by Unknown
My mind struggled to understand what was going on. Agnes had killed Tori! And she had framed me for it. My hand went up to my sapphire pendant and Agnes laughed.
“Believe it or not, I picked Tori before you even moved to Peachville. Let's just say she had a secret relationship that provided a pretty clear motive for murder if the police needed someone to take the fall.”
“Coach King,” I whispered.
She raised one eyebrow and cocked her head to the side. “Wow, you knew about that, too? Maybe you're smarter than I thought you were. Too bad that won't help you now.”
I swallowed but my mouth had gone dry.
“Anyway, that was a tricky one because if Mrs. King ever found out I set her husband up, she might never let me on the squad.” Agnes looked at me and smiled. “Then you moved in and gave me another idea.”
“How could you do it?”
“What? Frame you? Or kill that blonde bitch who was never nice to anyone? It wasn't hard.” Her hands rested by her side, and my eyes were drawn to them. Short crackles of light were coming from her fingertips like tiny sparks of electricity. “All I had to do was set you up to piss her off once or twice.”
I remembered my first day of school when I had tripped and splattered ketchup all over Tori's shirt. I'd thought I tripped over a backpack or something, but when I had looked, there was nothing there. “You tripped me,” I said.
“Very good,” she said with a laugh. “Once everyone had seen you arguing with Tori, I just needed one more thing to seal your fate.” She pointed toward my throat. “I saw that drawing you did of your mother. She was wearing the same necklace, so I knew it was important to you. Important enough that you would report it missing.”
“All this just to be on the cheerleading squad? Are you crazy?”
Agnes drew in an angry breath. She lifted a finger toward me. Her hands were covered with a bright light of electric current. “You and I both know it's more than just a cheerleading squad. You don't even appreciate it half as much as I will,” she said. Her voice was high and wild. “I don't understand why they picked you. After all the work I've done to learn how to control my power. I thought they would recognize my talents and reward me, but you...”
She raised both of her hands into the air. They were balls of light now, crackling with energy. I recognized that energy. For me, it manifested itself differently. I had no real control over the way objects moved when I got angry. Agnes, though, had learned to use and control her power.
“You are nothing,” she said. Her feet rose off the ground and I gasped.
Outside, the music thumped. It was too loud. Even if I screamed, I knew no one would hear me.
“Being a Demons cheerleader is not just about competitions and dance routines and stupid football games,” she said. “It's about being recruited. It's about being special enough that they are willing to hand you the keys that will help you unlock all of the magic inside. And instead of choosing me, the one with obvious power and potential, they choose you. An insignificant girl who has no idea how to cast a single spell.”
Sparks shot out from her body in quick bursts. The sheriff had said Tori was burned, as if she'd been cooked from the inside. She had looked to me because of my history with fire, but it wasn't fire that killed Tori.
It was lightning.
A Part of Me
Fear ripped through my chest. I didn't want to die. For the first time in my life, I actually had something to live for. Something worth fighting for.
I stared down at the floating red candle and concentrated all of my anger onto it. At first, nothing happened. I felt helpless. Weak.
“When you're gone, Mrs. King will have to let me onto the squad,” she said. “You heard her say that I was her second choice. Well, once everyone is finished mourning your death, I'll be her first choice. I figure it will take about a day for everyone to forget you. Or haven't you noticed that memory works a bit different here?"
Anger flared up inside me. In the center of the room, the red candle rose up higher, then with a flick of my hand, flew toward the curtains, lighting them on fire.
Agnes went into a rage. She turned her back to me and stepped out of the pentagram, desperately trying to put out the fire. Whatever spell she had cast that held my feet in place was released and I ran toward the stairs.
A stream of bright electric energy shot through the room and only missed me by inches as I jumped out of the way. Agnes moved quickly to block my exit. She'd been unable to put out the fire and flames engulfed that side of the room. Smoke filled the bedroom and I squinted to see. There had to be another way out.
Outside, the music stopped. Voices shouted from below, screams of fear.
“Not exactly the way I planned it,” Agnes said. “But one way or another, you're not leaving this house alive.”
She rose high into the air. Bright blue current ran up and down her body. Even her eyes glowed blue. I stepped back. She was too powerful for me. I didn't know the first thing about how to control my own power.
Her hand shot out and a bolt of energy flew at me. I didn't have time to jump out of the way. I lifted my hands to protect my face, bracing myself for the jolt of electricity. But it never came.
Agnes' eyes grew wide. She threw both hands out in front of her body. An arc of blue lightning shot out at me, but it dissipated before it connected. As though I were protected by an invisible force-field.
“What did you do?” she screamed.
I shook my head. I had no idea what was protecting me, but I didn't have a moment to waste. The fire was spreading rapidly. Smoke filled my lungs and I coughed, then crouched lower, searching for better air.
“We need to get out of here,” I said.
Apparently, Agnes had no intention of letting me go. She roared and sent another bright shock of light across the room. This time, I felt a small jolt run through my body. It reminded me of the way it felt when you touched someone's hand and got shocked with static. Mild, but surprising. I jerked back, fear making my limbs weak.
I fell to my knees, the smoke becoming almost unbearable now. I heard a cackling, high-pitched laughter and looked up to see Agnes gathering a ball of light between her two hands.
“Goodbye, Harper,” she said.
My heartbeat roared in my ears. A memory came back to me in that instant. A drawing of a room full of flames. Jackson's voice.
This time the picture was different. This time you were wearing your necklace. Promise me you won't take it off, okay? No matter what.
I brought my hand up to my mother's necklace, then looked back at Agnes.
Just as she leaned back to throw her final bolt of lightning, a dark figure moved through the room. A figure bigger than a man, but partially transparent, like a shadow. It had the body of a gargoyle. A demon's face. I knew that whatever it was, it had come to protect me. I couldn't explain it, but when I saw the black shadow, I knew that it was a part of me.
The darkness circled around Agnes, and she screamed. It pulled her from the room. The glass of the sliding doors crashed as she broke through. Then, she disappeared behind a blanket of red flames.
A Beautiful Demon
As soon as Agnes disappeared into the fire, I ran for the stairs. My lungs burned from inhaling so much smoke, but I pushed my body to its limit. The flames consumed most of the top floor, and the two lower floors were lost in a sea of thick smoke. In the distance, I heard sirens wailing.
“Harper! Harper, where are you?” Drake's voice rose above the noise.
“Here,” I tried to shout. Instead, my voice came out cracked and dry. I coughed and fell to my knees on the second floor landing.
I forced myself up again, grabbing the banister and pulling myself down the stairs. The overhead lights on the first floor cut through some of the smoke. I saw Drake's tall form rushing back and forth, and I reached out to him.
“Harper?”
My hands circled up around his neck just as my legs gave out again. D
rake lifted me into his arms and carried me from the house. Outside, the bonfire was going strong, but no one was dancing or cheering. Everyone was backed up across the street from the cabin, their horror-stricken faces watching as Foster's house burned to the ground.
“Agnes,” I said. “Where's Agnes? We have to make sure—”
Drake put a hand over my mouth. “It's going to be okay, Harper. Don't talk. Be still.”
I struggled, my mind racing. She would come for me. Agnes wasn't going to stop until I was dead. Drake carried me across to the other side of the road and laid me down in the grass. I tried to stand, looking back toward the burning house to see if I could find her.
That's when I noticed a flash of bright red on the ground in front of the house. My mouth fell open. Agnes lay in a crumpled heap beneath the third floor balcony, her body broken and still. When the fire department arrived, the paramedics pronounced her dead at the scene. Later, authorities theorized that she must have gone into a panic when flames trapped her up on the third floor. She broke through the locked balcony door and jumped to her death to avoid burning alive.
It would be a long time before I told anyone the truth about what really happened to Agnes that night.
I was in the back of the ambulance breathing in oxygen from a face mask when Mrs. King came rushing around the corner to see if I was all right. A blanket was wrapped around my body to shield me from the night air.
“Thank goodness,” she said, placing her hand over her heart. There were tears in her eyes. “I don't know what we would have done if we'd lost you.”
Her emotion touched my heart. I tried to smile, but my entire body ached from exhaustion. She climbed into the back of the ambulance with me and asked the paramedic if she could have a moment alone with me.
“You have no idea just how special you are to us.” She stroked my hair gently and put her arm around me.
“Agnes—” I said, then began to cough again.
Mrs. King pulled the oxygen mask from my hand. Confused, I took in a shallow breath. She placed her palm flat against my chest and closed her eyes. My body began to hum and tingle, and I felt a warm energy flow through me.
“Breathe,” she said.
I took a deep, cleansing breath and felt no urge to cough. “How...?”
She smiled and brushed a strand of hair off my face. “Shhh,” she whispered. “All of your questions will be answered, I promise. But you need to be patient.”
Patience is a hard thing when there are so many unanswered questions. I opened my mouth to ask just one, but she placed her palm against my forehead.
“Rest,” she said. “I need you at a hundred percent, okay?”
I nodded, feeling suddenly very sleepy. My lungs no longer hurt, though, and that was very good.
Mrs. King pulled the blanket up to my chin and smiled.
“You're going to make a beautiful Demon.”
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About the Author
Sarra Cannon writes contemporary and paranormal fiction with both teen and college aged characters. Her novels often stem from her own experiences growing up in the small town of Hawkinsville, Georgia, where she learned that being popular always comes at a price and relationships are rarely as simple as they seem.
She is a devoted (obsessed) fan of Hello Kitty and has an extensive collection that decorates her desk as she writes. She currently lives in South Carolina with her amazingly supportive husband and her adorable son.
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Rayla Tate dreams of escaping her ordinary world for a bright future in the art world. Throw in an overbearing aunt who is keeping major secrets, a disgruntled best friend tagging along to college, and a bunch of fae warriors waiting in the wings to claim her the minute she leaves her sleepy little town, and Rayla’s dreams are about to shatter.
She soon discovers she is a coveted Elemental with power she never knew she possessed–a power that could change the world. Everywhere she turns another man tries to woo her. The weird part is she’s drawn to each one of them. Who are these strange men, and what dark power do they hold over her? Rayla must quickly learn to fend off these beautiful and seductive pursuers using any means necessary or find herself lost to the fae world forever.
Five
An Elemental Enmity Novel
by Christie L. Rich
Copyright 2011 by Christie L. Rich
Prologue
I nearly turned around when I saw how tired Aunt Grace looked, but I had put this off long enough. The crinkles around her soft brown eyes betrayed years of worry, making her appear slightly older than forty-one. Her upper body slumped over a stack of bills as if they were chained to her neck. She shoved her fingers into her ginger hair at the nape and groaned as she went to work massaging what had to be tight muscles. Even though I hovered over her shoulder, she didn’t acknowledge me.
Hoping some of my pent up nerves would escape with my breath, I cleared my throat. “I need to talk to you about something,” I said, settling onto the chair opposite her. Despite my efforts in preparing for this, my voice came out tiny. The worst part was that my eyes wanted to roam to the gigantic stack of dishes that had mysteriously taken on the appearance of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. I held my breath, worried that any sort of errant current would topple our chip-ware onto the dirt-ridden hardwood floor.
Where was Travis, anyway? Knowing him, he was in hiding trying to get out of his turn—again.
“Hmm,” she said absently, still scanning the bill in her hand. “Can’t it wait?”
“Grace,” I stated in the most grown-up tone I could muster. She cocked a brow but didn’t bother to look up. “I’ve thought this through, and I want to go to St. Mary’s College with Cassie.”
“You are not Catholic,” she said, placing down her pen. Faster than I could look away, she locked her gaze onto mine. Her usually warm brown eyes roamed over me coldly. Ironically, her penetrating stare held no visible emotion, yet her scrutiny could have melted diamonds.
A frown grew across my face. “What does that have to do with it?” She wasn’t acting the way I had imagined. Cassie and I had gone over the conversation a thousand times. I had been sure she would use her old standby—money.
“The school is based around a religion you do not practice.” She groaned in clear displeasure. “We have discussed this, Rayla. I need you close to home.”
What she really needed was a free nanny. What a joke. Her idea of discussion had been an emphatic “No” when I mentioned I wanted to check out other schools besides Snow College. “Jenny’s old enough to take care of Sarah,” I pleaded. I was ten when I started watching my cousins after school. Jenny just turned twelve. “Besides, I won’t be here anyway.”
“I’m relying on you to come home on the weekends. Jenny isn’t ready for so much responsibility.”
“But—”
“We each have to do our part. Do you think you should have different obligations than the rest of us?”
The guilt she flung at me tried to stick. Too bad for her I wasn’t going to change my mind. “I just want to—”
“None of us get exactly what we want. I can think of better things to do with my time than find ways to put food on the table and pay for a home I never wanted.”
My words came out in a rush. “Don’t you want different for your children?” Too late, I realized my mistake—I was not her child. She made sure I knew it from the day Mom disappeared. Don’t get me wrong. Aunt Grace had shown me unending kindness. She loved me, but she always kept a distance between us that wasn’t present in her relationship with her own kids.
Her pinched lips turned in a forced smile. “I’ve agreed to let you go to Snow. I had hoped you would be grateful.” Her eyes narrowed, her breath whooshing out in a gust. “It doesn’t appear either one of us is going to get what we w
ant tonight.”
How could she be so cold? She wasn’t even willing to hear my side of things. Her expression was steel, the set of her jaw granite. Changing her mind may have been hopeless, but I was going to make certain she understood how I felt. “When have I ever gotten what I wanted … the time you let me go to Disney Land with Cassie?”
“We couldn’t afford —”
“Oh wait,” I said, right over the top of her tired excuse. “I didn’t get to go with her because I had to babysit. That’s all I’ve done for the last five years!”
Her tone dripped ice with a dash of hostility. “I realize you’ve made sacrifices, but no more than any other member of this family.”
I didn’t deserve to be treated like a slave. “I would rather work ten hours a day at the pig farm than waste my life taking care of your brats!” I couldn’t stand to be in the same room with her. At that point I would have preferred a different continent.
I bolted out the back door. Aunt Grace stayed right on my heels. She placed a hand on my shoulder, halting me. “I know I expect a lot from you, but I’m only doing what’s best for everyone.”
I whirled around, glaring with every bit of animosity I had in me. A sharp gasp escaped her lips before she pulled her hand back. “No, Aunt Grace. What you’re doing is ruining my life!” With that said, I took off up the hill.
She called after me, but I didn’t want to hear it anymore. My skin prickled from the chilly night air. I should have grabbed a jacket, but I wasn’t about to turn around. Hoping it would warm me up, I started into a run. By the time I reached Cassie’s house, sweat soaked my shirt, yet my arms could easily have been mistaken for a plucked chicken.
I rang the bell and bent over, resting my hands on my knees, panting. To my surprise Mr. Lambert opened the door. He wasn’t supposed to be in town this weekend. I stood up and tried to smile, but from his worried expression, my attempt fell short of realistic.
