’m a fuck-up. A loser. The black sheep in a flock of fucking white stallions. Even my sixteen-year-old brother, Camden, has his shit together and is already taking college courses while in high school. We all know Cam is the one that should take over—to continue on with our birthright and run things as they should be handled.
Yet, Dad had other plans. Plans that involved turning me into a mindless, unhappy robot that would travel the world and do as I was told. An inheritance that would solidify my future as a wealthy man and lay out a path that would follow in his footsteps.
Well screw the fucking money and screw him.
Everyone that’s poor wishes they had money—that life would suddenly be grand and they’d all be happy as hell driving around in their Bentley’s eating caviar and shit. What they don’t understand is that with money comes corruption, lies, cheating, scandals, and the loss of one’s soul.
My dad hides his inner demons under the guise of being a solid, Christian man—a pillar of the religious community. A fucking saint.
But I know better. The first time he hit me as a child, I’d suffered a mild concussion but it awoke something in my mind. A haze of bullshit that surrounded my dad dissipated and I could see the man he was behind the façade. He may have been one of the wealthiest men in Washington, but he was nothing more than a piece of shit, abusive asshole. I’d seen him get that way with Mom a time or two, but I was his favorite for some reason. The oldest that was never good enough—his beloved punching bag.
Blood boils and bubbles in my chest thinking of my dad. He wonders why I turned out the way I did—why I chose solace in music and sex and any mind-altering substance I could get my hands on. Grant Hyde, the master of deception, had pushed me that way every time he laid a heavy hand on me. With each crack of his knuckles on my cheekbone and bruises to my belly, I’d retreated further and further from his ridiculous money and promise of power.
Power and money, in my eyes, equaled being a haughty, evil prick.
When in his world, I was small and insignificant. Abused and looked down upon.
But in my world?
In my world, I soar.
I thrive and excel.
I’m a fucking god.
My fingers clench the steering wheel and I have the urge to pull over, open my guitar case from the backseat, and pluck the strings of my baby. The Black Beauty Gibson acoustic I’d purchased at sixteen is my happiness. With each note I play on the instrument, I release parts of my tortured soul. I free bits of myself that Dad has attempted to beat into submission. It’s when I truly am who I’m destined to be.
Not some CEO of HESI.
Not some puppet in Dad’s big production.
But a soulful, creative musician who is free to do whatever it is he pleases.
Last week, when visiting my family for fall break in my second year of college, I finally severed the last choking hold Dad had on me. He was bitching about a tattoo I’d gotten—how I’d ruined any hope of holding down a professional job in life—and had slung his glass of bourbon at me.
Apparently the words, FUCK on my left four fingers and LIFE on my right four fingers, were frowned upon in Dad’s precious world.
The liquid had run down my forehead, stinging my eyes, and my head throbbed from the force of which he’d hit me with the glass. But something in me snapped. I was tired of his hold on me. So fucking tired.
Rage, which always glowed and fulminated beneath the surface, exploded from me. I charged the man who was supposed to love me and shoved his ass into his lavish glass liquor cabinet. The second his back slammed against the doors of the cabinet, the glass shattered. Expensive bottles of gin, scotch, and Cristal, were ruined.
I, however, was not.
For the first time, I was empowered.
With a “Fuck you” to my dad and an apologetic wave to Mom and Cam, I left with my guitar and a duffel bag. At first, I was overwhelmed with the newfound freedom and spent a few nights in town getting wasted and fucking anything with tits and legs. But then, I woke up with a plan.
Destiny called for me.
I was going to play music and find me. The one who’d been battered into something he wasn’t. It was time to climb out of that hole and be the man that thundered from within.
So, I jumped in my truck and headed south, never looking in the rearview mirror.
My phone rings, vibrating in my pocket and interrupts my thoughts. I cringe, assuming it’s Mom or Cam wanting to guilt me into coming back home. After I’d left, they’d both taken turns calling me relentlessly. I eventually spoke to Mom and apologized for leaving her with that bastard, but explained that I was getting the hell out of dodge and never coming back. Once I get on my feet in LA and land some club gigs, I’ll invite her and Cam down to visit. But right now, I just need to get my shit together.
“Yeah?” I answer without checking to see who’s calling.
“Lee, my man. You in LA yet?” Mark questions.
My best friend, Mark Simpson, was the first person I called after my fight with Dad. Having seen firsthand my father’s abuse from sleeping over at our house since we were boys, he’d always attempted to diffuse the situations if he were near. Oftentimes, he’d distract Dad with his curiosity of mechanics. Always asking how things worked and questioned Dad about his company.
Dad, the pompous ass, would always bite and his temper would cool as he lost himself into a narcissistic narrative. Mark and I never spoke about my Dad’s abuse, but he understood it. I think that’s why he’s always wanted to be a cop. Mark’s father wanted him to go into politics—so they compromised; he’d get his college education in political science and then he could join the academy if he were still interested.
“Not yet. I stopped off in Portland last night. Stayed with some chick I met at a club. She sucked cock like a champ,” I laugh. “But I left her naked ass in bed this morning and hit the road. I’m still hungover as hell from last night, but I’m feeling pretty damn good about getting the hell out of Washington.”
He chuckles and the line crackles. “You get more pussy than anyone I know. It’s the whole rock star persona. I wear khakis and polos. Bitches don’t get naked for popped collars, hair gel, and loafers.”
A smile tugs at my lips thinking about my preppy best friend. We may seem as opposite as they come but we’re tighter than brothers.
“Nobody dresses you, you big fucking nerd. You choose to wear that shit and look like Justin Bieber from the suburbs. I’m surprised you don’t drive a minivan, man.”
He huffs into the phone in faux annoyance. “Y—stup—assho—can—hear—me?”
The line cuts out and drops the call. “Fuck,” I grumble and attempt to call him back, but am unsuccessful. Out here in the middle of fucking nowhere, I have zero bars of service now.
Grumbling, I shove my phone back into the pocket of my jeans and grip the steering wheel with both hands. It’s almost ten and I can’t be much further than an hour from the California border. I need to take a piss and am hungry, but I haven’t seen a service station in hours. I’m considering pulling over to pee in the dark-ass woods that line the road when a deer flies out in front of me. My initial reaction is to yank the wheel hard to the right to avoid the damn thing.
I go airborne in my seat as the truck flies off the edge of the road and when it slams back down on all four wheels, my head bounces forcefully against the head rest. My foot is now on the brake, but I can’t stop the steep, downhill rapid descent that the truck is taking. Headlights bounce, and all I can do
is yank the wheel back and forth, narrowly missing thick trees. Twice my head cracks against the side window and I’m surprised that it doesn’t break from the force of it.
A scream is lodged in my throat as I put forth my best efforts not to flip the vehicle or slam into any trees. My teeth clash together with each bump down the hill, but the truck seems to be slowing.
The truck is eventually stopped by a thick fir tree with a soft thud.
My heart, which seemed to have stopped, throbs back to life as I consider the fact I’ve managed to survive what could have been catastrophic. Sure, I’ll have one hell of a time getting my truck out and back up to the road, but at least I’m uninjured and breathing.
Small victories.
Pop!
Without warning, my head is snapped back due to the delayed reaction of the airbag that popped me hard enough in the face to cause the dark cab of the truck to glitter with an array of colors and lights.
Blood trickles from my nose, over my lips and down my chin to where it drips on my shirt. The realization of my predicament hits me and I give into the darkness that’s been desperately trying to steal me away.
I’m going to die.
Birds chirping.
Fucking everywhere and loud as hell.
Groaning, I attempt to move and every single cell in my body aches. Memories of my accident come thundering back in unison with a mega migraine.
“Shit,” I hiss out and crack open my eyes.
The inside of the cab is no longer dark and purple light begins to alight the sky through the windshield with the promise of a sunrise soon.
I need to get help.
My belly grumbles from hunger and bile rises in my throat. The pain in my head won’t quit and I’m about to puke if I don’t get out of here soon. Each muscle in my body protests as I search for the door handle, and after some fumbling around, I manage to push open the door.
