The Traitor's Crux (The Dark Powers Book 1)
Page 22
PRESIDENT REED
I CAN HEAR THE SOUNDS of the people through the White House walls like a steady roar. Undying, is their love for me. A hero, they think me to be. It’s so simple—a few passionate words, a caring smile, and the Father of the nation has them eating from the palm of his hand.
“Are you ready for your return from death, Mr. President?”
Emily Coria stands behind me, a mixture of her two children. Her son’s eyes, her daughter’s worried mouth. She adjusts my tie with bird-like hands, glancing at me with moony eyes, just like all my admirers. I clear my throat, “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“And how are you feeling?” she asks hesitantly.
“For rising from the dead, you mean? I’ll be fine, Emily. You and Ms. Creston did a marvelous job. Where is she, by the way?”
“Right there,” says Emily with a smile. Harlow Creston slinks into the room with the poise of a dancer and the deadliness of a wolf. Her stony blue eyes immediately fly to Emily for direction.
“Harlow, you look marvelous,” Emily raves, pinching the girl’s cheeks for color. I think to myself that if it were the old Harlow Creston, her fist would already be slamming into Emily’s nose for even touching her. But this… this is the new Harlow. The improved one, a ghost of a girl who once was. I had my doubts when Emily showed me the spell. The girl put up a fight at first, but it wasn’t enough. We catch her sometimes in glimpses—she tries to resist, but Emily is quick to beat her back into submission. All these years, all the time wasted trying to destroy her, and this is what’s done her in. She’s nothing but a puppet, a weapon.
A living, breathing, mindless weapon.
“Are you ready, Ms. Creston?” I hold out my arm for her to grab. She takes her place at my side, fingers curling around my inner elbow and replies with a robotic, “Yes, Mr. President.”
Cameras flash and the crowd screams outside as the guards reach for the doors. “I look forward to our alliance, Ms. Creston.”
She sets her pale eyes on my face, cruel and dark. “Me too, Mr. President.”
And so, we step out on the balcony, and I rise from the ashes like a phoenix.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Where to even begin? This little dream of mine is only possible because of the amazing support system behind it.
First and foremost, a very large thank you to my family, for their endless love and support. To mom, for being my biggest cheerleader since day one. To dad, for teaching me the value of hard-work and a love of learning. To Jace, for all the bad jokes and brotherly love. To my grandparents: Lyle, my partner-in-crime and fellow trouble-maker. I’ll never forget our adventures; Diane, who has inspired these stories since day one; and Mary-Ann, one of the strongest women I know. I can’t name everyone (I wish I could), but I love you all so much. Your support means the world to me.
Mitch, Katlyn, Nicole, Mallory, Dawn, and everyone else that read the crappy first drafts of Traitor’s without judgement: THANK YOU. Your feedback, advice, and encouragement made such a difference.
Riley: you’re the truest of friends, the Tess to my Delia. Thank you for always being there.
To everyone at Oftomes Publishing, particularly: my editors, Jill and Xina, for the late nights and endless patience. For helping this novel grow. Chris and Claire, for formatting and designing this book. Tara Spruit, the amazing artist behind the cover. All the other authors, for the friendship, laughter, and insight you’ve provided. And Ben, for your boundless enthusiasm and dedication to this project. Words can’t express how grateful I am for you.