The Forsaken Saga Complete Box Set (Books 1-4)

by Sophia Sharp

  Chris did the only thing left to do. He let his muscles go limp, to show the man holding him he meant no fight. A tense moment passed in which Chris’s thoughts roiled with the possibility that he had just given up his one potential advantage. He was rewarded a second later as the pressure of the blade abated. Slightly.

  “Who are you, boy? Who sent you here to make a mockery of me? I do not deal with children.”

  Chris flinched at the inflammatory taunts, and ground his teeth to prevent himself from saying something stupid. An encounter with a madman with a knife could go many ways, yet all but one would leave Chris dead. Now was not the time to pick a fight.

  “There is no… disrespect meant,” Chris said tightly, deliberately keeping his neck still lest the blade nick him. “I am the son of the man you came here to meet. I’m here on his behalf!” Chris did not think now was the time to mention he had been here for the better part of three hours, waiting on this encounter.

  “Is that so?” the man asked, strengthening his grip on Chris’s arm. “And why is he not here to greet me himself? Must he send the dog to do the master’s dirty work?”

  Another burst of anger surged within Chris, but he restrained it as much as he could. This was the time for caution, not haste. “My father had to go on important business that could not wait,” Chris lied. “He left me with everything he had ready for you.”

  “Where is it?” the man asked.

  “In my left coat pocket,” Chris breathed. “An envelope inside. It contains everything—”

  “You will reach in with your free hand,” the man said softly, cutting Chris off, “and pull out the envelope. You will then drop it to the ground, and return your hand to the side. If you try anything else, if you make any sudden movement, you will find your throat cut open, and your father will come back to find you little more than fodder for the wildlife. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” Chris whispered. He was shamed again when his voice broke.

  “Good. Now, go!”

  Very carefully, and very slowly, Chris reached into the pocket that contained the envelope. His heart froze when his hand found nothing there.

  Panic swelled inside him. All his awareness turned to the blade against his skin. This was going to be it. This was going to be the end. He would have his throat cut open by his father’s hired assassin, and nobody would know about it for weeks. It was a pathetic way to go.

  Shame consumed his entire being, until even the panic he felt paled in comparison. The worst of it was that he had let his father down. He had screwed up at the very moment his father needed him. And he would pay with his life. Chris closed his eyes, ready for the cut along his neck that would send blood spurting out…

  Suddenly, the blade was gone, and Chris was pushed forward into the snow. The man’s grip on his arm disappeared too. Chris did not have time to shield himself from the fall. He went face-first into the snow. An all-consuming cold greeted him on the ground. The ice quickly filled the contours of his face, fell to his neck. What little heat was left in his body was gone in a flash. The shock of the cold left him numb.

  It took Chris a few seconds to process what had happened. When he did, however, he wasted no time in pushing himself up. Snow slid down his back, but he did not care. He was still alive!

  Why had the man had released him? Chris spun around quickly. His eyes came upon the shadow of the man. He was standing a good twenty feet away now. Chris cursed under his breath. There was no way to see his face. Anger burst within him for the humiliation he had suffered. Chris vowed on the spot that this man – this anonymous man – would face the consequences of what he had just done to him. It would be better if he could attach a face to the voice, though.

  The man held up a dark hand, and in the moonlight Chris recognized the rectangular shape of the envelope. He had managed to swipe it from Chris’s pocket without him even knowing! This was just a game to him! The realization fueled the anger Chris felt, but at the same time, a begrudging sort of respect tried to weasel its way in. The man had made a fool of Chris, but he had proved his own prowess in the process. Chris shut those emotions off ruthlessly. This man was just another to add to the list of those who had wronged Chris. His mother and Tracy Bachman stood at the top of that list. But, there were plenty more from Oliver Academy who had treated him badly. In the end, they would pay for what they had done. But… not yet. Chris could be patient when it suited him.

  “I was told this would be sealed.” The man’s voice carried well over the distance. “How do I know the right amount is inside?”

  “You have my utmost assurances,” Chris replied smoothly. As smoothly as he could, given the circumstances. “If you doubt my word, I invite you to come up to the cabin, where you can count the denomination in the light.”

  “I thank you kindly for the offer,” the man said with a derisive sneer, “but I would prefer to retain my anonymity.” He tucked the envelope into his jacket. Chris had to admit that the man had a particular grace about him. Every movement he made was both deliberate and delicate. That eased his mind somewhat. The man his father found was as capable as any for the job.

  “So you trust me, then?” Chris asked carefully. “If that is the case, maybe you will appreciate my warning. There is a picture of a girl inside the envelope. Your target. She may be young, but she is more dangerous than she appears. Do not underestimate what she can do.”

  Another sneer greeted him. “You think you can tell me how to do my job, boy? All you need to worry about is whether your father really did place the right amount inside. Because if he didn’t…” the man’s warning trailed off. The meaning was obvious. “If he didn’t, well, I know exactly where to find you.”

  The man turned and started for the trees. Chris took a deep breath. He needed something confirmed, but if he guessed wrong, he would have his father to answer to.

  “Wait!” Chris exclaimed. “One more thing. You are to bring the girl here…” He was not quite sure how to frame the question. The man stopped, but did not answer. The lack of a response confirmed Chris’s suspicion. His father had ordered Tracy’s kidnapping, not her murder. That suited their purpose much better. But Chris had his own desires. He was taking a chance. What he said next could put him at risk with his father. “We are paying you to bring her here, yet… accidents do happen. Above all else, you must not be found out. A single error on your part would jeopardize everything you are being paid for. If, by some twist of fate, circumstance calls for it…” Chris inhaled deeply, “…and the only way for you to avoid detection is the girl’s untimely death… Well, sometimes, death cannot be avoided.”

  Chris held his breath and waited. There was no reaction from the man for a long moment. If word of this message got to his father, Chris could not imagine the consequences. Had he been too direct? Too forthcoming? Too anxious? Had this been the wrong way to proceed? Just then, the man inclined his head slightly.

  “Death comes to us all,” he said prophetically. He looked over his shoulder. The darkness that shrouded him still did not let Chris see his face. “It is good to know where your priorities lie. You can be assured, I will not be found out.”

  With that, he turned and walked straight into the woods. Chris watched the man until he was completely swallowed by the night. He waited, counted to sixty in his head, and, satisfied that the man had gone, started the trek back to the cabin.

  Chris felt an unusual sort of pride well up inside him. He had, in no uncertain terms, just commanded his first murder. The first step of revenge. It felt cathartic. Of course, he knew the odds of the man showing up here with Tracy alive were much greater than him killing her, but the opportunity for the… unfortunate mishap… was still there. Perhaps this man would exact Chris’s revenge for him.

  He had first decided that death would be Tracy’s punishment on the plane ride from Traven Island. It would be an unfortunate blow to what he and his father were trying to achieve with the crystals. Yet, Chris was sure there wer
e others out there who could do what Tracy could. Maybe not in the same capacity – likely not even close to the same capacity. But, Chris did not care. So long as his father did not find out Tracy had been murdered because of him, her death would give him the ultimate satisfaction.

  Chris found himself humming a familiar tune as he walked to his cabin. He could no longer feel his feet in the cold. His toes may already have succumbed to frostbite, but he did not care. Revenge was the only thing on his mind. What he had initiated tonight could see it come to fruition. And best of all, just like his father, he did not have to get his hands dirty. He could get used to living like this.

  Chapter One – The Value of a Crystal

  It is funny how things that at first seem so extraordinary and special have the disappointing tendency of becoming mundane and predictable over time. Whether through familiarity or exposure, the items in question somehow always begin to lose their luster. Something that was once new and exciting becomes old and stale, and it doesn’t take long for us to start seeking out the next fresh, shiny object to recapture our imaginations.

  That has been my experience with many things in life. Whether a new dress or a piece of jewelry, a new phone or some other gizmo, many of the things I remembered being thrilled about at first lost their appeal over time. It’s not that I don’t value them anymore. It’s just that the mystical value that made them so special at first always seems to disappear. The crush you remember having on that cute boy in middle school, followed by the excitement you felt when he first planted that shy peck on your lips… all of it seems to fade as time moves you past it. Even if the relationship endured, the kisses he now places on your lips still don’t compare to the magic of the first time.

  Is it just a function of the human condition to become less impressed with something the longer you spend time with it? Things change over time. People change over time. If you become too accustomed to certain things, maybe you render yourself incapable of seeing the beauty in them anymore. Is that a reflection of our psychology, or is it a side effect of the speed with which the modern world moves around us? Maybe, just maybe, that’s the reason for all the jaded adults in this world. Perhaps it was to blame for the bored teachers, the lifeless professionals, the dull businessmen whose everyday affairs have turned bleak and grey. For the—

  “Miss Bachman! Are you listening to me?”

  I jolted upright in my chair and snapped out of my thoughts. I looked up to find Mr. Stannis, my science teacher, shooting daggers at me with his eyes. His arms were crossed over his chest, and the meter-long ruler he held in his fist towered over his head like some general’s baton. I could hear the sounds of shifting chairs and bodies as nearly everyone in the room began directing their attention to me. Quickly, I scavenged my brain for what Mr. Stannis had been talking about. “Yes, you were saying how the atomic structure of elements we learned about sophomore year had been incorrectly simplified, and that electrons actually exist in clouds of possibility surrounds the nucleus of each atom – and, therefore, how we can never know where an electron actually is, only where it might be.”

  A look of surprise flashed across Mr. Stannis’s face before being quickly suppressed. “Yes. Err… That’s right. Well done. Just don’t let me catch you daydreaming in class again, Tracy. This wasn’t the first time this week.”

  “Yes, Mr. Stannis. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  “See that it doesn’t.” My teacher nodded curtly, and then slapped his ruler against the blackboard with such force that everybody in class jumped. As he resumed his lecture, I looked around sheepishly. Thankfully, nobody was focused on me.

  I didn’t zone out because Mr. Stannis was a bad teacher, or that I found science class boring. In fact, the rigor with which science was taught at Oliver Academy would have impressed most university professors. The real reason I wasn’t focused was that, lately, I hadn’t been finding much rest outside of class.

  The blame for that lay solely on my shoulders. As I was thinking about earlier, many things get stale over time, but others… others can seemingly forever retain their ability to dazzle and amaze you. Things like the crystals.

  Since the incident in the caves with Liz and Chris, I had grown inordinately fascinated by the crystals. Ever since then, I’ve been working extremely hard to try to understand just how they work. What is the nature of the power they give us? Where did it come from, and how did it truly originate? What is the limit of what they could do? Questions like that invaded my mind like a virus, and demanded to be answered. The consequence was that I was skimping on a lot of sleep.

  The way I felt about the crystals shifted dramatically in the aftermath of Liz’s kidnapping. Whereas before I had thought of them as something frightening, unknown, and dangerous, I now found them to be nothing short of fascinating. They represented an extraordinary puzzle for me to solve. The power they had granted me for those few sacred moments in the caves had allowed me to save not only Liz’s life but also my own. And Madison’s and Eve’s and Ashley’s, all of whom could have gotten seriously hurt had I not been able to stop Chris. He transformed into a whole other person down there – a madman. Thinking about that still leaves me shaken. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

  A lot has happened since the events of that transformative night in the caves. But in a way, almost nothing has changed. I know that sounds contradictory, but it’s not. Let me start from the beginning.

  It took about a week after Liz’s kidnapping for things to calm down and return to normal. My parents, who had been flown out here by the school’s administrators, stayed for just a few days. Once they saw that I was fine –after no small amount of convincing on my part – they both returned home to their jobs. The school itself did a fine job of covering up events of that night. While most of the students had an inkling that something suspicious had happened then, nobody knew exactly what—nobody but me and the rest of the girls. We were all happy to keep it that way. The surprise came when the headmaster of Oliver Academy – the same man I saw giving the speech during opening days – came to my sickroom the day I awoke. He said he had made the visit because of his concern about my wellbeing. He made it clear that the wellbeing of every student in the school was of his interest. But once the pleasantries had gotten out of the way, he offered me a deal.

  If word of what happened that night got out, he said, Oliver Academy would lose an enormous amount of prestige. Parents would start questioning the safety of the school, the competence of its administrators, and all sorts of things adults always like to get in arms about. His proposal went like this: If I agreed not to say anything, he promised the school would not investigate matters further. Neither I nor any of the other girls would be punished or held responsible for the damages we caused. None of it would go on our records. Our standing in the school would remain unchanged. It would be a complete cover up, but one that was mutually beneficial. He emphasized that part in no uncertain terms by saying that this type of incident was unprecedented, and if official protocol were to be followed, the girls and I would find ourselves expelled permanently from the academy.

  My original thought was that he was more worried about the damage that might come from a lawsuit if any of our parents got wind of what happened than maintaining the vaunted reputation of Oliver Academy. But as far as I knew, it could be both. In either case, I was glad to accept. He could not possibly suspect the real truth of what happened down there. From my perspective, the less it was talked about the better. The girls and I had our secrets to keep. Sweetening the deal further was the headmaster’s assurance that all five of us were to be given “administrative pardons” for any work we felt we couldn’t do in the following month due to the traumatic nature of our experience.

  That was the clincher for us. Eve, who I’ve come to know as something of a rebel, took the offer perhaps a bit more liberally than it was intended, and used the pardon to completely stop going to class for a month. She was quiet about what she did in the
meantime. But, whenever conversation turned to that, a glimmer of excitement shone in her eyes before being quickly repressed. My suspicion was that she had started hooking up with a new guy, and being excused from class gave her more time to spend with him. But nobody could get her to confirm that.

  The rest of us returned to class before even a week had passed. One of the oddest and least expected results in the aftermath of the incident was the strong friendship that blossomed between me and the girls. Going through the frightening experience together seemed to strengthen our bonds. All of us became tighter than I could have ever expected. In fact, I now felt like I had known Liz, Madison, Eve, and Ashley my whole life. I guess sharing a common experience like that, with death lurking in the shadows, had a way of bringing even the bitterest of adversaries together. On my part, I had come to value the friendship with the girls.

  That was when my interest in the crystals was sparked. I realized that my stubborn refusal at the start to accept who I was and what I could do had caused infinitely more trouble than accepting things and learning to deal with them properly. I came to realize that the crystals were not some malicious and scary manifestation of the supernatural, but rather something that I could come to understand and define with the right amount of study. I wanted to know exactly what they could do, what the limits of their power were, where they first came from, how they worked, and a million other things.

  That was what had been taking up so much of my free time in the weeks since finding Liz in the caves with Chris. I had become voraciously engrossed by the crystals, the promise of what they could do, and the power they gave access to.