by A. J. Norris
HER BLACK WINGS
Book One of
The Dark Amulet Series
A.J. Norris
HER BLACK WINGS
Copyright © 2016 by A.J. Norris.
All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: July 2016
Limitless Publishing, LLC
Kailua, HI 96734
www.limitlesspublishing.com
Formatting: Limitless Publishing
ISBN-13: 978-1-68058-716-6
ISBN-10: 1-68058-716-1
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
For all those that dare to follow their dreams.
For those that don’t, what are you waiting for?
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
CHAPTER SIXTY
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
CHAPTER SEVENTY
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE
CHAPTER EIGHTY
CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE
CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO
CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE
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CHAPTER ONE
Amalya
I am nothing.
Stupidity always reigned supreme for Amalya. She stared at the receiver in her hand for a few seconds then whacked the handset on the phone three times. “God!”
Why did I call her? What did I think would be different?
The wind fluffed up the back of her coat and she shivered. Amalya wanted out of this place, out of this hell. She rested her forearm on the pay phone with her head pressed into the crook of her elbow. She made half-ass attempts to slap the side of the metal box. No one wanted her around; she didn’t even want her around. And the call to her sister only further solidified this fact.
A car pulled into the gas station where the pay phone was located on the corner of Who-knew-where and What-did-she-care. The brakes squeaked behind her. Amalya pivoted and found a silver car idling. The window slid down a couple of inches and the driver nodded once.
“Lost?” he asked.
She raised her brows. How did he know? “I’m not looking to be found, or saved, buddy.”
“Hmm, not interested in that either. Got extra room. Case you need a ride.” He jerked his head at the passenger seat.
She looked around the empty parking lot in the early dawn and approached the lone car. The middle-aged man had the eyes of a crazy person. They bore through her, yet looked distant, removed somehow. The idea of getting into this stranger’s car comforted her. Her desire to live dwindled with every breath. “You got a name?”
“Reed.”
“Where you headed?” she asked. The question had been a formality on her part; the answer didn’t matter.
Amalya didn’t focus on the words, only his moving lips. A cracked red ring surrounded his mouth. He may have said, “Out of town.” or “Anywhere but here,” or maybe even, “There’s rope and an axe in my trunk.” It didn’t matter. Her life didn’t matter. He glanced over his shoulder into the back. Nothing but a bundle of blankets sat on the seat.
She sighed and reached for the door handle. Reed’s car smelled of motor oil and musty body odor, and Amalya pulled the collar of her coat up over her nose. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He didn’t acknowledge her mild complaint. How could he stand it?
Amalya sat in the front seat with her hands in the pockets of her coat, stolen from the Goodwill. She stared out the window. The buildings thinned and farmland came into view. She didn’t care where they were going, only that they were headed someplace else. The dreams she’d once had of starting over in a new city with a new identity hadn’t come true, nor would they ever. She didn’t want that; she just wanted this miserable life to end. The phone call to her sister played fresh in her mind. Her biting words had wounded her.
She and her sister had only spoken twice in the past six years, and the last time had been three years ago. The accidental meeting between them had been brief. Amalya had ducked into a library for a quiet place to rest as Genevieve had been leaving.
Amalya had pulled out the folded up business card her older sister had given to her then. She’d held her breath as she dialed the number, hoping her sister still worked at the same school. A woman answered on the third ring.
She squeezed her eyes shut. “May I speak to Genevieve Rivers please?”
“Genevieve?”
“Um, she still works…there…”
“Oh, I’m sorry, you mean, Genevieve Stevens.”
“Ah, yeah, yeah. I forget sometimes.
” Did Genie get married?
“She’s teaching a class right now. Can I take a message?” The woman’s voice was nauseatingly pleasant and Amalya couldn’t bear to be nasty.
“It’s a family emergency. I really need to speak to her. Is there any way—”
“Oh, hon, why didn’t you say so? I’ll page her right away.” The message-on-hold music played while she’d waited for her sister. At least she hoped Stevens was a married name.
A silver car turned the corner. The driver gawked at her as he pulled along the curb. She was unsure which one of them had done the actual staring.
“Hello?”
“Genie?” Amalya’s voice broke. “Please don’t hang up. I only called because…” Why did I call?
“Amalya? Is that you?”
“Yeah, I dunno why I—shit.” Amalya didn’t cry and hadn’t for years, but despite this, she still had feelings.
“Is this an emergency?”
“N-No,” Amalya stammered.
Genie sighed into the phone. “Well, then I have to get back to my class before the students destroy the room.”
“God, you’re a mule. Can’t you at least tell me how you’re doing? How Mom and Dad are?”
“Do you really care about them…about me?”
Amalya’s eyes widened. “Why do you think I don’t care?”
“Amalya,” she sighed, “I don’t have time for this.”
“I just want to know you’re all right before…”
“Before what…what’s going on?”
“Nothing, it’s just I don’t know what’s going to happen to me, all right? I may never see you again.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Just… never mind.”
There was a long silence. That same car made another pass.
“Mom and Dad are fine. I got married and we have a daughter. She’s two.”
Oh, my God. How could she be two already?
“W-what did you name her?”
“She’s named after our great-aunt. Now listen, I really need to get back to class and…”
Amalya heard her sister’s inhale. Genevieve was gearing up for something big.
Here it comes.
“I’ve had a long time to think about things since the last time I saw you. I can’t do this with you. I don’t wish for anything bad to happen to you. But I don’t want you to be a part of our lives. You can hate me if that makes you feel better.”
“Why would that make me feel better?”
Her sister had hung up on her without saying good-bye, fuck off or even kiss my ass, like Amalya probably would’ve.
The cold air inside Reed’s car seeped inside her coat. At first, the temperature had felt warmer compared to the outside. A chill settled out from the center of her body. Amalya exhaled out of her nose. The tendrils of white fog curled and meandered around her. She shivered.
“It’s cold in here. Don’t you have any—?”
“Nope. Heat’s broken,” Reed said.
“How’d you know what I was going to say?”
He grunted. She remembered the blanket sprawled over the backseat before she’d gotten into his beat up silver sedan. She turned and snatched a corner of it from the back.
“Don’t!”
CHAPTER TWO
Amalya
Amalya flinched and curled her fists around a wad of blanket. The blue and green tartan afghan slipped off the seat. Her eyes widened. A shivering, saucer-eyed boy she guessed was about six, maybe seven, lay on the seat with duct tape covering his mouth. His hands were bound with more of the same tape.
“What the hell?!” She reached for the missing door handle. “Fuck!” She scratched and pawed at the panel. There was no way out. A whimper from behind reminded her she wasn’t the only one in trouble.
“Lemme out! Let us—”
The right corner of her forehead slammed into the side window. She blinked, her focus wavering in and out. There was no screaming anymore. Her achy head bobbled as cobwebs filled her mind.
Oh God.
***
Where the hell was she?
Elmer’s Glue, chalk, and ditto aromas filled her nose. The pressure inside Amalya’s bladder made her seek out a bathroom. She found one up a set of stairs and to the left. Opening the door, she was bowled over by the smell of ass and stale cigarettes.
“Oh God,” she moaned. The toilet was missing from the first stall. In the second stall the seat was gone, and the last one was filthy but she had to pee. Desperately. She prepared to squat…
Her body jerked from side to side and she groped for the handicap bars.
Another bump. Her eyes snapped open.
Shit!
Quivering with a chill, she squeezed her eyes shut then opened them. Her bladder was about to explode. “I have to pee,” she whispered.
Reed ignored her.
“I have to piss,” she said louder.
“Too bad!”
“I have to pee or do you want me to do it all over your beater?” she yelled. It was dangerous to scream at her likely killer, but dying in her own urine wasn’t an option. “Stop the car!”
He smacked her with the back of his hand. Blood welled on her lip.
“Fuck!” He banged the side of his fist on the steering wheel. After a few moments he pulled over onto the gravel shoulder of the deserted two-lane Dixie Highway with a snowy, sprawling countryside of cow pastures on either side of the road. Opening his coat, he flashed a metal warning, a 9mm. Amalya had been on the streets since she was sixteen and recognized the caliber. At twenty-two there was a lot she knew about criminal life. Reed took his time getting out and wandering over to let her out.
The instant she stepped from the car, icy air smacked her in the face and she shivered. Freedom was set back from the road, beyond a ditch. She thought about making a run for it, even at the risk of being shot in the back. However, the image of the scared child changed her mind. There was no way out of this mess that didn’t involve bloodshed and probable death. Ironically, the I-don’t-give-a-fuck mindset which had helped keep her alive in the past was also about to end her existence. The truth was, she was so over this life, she didn’t care if she lived or not. The little boy, however, deserved to see for himself whether or not breathing mattered.
Reed licked his lips as she went for the waist band of her jeans.
“What are ya gonna do?” she snapped. “Watch me?”
He backed away, keeping an eye on her. Amalya squatted down and waited. Although screaming for relief, her bladder wouldn’t let go right away. It was too scared. She took the minute to run through her options again.
She could run and hope for a car or a house to appear out of thin air. Not likely, and she could be shot and there was the little boy. Bastard might give up on chasing her if he didn’t shoot her, then just go back to the car. What about the kid though? The concept was unthinkable even for her. The other option was to fight. By this she meant kicking the bastard in the dick, as it was unlikely he had any balls. This made her smirk, though not because she somehow found humor in the situation. Her brain was just trying to keep the stress from overloading and shutting down her gray matter.
An idea flicked across her mind while she shimmied her pants back up, a split-decision hair-brained notion that hinged on the keys still being in the ignition. She couldn’t remember if they were. Turning around, she began to cry. They were crocodile tears, as she had long since developed a hard shell. The show had to be convincing, so she started out slowly and gradually increased her sobbing.
“Quit playing games! Git back in the car!” The snow crunched beneath Reed’s thick-soled boots. He reached out to grab her shoulder when she spun around. A kick meant for his sweet spot missed and connected with his shin. The action caught him off guard, allowing her to try again. This time she nailed him between the legs. He went down on his knees with a grunt.
Rushing toward the car, she threw herself through the open passenger d
oor. Struggling to put herself into the driver’s seat cost her precious time. Reed approached with his gun drawn. Her heart hammered inside her chest. A shot was fired at the vehicle, followed by another thunk. Then a third shot. She gasped as her breath caught in the back of her throat. Her hand met with the keychain in the ignition. She turned the key. The engine roared. Expecting the gearshift to be next to her, she fumbled blindly between the seats. Dammit! She glanced down. Shit! The shifter was on the steering column. She pushed and pulled and finally got it into gear.
The car sped backward. Amalya felt a thump. She’d clipped the bastard as he’d been coming around the rear of the car. Sweating, she pulled the car forward and looked into the rearview mirror. He was still down but in the middle of the road.
“You bitch!” he yelled from where he was lying on the asphalt. When he brought the gun up she started the car in reverse again and swerved back toward him. The fender smacked him in the head while he tried to maneuver out of its way. She ran the car over him. Thump. Thump. The car skidded to a halt as Amalya slammed on the brake with her two feet. She didn’t need to look up to know he wouldn’t be moving anymore.
Panting, her heart racing, she rested her head on the steering wheel. There was a tiny whimper. Amalya angled her head and peered behind her. The boy was sitting on the passenger side floor with wild eyes, but he wasn’t looking at her face. She followed the line of his vision.
Her pink puffer coat had something red on it. A muffled yelp came out of the boy. It was only then that she felt the pain as realization came over her. The red was blood. One of the bullets had hit her side. Now she began to cry. Life, which had little meaning ten minutes ago, now seemed like everything.
“Oh God…”
She put her hand inside the flap of her coat. When she removed it, blood was covering her entire palm and was running down the back of her hand. With the last of her waning strength she wrenched around and reached for the kid’s hands. Her fingernails scratched at the tape. After several frustrating attempts, she managed to loosen an end. The boy cried as she peeled the tape away from his skin.
