by E E Everly
SHATTERED
LOST EMRYS CHRONICLES
E.E. EVERLY
Shattered
Copyright © 2020 by E.E. Everly
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in book reviews and articles.
For information, email E.E. Everly.
[email protected]
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover by Covers by Juan
First edition 2020
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COMPLETE WORKS BY E.E. EVERLY
IN THE PORTALS UNIVERSE
THE EMRYS CHRONICLES
Consumed
Betrayed
Scorned
Romantic fantasy with immortal beings and dragons
FALLEN EMRYS CHRONICLES
Corrupted
Tortured (Coming Soon)
Haunted (Coming Soon)
Romantic fantasy with immortal beings and dragons
LOST EMRYS CHRONICLES
Shattered
Scourged (Coming Soon)
Burned (Coming Soon)
Urban fantasy pulled into an epic world of immortals
MY SUPERNATURAL BOYFRIEND
My Vampire
My Storm Sprite
Urban fantasy romance with supernatural bad boys
STANDALONE NOVELS
Heavy Without You
Contemporary romance with a saucy substitute
Switching Lives
Paranormal women’s fiction with a supernatural identity switch
A Novel Proposal
Contemporary romantic comedy with a novel approach
SHORT STORIES
Taming the Wolf
Scottish shifter romance
Rooftop Suitor
Historical romance with a steampunk flair
Hidden in Silence
Scottish romance with a bit of brogue
Kiss of Life
Gothic romance with a ghostly twist
Reflected Realms
Romantic fantasy with magical realms
End With a Kiss
The full short-story collection available exclusively to newsletter subscribers
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Shattered
Consumed
(A sneak-peek excerpt)
About the Author
ONE
My breath came in heavy huffs as my strides lengthened through the trees and my arms pumped.
I knew these woods. I was used to these woods. They were as familiar to me as the mole on my left forearm, but I didn’t usually race madly through them in the middle of the night, away from the safety of my rustic post and beam home.
How’d I get here?
I ducked under a branch, but others tore at my bare face and arms, and twigs snapped under my feet and caught in my loose flowing hair. My boy shorts and cami offered me no protection.
Why am I barefoot and practically naked?
I wasn’t on my usual trail.
The trail that led to the cliff.
After so many hikes in the woods over the past two years, I’d worn a trail to the edge. I knew exactly where the ground ended and the sky began.
I was pretty sure I was headed in that direction.
The trail would have been so much easier.
And less painful.
I tripped and stumbled but didn’t go down. “Oww!” Something jabbed the arch of my foot, but my feet continued to race each other in spite of my pain. I could scarcely see under the cover of the trees stretching and reaching toward each other, blocking out the moon.
How did I not run headlong into a trunk?
My lungs ached as urgency filled me. I must run faster.
Why?
I didn’t know.
I just had to run. This compulsion drove me as if my life depended on it.
I must be out of my mind.
Who wouldn’t be after living in a house in a forest on a crazy bluff?
The homes in my neighborhood were spaced far enough apart that neighbors couldn’t see each other through the trees, but the houses were there, lined up along the cliff. Albeit several hundred feet from the edge, but close enough to be called ill-advised, in my opinion. The likelihood of a child wandering through the woods and tumbling to his or her death was certain.
Which is what my fate would be if I didn’t stop.
As I charged ahead, my eyes leapt forward to where the ground fell away. An unstoppable urge pushed me even though certain death waited.
Stop, you idiot!
My chest tightened. I had no control over my body. “Stop! Stop!”
Three more feet to go.
Then zero.
I hurled myself over the edge.
No!
For a moment time was suspended, and the first memory of this place, the open house, popped into my head. “What sane person would want to live here?” I asked Mom after we toured the house and saw the cliff.
Apparently, we’d lost all sanity, because we’d bought it.
To our credit, it was a beautiful house.
My reality returned, and I kicked, midair, while my arms stretched out, frantically flapping at nothing. A cartoon flashed through my mind during this terrified instant—an image of how a character flailed before plummeting. My cheeks burned—my thoughts were so stupid. I tipped downward, to the world over the cliff’s edge, to lush trees and a rocky stream.
And my future—a broken, bloody corpse.
My auburn hair blew back, and my cami plastered against my breasts. If I was going to die, I might as well face it with courage. I pretended to be a bird—a hawk—scanning for the tiniest mouse below.
Death wouldn’t be so scary, then.
Fiery wings of light erupted from my back. I screeched as their brilliance cut through the darkness. They didn’t hurt. The wings didn’t cause the searing pain I would have expected.
I’m on fire!
But I wasn’t burning.
The wings fanned outward, over my arms, leaping from my body like solar flares, imitating the broad wings of the red-tailed hawk I was so familiar with. They weren’t actual wings. They seemed to be wings of energy. Light at least. Down and up they went. Were they real? How was this possible? My body defied the cold wind while heat overtook me—coming from somewhere inside me.
As I rose, the dark shape of stately evergreens and leafy branches pulled away, forcing a giddy squeal from me. Their fresh, sharp aroma filled my nostrils as if I’d stroked their branches.
I would live because I was flying!
No way!
Is this a dream?
I envisioned my little mouse below and wished to swoop down upon it, and to my surprise, I started into a dive.
Did I do that?
At the bottom of the gully, in the gloom of night, the stream, like a black and bubbling witch’s caldron, came into view. Before I crashed, I flapped my miraculous wings and soared higher,
much higher than the cliff.
Were my wings possible because I was pretending? They seemed to do as I wished. I didn’t have to put much thought into how to steer either.
How could wings of light support my body in flight? How did they grab the air and lift me?
What had I eaten before I went to bed?
This is the best dream ever!
At least I didn’t have to worry about crushing every bone in my body when I crashed.
Much delighted with my triumph, I circled the sky. If this was a dream, I didn’t want it to end. Where could I fly? Perhaps the ocean. I had been at the ocean only a couple of weeks ago while visiting my aunt.
I made my mind up and executed another lap on an invisible breezeway in the sky. The trip might take a few hours, but my heart thrilled from the thought.
I glided east. The flight would be in darkness, but the moon was bright, already risen on its path.
As a hawk, a strong predator, I felt untouchable. For once in my life, I wasn’t a victim.
That feeling shattered when, several hundred yards ahead, a band of approaching fire surged fear through my veins. Instead of retreating, I hovered, staring at what could have only been flaming bat wings, or dragon wings? A magic like my own? To my surprise, the wings were attached to a man—
Who was flying straight at me!
Eep!
He continued toward me, not veering to the side.
What do you think you’re doing, dragon boy?
Stop! Hit the brakes. My arms refused to listen. Instead, they rose with my flaming wings. I kicked my legs, thinking to backpedal. Who was I kidding? I had nothing to push against.
“Look out!” I screamed at the dragon boy who, like a fool, kept coming.
His features became more and more clear in the light of his wings, strong shoulders and a muscled chest that I could not look away from until it was way too late to change course.
But I couldn’t have changed directions if I wanted to. The same force that had urged me to jump demanded that I continue forward.
I was no longer sure this was a dream. My shock and terror, too real. My pulse racing. Sweat beading out all over my body.
He wasn’t stopping.
I wasn’t moving.
Anerah, do something! I screamed to myself.
I couldn’t make my body respond, not as I had done earlier while doing loops in the sky… before I met this godlike being on a collision course with me.
He was angelic. It struck me with annoyance that I was so fixated on him when we were about to crash. His perfect physique was too flawless to be human.
That’s when it dawned on me.
I’d jumped over a cliff.
I’d fallen to my death, right?
My flight, as amazing as it was, had to be a way of easing my passing into death.
I groaned inside.
Dragon boy was coming for me! His arms opened wide. Was he an angel of death? A ferocious, but heavenly personage here to greet me after my certain demise?
“Oh no you don’t!” I yelled.
I flapped my arms—my wings.
I moved forward instead of turning away.
“No!” I was not in control.
Had I ever been? Was this entire thing an illusion?
I had not thrown myself from the cliff. That was not something I would do.
Dragon boy was so close. We had seconds until impact, and we were both advancing. His face contorted—with regret?
This is your fault, angel dragon boy.
I screamed but couldn’t lift my hands to protect my face.
And then we collided.
TWO
Dragon boy’s sharp exhale met my ears as his arms wrapped around me.
I sucked in a pained breath, sure my body would be bruised.
Our wings disappeared, just snapped out of existence.
We were but two bodies entwined in the sky.
I threw my arms around him, as if on impulse, one over his shoulder, the other under his arm. I had control again! My holding on to him would be of no help though, until I was on solid ground, because what would hold us up now?
I squeezed my eyes shut, prepared to fall. “I don’t want to die.”
The scent of oranges and cloves hit me. How odd. They reminded me of wintertime as a little girl—when Dad was still Dad, and Mom was still happy to be with Dad, and we had poked holes into oranges with the pungent spice. It was a happy time.
I am dead, then. Death had brought the return of my favorite smells.
I didn’t have to fear falling. I didn’t have to fear what would happen next.
It was out of my hands. Hadn’t this night shown me that already?
I laughed. How could this be a dream, because when in my dreams had I ever envisioned such an odd heavenly being?
Then I felt it, that same sensation before the drop—the sense of hovering in the air, free from everything, except now I was in a firm embrace. It gave me a sense of safety, and I knew I’d be protected. Death did not hold fear for me, but it never did, and not if it met me with open arms.
I shut my eyes tight and clutched the angel. Maybe we were going up, because shouldn’t we be falling?
I laughed with relief. I would be okay.
“This is no laughing matter,” the angel said—with something of an English accent.
I flinched. What? A British angel? I laughed, delirious with relief. I guessed angels could have any accent they wanted. Why not?
Our bodies turned slowly, pitching, leaning, suspended. I was at the peak of a roller coaster, holding, waiting for that drop. I always hated those last few seconds.
Wait a minute! Drop? Shouldn’t we be going up—up into the heavens?
I am going to hell.
“No! Let me go!” I pushed against him, but he held me tight.
Then we plummeted—head first.
My stomach soared into my feet.
I didn’t scream. I was beyond petrified.
The man’s orange wings of flame must have meant he wasn’t an angel.
He was a demon.
And I was headed to a place filled with fire and brimstone. What had I done in my life that was so horrible? No wonder this was no laughing matter. Going to hell was not funny.
Had my jump been mistaken for suicide? I had been told once that if I took my life, I’d burn in hell for all eternity.
I flailed in his arms. I tensed and fought him.
“This is a mistake. I didn’t jump!” I kicked, trying to break contact. Let me fly to the ocean. I was flying to the ocean! I didn’t jump!
We rotated so my body was beneath his and still pressed against his chest. I no longer saw the ground. Just as well, I didn’t want to see it before crashing. Would it hurt? I was already dead, right?
We picked up speed.
No! “I’m not dead! I didn’t hit the ground. You can’t take me!” Maybe we’d move straight through the ground and into the underworld, if that’s where hell was.
His wings of flame returned, blinding my sight as I peeked over his shoulders. My eyebrows had not scorched off as I’d expected. I felt only a gentle heat.
How did he have control? I squinted my eyes and willed my wings to unfurl, but they refused to return. They had to still be in me somehow. Open!
They did not.
The demon dragon boy kept his arms tight around me. His wings worked remarkably well without using his arms. He tucked his face into my shoulder and whispered in my ear. “Do not fear. I have you, Daughter of Light. You are safe with me.”
What? Daughter of what now? How come he didn’t laugh at me? He, the devil’s minion, comforting me? Was I going to heaven or hell? Am I dead or alive?
This is a complete and utter dream. No other way to explain it. I never ran outside, never ran through the forest, and I certainly would never throw myself over a cliff. Have a little sense. No matter what troubles I’ve encountered in my life, I’ve never wanted to end it.
<
br /> The pounding in my chest subsided. All the exhilaration enveloped me in weariness. Would I drift to sleep in his arms to suddenly wake up in my bed?
The reality of his crushing grip around my ribs kept me grounded. His arms were as bare as mine, and his muscles well cut. He was tense. Did he have to fight for control? I touched his upper arm and ran my hand to his shoulder. He was super tense. Was he scared or just working his muscles for control?
A sense of fear pulsed in my veins, but something told me the emotion wasn’t my own. It clawed at me from my angel.
I gasped, overwhelmed. The emotion wasn’t entirely fear; it was confusion or powerlessness.
I pinched my eyes shut and burrowed into my angel’s chest. He had control. He was controlling our descent. Why does he fear?
He glided into the gully and soared over the winding stream. I relaxed, relieved the drop was over. My stomach settled. I smelled the woodiness of the trees and the dampness of the earth. I heard the trickling of the stream over the rocks.
His landing was graceful—otherworldly beings would be graceful.
His wings disappeared, and he held me to his heart before gently setting my own two feet on soft moss.
We looked into each other’s eyes. His were green—what I might call emerald. How could I make out the depth of their color in the dark? It was simple; he was glowing. A faint light seeped out of his skin, and the whites of his eyes were like a church’s stained glass illuminated by the sun.
I was dead. And he was an angel.
“Am I in heaven?” I felt ridiculous asking this question. Shouldn’t I know if I were?
He smiled, revealing straight teeth and cherubic cheeks. “This heaven I do not know of, but you are safe.”
“So I’m not dead.”
“If you’re dead, then I am also.” He squeezed me. Why did he still hold me in an embrace?
“So you’re not an angel. Then this is a dream.”
