by Becca Fox
Becca Fox & Martha Agundez
Copyright © 2021 By Becca Fox
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
All characters appearing in this work are fictious. Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
This book is published by KDP.
© 2021 Cover Art by Cora Graphics
© Depositphotos.com
Edited by Lucy Felthouse
Other titles by Becca Fox:
I Dare You to Love Me (The Dare Trilogy: Book One)
I Dare You to Stay With Me (The Dare Trilogy: Book Two)
In the Dark
Asta and the Barbarians
The Andromeda’s Ghost (Andromeda Chronicles: Book One)
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Thanks for reading!
For the two girls who spent countless hours
brainstorming, collaborating, and creating.
May the stories abound.
April 11th, 1718
What is time? Is it friend or foe?
I have dwelt on this question of late. I once believed time to be a friend who reminds us of all we have accomplished and all we have yet to do and enjoy. Now, however, I am not certain.
I have lived longer than I look. I was born when time was recorded differently. Long has it been since I visited my homeland.
My home no longer exists, for our people died out centuries ago. We are all that survived our culture; my Dymeka and myself. Segil and Izz still live as well, but they have all but forgotten our roots. They bear new aliases to hide their heritage, amalgamating with the passing time. Nij and Fadele only laugh at the mention of home. They have chosen to forget how truly wondrous it was and how foolishly we discarded it.
I record my thoughts now because I no longer feel safe confiding in my comrades. Dymeka understands, for he has always understood me. They all used to share my intimate opinions, but in this last decade or so, I’ve noticed a change. My friends are no longer who they used to be. When looking at them now, analyzing their speech, I find no trace of my beloved brethren anywhere. It frightens me beyond measure to think we may not last together in company another decade. In company, we chose this life. We all made the pact, swore an oath to be together for eternity. But eternity has taken a toll on all of us and I fear it will be our doom.
And so I return to the question: What is time?
Will it be the knife that cuts us all in pieces, exposing our most vulnerable parts to destruction? Our greatest desire, greatest triumph, could be our undoing. How did it come to this? After unnumbered years of wandering for pleasure, could a separation be in order? Have we truly sunken so low as to come to this?
Chapter 1
Esmeralda
I threw the door open to the men’s restroom, skidded to a halt just inside, and fell back against the closed door. Straining my ears to hear over the pounding of my heart, I bit back a smile.
“Dammit!” Randi hissed.
“Let’s just go in and get her,” Karen snapped.
“We are not getting caught in the guys’ bathroom! Let the bitch get a bad rep with Security. We’ll hang back and teach her a lesson when no one’s looking. Just keep an eye on the door for now.”
Mumbles and grunts betrayed the rest of the gang’s disappointment.
“Sorry, bitches. Not today.” I glanced at the guy standing at the urinal, giving me an incredulous look over his shoulder. “Hey. How’s it going?”
“Well, I was trying to take a piss before some girl decided to come barreling in.”
“I ain’t some girl,” I said, crossing my arms. “I’m Esmer.”
The guy scoffed. “What kind of name is that?”
“The name a couple of gypsies thought would be wicked pissah,” I said with barely suppressed annoyance.
“Wicked...what?”
“Pissah,” I repeated with a raised eyebrow. “Cool? Grand? Don’t you west coasters have a word for that?”
“Yeah. It’s cool or grand. Where are you from?” he asked, like he was pretty sure I’d been raised by wolves.
“Boston.”
The stranger sighed heavily and zipped up his pants, apparently giving up. “I guess that explains why you don’t pronounce your ‘r’s.”
I hiked up my skirt and whipped out my switchblade from its hiding place in my boot. I gestured with it as I spoke. “Listen, skater boy, I didn’t come in here and risk seeing some shit I ain’t never gonna recover from so you could tell me all the things that’re wrong with me. So how’s about we keep our opinions to ourselves until it’s safe for me to go back outside, a’ight? Maybe then I won’t give you a little scar to remember me by.”
He flushed the urinal and turned, seemingly unintimidated by my speech. “My name isn’t skater boy. It’s Charlie.”
He was shorter than I was but not by much. Despite his dark brown eyes, he was pale as those pussy vampires that were so popular years ago. He had a skateboard strapped onto his backpack (hence the nickname) and dark skater hair curling out from under his backwards ball cap. Lean, subtle muscles were outlined by a plain, V neck, long sleeved tee and skinny jeans.
Damn. It’d be a shame to carve up that pretty face...
I rolled my eyes and put my knife away. “Congrats on your perfectly average name.”
Charlie gave me the once over with a quizzical look.
“What?” I demanded.
“Nothing. Just wondering if your shirt really needs a vest.”
“Oh, so Charlie boy thinks he knows about fashion?” I scoffed. “‘Cause you know your look hasn’t been in since the early two thousands.”
He shrugged and went over to the sink to wash his hands. “I’m just trying to figure out how the ensemble works in your mind. The combat boots are a little awkward on you.”
“Dad was a Marine. He got these for me.”
“Okay, that’s pretty dope,” he said, eyeing my boots through the mirror. “Any particular reason you’re here or do you just enjoy making strangers uncomfortable?”
“Who doesn’t enjoy making strangers uncomfortable? Watching them struggle for words is hilarious.”
Charlie shook off the excess water from his hands and reached for a paper towel. “Who’d you piss off?”
I snorted. “Some chick named Randi. I didn’t know I needed to be initiated into her gang before I could smoke with them. I’m always down for a brawl, but my odds ain’t good four against one, ya know?”
“I gotta tell you, the guys’ bathroom isn’t much safer.”
“I’m just stalling.” After opening the door a crack, I dared to peek out.
One of the security guards was talking to Randi and her posse.
“Shit.” I hurried away from the door, messenger bag slapping the backs of my thighs.
Charlie watched me with mild curiosity. “What’re you doing?”
“I ain’t here!” I walked into a stall, locked the door, and stood on the toilet seat.
The security guard came in several moments later. “You there.”
“Sir?”
“Have you seen a girl come in here? She’s about five ten, has short, orange-red hair and a nose piercing?”
“No, sir. It’s just me in here.”
The security guard must’ve believed him because he left.
I unlocked the stall and came out. “Thanks.”
Charlie walked out with a smirk. “Welcome to Green Bay.” Then the door swung shut behind him and I was alone.
/> I glanced at my reflection and ran a hand through my fiery red hair. Heavy ink and dark glitter made my green eyes pop. Yeah, he totally wanted me.
Another guy walked in and froze when he saw me. “Um…This is the boys’ restroom.”
I frowned. “I am a boy.”
The stranger blinked several times before slowly backing out. I chuckled to myself and followed.
◆◆◆
I ate lunch outside the library.
The fact that I was eating my cheeseburger like a caveman discouraged anyone from joining me on the bench. Or maybe it was the giant copy of War and Peace sitting in my lap. Either way, no one gave me a second glance.
In a small, obscure community college, I’d assumed I’d attract attention. It was actually kind of a bummer to be proven wrong. I had yet to find a group of Goths or wannabe gangsters who might be tolerable enough to hang out with. So far Randi and her gang, and a group of skaters who got together behind the cafe were my only options.
How was a girl to survive in this unvaried purgatory?
The sound of skateboard wheels along the sidewalk made me perk up. What were the chances it was Charlie? So far, my pit stop to the guys’ bathroom had been the most fun I’d had all day. Maybe he could rescue me from this boring-ass book I was pretending to read. Unfortunately for me, it was just one of the guys from the skateboard clique trying to impress a group of giggling girls huddled together in the courtyard. I slumped back against the bench and frowned down at the book.
The school was small enough. I was bound to have at least one class with the only guy worth talking to at this place…
◆◆◆
And I did. Art class.
Charlie rushed in five minutes late and had a brief conversation with the teacher. He looked irritated and a little worried. The teacher’s brow furrowed, but she nodded and assured him he wouldn’t lose his place in the class. Charlie thanked her before bolting.
I watched the exchange with rapt attention. Getting permission to skip out of class on the first day of school? This guy had just gotten more interesting.
Now that he was gone, the teacher proceeded to go over the projects we’d be doing this year. What a snore fest.
Fifty minutes later, the bell rang and I was free. Well, not really.
Great Aunt Dinah’s graying Cadillac was waiting for me down the street from the school's main entrance, in front of an old Baptist church.
“Not that I give a damn, but how was your first day of community college?” she barked once I’d opened the door.
Aunt Dinah was the crotchety cat lady who darkened her neighborhood. She didn’t just frown; she scowled. She was too proud to wear glasses. Her squinting made her look like she disapproved of everything and everyone, which wasn’t far from the truth. She always wore her white hair in a bun. I doubted she even let her hair down to sleep. Oh, and she never left the house without her fluffy pink slippers. I’d never even met the lady until a week ago and now she was my warden. For how long? Nobody had bothered to tell me.
I slammed the door closed and dropped my book bag by my feet.
“Sorry to hear that,” Aunt Dinah said as we pulled away from the school. She didn’t sound sorry at all. “There are plenty of chores waiting for you at the house to take your mind off of things.”
I glared out the window at the cars and buildings we passed. “I have a lot of homework to do.”
“Which you can do after your chores. You’re a smart girl. I’m sure you’ll manage your time wisely.”
I slouched in my seat because I knew it would bother her. “I ain’t that smart. I was banished to live with you after all.”
“You might have made poor decisions in your personal life, but it doesn’t mean you’re incapable of balancing two projects. Sit up straight.” She struggled with her turn signal. “Oh, I almost forgot. Your mother called this morning just after I dropped you off.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah? What’d she want?”
“To wish you a good first day and to send her love.”
Despite the ache building around my throat, I forced a snort. “She’s just feeling guilty.”
“Your mother made the right choice,” Aunt Dinah said with confidence. “There is nothing for her to be guilty about.”
“She gave her husband permission to ship me to the other side of the country to live with a relative she’s never even met. That doesn’t sound wrong to you?” I demanded. “For all she knew, you could’ve had Alzheimer’s or dementia, or worse!”
“Have some faith in your father, Esmeralda,” Aunt Dinah said, exasperated. “He wouldn’t have sent you to stay with anyone who couldn’t handle taking care of you.”
I shook my head. “Hunter is not my father.”
Aunt Dinah pursed her lips. “Be that as it may, he’s married to your mother. He deserves your respect.”
“The last time I checked, respect was earned.”
The old woman sighed as she pulled into the driveway of her ridiculous mansion. “I have my work cut out for me, it would seem.”
I looked up at the house, my stomach knotting in dread.
This monstrosity of brick and mortar had two stories with five bedrooms, three bathrooms, a sitting room, a library, a kitchen separate from the dining room, a foyer large enough to comfortably fit an SUV, and the biggest wooden staircase I’d ever seen. Not to mention the attic and the wine cellar could have passed for third and fourth stories. The exterior sported ridiculous columns and a second story porch with a wrought iron balustrade. The clapboard cladding had been painted blue years ago but was now so pale it was almost gray.
The grounds were lush and green, having been trimmed and watered by Aunt Dinah that very morning. It was more space than anyone would ever need and it annoyed the hell out of me. I’d seen such grandeur in old triple decker estates in the posh neighborhoods of Boston, but rarely had I seen them maintained by one stubborn old lady.
“Why can’t you live in an apartment in some old folks’ center like a normal retired person?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but this is my family’s estate. I’d rather it stay in the family.” She climbed out of the Cadillac and shut the door none too gently.
I followed her up the walkway. “You didn’t think to hire a maid?”
“Maids are expensive. Aside from being mentally taxing, you’re free.” Aunt Dinah opened the front door and scowled over her shoulder at me. “Well, come on! It’s not going to clean itself.”
I gritted my teeth. FML.
Chapter 2
Charles
I stepped off my skateboard and carried it into the precinct. Policemen were rushing about in frenzied excitement as the news of a case spread.
“Where’s my uncle?” I asked a passing officer. “Where’s Detective Campbell?”
“The last time I saw him, he was going to see your sister,” she said.
I nodded in thanks before I began trekking through the maze of cubicles and desks. The vision had been so clear. The street sign still burned behind my eyelids every time I blinked. Madison Street. This was serious, not some accident or time taking its toll on the elderly. Somebody had been brutally disposed of.
I closed the metal door of the crude elevator located on the south side of the building and pulled the lever. I slid underground in a matter of seconds and yanked the metal slate aside. Dashing down the stairs at a dangerous pace almost made me face-plant onto the tile but I managed to keep my balance.
The room was constructed like a giant studio apartment. The only two doors in the entire floor belonged to my sister’s walk-in closet and the bathroom we shared. My “room” was divided from the kitchen by the placement of the counters and cabinets, but also by the line where tile met carpet. My workspace was separated from my room by the thick plastic sheets laid out over the floor, the giant work desk, and the piles of tools I used to create things. My sister’s room was flush against the bathroom with her “school” workspa
ce squished in the south western corner. The living room consisted of a TV, two armchairs and a couch, all of which sat around the glass coffee table hanging out at the center of the apartment.
This was home. Or more like the closest we would ever get to home. We used to live with Uncle Victor but, the older we got, the more space everyone needed and this was the safest place for us. God only knew how my uncle had managed to convince the captain to let him renovate the precinct’s basement…
I flew right into the foot of Jasmine’s bed. She lay with her limbs bent awkwardly. The knotted sheets proved she’d thrashed a lot before the end. Her black hair was still wet with sweat. Her pale skin was already healing from the bruises the victim had suffered before they died.
With heart thumping against my Adam’s apple, I turned to Anthony. “How long has she been under?”
He checked his wristwatch. “Two minutes.”
The man was tall but fit, with curly light brown hair and brown eyes. When he found time to work out, I had no idea. He always seemed to be here, acting as Jasmine’s doctor or tutor.
Uncle Victor watched my sister intently. “Come on, Jazz.”
His blond hair was close cropped, but he liked to keep a five o’clock shadow at all times, claiming he’d still look twenty-one if he didn’t. With his blue eyes and wind chapped skin, it was hard to believe he was related to us.
I took my sister’s hand and gave it a squeeze. She was ice cold.
Her eyes finally flew open and air hissed in through her teeth. The rest of us let out sighs of relief. It didn’t matter how many times we’d seen her die. It was still terrifying.
I pulled her into a hug. “Welcome back.”
Jasmine shivered in my arms.
“How’re you feeling?” Uncle Victor asked.
When I leaned back to look at her, tears were welling up in those eggplant-purple eyes of hers. “She makes it seem so nice there. Every time I go, she makes me not want to come back and then she drags me back…God, I hate her.”