by Coralee June
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Epilogue
Heart of the Walker
Book Two in The Walker Series
Coralee June
Copyright © 2018 by Coralee June
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
Prologue
1. Ashleigh Present Day
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
9. Josiah 16 Years Ago
10. Ashleigh - Present Day
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
19. Josiah 18 Months Ago
20. Ashleigh Present Day
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
Soul of the Elite Preview
Soul of the Elite Preview
Acknowledgments
About the Author
For Amanda. I’m always amazed by the things you don’t find embarrassing about me. Thank you for not thinking I’m weird. I mean, we both know I’m weird, but you accept it, and that makes me happy.
Prologue
Josiah, Two years ago
I shouldn’t like how Ashleigh blushes whenever I’m near, but some sick part of me does. I can’t help but watch her with morbid fascination as she serves my favorite dinner—roasted chicken and potatoes with caramelized carrots. I suspect she made it because she overheard Father and me fighting again this morning. It was our usual row. He has high expectations for his predecessor, yet I have no desire to follow in his clumsy, corrupt footsteps.
Nothing about Ashleigh is supposed to draw me in. She isn't particularly spectacular in any sense of the word. Her appearance is mostly plain, and her status is definitely beneath mine, but I can't help but feel eager and curious when she exhibits little rebellious displays of affection. Like how she made my favorite dish tonight when Father requested venison.
Ashleigh is supposed to be worth nothing more to me than the flashy furniture in this very dining room. Walkers are only procured by wealthy families seeking to impress equally wealthy enemies; a decorative fixture in our lavish home. Ashleigh is a daily reminder that our family can afford the vaccine that many others can’t. At least, that's what I’ve been conditioned to think, and yet I feel that there's something more to this little Walker.
Over the last year, she stopped seeing me as her childhood hero and started seeing me as something else, and damn—I liked it. The adoration in her smile made me feel uncomfortable and on edge. I hated that I sought out any and every opportunity to steal moments with the hazel-eyed woman with wild hair and a tame heart. My eyes found themselves glued to her whenever she entered the room, and I enjoyed listening to her hum while she baked, the sound a stark bright melody against the hopelessness of the manor. She glows with acceptance and optimism despite her dismal place in this fucked up world. Ashleigh rarely complains, and her complacent moods are frightfully alluring.
When Ashleigh was younger, I politely entertained the worship she so plainly bestowed upon me, but this new development has me conflicted. Her curves and desire to please wholly absorb me into her orbit, and her complete, consuming devotion makes my fascination grow daily.
At best, Ashleigh is a distraction. At worst, she is something Father can use against me. I’ve been groomed as his successor as Governor of the Galla Providence since I was able to speak, and someone like Ashleigh is exactly what he would force me to stay away from.
I hate him.
Father notices her naive yet addicting allure, too. He leers whenever she bends to serve our dinner, and I notice how his grey eyes seek the plush lift of her chest in the window between her dirty dress and freckled skin. He follows her movements with the intense focus of a predator.
I don’t want him to see or guess just how much Ashleigh has burrowed herself into my existence. This peculiar fascination with my little Walker is disastrous, but I can’t help but feel somewhat attached. Our connection is a burning train destined to derail and destroy us both.
I continue about my dinner in silence, trying to work through how Ashleigh carved out a blackened piece of my dead heart and miraculously pulsed life back through it.
1
Ashleigh Present Day
The General Store was buzzing with chatty and overly curious customers, providing a constant yet monotonous noise in the over-crowded space. It was my first official day, and citizens of the Dormas Providence were supremely curious about the Walker that warranted a rescue mission from the entire Dormas Leadership Council.
Their curious gazes loomed at me over the wooden, dusty shelves. Not one for being used to attention, I found their nosiness to be endearing but annoying.
Lois and Mark Caverly, the General Store owners, thrived upon the attention they received from hiring me to be the Baker in their quaint store. They resolved to introduce me to every single patron that graced their front steps, even going as far as to wave in walking pedestrians to take a look at the Walker that stumbled into the Dormas Leadership Council’s favored eye.
Lois pointedly told anyone willing to listen that I was the daughter she never had. She even tried marrying me off to at least seven mine workers that stopped by to indulge in a muffin on their morning walk to work. She was harmless but thrived upon the curious energy of her customers. Despite all of this, I preferred her intrusive company to the self-pity and loneliness I experienced while moping around Black Manor. Keeping busy kept me from crying.
It’s been one month since Josiah forcefully plucked me from the Dormas Summer Solstice and used me as a pawn in Emperor Lackley’s political games. Since then, I’ve spent every waking moment trying to heal from the emotional scars left behind by Josiah’s betrayal and his confusing motives.
Most of my time of sadness was spent in a grueling, cleaning frenzy. I scrubbed every square inch of the Black Manor. Eventually, Cyler’s patience broke, and he begged me to start my job as the Baker at the General Store. I guess a month of crying and cleaning was wearing him thin.
I spent most my morning hiding from customers and becoming acclimated with the dusty and virtually unused bakery. I already had a few orders and needed to get to work. The wooden countertops were splintered, yet usable, but the oven wasn’t level, which would be a big problem. I sent a quick message to Kemper asking him to add it to the long list of repairs needed in the Providence. As usual, in his perpetually considerate nature, Kemper replied back with, “Whatever you need, Ash.” My cheeks flame
d with appreciation, and Lois’ curious stare appraised me with a knowing smirk.
Over the last month, I’ve become more comfortable with voicing my needs, despite my sadness. Perhaps it was everyone’s willingness to please, or maybe I was evolving outside of my Walker mindset. Either way, I’ve come to heavily rely on Cyler, Maverick, Kemper, Jacob, Patrick, and even Huxley. I enjoyed the comfort that they gave me, and even more, I enjoyed learning to assert my independence, yet seek help when needed.
Cyler placed my first official order. He decided that the Solstice Festival cake didn’t technically count, since no one was able to enjoy it thanks to Josiah’s little kidnapping stunt. Two chocolate cakes—one for him and one for the rest of our little makeshift family—sat upon a cooling rack by the window, and I beamed with pride. Cyler’s encouragement and confidence in me was contagious. Apparently, once word went around that Cyler Black, fearless leader of Dormas, was ordering cakes from me, others promptly placed identical orders with equal enthusiasm.
I made quick work of mixing the thick batter for my other orders and pouring it into various cake pans. I made a note of what utensils and gadgets the Bakery lacked, then migrated to my other workstation and sat down. I started the peaceful task of painting a little wooden doll with a wild and crooked smile
There were about three dozen children total in Dormas, and Lois Caverly recently decided to add a toy section in her store to accommodate the growing number of children. Once Lois learned of my artistic whims, she promptly decided that Mark would carve them, I would paint them, and Lois would happily coordinate both of our efforts while she sipped lemonade and gossiped with visitors.
I was busy painting when the shop bell rang throughout the store, indicating that another customer had arrived. I put the finishing touches on the doll’s face, then nervously turned to greet the shop’s new guest. I wasn’t in the mood for another matchmaking attempt by Lois. She was determined to have me married off by sunset, and the overabundance of men in this town allowed for many opportunities to embarrass me. However, instead of being greeted by another nosy stranger, Jacob’s playful chocolate eyes met mine.
“Hey, sweetheart, Lois is putting you to work, I see.” He observed me with a smile while noting the paint that covered my dress and hands before carefully hugging me in greeting. He kept his chest a good six inches away from me while his hands loosely patted my upper back. It was rare that I finished a project without getting splatters of different colors on my nose and in my hair. After a few mishaps and ruined shirts, the guys learned to proceed with caution.
Jacob then inspected my batch of toys with a squinted eye and mock seriousness. I watched in amusement as he dusted off a few of the toys with dried paint and polished them with the corner of his sleeve. Since my involuntary visit with Emperor Lackley, I hadn’t seen Jacob much, mostly because Jules was back and had taken up permanent residence in her old bedroom. I was forced to bounce from room to room, depending on who had night-guard duty. Jacob opted to work most nights to avoid her, but as a result, the only time I had with him was when he snuck around the house while Jules was either away or indulging in one of her frequent cat naps.
Lois rounded the corner with her arms overflowing with more projects for me to do, but nearly dropped them all when she eyed Jacob’s impressive form playfully scrutinizing our hard work.
“Oh! He-hello! Jacob, it’s so good to see you. How’s our new schoolhouse coming along?” Her wrinkled cheeks reddened while she shifted the unpainted toys to one arm and straightened her long grey braid with the other. I grinned at her reaction to him. It was easy to get flustered around Jacob—around all of them; it was like staring into the sun.
“It’s going great, Mrs. Caverly. I just received another shipment of supplies. It should be ready within a couple of weeks. Kemper’s got us all working on it. We might even get Dormas’ resident artist to paint a mural on the outside wall,” he said. He threw a flirtatious wink my way, causing both Lois and I to sigh. He knew the effect he had on women, and he reveled in it.
“What brings you here?” I asked Jacob. I liked having my playful friend around, but it was definitely out of the ordinary. I’ve been on edge ever since Lackley’s forced deal, as well as worried that more of Dormas would end up exploited under the pressure of the Empire’s thumb.
“I came to pick you up,” he said before eyeing Lois with a polite yet intentional glare, giving me the impression that there was something he wanted to tell me without an audience. Lois inferred this, too, because she quickly got the hint and excused herself with an awkward bow that left Jacob and I feeling secondhand embarrassment on her behalf. I assumed that she would migrate behind one of the shop’s many shelves to try and eavesdrop, so I pulled Jacob by the elbow, farther away.
“We’re traveling to the Deadlands tonight,” he said in a low tone while stepping closer to me. He smelled of soap and fresh air. Jacob crossed his arms over his chest and looked around the room for eavesdroppers. The easygoing playfulness of before rolled like mist over the tone of the room before disappearing into an ominous cloud between us.
“But why? The only thing in the Deadlands are Scavengers,” I insisted while scrunching my eyebrows down in confusion.
“Exactly. Huxley was able to coordinate a meeting with one of the more open-minded Scavenger tribes. They requested that the entire Dormas Leadership Council be in attendance, and the majority of us decided it was best that you come with us.”
My mouth gaped open in shock. Scavengers were wild and feral people that refused to move to the Walker Zones when the vaccine for X was first created. They were fearless, fierce, and a major source of trouble for Providences on the outer rim of the Empire. Back in Galla, I remember watching the reports late at night after Master and Mistress Stonewell were asleep. They showed videos of pale beings with intricate scarring on their backs, and blood running down their faces. They were known for looting and tearing down entire Providences.
“Are we sure that's a good idea?” I asked while rubbing the bridge of my nose.
Jacob looked at me with a grim expression while he ran his hand over his caramel chin. His deeply furrowed brow sunk, and I knew that he, too, was unsure about this meeting.
“We’ll be fine, Ash. I won’t let anything happen to that pretty face of yours.” He chuckled before pinching my cheek in an unconvincing friendly gesture that made me feel like a whining, insolent child. “Hux has a special relationship with this particular tribe,” he added in, what I assumed, was a reassuring tone, but instead, more fear coursed through me.
“It’s not me I’m worried about.” This new family was incredibly important to me. I was more worried that they were blindly rushing into a dangerous situation.
Jacob stepped closer towards me and wrapped his toned arms around my small frame in a comforting hug. I held my hands away from his defined back to avoid getting paint on his blue shirt. “You’re always worrying about the wrong things” he whispered.
“So you admit it, we have reason to worry?” I searched his expression, but Jacob didn’t respond.
Lois loudly coughed when re-entering the room, and I removed myself from Jacob’s comforting hold while willing the blush on my cheeks to evaporate. I cleaned up my workstation while Jacob maintained a polite conversation with the flustered Mrs. Lois. I noticed her twirling the end of her braid around her dainty finger while she laughed at whatever he said. Once through, Jacob and I said our goodbyes and made our way to the train station.
We walked in comfortable, yet foreboding silence, neither one of us willing to discuss the Scavenger meeting. Both our hands swung with purposeful carelessness at our sides, and occasionally our knuckles brushed, causing tingles of anticipation to move up and down my arm. A part of me wanted to grab the tips of Jacob’s calloused fingers, but each time courage boiled up within me, self-preservation and the reminder of Jules’ crime stopped me.
I repeated my usual mantra to keep from blurring the lines between us: N
ot mine. Not mine. Not mine. Our fingers continued to collide until finally, Jacob huffed and grabbed my hand. His thumb carefully caressed my wrist, and I enjoyed the feel of him. It was reassuring to know that he, too, felt this unspoken desire to touch.
Jacob remained silent while we walked hand in hand, neither of us willing to say out loud what we were thinking. The sound of my beating heart drowned out all the thunderous doubts floating about my mind. It felt like I was in a continuous cycle of falling and standing back up.
Just as we were about to arrive at the train station, a breathy but shrill voice stopped us in our tracks. Jacob immediately dropped my hand and whirled around to address the interloper on our little moment, and I felt a sudden vacancy at his departure.
“Oh Jacob, I’m just so glad I caught you. One of the shopkeepers mentioned that you and the Walker are going to the train station,” Jules panted out while jogging towards us in her ostentatious heels that sunk in the soft dirt each time she took a step. She wore a thin black dress that showed off the outline of her ivory bra, with a plunging neckline and an opened back. As usual, she looked perfect, and I absentmindedly ran my calloused hands over the wrinkles in my modest tan dress with pockets and splatters of paint across the chest.
Once closer, Jules threw a sneer at me before fixing a fake smile back in place upon her porcelain face. The house dynamics had changed drastically since Jules moved back in to Black Manor. Charged tension bounced between the home's walls like balls of electricity. We no longer had family dinner, and everyone avoided her like she had X. Jules was an ornery combination of persistent and snobby. I tried to provide her with politeness, but she made it clear that I wasn’t worthy of her attention or kindness, which left me tiptoeing around the manor in an effort to avoid her.
