Curses, Fates & Soul Mates

by et al Kristie Cook

  “What are we having?” he asked.

  The conversation continued as though they’d been there the entire time. Ty sat on the arm of the couch beside Kyr, allowing his hand to “accidentally” brush against her whenever he reached for food or his glass. She leaned against his thigh once she finished eating, sighing contentedly.

  He felt her happiness…happiness over being surrounded by the people she loved and trusted. Although he knew it wouldn’t last, he was glad that right then, at least, they had peace.

  EPILOGUE

  Where are you, Ty?

  One corner of his mouth lifted in amusement over the sleepiness he heard in Kyr’s thought. I had something I needed to take care of. I’ll be back soon.

  ‘Kay. Love you.

  He felt her sinking back into sleep, but he told her, I love you, too.

  Their ability to share thoughts had grown since her Ascension. They no longer had to be near each other to communicate, something that pleased him immeasurably. It was much easier to be apart from her this way.

  Like now, for example.

  A low moan issued from a few feet in front of him. Right on time, he thought.

  He was sitting in a chair he’d chosen for the best view, leaning back with his booted feet propped up on another seatback so he’d be comfortable. His hands were stacked on his stomach, his head cushioned by the headrest as he waited.

  The moaning continued, but not for long. Soon enough, his victim opened his eyes. He blinked several times, attempting to clear his vision.

  Ty knew the moment Vycor realized where he was. The Advisor stilled, then jerked his head around as if to confirm his fears. The quick action was a mistake, though, Ty remembered from his recent experience. The Advisor threw up all over himself.

  “I should have warned you about that,” Ty said conversationally. “Head injuries hurt like a bitch. Too bad you don’t have my healing ability.”

  Vycor didn’t comment. He was too busy coughing and choking on his own bile. Once his stomach settled, he started pulling at the heavy manacles that held him restrained, naked and spread-eagle, on the altar in the Ritual Chamber. Both of them knew he wouldn’t escape, but Ty enjoyed watching him struggle. Vycor fought for a while before he was spent, lying still and gasping, staring at the ceiling.

  “I’m sure you believe that I’m about to kill you, but you and I have an understanding there, Advisor. You shared something that was no business of yours with someone else whose business it wasn’t. For all I know, that person told someone else, and so on and so forth. That’s a hole I wish to plug, and I need you alive in order to do that.”

  “I will tell you nothing,” Vycor snarled.

  “Oh, by the time we’re through here, you’d tell me all about the first time you orgasmed if I asked you to, since we both know you’re not currently repressed like you should be. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

  Vycor’s throat worked as he swallowed. He glanced furtively at the small table that had once held his instruments of torture. Ty detected his relief when he saw that the table was empty.

  “Perhaps I should have brought the tools in here with me,” Ty said thoughtfully, bringing his hands up and touching his fingertips together. “There is something to be said about building anticipation. I’m sure you quite enjoyed seeing the Ascendant’s fear when she found out what you had planned for her. Why don’t I conduct a quick scan of your memories and find out?”

  Vycor’s body jerked as Ty’s mind shot right into his cerebral cortex. He did a forced rewind to the part where Vycor had encountered him outside of his bedroom, paying close attention to identify the person who had struck him. The attacker’s identity surprised Ty, but he couldn’t stop to process it as he followed Vycor through the night into the morning while he prepared for the Rite.

  Ty would deal with his attacker later.

  He witnessed the Advisor setting up the Ritual Chamber before anyone arrived. He heard Vycor’s unholy thoughts as he did so, watched him stroke himself as he pictured Kyr on the altar. Even now, Vycor’s body responded to the memory, growing hard.

  Ty remembered it, stored it, moved on.

  They went painstakingly through the Ritual until it was over and Ty left the chamber with Kyr. At that point, Ty pulled out of the other male’s mind. He felt like he needed to bathe in disinfectant. The sight of Vycor’s heavily aroused body turned his stomach.

  “What you need, Advisor, is some re-training,” Ty said, still sitting in his seat. “You get perverse satisfaction out of harming others. I can’t have you doing that. Since you seem to think yourself above me—hell, above everyone—and you’ve taken the option of killing you off the table, I think I need to remind you of the repercussions of abusing your role as a Mynder and defying the Dem-Shyr.”

  Lowering his feet, he rose and walked over to the altar. Vycor was staring at the ceiling, obviously trying to avoid eye contact. His breathing was harsh and irregular, though, belying his fear.

  Look at me, Ty ordered.

  Vycor looked at him, unable to defy the command of the Dem-Shyr.

  What I’m about to do now, Advisor, is cause you unimaginable pain. You’ll beg for death before I’m done. You’ll probably piss yourself and weep like an infant. And I’ll never even touch you.

  Placing his hands on the edge of the altar, he leaned closer.

  All I’m going to do is have you mentally experience what you did to the Ascendant…with a few embellishments of my own. You’ll survive it all without a scratch. But if you ever do harm to anyone else, I will make you relive this pain and humiliation again and again until your mind breaks from it. And if you ever threaten me or the Ascendant again, I will share this particular memory of you strapped to this altar with every Mynder on Alametria. I hope I’ve made myself clear.

  Vycor’s eyes bugged from his head, his face white. He renewed his struggles against the chains, issuing a terrified sound as he did. His erection now lay flaccid and pathetic against his pasty skin.

  “As you know,” Ty said, stepping back and once again taking a seat, “this chamber is soundproof. Please feel free to make as much noise as you wish. Shall we begin?”

  And then he closed his eyes and produced the first memory, pulling on a pair of ear protectors to block out Vycor’s screams.

  * * * * *

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  ABOUT RAINE THOMAS

  Raine Thomas is the award-winning author of bestselling Young Adult and New Adult fiction. Known for character-driven stories that inspire the imagination, Raine recently signed with multiple award-winning producer Chase Chenowith of Back Fence Productions to bring her popular Daughters of Saraqael trilogy to the big screen. She’s a proud indie author who is living the dream.

  Raine is a hopeless romantic with a background in the fields of mental health and wedding planning...two areas that intersect far more than one would think. Her years working with children and young adults with emotional and behavioral challenges inspired her to create protagonists who overcome their own conflicts. When she isn’t writing or glued to e-mail or social networking sites, Raine can usually be found vacationing with her husband and daughter on one of Florida’s beautiful beaches or crossing the border to visit with her Canadian friends and relatives.

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  WANT MORE BY RAINE THOMAS?

  — DAUGHTERS OF SARAQAEL TRILOGY —

 
; Becoming

  Central

  Foretold

  — FIRSTBORN TRILOGY —

  Defy

  Shift

  Elder

  — ESTILORIAN SHORT STORY —

  The Prophecy

  For Everly

  Meant For Her

  REPOSSESSION

  The Keepers Trilogy

  Book One

  RACHAEL WADE

  Rabbit Hole Press

  Kissimmee, Florida

  *Note from the Author:

  A Glossary of Terms for reference can be found at the end of the book.

  DEDICATION

  To my readers. Your support is such a gift to me. Thank you for everything.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Writing the acknowledgment section gets harder and harder with each book because it’s impossible to give everyone I want to acknowledge a proper shout out. I simply can’t express my appreciation enough to every blogger, author, and reader friend I’ve made since I began my writing career. All I can say is that you know who you are, and you know that I love you and am grateful for your amazing support over the past few years. Thank you, as always, to my greatest muses, Patricia and Dave, and to Tessa and Cathy for reading the early drafts and giving me great feedback. Also, thanks to God for the gift of storytelling, and the blessing that allows me to do what I love for a living. Much love, everyone. xo

  INVASION

  15:00

  All the flowers are gone. I stared at the demolished flowerbed, the gun dangling from my lifeless fingers. My mama’s favorite garden destroyed.

  I loved that damn garden.

  It was the only sanctuary I had, giving me a cozy spot to bask in peace and quiet while I looked out over the yard. I could watch Cooper and Riley play, could toss them a Frisbee and laugh while they chased the neighborhood cat. Our black and yellow lab retrievers were inseparable. Mama always said they went together like cookies and cream. When the Invaders first touched down, they disappeared, just like every other animal in the neighborhood, retreating into the nearby woods like they’d gone into hiding or something. There was no more barking, no sign of them since.

  I used to just sit and watch them in that garden, waiting for the moments to pass, wondering when life would evolve, when I’d see progress. Sometimes things were so damn boring and uninspired in our little town. Mama told me to never allow restlessness to become a burden, because before I knew it, the tide would turn and a new season would be upon me. Sometimes, though, I couldn’t help feeling antsy.

  Morton, Alabama wasn’t known for much except a surplus of Baptist churches and Wednesday-night bingo matches after Bible study. The town and the people were sweet, all right, and I was damn lucky to live in a place where people knew your name. They had big hearts. Good people, they were. Hell, I grew up in one of those churches, and they did right by me, always teaching me about grace and whatnot. I like to think I have all they taught me about God figured out now, but the truth is, I’m not sure if I ever will. Did that make me less Christian than them? Was I one of the heathen they preached about on Sunday mornings? Because I didn’t interpret the Good Book the way they all seemed to?

  Hell if I knew.

  Daddy taught me to do the best I could to understand the gospel, to listen to my conscience and all that, and then leave the rest to God. Said it wasn’t for me to understand. Not all of it, anyway. He’d go on and on about how I needed to just accept that I’d never find all the answers I was looking for. Said if I ever did, he reckoned I wouldn’t like what I’d find, and no matter what answers I’d stumble across, they’d never be enough to satisfy my curiosity anyway.

  “Human,” he’d say. “That’s what you are darlin’, just human. God don’t expect you to have His all-knowing superpowers. Jus’ you let it be, now.”

  But for a girl like me with big dreams and bigger questions, Morton, Alabama was suffocating. I hated bingo, I figured looking for answers was better than not looking for them at all, and I was far from content just sittin’ on my behind waiting for something interesting to come along and get me outta this town.

  They always say if you stop looking for something, that’s usually when you find what you’re looking for. So it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to me when the Invaders finally made their way to our tiny town, arriving on a warm spring afternoon. They’d first sent our nation into mass hysteria, stationing themselves along the coasts and in harbor towns. That’s when Cooper, Riley, and other neighborhood pets started disappearing.

  Not long after, the sightings began around Morton, and that’s when we knew things were changing.

  We were an inland town, far from the Gulf or any ocean, and the Invaders seemed to like water. So they were starting to spread out, exploring even the most rural, isolated areas. We thought we’d lucked out at first, thinking they weren’t interested in coming to our neck of the woods.

  We were wrong.

  Optimism wasn’t in my favor when it came to a future in Morton. I remembered I’d just given up any hope of leaving this place. Dylan dumped me, I failed my first college exam—a true testament to my lack of interest—and I lost the last ten bucks in my bank account to an overdraft fee. Working at the town pet store wasn’t exactly ideal for raking in the cash. Every dollar meant something to me, and damn it, that ten-buck loss was a bitterness I’d taste for at least another month. I wanted to go to college to better my future, I did, but none of my classes seemed to hold my attention.

  When my parents’ screams rang from inside the house that balmy, sunny afternoon, I saw the first one, right there by the backyard shed, trampling through Mama’s garden. Tall, pale white, and decrepit, drippin’ with some kinda clear ooze, like it had been going for a swim in a pool of diluted Vaseline or somethin’. It stood on two feet, hunched over, with sunken-in eyelids, its eyes dark, glowing, gaping holes staring back at me. Extending its long, frail arm, it released a wheezing sound, and a small cloud of white emanated from its ghoulish mouth as if it was breathing cold air.

  The next thing I knew, its bizarrely graceful fingers splayed wide in the air, and a round, aqua-toned metal container shot forth, aimed directly at me. I stumbled backward over the garden bench, dodging it, and smashed into the back door. That metal container lodged tight to the left of my head, smack into the wall next to me. The creature released another one of those low wheezing sounds, and turned to reach for the latch on the shed. When it entered the shed, the back of its head was to me.

  My eyes darted to the left, burning holes into the piece of metal just inches from my ear, wondering what that thing would do. Explode maybe? Release some kind of toxic gas? I sure as hell didn’t want to find out. With one more quick look at the foreign intruder, I realized it was more interested in our shed than finishing whatever the metal device had failed to do. I slipped in through the back door.

  Tiptoeing into the hall, I ignored the terrifying fact that my parents’ screams had halted and reached up to the top cabinet on our cherry-brown china hutch, pulling out one of our Glocks. My fingers trembled as I checked the ammo and cocked the weapon. My shaky hands found the screen door latch and I stepped back outside, hoping the thing was still in the shed.

  Thank God, the back of its head was still facing me while it rummaged through our stuff. The shade from the shed surrounded the white skeleton-like form, leaving me mesmerized for a moment at the sight of its elegant, phantasmal shape. As quick as I observed this, its head snapped around to me and its wheezing sound morphed into a high-pitched screech. Its hand extended again, probably to launch another one of those metal cylinders at me.

  My reflex was lightning.

  Forcing my hand steady, I raised the gun, released a deep breath, and aimed and pulled the trigger, unloading a round into the creature’s head. The casings burned my knuckles; the pops deafened me. While I watched the intruder jerk and drop to the ground, a wave of thoughts swamped me.

  I did not have all the answers. I did not know if I’d d
eserved God’s grace or wrath, or what would become of me if I ever fled this town.

  But I did know how to shoot a gun.

  CHAPTER 1

  Darkness surrounded me, the smell of rust and metal burning my nose. A battery-powered lantern was propped on the table in the corner, illuminating the darkness with a weak, dim flicker; the ceiling above me pounded violently as mechanical, uniform stomps penetrated the earth above, making the hole in the ground where I was now, bound and gagged, a haunting and eerie grave-like cell. I imagined this was what it felt like to be buried alive.

  My breathing accelerated, my nostrils flaring while I struggled against the tape over my lips to scream. Something sliced into my wrists. Peering up through my bangs, I could make out the faint silhouette of my arms, shackled by chains above my head. I couldn’t be here. Couldn’t be on their territory, under their confinement. No.

  But from the looks and feel of it, I was.

  The Invaders had taken over most of the United States territory, and from what we could tell, moved in to claim our planet’s water source, which was already severely threatened. They’d lined up all along our coastal perimeters, creating barrier stations to mark and control their turf. Some said they came from the water, whatever that meant.

  We hadn’t figured out, or no one was willing to admit they knew about the Invaders’ weapons or what made them so superior to ours. They weren’t nuclear. People weren’t dying from radiation sickness. No, their weapons wielded power and technology that our military couldn’t even begin to understand, let alone conquer. Since the Invaders’ arrival, many humans had starved or died from dehydration and random violence, the lack of medical care and supplies, and pure desperation. Between looting, hoarding, and panic-driven consumption, we’d been our own worst enemies since they’d come to our planet. They didn’t have to exterminate us. We were taking care of that all on our own.