by Coralee June
"Well," Gavriel began, cracking his knuckles. "I suggest we kill the motherfucker."
Also by CoraLee June
The Walker Series
From the age of three, all I’ve known is Stonewell Manor, home of the prominent political figure, Josiah Stonewell. Josiah and I were once close companions, but as we grew older, our stations in life demanded distance.
You see, I am a Walker: a survivor of a deadly virus that wiped away a large portion of the population, and my immunity allows me to be fortunate enough to serve the prestigious Stonewell household. I am a cook, servant, and general housemaid, but my life is content.
My every waking moment is lived for Josiah, his praise, his sighs, his nearness. I don’t know the exact moment I fell in love with him, but I do know that if anyone found out about our lingering stares, it would end his political career.
When Cyler Black and his beautiful sister come to visit Stonewell Manor, I find myself squinting down the barrel of heartbreak. Cyler offers me a chance at freedom in a new home where he and six other male leaders live. Choices will be made, goodbyes will be said, and the world I thought I knew, changes. But the biggest choice of all is deciding on what my heart wants.
Wings of the Walker
Preview
Josiah Stonewell consumed my every waking thought. I knew how he liked his coffee. How he preferred the summer heat to the chill of winter. I could predict his actions based upon the way his nose wrinkled while reading the morning news. I had a borderline obsession with a man I could never have. Josiah Stonewell was not only the love of my life, he was also my holder.
It was a chilly morning despite the summer season. I placed a breakfast plate in front of Josiah and covertly admired the way the sunlight danced along his blond hair. I noticed grey circles beneath his bright-blue eyes and bit my tongue to hold back the concern that practically poured out of me.
I couldn’t help but worry that he was pushing himself too hard lately. Taking over his father’s job was out of character for the artistic boy I knew well, and each day pushed him farther and farther into the cynical beliefs of the capital. I could sense that the corruptions of the Galla Providence left him feeling drained and depressed.
“Thank you for breakfast, Ashleigh,” he said in a sleepy voice that made my stomach clench. Its thick and gravelly tone was delicious. I wanted to dive right in and take a bite. No matter what Josiah did, I couldn’t help but want him. My addiction was both dangerous and heavenly.
“You’re welcome, Josiah,” I replied sweetly.
“That’s Master Stonewell to you,” said a proper and high-pitched voice that filled the finely-furnished dining room.
Josiah’s mother, Linda Stonewell, was a nasty combination of distinguished and prideful. Although I will forever be thankful that she procured me when I was orphaned as a young girl, she consistently reminded me of my place in the Stonewell household. I was an attendant in their home, or as commonly called in our society, a Walker.
Josiah smiled at me, causing my cheeks to blush a ruddy hue. We’ve known each other almost our entire lives, and sometimes it was difficult to remember that he was my holder. We spent the majority of our childhood together, sharing secrets and secluding ourselves from the world. Despite our drastic, socioeconomic differences, we were kindred souls.
I was procured at the age of three, but it wasn’t until I turned seven that Mistress Stonewell demanded that I refer to Josiah as ‘Master Stonewell.’ She saw our friendship as a threat to his wellbeing and placed a respectable amount of distance between us. She sought out every opportunity to brand me with the Walker status. I received the highest training in cooking and household management while enduring her outrageous demands.
The life of a Walker was exhausting, but I looked forward to the evenings. After I spent my day scrubbing floors and cooking their meals, Josiah would sneak into my small room and gift me with a glimpse into what our life would be like if I weren’t a Walker. Although we maintained a platonic relationship, the tension between us increased daily.
“I apologize, Mistress Stonewell,” I answered.
She smoothed her floor-length, crimson dress and sipped her breakfast tea with indignation. Her bright-plum lipstick and perfectly-styled hair gave the illusion that she was well put together, but I knew better. She was hanging by a thread. The entire house was.
The Stonewell Family was well-known for their influence in politics and trade. Generations of Stonewells lobbied for various laws still in place today, they also negotiated numerous alliances with neighboring Providences, securing our position as a wealthy and flourishing city-state. Almost every regulation and trade deal in existence within the Galla Providence was either crafted or signed by a Stonewell.
Before his death last year, Master Stonewell Sr. (Josiah’s Dad) was working his way up the Empirical ladder. He was projected to claim the next empty congressional seat for the entire Confederation of Dasos, but his untimely death left the family struggling to keep up with his shady, gambling debts and failing trade deals.
Josiah took his place as Governor of the Galla Providence, but he was unhappy. The violin he used to play for me—in secret—sat covered in dust at the bottom of his closet, and each day I noticed a broader slump in his shoulders.
“Ashleigh, we need to discuss a few things before you begin your daily chores,” Mistress Stonewell said while motioning for me to sit. I kneeled at her feet and bowed my head submissively while she scrolled idly on her tablet. She liked scanning the socialite and gossip columns so she could be up to date on the most recent scandals at mid-morning tea with her friends.
“We have an essential family coming to stay with us for a few days,” she said before sipping her tea.
I noticed the wide grin that encompassed her face and revealed her brightly-bleached teeth. She was excited about this visit.
“Josiah,” she continued, “is working on procuring a very lucrative, trade deal between our Providences, and it is imperative that this visit goes well.”
There were fifteen different Providences within the empire, each making up the Confederation of Dasos. Each Providence had its laws and ways of running things, but the empire governed all trade between them. Josiah was in charge of one of the largest and most wealthy Providences in the entire realm.
The Empire Capital was at the center, and each Providence surrounded it. The further away you were from the capital, the more at risk you were from attack by scavengers. It was a confusing web of alliances and trade deals.
I briefly wondered why Josiah wasn’t the one telling me this, but quickly reminded myself that it was because, ultimately, Mistress Stonewell controlled the house. She relished feeling powerful and wasn’t afraid to use her son, or late husband, as a pawn.
“Master Black and his sister are to be treated with the utmost care. I want this house to be spotless before their arrival. I also want you to prepare only the finest meals available. Spare no expense.”
I had access to the budget, as I regularly referenced it when meal planning, I wasn’t quite sure how she wanted me to spend money we simply didn’t have.
“Also, I think we should convert the basement into your permanent, living quarters. It has direct access to the kitchen, which I find to be more appropriate and convenient for your role here. Please be completely moved in by this evening—that is all.”
I had my reservations and fears regarding the basement but knew that arguing would be useless. It was hot and muggy in the summer and unbearably cold in the winter. Not to mention, the shadows that danced in the basement’s darkness haunted me in ways I couldn’t explain.
“Yes, Mistress Stonewell,” I replied with artificial respect. The damp and dismal basement was intimidating, and the thought of spending my nights in its scary embrace made me tremble. My current room was an oversized-storage closet located on the main floor, but I found it to be comfortable and warm during the winter.
I cleared their plates and stole a
quick glance at Josiah, wondering what he thought of this new arrangement. Although our eyes met, a stiff smile answered me back. He apparently had no say in the whims of his mother. Honestly, he had no say in anything–not if he didn’t want to become a Walker like me.
It wasn’t always this way. The divide between Walkers and the Elite began decades ago when Influenza X came into existence. It was a deadly virus that spread like wildfire through our communities. Although a small handful of the population was naturally immune, entire cities still crumbled as it infected those within its path. The disease caused its victims to burn white-hot and collect painful blisters all over their body.
What made the virus so deadly, was that the infected were compelled to walk the streets in fevered confusion, sometimes in a rough and violent state of mind before slipping away into death. It made containing the disease near impossible because the Walkers infected everyone in their path.
A scientist created a vaccine in the Galla Providence, but the cure came at a steep cost, thus causing a great divide between those that could afford to live and those that could not. As a result, those that couldn’t afford the vaccine were forced to migrate into concentrated areas of sickness and poverty now known as the Walker Zones, where I was born.
Walkers have since developed drastic ways to prevent the spreading of Influenza X throughout the Walker Zones. At the first sign of infection, a Walker is killed, and their home burned down. Some mornings I could look out the kitchen window to see smoke billowing in the distance, indicating that another infected person was dead.
I escaped into the kitchen after breakfast to begin my chores and menu-planning for the upcoming visit. While I washed the dishes, I heard Mistress Stonewell announce that she was leaving for her morning walk, and shortly after, I heard the slamming of the steel, front door, Josiah wandered into the kitchen. Over the years, I learned to treasure the few times Mistress Stonewell left the house because it was in those precious moments that the boy I once knew and loved came out.
“You hate that fucking basement,” he said while looking down at his boots that I had polished the night before. He ran a hand through his parted blond locks and adjusted his glasses. His eyes scanned side to side, and I assumed that a stream of messages and updates appeared before his eyes.
“I don’t have a choice, Jo.” I shrugged and continued to wash dishes. I only used the nickname I gave him as a child when we were alone.
He walked around the steel, kitchen island and approached from behind while my hands scrubbed dishes in the soapy water. I craved being near him, and each step he made gave me goosebumps.
He brushed one of my golden-brown, curly strands behind my neck and winced when he saw the ear tag clipped to the ridge of my ear, marking me as an owned Walker.
“I’ll buy you a small light on my way home. They even have some that project stars on the ceiling. Do you remember counting stars with me, Ash?” he asked softly while still standing close. I could feel his hot breath against my neck, and I fought the urge to lean back against his muscular chest. Aside from the lingering stares and occasional flirtatious touch, he was a Stonewell, and I was a Walker. An invisible barrier of society would always be between us.
“I remember everything, Josiah.” I sighed.
“Me, too,” he answered with a sigh. He then rolled his eyes at another message that flashed across his glasses and groaned. Our little moments together were always cut short.
I dried my hands off and grabbed the lunch tin I’d prepared for him early this morning. It was a beautiful day outside, so I assumed he would want to take a walk at the local pond, therefore, I’d made him something easy to hold. I was always thinking of the little details where Josiah was concerned.
I helped him into his button-up coat, and my hands lingered on his shoulders to dust off the nonexistent lint. We followed this routine every morning. A friendly gesture that acted like an imaginary dam between what was expected of us and what we truly wanted to do. It was in this little moment every morning that I allowed myself the fleeting pleasure of touching his broad shoulders.
Before walking out the door of the kitchen, he turned to face me. “I wanted to warn you. The Black family isn’t known for their civilized practices. Their Providence follows the old laws of our people, and unless you are serving us, I would appreciate it if you kept your distance from them.” Josiah then gave me a look of protective determination that made my knees weak.
I had heard rumors of those that followed the old laws. They were considered primitive and fierce. “I’ll keep to myself,” I promised. Josiah rewarded me with one of his rare, earth-shattering smiles that made me tingle all the way down to my toes.
Sometimes I wondered if Josiah felt anything for me outside of familial obligation and brotherly friendship, but every day before walking out the steel door of the Stonewall dwelling, he looked back at me with longing eyes, and I knew this affection, this want, wasn’t one-sided.
Acknowledgments
This book would not have been possible without the support of my dear friends, Denise, Savannah, Claire, and of course, Madison. You can thank Denise for the shotgunning scene at Chesterbrook High.
Also, I am especially indebted to my author tribe. They not only encourage me to work hard, but inspire me to be a better writer.
I am grateful to all of those with whom I have had the pleasure to work with during this book. I’d like to especially recognize my editor, Helayna Trask. She poured hours of tough love and attention into my manuscript. I would also like to thank all the members of CJ’s Elite and The Walker Zone.
Nobody has been more important to me in the pursuit of this series than the members of my family. I would like to thank my parents, whose love and guidance are with me in whatever I pursue. Most importantly, I wish to thank my loving and supportive husband, Joshua, and my two wonderful children. Everything I do is for them. Everything.
About the Author
I’ve always been passionate about storytelling and impressed by the influence it has on people. I love engaging with the projects I work on, diving headfirst into developing real, raw, and relatable characters.
I like flawed and beautiful things.
I’m an English Major from Texas State University and my wild affair with literature began at a young age. I’ve always stayed up way past my bedtime to read the stories your mother wouldn’t approve of.
I love angst. I love to crack open a book and borrow the character’s emotions for a bit. It’s how I approach writing, too.
I live in Dallas, Tx with my husband and two beautiful, headstrong daughters. I enjoy long walks through the ice cream aisle at my local grocery store and listening to gangster rap in my minivan.
For more information about me, and my upcoming releases, please visit my website at:
www.authorcoraleejune.com
