He grinned. “I have you now!” Leaping forward, he grabbed her wrist. With his free hand, he tried to force the amulet over her head.
“Let go!” She tried to twist away, but his grip was like iron. A move Rowan had showed her popped into her mind, and she slammed her palm into his nose.
Ammon shrieked. Blood ran down his face, his nose a ruin.
“You bitch! I’ll make you my slave for all time!” Grabbing her hair with a bloody hand, he pulled her toward him.
Sylvia scratched at him, her mind frantic. The amulet brushed her skin, and for a moment she felt deadened. She couldn’t let him put that on her. If he did, it would all be over. Sylvia would be over.
He reached toward her, the amulet gripped in his hand.
Sylvia’s hand shot out, seizing his wrist and digging her nails into his tendons. Rowan had made her practice enough times, but never before had Sylvia been prepared to dig all the way to the bone.
Ammon shrieked again, his fingers jerking apart. He dropped to his knees as the amulet fell.
She caught it. Wrenching it away, she forced it around his neck.
His shriek was cut short, and silence reigned in the canyon. Sylvia stood over him, panting. Ammon’s muscles had gone slack. He looked up at her, smiling, as if waiting for a command.
“Raise your right hand,” she said.
He obeyed, content and docile.
“Lower it.”
Ammon did without question.
“You can tell him to do anything?” Jet appeared beside her. “Tell him to kill himself.”
Jasper nodded. “Not a bad idea.”
“No.” Sylvia looked down at the defeated sorcerer. “That’s too good for him.”
She knelt to face her former captor. “Here is what you must do.”
Ammon smiled, waiting patiently for his orders.
“Go to the farthest reaches of the earth. Speak to no one. Eat only enough to survive. Find a deep, dark cave, and spend the rest of your miserable days there. Think only of the victims you’ve hurt, and feel their pain as yours. Do not take off the amulet. If someone else attempts to take it off, you must kill yourself before you let that happen.
“Forget me. Forget my name. Forget this place, and this pack. Go now, and never return.”
Ammon rose, walking out of the canyon. He didn’t pause, didn’t turn, and the falling night soon swallowed him.
Sylvia’s knees felt weak. He was vanquished. She was free.
Jet put an arm around her waist. “Want some venison?”
“I hope so,” Jasper said, slipping his hand into hers. “We saved you some prime pieces.”
Grateful to her Alphas, her mates, she headed back toward the den. There was a fire to light, and stories to tell. She already knew she would eat and drink long into the evening with Rowan, Everett, Fable, and the others. She had found her pack at last. She was safe, and she was home.
Holding tightly to Jet and Jasper, she walked through the protective curtain of roots.
Chapter 11
Six Weeks Later
That morning had dawned cool and crisp, and even at midday a chill still hung in the air. Sylvia stood in the den entrance with her Alphas, under the roots that swayed in a breeze that promised autumn.
She looked out over the faces that were ringed around them. Juniper caught her eye, and winked. Sylvia grinned back. Juniper had insisted on returning to the canyon and helping with feast preparations. She had only arrived four days ago, but Sylvia felt like they had always been sisters. It was endlessly entertaining to see Juniper joke with Jasper, or goad Jet.
Beside her, Locke took her arm. Juniper gazed up at him, practically radiating with happiness. The two of them made an excellent pair, and even better hunting partners.
To their left stood the Ember pack Alphas. Val, Ash, and Blaze had just arrived that morning, and the pack had seemed to hold its breath as Jet and Ash met. But the Alphas had clasped hands—any enmity that had once existed could not survive an occasion as happy as a binding day.
Sylvia took a breath. The word could still make her shiver, but she couldn’t wait to be bound to her Alphas. She wanted to be one with them, one with their pack. She could search the world and not find a man or shifter half as wonderful as either of her mates. How had she gotten so lucky as to have both of them?
Turning to look at her Alphas, she felt a fierce pride wash over her. Her heart was so full of joy that it was hard not to leap into their arms and shower them with kisses.
But Rowan said that had to wait, so Sylvia would do her best to control herself.
Val’s eyes shone with unshed tears, but her smile was brimming over. She glanced at her own Alphas, and Sylvia grinned. She must be remembering her own binding day.
Rowan stepped forward. “Are we ready? Is everyone here?”
A hush fell over them all. The pack seemed to draw closer to her. Sylvia felt like her heart might burst. They were the shifters who had taken her in, who had defended her from a sorcerer. She would never forget that, and she would do anything for them.
“All right, then,” Rowan said. “Alphas?”
The three of them stood in a circle around her, like they’d practiced.
“A pack is only as strong as its Alphas,” Rowan said, “and the Oak Canyon Alphas are as strong as the earth. May your love grow into the towering tree that holds our pack together.”
Jet’s fingers twitched as if they longed to twine with hers.
“Not yet,” Jasper whispered, though it was clear he couldn’t wait either.
“Everyone, please take a root,” Rowan said, clasping the longest one that hung from the oak above.
All around them, their attendants grabbed roots.
Rowan stepped out of their circle. “Alphas, please take each other’s hands.”
Sylvia felt a sharp relief at finally being able to hold her Alphas again. Both of their hands felt so warm, so right in hers.
“Your roots are as strong as your pack, and your friends.” Rowan looped her root around Jet and Sylvia’s clasped hands, then over Sylvia and Jasper’s. “Let them be the foundation you grow from, and let them strengthen you in times of need.”
One by one, their packmates, relatives, and friends stepped forward to lay down their roots. Some pulled them around Sylvia and Jet’s hands, others around Sylvia and Jasper’s, or even between the two brothers. Some began to weave between the roots that were already in place, crisscrossing into a lattice that locked them together.
Jasper met her eyes, squeezing her hand reassuringly.
Once the last root was put in place by Juniper, Rowan stepped forward. “You are now bound, our Oak Canyon Alphas.”
Everyone around them clapped and cheered, but Sylvia only had eyes for Jet and Jasper. Her mates were everything she could have ever asked for, everything she could have ever wanted. She wouldn’t mind if they never untangled these roots.
Jet and Jasper both leaned in to kiss her, to whistles from the crowd. Sylvia couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. It was a beautiful, perfect day, here in her den. There was no need to run ever again. She had been found. She had been bound to her Alphas.
All she needed now was to spend forever with them.
The End
You can’t outrun fate—or two determined Alphas. Passion, prophecy, and adventure await in Fated for the Alphas.
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When two Alphas fall for a monster hunter, who will end up hunting whom? Find out in Hunted by the Alphas.
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About the Author
Born on Halloween, Lily Thorn may have been destined to write about shifters and magic. Her stories feature fiercely protective heroes, strong women who fight for the men they love, and plenty of steam. When fated mates finally
find each other, nothing can stand in the way of their happy ending.
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Approaching Night
Book I of Seluna
Ilana Waters
Approaching Night: Book I of Seluna © 2016 Ilana Waters
* * *
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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 publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, please see contact information on the publisher’s website at ilanawaters.com
Approaching Night: Book I of Seluna
Silver Hill Asylum holds a deadly secret. But Seluna may not live long enough to uncover it.
Almost everyone is convinced I’m mad. But I’m not sure I believe them.
Seventeen-year-old Seluna doesn’t know why she was admitted to an all-female insane asylum called Silver Hill. She doesn’t know exactly how she makes inanimate objects come to life. And she can’t figure out the reason for the sadistic and brutal experiments on girls here—many of whom are never heard from again.
When Seluna sneaks out to the moonlit, forbidden garden behind Silver Hill, she meets a mysterious boy swimming in a pond. She senses there’s a connection between him and what’s happening at the asylum, but he’s not telling what. Then there are the screams from down long halls and the constant absence of light. No doubt they’re all part of the scheme concocted by the merciless head of the facility, Dr. Catron. He’s growing more and more frantic and violent in an attempt to find the person—or thing—he’s looking for.
Yes, there’s a lot Seluna doesn’t know about Silver Hill. About why moonlight, madness, and murder are following her. But she needs to find out fast . . . before she becomes the next victim.
* * *
(Set in the nineteenth century of an alternate world called Hartlandia, APPROACHING NIGHT is a YA gothic fantasy).
Author’s Note
This story takes place in an alternate world called Hartlandia, which shares characteristics with our world. You’ll also find that many characteristics are different. The story’s time period reflects our own late Victorian era. However, anachronisms and other strange occurrences are left in on purpose for you to enjoy.
Prologue
In the beginning, there were the vines. They’d been there as long as anyone could remember, plastered against the decaying back walls of Silver Hill. Eventually, they took over what had once been the garden. The vines strangled dead trees, tripped the unwary, and gnashed ugly patterns on the hard, gray stones. They were everywhere, inescapable, black as tar. Unlike living vines, the ones surrounding the insane asylum were hard and unforgiving. They were so hateful that sunlight shunned them. Only the moon cared enough to shine down.
The vines didn’t have thorns—–they didn’t need to. Parts of them were sharp as razors.
The only place they did not touch was the moat around the asylum, or the garden’s forgotten pond. Their lengths reached right up and over the water, but somehow were prevented from entering it. Instead, they lay on the pond’s desolate shores in mourning. Then they ripped even more fiercely at any mortal they could find.
Many attempts had been made to cut them back over the years, or burn them. But the vines were too hard to cut. They refused to burn. They continued their angry, endless existence. Unable to go where they pleased, they made sure no one else did either. They would never be welcome or at home anywhere.
The vines were not content to stay this way.
Chapter 1
“Try, Seluna. Just try.”
“I am trying! But it’s like I told you, Laura: nothing’s happening.”
“But sometimes, it does.”
“Well, now is not one of those times.”
I leaned my head against the bottom of the flimsy bed frame. Sitting with my back perpendicular to the center of the mattress, I continued looking at the wooden horse. I didn’t know why I couldn’t animate it. A glint of moonlight shone through the narrow room’s high window onto the horse. As I stared at the toy, I thought I saw it move.
Then a cloud must have passed over the moon, because suddenly, there was very little light in the room. The only other illumination came from the dimmed gas lamps behind both beds, and the tiny window on the door, the one with bars on it. Most of Silver Hill’s windows had bars on them.
“Maybe the horse is defective,” said Rose. She was on Laura’s bed, lying sideways, and leaned over to get a closer look. She brushed curly red hair out of her eyes. It wasn’t truly red; I could see the dark roots peeking out from beneath. “Where’d you get it, anyway?” she asked.
“It’s my little brother’s. He said I could have it to keep me company while . . . while I was away.” Tears welled in Laura’s eyes. “He really believed it would, too. Of course, he’s only three. It was his favorite toy, too.”
“Then I’m sure it’s not defective,” I said firmly. I reached over to where Laura was sitting on the floor, legs crossed, against the other bed. With a reassuring squeeze of her knee, I repeated what I’d told them both before.
“It’s true I can animate objects, and temporarily make dead things come to life. But that doesn’t mean I can always do it. And when I can’t, I’m sure it says more about me than the object itself. So don’t fret over it.”
“I know.” Laura took the horse and moved it up and down with her hand, making it prance on the nightstand between beds. “It’s just . . . that’s so magical, you know? I’m really keen to see more of it.”
I shrugged and adjusted my skirts. I didn’t really think of my ability as magic. It wasn’t even particularly useful, so I rarely thought about it at all. Although I would have liked to use it to make Laura smile more. When she smiled, it was one of the few times her pale hair and skin didn’t make her look like she never saw the sun. Rose’s complexion was darker, almost tawny brown. But there was a sallowness there as well, like she could use a holiday.
“Eh, Laura, you’re fourteen years old,” Rose said. “Isn’t it time you quit playing with toys?”
Laura made a face and stopped moving the horse back and forth. “I’m not playing. I was just . . . demonstrating what Seluna could do with it. Besides, you’re sixteen. Shouldn’t you be able to tell when someone is playing and when they’re not?”
“Hey, have some respect for your elders,” Rose said. “After all, I’m the oldest one here.”
“Ahem.” I coughed.
Rose scrunched up her nose. “Oh, right. I forgot you’re seventeen, Seluna. Well, old lady, astound us with your wisdom and experience. Do more you know what.” She indicated the wooden horse.
“Do more of what? What are you girls doin’?” A low, matronly voice boomed through the door’s tiny window, and two piggish eyes appeared behind the glass. Nurse Cutter.
All of us gave a start, and Laura quickly hid the wooden horse behind her back. One didn’t know if it was strictly forbidden, but then again, precious objects could be confiscated here for any reason. Or for no reason at all.
“Nothing!” called Rose. “Just . . . playing jacks.”
“Jacks.” We saw the tiny eyes squint into even smaller slits in the woman’s doughy face. “Ain’t that a form of gamblin’? Like card playin’?”
Rose and Laura looked at each other with wide, fearful eyes. They had no idea what to say.
“Not the way we’re playing,” I replied smoothly. “We’re playing the, ah . . . the boring way.”
“Well, all right, then,” said Nurse Cutter. “But nothin’ too overstimulatin’. It’s almost time
for lights-out.”
“Yes, Nurse Cutter,” we chorused, and heard her footsteps grow fainter down the hall.
“That was a close one.” Rose took a cigarette out of a secret pocket in her bodice and patted a different pocket, looking for a match. Silver Hill allowed patients to wear their own clothing most of the time, but did not permit skirts with pockets.
“Rose!” Laura’s big blue eyes grew even bigger when she saw the cigarette. “You know you can’t smoke that in here!”
“Or anywhere at Silver Hill,” I reminded her.
Rose gave an exasperated sigh and let her head flop back on Laura’s pillow. “I know, I know! But if I don’t do something I’m not supposed to, I’m going to go mad!”
“They say we’re mad,” Laura said softly. She held her brother’s horse in her lap, stroking its head. “That’s why we’re here.” She put the toy on the comforter and continued watching it. Suddenly, we heard the sounds of squeaking gurney wheels and pained groaning. Rose jumped off Laura’s bed and went to the door’s window. She stood on her tiptoes and tried to look out.
“What’s happening?” Laura asked. She and I got up and stood next to Rose, but there was only room at the window for one.
Rose hopped up and down, trying to get a better view. “Ugh, I can’t see anything! Seluna, you look. You’re the only one tall enough.”
Although I had only a few inches on these girls, it was just enough to allow me to peek over the bottom of the window. I squinted. I could typically see better in the dark than others, but it was still difficult to see anything in the shadowy hallway. I could just make out a girl strapped to a gurney, struggling to regain consciousness. The head of the asylum—Dr. Catron—was walking alongside her.
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