I slam the door and stalk to my vanity table.
Time to put on my face for strangers.
*
I arrive promptly, the bronze dress a perfect complement to my coloring. I know how it looks in all lighting. Kiki encouraged me to pay attention to detail, and I stay the course.
Hardest path of my life.
I strut inside, not feeling like myself after Mick's frontal assault. I haven't felt alive in so long that I feel as if I'm dying piece by piece as I move deeper into the underbelly of the newest venue.
I walk with a false seduction toward the knot of men like I always do, but a man I've never seen intercepts me.
“Miss Faren?” He cocks a brow in question.
I nod, glancing nervously about me.
“You’re the auction tonight,” he says.
I blink stupidly, and he smiles, all teeth and condescension. A rolling hot lump moves through me.
“Here's how it works,” he begins, taking my elbow as he scans my outfit. He gives a slight nod of approval, and I adjust my mask. “You go behind those curtains there”—he indicates ceiling-to-floor velvet drapes in a deep scarlet. “and come out when the bell chimes. Walk the entire length of the floor, come to that center, spin.” He does a little pirouette, and I fight a surge of nausea through sheer grit. “Then continue back from where you entered.”
I’m a piece of flesh to be chosen by one of the men tonight. A random dancer selected like a prize, my humanity forgotten in the discarded pile of hundreds before me.
“Faren,” he gives me a significant look, “the winner might pay quite a bit to have you crawl onto his lap.”
I cast my eyes at my feet so he doesn't see the sick anger swimming in them. “How much?” I ask to the ground.
“I have seen some prices go as high as ten.”
I meet his eyes, so filled with greed I can't make out the color. He takes my silence for acceptance.
“Good.” He smiles at me, and I just stare. He moves nearer and I fight not to move away.
“Now move that hot ass to the stage.”
I feel him leer at said ass as I move away. I don't blink so the tears won't fall.
~ 13 ~
The lights are too bright for me to see the shadowed faces of the men.
I make out the white bidding paddles easily. I step onto the stage, and the curtains whisper open. The velvet makes a sinister slithering sound as it drags across the floor, widening the crack I look through.
I stroll across the mock stage, and the whispers stop.
I turn, and I feel the eye-molestation of the all-male crowd.
I walk back and try not to cave to my desire to run and never stop.
The curtains close, and the shouts and bidding begin.
The horrible auctioneer goes on and on as I wait for the winner in the cramped space between the hall and the stage.
Finally the gavel sounds, the stern echo final and unforgiving.
A security guard comes for me as if I would run off and leave the money.
I think about it.
In the end, I hear the amount the winner promised. I walk down the hall to the room I always dance in. Different building, same rooms. All with peeling, elegant wallpaper like memories of a time when there was hope. The rooms weep their sins all around me.
I move through the door and walk to the damning chair.
I don't turn when the door opens and shuts behind me. I wait until the unknown man makes the first comment. That’s what I always do.
Then his voice paralyzes me, my every nerve ending singing with adrenaline.
I can't turn. I'm rooted to the spot. My heart beats a jagged rhythm of fear.
“Well hello, Faren,” he says, and I turn.
It's better to face the nightmare than hide from the monster underneath my bed.
My hands grip the back of the chair, the only safeguard between us.
“I've been waiting for this for a long time,” my stepfather says like the predator he is.
My mother’s murderer.
“I know.”
I see the tunnel of my escape narrow to a pinpoint of light.
Then disappear.
Instead of thoughts of escape, I have only one thought. It fills my mind, pressing every empty space in my skull until I think it'll explode.
As despair chokes me, I think only of him.
Mick.
The End
Read More
BLOOD SINGERS
A Blood Series Novel
Book 1
New York Times Bestselling Author
TAMARA ROSE BLODGETT
All Rights Reserved.
Copyright © 2007-12 Tamara Rose Blodgett
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
www.tamararoseblodgett.com
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Edited suggestions provided by Red Adept Editing.
Cover Design: Claudia McKinney
Photographs: DepositPhotos
Photography: Oleg Gekman
Once they had eliminated the impossible, whatever remained, however improbable, must be the truth.
~Sherlock Holmes
Prologue
Julia pressed her nose to the glass, the trees a sea of green as they rushed outside her window, her momma and daddy's voices a low and pleasant drone from the front seat.
She hated the belt, it pressed across her neck in an uncomfortable place, itchy and suffocating.
“Momma,” Julia whined plaintively.
Her mother's chocolate eyes appeared over the front seat, such a contrast to the auburn hair held in her customary pony tail.
“What is it?”
Julia worked her small finger under the belt and said, “I hate, HATE this stupid strap! I want to take it off!” Julia crossed her arms, huffing.
Momma sighed, unlatching her belt as she turned in the front seat to adjust the neck restraint portion of Julia's seatbelt. As Momma got nearer Julia smelled the special perfume that she wore. At once Momma's scent assaulted her where it intimately combined with the perfume she always wore.
Daddy said from the front, “Amber, sit back down. The belt's latched, she's just going to have to deal with it for another ten minutes.”
Julia's eyes narrowed to slits. Daddy was so stubborn. His belt didn't bite into his neck! 'Cuz he was a Big Man! Ugh... Julia fumed.
Momma smiled and began to turn and Julia saw Daddy's face in profile, watching to make sure she sat down safely.
He only took his eyes off the road for a moment.
It was enough.
Julia saw twin beads of light bear down on their car as an impossibly large grill came to eat them, the chrome winking in the late afternoon light.
Daddy made a correction to the right but that threw Momma on top of him, imprisoning their bodies in a macabre dance, the steering wheel sandwiching them together.
As if in slow motion Julia saw her mother's face as Amber looked at her father.
The knowledge of their impending death appeared on their faces like an unspoken promise.
Julia screamed as the truck slammed into the car and the belt that she hated so much whipped against her neck and slammed her against the back seat with such force that the breath left her small body.
She watched her parents crushed together in a final embrace.
The metal colliding was an earthquake in her ears and something wet and warm hit her face. She opened her eyes and her parents were... everywhere, their blood like a blanket that coated her face and hair.
Her
brain howled, refusing to accept what was happening. Her vision clouded. Her neck and head throbbed and her lungs were a burning inferno with the need to scream.
The last thing she remembered was her mother's hair entwined in the steering wheel like so much spun copper.
#
CHAPTER 1
Ten Years Later
Julia stuffed her wool cap down more firmly on her head and waded through the icy puddles on the way to her 1977 Chevy Blazer. Fall had edged into early winter and the dampness of the rain had solidified into a dangerous sheet of ice.
Julia had known better and instead of wearing the latest Ugg fashion boots she'd slogged on her XtraTufs. They had an unparalleled ugliness but did the job. She might keep her ass in the air instead of pegged on an ice puddle by wearing her trusty boots. She threw her backpack over one shoulder and balanced a steaming cup of coffee in the other hand. She'd lied through her teeth about the contents to Aunt Lily, who seemed to think caffeine was the devil's drink. Julia smiled at that. She thought she was done growing and besides, coffee was a mainstay of Alaskan existence. She shuffled to the driver's side and gripped the handle. Then her feet lost some of their purchase and she slid to the right, her coffee sloshing out of the slit on the travel mug.
“Shit!” Julia said, as a couple of hot drops landed on her wrist, scalding her.
Grappling with the handle she jerked the door open and threw her palm on the driver's seat, steadying herself until she could heave her backpack inside.
But her breath stilled in her lungs when she saw what waited for her.
A single rose, its tremulous form in a beautiful, ethereal tangerine color lay inches from where her reddened and chapped hand had slapped down.
She'd almost destroyed it while saving her sliding butt from falling.
A smile stole over her face and she carefully put her travel mug in the cup holder between the seats and picked up the flower.
No note.
But she knew who had laid it there.
Her fiancé, Jason. Actually, it was a secret. Lily would have ten different kinds of cows if she knew how serious they were.
She looked around, her breath coming in white puffs in the crisp air. The snow having not committed itself to falling yet, the promise still hung there in the air. It would be like him, Julia thought, to pop up and grab her from behind, twirling her around just as she discovered his present.
But he wasn't there.
Huh, she turned the keys and jacked up the heat all the way. Five minutes and she'd hit the road, head to Homer High. She was spoiled. Usually Jason picked her up but today she had to head over to the DMV and get a stupid emissions test. It was amazing they even allowed her to drive her gas-guzzling truck. She sighed. Soon, she'd be with Jason.
*
school
Julia tore off her multi-colored itchy hat as she waltzed into the school. The familiar smell of kids, books, lunch and all the other school fragrances wafting across the air, the chill of late fall left outside the doors.
She fluffed her champagne-colored hair, hoping to eradicate the hat head she'd tagged herself with on the way over.
“Hey, bestie!” Cynthia cried.
Julia laughed, like she hadn't just spent all day and a night last weekend with Cyn? She acted like they'd been separated for months.
“Hey Cyn,” Julia said slowing, letting her catch up.
As usual, Cyn was dressed to the nines. High heels, ridiculously tight-ass pants and the latest, off-the-shoulder top with a crazy zebra pattern. It made Julia dizzy looking at it.
“What?” Cynthia looked at Julia's face.
“Your top, it's like some kind of optical illusion or something.”
“I know, right? It's hot-hot-hot,” she snapped her fingers after each word for emphasis. Julia rolled her eyes, there was no cure for her Fashion Awareness.
Julia considered herself Fashion Challenged. Yessiree. Irrefutably. Getting everything to match and be comfortable was of utmost importance.
Of course, once Julia mentioned Cyn's shirt, then she was honor bound to give Julia the once-over. Scanned from the top of her head she had almost escaped the wrath when Cynthia's gaze landed like a lead weight on her boots.
“Argh!” she shrieked in horror. “You wore your Tufs to school again! And don't give me any of that horse shit about how we're seniors and absolved of everything,” she rolled her eyes dramatically, “fashion is the exception. And those,” she waggled her fingers at Julia's offending footwear, “are for...for...”
“Gardening only,” Jason interjected smoothly, his arm sliding around Julia's waist. He'd heard the XtraTufs speech before.
“Don't you defend her either!” Cynthia lambasted him and Jason, all mock innocence said, “Who me?” his hand to his chest.
Cynthia's eyes narrowed to slits. “You're no help, Jason Caldwell, she could wear a shapeless sack over her whole body and you'd still think she was gorgeous.”
“Guilty,” he said, his forehead dipping to peck Julia's head, still fuzzy from the hat.
Julia leaned back against his chest, her head tucking comfortably underneath his chin and sighed. This is where she'd wanted to be from the moment she opened her eyes. Against him, soaking up his warmth. Letting it seep into her bones and chase the coldness of the morning away.
Cyn snapped her fingers in front of Julia's face, “snap out of it Jules!”
Jason laughed, Julia was known to mentally wander. It was becoming an annoying theme lately.
“What? Cranky witch!” Julia teased, taking a swipe at Cyn with her woolen hat.
She ducked smoothly, accustomed to Julia's abuse. “Okay... so, did you get that English paper done we started on Friday?”
Julia dug around in her backpack until she found a crumpled piece of paper at the bottom and turning, she slapped it against her locker, smoothing it with her other hand. Jason's big hand was a warm presence on her shoulder, kneading it softly.
“Are you kidding? Terrell will never accept that mess,” Cynthia said, throwing out one hip and putting a hand on the jutting point.
Julia shrugged a shoulder. “It's a rough draft. Besides, keeping the standard low like I do assures me gravy when I turn something in.”
Julia smiled at her awesome logic. School just didn't appeal. It was something she survived until she could graduate. It was Jason that was going to University of Alaska Anchorage. He was set with a full ride.
Mr. Basketball. Julia turned to look at him and wondered for the millionth time why he'd want her. He was so gorgeous and she was so... her. It didn't matter that Cyn thought she was pretty. Whatever. Cyn was her BFF, that's what they do, cheerlead.
Julia still didn't have A Plan. She knew she couldn't wait to get out of Aunt Lily's place and begin a life with Jason.
Cynthia gave an elaborate roll of her eyes and caved, saying, “You can try all your down home weasel-like charm on Terrell while Jason and I turn in real papers. Unwrinkled papers.” She cocked her brows up to her hairline and looping her arm through Julia's, she dragged her to block one.
The Dreaded Language Arts. Everyone knew there was nothing artful about it. Jason laughed as they trudged to class, Julia's arms linked with theirs.
CHAPTER 2
After Jason
Julia's chin touched her chest, lank strands of hair swirling around, her arms jerked up and chained above her head. Her hands had lost feeling hours ago. A cloak of numbness stole over her body and her mind screamed, her body aching for food.
But she'd be damned if she'd take it from her captors.
The Murderers.
The creature came to her, his teeth gleaming in the low light of where they kept her.
She looked at him, her eyelids at half-mast, as piercing silvery irises bored into her gaze. Julia felt the weight of their desire fill her mind, pressing without mercy against the fragility that was there.
Forcing his will.
“You must eat, Julia. You will eat,�
�� he said in a fierce whisper.
“Why don't you... Go. To. Hell!” she rasped, as loud as she could. Weakened by lack of food, her voice held all the emotion that she couldn't scream, buried in the air grown pregnant with contained frustration and violence.
Violence against her.
“Let me convince her,” the one named Pierce said, his stare covering her body like decaying liquid.
The leader, William, turned and stood in one fluid movement. “I have seen your methods with other Blood Singers. We will not use that here, with this one.”
Pierce smirked. “You grow attached. She is a vehicle for our needs, nothing more. She is human.”
William took Pierce by the collar of the shirt he wore and dragged their faces together until they nearly met. “She is much more than that. What if she is The One? Look at the sign upon her head.” He shook Pierce in disgust and pushed him away. Pierce reared back and opened his mouth and something burst from the flesh as he hissed his displeasure.
Fangs.
Julia swallowed. She felt like she was in a nightmare she couldn't escape from. She protected herself by dwelling in her memory bank. It was full. There Julia felt rich. It was there that this new reality couldn't impede.
William and Pierce looked at her quickly. “She pulls away inside herself again! Fool! I almost had her!”
It was as if Julia could see through a glass, though darkly. Black water covered her vision and the horrible creatures that had torn her away from a future of love and contentment, to a new one of terror and uncertainty, rushed toward her and she let the water cover her consciousness. They were as dim orbs of pale flesh as they sprinted to her side.
She fell back in the well of her mind, the liquid forming a barrier between them and her memories.
For now, the memories won.
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