“I’m a Believer.”
“A believer in what?” Luka asks.
Dr. Roth goes to the window, peeks outside. To my surprise, it’s dark out. I’m not sure if I slept through another day, or if this is the same night of our escape. “I’ve been doing research for years. Taking notes. Keeping journals. Once I had sufficient proof, my plan was to find more of you. After this, I believe I have all the proof I need.”
“More of us?”
“Proof of what?”
Luka and I ask our questions at the same time.
Dr. Roth looks through the blinds again, and addresses Luka’s question first. “Proof that you’re all in danger.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I bend over and tie my laces, my gaze never leaving Dr. Roth.
“What do you mean all?” Luka asks.
“There are other people out there. People like you.”
I stand. “Who are we?”
“You are The Gifting.”
There’s a loud pounding at the door, followed by a deep shout. “Thornsdale police!”
My heart jumps into my throat.
Dr. Roth shoves Luka’s bag against his chest. I strap mine over my shoulders.
“Quick, come with me.” Dr. Roth leads us to the back door of his apartment. “Come back tomorrow morning. I promise to tell you everything I know.”
More shouting from the front. “Open up or we’ll let ourselves in!”
Luka grabs my hand and pulls me out of the apartment, down the fire escape. We sneak into the dark of night, Dr. Roth’s words reverberating inside my mind.
You are The Gifting.
And there are more of us.
Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.
*
Book 2 in The Gifting series is available now! Click here to grab your copy of The Awakening. A complimentary excerpt is located at the end of this book.
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About the Author
K.E. Ganshert was born and raised in the exciting state of Iowa, where she currently resides with her family and their goofy black lab, Bubba. She likes to write things and consume large quantities of coffee and chocolate while she writes all the things. She’s won some awards. For the writing, not the consuming. Although the latter would be fun. You can learn more about K.E. Ganshert and these things she writes at her website www.katieganshert.com. You can also follow her on Twitter and Instagram.
Excerpt for The Awakening
Chapter One
Dead Man Hanging
Darkness has never been a friendly thing. Not to me. But now, huddled behind a dumpster in the alleyway behind Dr. Roth’s apartment building, I burrow into its protective arms, pulling it around myself until I’m wrapped up as tightly as a swaddled infant.
Perhaps we should make a run for it. Sprint as far away from here as possible. But fear paralyzes me. I’m pretty sure it has the same effect on Luka, too, because we crouch there—me and him, this boy who has come to mean so much—holding our breath as if the police might hear the sound of breathing five stories up.
Raindrops begin falling from the sky—fat, cold globs of moisture that plop against the dumpster’s top and soak into the cotton of my sweatshirt. Luka wraps his arm around my hunched form and pulls me so closely to him I am unsure where he ends and I begin. It’s not enough. I want more. I want the things he makes me feel to carry me off into oblivion, some place where this reality we’re facing now no longer exists.
The clank of footsteps on the fire escape forces us to duck further back. A beam of light slices through the darkness, searching. My heart hammers against my chest. I’m sure Luka can hear it, maybe even feel it. They are looking for me, those people upstairs. They want to take me away and lock me up in Shady Wood with my grandmother, where I will never see my family or Luka again. I don’t breathe until the light finally goes away and the footsteps retreat.
The police are not coming down here, at least not right now. Dr. Roth is a smart guy. Surely he will find a way to throw them off our scent. Even so, we stay where we are, as still as statues, afraid to blink, afraid to think, until my legs cramp and the chill in the air turns my fingers numb. Northern California in January is not an ideal time for a night spent outdoors. For the first time since moving to Thornsdale in September, I find myself wishing for the balmy Florida heat I’d taken for granted back in Jude. But as cold as it might be out here, what other choice do we have?
We can’t go home. I’m sure mine is under surveillance and Luka’s isn’t safe. His father would hand me over the second we arrived. The two of us can’t be seen at all. I’m sure by now, my escape from the Edward Brooks Facility has been splashed on the news, along with my face. Nowhere is safe. Which means we will have to wait out the night behind this dumpster. Dr. Roth gave us specific directions to come back in the morning. He promised to explain everything.
The raindrops thin out into a misty drizzle. Luka loosens his grip around my waist and we stare at one another through the dark. He straightens his legs, as if his muscles are cramped too. I want to tell him to stop moving, but I’m doing the same thing.
“Are you okay?” he whispers so softly I have to strain to hear.
It’s a silly question. Of course I’m not. He knows it. I know it. Over the course of six days, my brother almost died, we broke into a high-security psyche ward and discovered rows upon rows of patients in medically-induced comas, my deranged grandmother said I was “the key”, I was dragged out of school against my will by government officials, locked up and drugged in the Edward Brooks Facility, then rescued by Luka Williams and my psychiatrist, who turns out, isn’t who he claimed to be. All I can manage is an almost-silent, “I can’t feel my fingers.”
Luka takes my hands between his own and rubs until they are slightly warmer than frozen.
“Do you think they’re still up there?” I whisper.
“I don’t know.”
A shudder takes hold of my body and convulses through my limbs. Even in the thick of night, I can see the concern pooling in his green eyes. “I have so many questions.”
“Me too,” he says.
“What do you think he meant about there being ‘more of us’?”
“I’m more concerned about the part where we’re all in danger.”
A shudder ripples through my arms.
Luka sits against the brick wall of the apartment building. He pulls me beside him and wraps his arms around me. “Is this all right?”
I nod against his chest, too frightened and cold to be self-conscious.
“It’s going to be okay, Tess.” My body rises and falls with his breath. “We’ll get answers from Dr. Roth tomorrow. You can go to sleep. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Despite the chilly nighttime air outside and the cold fear inside, something about his nearness warms me. I am not alone. Luka is here—brave, handsome, confident Luka. I can almost believe it’s true—that he has the power to keep me safe. That I might really be able to go to sleep.
I curl up against him and wrestle my fear into submission. I don’t let myself think about my family or how much I miss my mom. I don’t let myself think about what my life will be now. I take deep, even breaths. I borrow Luka’s warmth. And I force all my attention onto one thing.
I’m not suffering from psychosis. Neither is Luka.
Dr. Roth gave us a name. We are The Gifting.
*
Movement awakens me. It’s a twitch at first. Then something bigger, like a jolt. My eyelids flutter open. I am wrapped up with Luka, tangled into a knot on the hard cement. We are face to face, our bodies pressed together. Only his eyes are closed. His face twitches. Then his eyes fly open. Before he can make a sound, I cup my hand over his mouth, trapping the noise inside.
His nostrils flare.
<
br /> “Shhh, Luka. You were having a nightmare.” Something I know all too well. My nightmares are what put us in this position. He stares down at me with pupils so large, his irises are nothing but the thinnest ring of green. Slowly, his breathing regulates. His pupils shrink.
I remove my hand.
And without the slightest warning, his fingers twine into my hair, he pulls my face close, and his lips crush mine. A quick burst of intense passion before he pulls away and hugs me to his chest, where his heart crashes against my ear. The whole thing happened so fast, I barely had time to register it, let alone kiss him back. Three times now he has kissed me and three times now, they have come as complete surprises. He springs them on me when I least suspect, like in a crowded locker bay at school or on the dirty ground behind a dumpster. Perhaps this is a good thing. His method leaves no time for agonizing over how awful I must be at it.
He untangles himself from my arms and sits up, propping his elbows on his knees, digging his fingers into his hair, staring at some arbitrary spot on the ground. A white-throated sparrow lands on one of the fire escapes and lets out a wavering whistle.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He avoids eye contact.
I should probably push him, but honestly? I’m afraid of his answer. Luka has had dreams about me long before we first met in September. In every one, I’m in danger. In one of his dreams, I actually died. I’d rather not know if it happened again. I sit up beside him. The faint glow of early morning filters into the alleyway, softening everything around us—the dumpster, the trash cans, the brick walls. The night has given way to dusk. And I am desperate for answers. “Do you think it’s safe to go up now?”
“He said the morning. He never said how early.” Luka stands and pulls me up with him.
His grip tightens around my hand as we tiptoe toward the fire escape and climb the metal stairs on silent feet.
One flight.
Two flights.
Three.
Four.
We stop before landing on the fifth. Luka holds up his finger, his meaning clear. I am to wait here while he pokes his head inside the open window. We have a wordless argument with hand gestures. I don’t want to stand by while he puts himself in jeopardy, not when I’ve already put him in enough. But he refuses to let me go first. So Luka wins and I wait. When the coast is clear, he waves me over. He climbs through the window first, then helps me inside Dr. Roth’s apartment.
It’s too quiet. Too still.
Goose bumps march up my arms. My palms turn cold and clammy. What if this is a trap? What if Dr. Roth was arrested and the minute we open our mouths, the police will descend and the two burly men who dragged me out of Thornsdale High School will drag me away again. Only this time Dr. Roth and Luka won’t be around to break me out.
Luka pulls me forward, toward the bedrooms. I want to dig my heels into the carpet. Fear claws about inside my chest, scrapping and scratching for an exit. I have no idea why I don’t want to see whatever it is we are about to see. Until we round the corner and find him—the man with all the answers.
Hanging from a noose at the end of the hallway.
Chapter Two
Close Call
Footsteps sound outside Dr. Roth’s apartment door. Luka clamps his hand over my mouth to muffle my scream and wraps his arm around my waist. There’s a knock. Something like a squeak issues from the back of my throat. Luka tightens his grip around my waist and half-drags, half-carries me up the hallway, toward the still, hanging body, and into a room. The same one I woke up in not more than twelve hours ago.
Another knock at the door. “Rise and shine, Dr. Roth. It’s the police.”
The room looks untouched and unruffled. Nobody would suspect somebody had slept in the bed recently. In fact, it looks as if the guest room is perfunctory and really, the doctor hasn’t had a guest in years. Luka pulls me toward the bed and the two of us hide underneath. I cup my hand over my mouth to mask the sound of my breathing.
“All right, I’m coming in,” the voice says. There’s a pause, then a loud bang. I jump. Luka tucks me closer. Another bang, followed by a thud, as if the door has swung open and crashed into the wall. “You awake in here?”
Footsteps draw nearer, then stop. Whoever it is clucks his tongue. “Well now, Doc, why’d you go and do a thing like this?”
Luka cups his hand over mine, whether to provide an extra sound barrier or as a gesture of comfort, I’m not sure. The frayed hemp of his bracelet bites into my skin. With eyes buggy and unblinking, I stare at the police officer’s shoes in the hallway. He pivots and walks out of eyeshot.
“Hey-a Manny, it’s Jake. Patch me through to the Chief, would ya?” Officer Jake is on his phone, calling the chief of police, which happens to be Leela’s uncle. How long before this place is swarming with cops? The floor creaks. It doesn’t seem possible, but my eyes grow wider. “Yeah-a, Bill? Looks like the doc offed himself … No, he’s hanging right here in front of me. Apparently, the threat of losing his license did a number on him.”
I picture Dr. Roth’s limp body hanging from the noose, his neck bent at a weird angle. I’m not sure I will ever be able to scrub that memory from my mind. He’s dead. The man with all the answers is dead.
More floor creaking. Officer Jake’s shoes come back into view. “Suicide’s a pretty safe bet, but the medical examiner will need to verify.”
Another pause, longer this time.
My mind buzzes in the silence. It doesn’t make sense. Dr. Roth would not have hung himself. He was waiting for us to return. He told us to come back. He called himself “a believer”. He said he had been gathering evidence.
“So now what? I can’t exactly question a dead man … No, there’s no sign of the girl, but I’ll look around. See if there’s any evidence that she’s been here.”
I swallow another squeak and press back into Luka. His grip tightens.
“A national alert, huh? I don’t understand why she’s so important. Have to imagine a teenager can’t be much of a threat … Right, I understand … I have a jump drive. I can copy all the files and bring it into the station. Hold on a tick.” His shoes shuffle past the doorframe. Beneath this bed, with my hand cupped over my mouth and Luka’s cupped over my hand, sound seems to be magnified. A chair groans. Computer keys clack. He’s accessing Dr. Roth’s computer files.
Luka nudges me, then points toward the nightstand. A crate holding two thick manila folders sits on the ground, as if Dr. Roth had been preparing for our visit.
More computer clacking. “Bill, there’s nothing here. His computer’s wiped clean.”
A memory floats to the surface. It all feels like a lifetime ago, back when my biggest problems came in my sleeping hours and Dr. Roth was nobody but a psychiatrist at the Edward Brooks Facility. I had questioned his archaic record keeping.
“Pen and paper doesn’t crash. It’s not nearly as accessible, either.”
A flood of gratitude toward the man washes over me. He knew all along that something like this could happen. That digital files were not safe or indestructible. He was protecting me from the very beginning. But as soon as the relief comes, so does the panic. Because all Officer Jake has to do is walk into this room and he’ll see the files that are not more than five feet from our heads. Not only will he come into possession of extremely confidential information, he’ll see us as soon as he bends down to get it.
“Either he erased them or somebody else did … Yeah-a, I’ll look around … is the medical examiner on his way?” Something snaps shut, like a laptop. “Ten-four. I’ll be waiting here. See ya at the station.”
A chair squeaks, followed by a stretch of silence.
I feel immobilized, paralyzed. Even my thoughts are frozen. I wonder if Luka feels the same way, because he does not move behind me.
“Tut, tut, Dr. Roth. Just what were you hiding?”
My heart thuds so loud I’m terrified Officer Jake will hear it. I can cup my hand over my
mouth to silence my breathing, but there’s nothing to silence my heart.
“You don’t mind if I use your bathroom, do you? I didn’t think you would.”
The man is having a conversation with a dead body. A psychiatrist, to boot. If I weren’t having a silent panic attack, if Luka and I weren’t in such horrible danger, if our only ally wasn’t the one hanging out in that hallway, the situation would be laughable.
“Now, you stay there. Don’t move. I’ll be out in five and we’ll see if I can’t find where you hide your secrets.”
Officer Jake’s shoes appear in the doorframe again.
Please don’t see the crate … please don’t see the crate …
His shoes keep going, followed by a soft click of a door latch and a tuneless whistled melody from the bathroom beside us.
Luka goes from statue-still to a flurry of silent motion. He releases my waist and my mouth, then quickly and silently shimmies out from under the bed. I want to pull him back under, because—is he nuts? We can’t be seen. If we’re seen, we’re dead. I will be locked up in Shady Wood and he will be put into prison and our keys will be thrown away. There will be no escaping this time.
“Luka,” I hiss.
But he pulls me out alongside him, grabs the two manila folders, takes my hand and leads me out into the hallway. A strip of light shines beneath the bathroom door, the man’s whistling muffled by the droning of a fan. Without hesitating, Luka pulls me toward the window. We climb out. I hold my breath while Luka shuts it as quietly as possible and we tear off down the steps.
Away, away, away … as fast as we can.
*
Not until the entire length of the alleyway is between us and Officer Jake do I dare talk. I huddle against the brick façade of a building, my words escaping in huffs and puffs. I’m not used to sprinting. “We need … to get … out of here.” And by here, I mean Thornsdale. In five minutes that apartment is going to be crawling with police, which means we need to put as much distance between us and this place as possible. Much easier said than done when all we have is our feet and our backpacks, and now, these two folders containing who knows what.
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