Rose Petal Graves (The Lost Clan #1)

by Olivia Wildenstein

  Blake sighed. “As if I could ever refuse you anything.”

  I leaped off the couch to hug him, and while I held him and he held me, a tiny part of me wondered if he’d forgiven me because I had the influence. I breathed him in, wishing that I could return his feelings.

  Some time later, Dad honked. Blake didn’t walk me to the door. He stayed sitting in the green armchair, rigid. “Call me when she wakes up,” I said. All I could see was the back of his head that dipped in a stiff nod. “I’ll come back.” And like that, I was gone, leaving him alone with a woman I probably should not have left him alone with.

  CHAPTER 17 – DECEPTION

  The phone rang while I was clearing dinner. Dad had gone to the living room to find us something to watch, so I was alone in the kitchen. The second I saw it was Blake, I picked up.

  “She’s awake?” I asked, before he even had time to talk.

  “She’s gone,” he said. There was something mechanic in the way he said it, or perhaps it was the blood rushing into my eardrums that made his voice sound funny.

  “Where? When?”

  “She left a note. Something about meeting you at the old cabin. I can go there now.”

  “No,” I said. “I’ll go. It’s right next to the house. You’ve done enough.”

  “Okay,” he said, and hung up. He was still angry with me. The old Blake would never have given me a choice. He would have come.

  Going out in the middle of the night alone to see Gwenelda worried me, but I couldn’t involve my father, and I had no way of reaching Cruz. After lying to my father about going to Bee’s Place, I took the hearse and drove, not because it was far, but because if I didn’t, Dad would see straight through my lie. It took three minutes to get to the cabin, and five for me to turn off the ignition and dare step out into the freezing woods. The snow had eased up, but it still fell, making everything a bit prettier but also much colder. I shivered with each step. When I stood in front of the cabin, I knocked.

  There was no answer.

  I knocked again. I even called out, “Hello?” Still nothing. I pressed my fingertip to the old wood and pushed the door open. It creaked, heightening the speed of the blood coursing through my veins. For a second, I saw dots in front of my eyes, as though I were about to pass out. “Gwenelda,” I tried again. The moon brightened the dim interior, but still I used my phone’s flashlight to peer into the corners. They were all empty. Gwen wasn’t here.

  A clicking sound made me jump. I whirled around, mouth full with the taste of metal and muscles thrumming with adrenaline. “Gwen?” I repeated hoarsely.

  A little rock struck the broken, dusty window. Click. Sucking in a lungful of courage, I approached the door and scanned the darkness below. When I saw who was throwing the little rocks, I stayed in the archway of the cabin, just in case it could still repel faeries.

  “What are you guys doing here?” I asked Ace and Lily. I was trying to get my pulse under control, but Cruz wasn’t with them. I trusted him; I didn’t trust them.

  “Cruz sent us,” Ace said.

  “Why didn’t he come?” I asked.

  Lily’s large eyes seem to slant.

  “He didn’t come because you got him in trouble with your little plea to save a hunter. That’s punishable by death in our world.”

  “What?”

  “He’s willingly turned himself in. Hopefully, that will help his case.”

  My stomach tightened. “Death?”

  “Yeah. Death. Just so we’re clear, if he hangs, you hang, got that?”

  I gulped. “Take me to Beaver Island. I’ll tell them it was my fault.”

  “Take a faehunter to Beaver Island? I’d be signing my own death sentence.” He snorted. “Now, what’s going on here? What’s got you so flummoxed?”

  “Gwenelda said she would meet me here, but she hasn’t shown up.”

  Lily was so petite compared to her brother, but she didn’t look like the shy waif of a girl I’d interacted with only hours before. I supposed resentment trumped diffidence.

  “Why did Cruz send you?” I asked suddenly. “How did he know where I was?”

  “He marked you, so he can track you. He can also track your heartbeats, your moods. It’s a pretty useful trick we faes possess to keep tabs on our enemy. Turns you into an easy prey. In this case, although we believe you’re the enemy,” he said, pointing at his sister and himself, “I don’t think he sees it. Although, apparently prison changes people, so he’ll come around. Your influence on him will go poof.” Ace lifted his hands in opposite directions.

  “He told me the influence doesn’t work on him,” I said.

  Lily snorted.

  “And you fell for it,” Ace said.

  Four fireflies zipped past the cottony snowflakes, and buzzed around Ace’s face. One of them expanded until it was no longer bug-sized, but nearly as tall as Ace. He glowed brighter than brother and sister, gilt instead of moon-white. Speaking in that language of theirs, he informed Ace of something that made his smirk vanish. He swore, then walked past his guard, toward me.

  “They’ve found Gwenelda.”

  “Did they hurt her again?” I asked.

  “She was too quick for them this time, thanks to that lame boyfriend of yours.”

  “What boyfriend?”

  “The dude whose face was blasted off.”

  “Blake?” Goose bumps scattered over my entire body.

  “My guard tells me he drove right up to the rowan tree grove. And guess what they’re doing?”

  I started running back home, forgetting I had a car, forgetting there were deadly faeries flying right beside me. A firefly droned around my face. I swiped it away and it burned my hand.

  I didn’t yelp; I just kept running. I needed to get to the graveyard before Blake and Gwen could wake up another clan member. Snow slapped my face and cooled the welt that was rising on my hand. The chilling wind howled around me, and a branch slapped my face stinging nearly more than my hand. My eyes watered. My nose ran. My toes became numb. If it weren’t for the crunching of pinecones and fresh snow, I would have thought I was flying.

  When I burst out of the woods, I froze. All of me froze. I was still at a distance but I could see a coffin resting on the snow. I could see hands scooping inside, pink rose petals fluttering out, glimmering, and falling. I could smell their cloying aroma. A torso appeared, and then arms and hands that pressed against the side of the wooden box, revealing legs and feet. It was like looking at someone emerging from the lake after a midnight dip.

  I couldn’t get closer. My legs wouldn’t move, so I squinted, not to make out the new arrival but to see if there were three bodies or only two.

  I only saw two. And they saw me.

  FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS NEXT IN BOOK 2.

  Coming this summer.

  Stay up to date by visiting the author’s website:

  OliviaWildenstein.com

  OTHER BOOKS BY THIS AUTHOR

  Available on Kindle:

  Ghostboy, Chameleon & the Duke of Graffiti

  The Masterpiecers

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  One of the first things I learned when I became an author was to find a writing clan. Today, I have two, a real one: Theresea, Jane, Litsa, Hannah, Elizabeth & most recently, Chené, and a virtual one: all of the authors of the BIC (Butt In Chair group), but especially Katie, Nancy, Melanie, Erin, Margo, Bokerah & Emily. I have learned so much from all of you. You are my tribe.

  As always, thank you to my sister, Vanessa, for reading each and every story that comes out of my crazy head, and encouraging me to make them better and put them out there.

  To my three children and to my husband, I’ll love you always. You inspire me and you make my life entirely complete.

  To my parents, my brother and little sister, even though an ocean separates us, I think of you each day.

  To Becky Stephens and Lori Parker, you have made my book beautiful, and readable.

  ABOUT THE AUTHO
R

  Olivia Wildenstein grew up in New York City, the daughter of a French father with a great sense of humor, and a Swedish mother whom she speaks to at least three times a day. She chose Brown University to complete her undergraduate studies and earned a bachelor’s in comparative literature. After designing jewelry for a few years, Wildenstein traded in her tools for a laptop computer and a very comfortable chair. This line of work made more sense, considering her college degree.

  When she’s not writing, she’s psychoanalyzing everyone she meets (Yes. Everyone), eavesdropping on conversations to gather material for her next book, baking up a storm (that she actually eats), going to the gym (because she eats), and attempting not to be late at her children’s school (like she is 4 out of 5 mornings, on good weeks).

  Wildenstein lives with her husband and three children in Geneva, Switzerland, where she’s an active member of the writing community.

  Her first book, Ghostboy, Chameleon & the Duke of Graffiti, about a little boy who dreams of great adventures, received rave reviews and has been nominated for an Indiefab Book of the Year award. It can be found on Amazon, in paperback and in kindle format.

  Her second book, The Masterpiecers, a darker tale of twin sisters locked up in two very different worlds, which has been compared to GONE GIRL meets ORANGE IS THE NEW BLACK, is releasing on April 15th 2016, so by the time you read this, it will be available on Amazon, both in paperback and in kindle format. It is book 1 of the Masterful series.