PINELIGHTforkindle

by Jillian Peery

  PINELIGHT

  BOOK ONE

  JILLIAN PEERY

  JOIN THE ADVENTURE

  www.jillianpeery.com

  Copyright © 2011 by Jillian Peery

  All Rights Reserved

  Kindle Edition, License Notes

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2011 by Jillian Peery. All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part, without the express written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review.

  To book a signing event, submit your request at

  www.jillianpeery.com.

  Cover Art by Josh Longbrake.

  First Printing: June, 2011.

  Ebook ISBN: 978-0-9837507-0-3

  Hardcover ISBN: 978-0-9837507-2-7

  Printed in the United States of America

  For my husband, Clint,

  whose love and inspiration

  made this dream a reality.

  I love you.

  For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world, and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.

  —Ephesians 6:12

  PREFACE

  Thirty-Seven Months Ago

  Light from the flickering candles sent a stabbing pain through my eyes. The sound of crackling wood echoed through the hallway, and the bold aroma of smoke filled my lungs, causing me to feel nauseated. Pain was being released, and it was attacking my body. I felt it pounding in my head—a severe pain, the kind of pain that renders you helpless. It was hard to think. How did I get here? He had me pinned between his body and the cold stone of the wall. I blinked heavily as I tried to focus—to see into his dark eyes. My vision was distorted, and I felt strangely dizzy.

  “Did you really think I wanted it to come to this? You just wouldn’t let go. I gave you every opportunity—every opportunity—to leave it all behind. Why couldn’t you let your love overcome your hate for me?” His jawline tightened when I didn’t respond. “Don’t pretend I mean nothing to you. You are tempted—I can feel it.”

  I stared blankly in confusion. I didn’t know what to say.

  “Well, there’s nothing you can do now. Your precious memories are slipping away. Your fate will be sealed tonight.” His voice was strong and angry, but his eyes seemed to reflect all the sadness in the world. Why was he yelling? I struggled to remember why he was angry. Thoughts and images were briefly appearing and disappearing, creating chaos in my mind.

  He pushed me out of the lit hallway into a dark room. The blue glow of the moon seeped in through a window that was halfway tucked behind a torn curtain. Everything looked gray and grim in the moonlight. He forced my body backward onto a massive bed in the middle of the room and threw me to its silky surface. A chill came to my skin as his hand tightened around my neck.

  “He wanted me to kill you, you know.”

  He suddenly released his grip and stormed across the room, slamming a red door behind him. I heard the metal key grind as it turned inside the rusty lock of the door, sealing me within my prison.

  “I can keep you safe.” His voice, now more controlled, sounded strangely anxious through the wooden cracks of the door.

  The sound of pounding boots charging down the empty corridor echoed eerily through the room. There was another sharp, throbbing pain in my head. How did this all begin? How did I get in this room? Once again, confusion was settling in.

  I carefully pulled myself to a sitting position, rubbing my pounding temple, dazed by the pain. As my eyes began to focus, I gradually became aware of a soft glow illuminating my clenched fist. I slowly unfolded each finger to reveal light emanating from a cross pendant—a pendant covered in wet blood.

  Immediately, blurry images from earlier in the night flashed in my mind.

  He was taking everything from me.

  I frantically tied the loose ribbon of the pendant around my neck, jumped from the bed, and then rushed to the glazed window. The night sky illuminated the angry ocean as roaring waves from far below crashed and foamed around the boulders protecting the embankment of the castle. All was dark and ominous.

  I knew I had to jump—it was the only way. My past would soon slip away, along with every recollection of anyone I had ever known. All of my loved ones—would be forgotten. Everything I believed in—would be lost. I would much rather plunge into the dark waters than fall victim to this malicious plan. I could never be his.

  -1-

  RED RIVER PARISH, LOUISIANA

  Present Day

  I watch as the seasons change. Leaves float in the sky and fall gracefully to the earth. I sit and wish that you were here with me. Night takes the day, and I can feel you near. I can’t see your face, but I know you are in my dreams. I hear you. I wait to find you, the one who haunts my soul. Where are you? Only the seasons ever change; leaves continue to fall and then rustle about the earth. Night continues to reign over me. Though the memories are lost, I know a part of you is still with me.

  -Clara

  My fist clasped the crumpled piece of paper hidden tightly under my fingers. Trails of rain scattered sideways on the passenger window. I concentrated on the rain and the rapid flutter of the windshield wipers. I didn’t want to think about what was happening in the cab of the truck. I didn’t want to cry—not in front of him. The light tapping of raindrops steadily increased, much like the tension between us. I could feel him waiting for me to speak, but I was determined not to give him that satisfaction.

  It was seventy-two degrees in Red River Parish, windy, and the clouds were releasing their dark gray fury across town. I had dressed appropriately for the dreary day, no doubt, but the dampness caused by the rain combined with the chill of the truck’s blasting air conditioner was enough to make anyone uncomfortable. Instead of powering down the air or closing the vents on the dash, I shoved my hands further into my jacket pockets and leaned toward the fogged window. I didn’t want him to know I was uncomfortable—I didn’t want him to know anything about how I felt.

  The drive to Coushatta always seemed to stretch in bad weather. The small town of nearly three thousand townspeople rested along the north side of the Red River. I lived with my Aunt Alice on the gloomy southwest side, miles from everything in Louisiana, except for the town’s oldest cemetery. We had been the only living souls on this side of the parish, until a mortician and his son moved in to the vacant house at the cemetery. It was there in the quiet graveyard, under the frozen wings of stone angels, that I had met Erik.

  My eyes darted over to him. The silence and our closeness made the truck seem stifling, and I found myself working harder to think, even to breathe. I couldn’t believe what he had done.

  Erik usually had an alluring way about him, but that trance was broken now. His eyes were hidden by the dark shade of his sunglasses, like they usually were. But I knew he was stealing glances at me. Just like I was at him. His seemingly fixated stare on the road and tight grip on the steering wheel kept my mind wandering uneasily. How could I have trusted him? There was a knot of embarrassment forming in my stomach.

  For the first time, I hated him. I hated everything about his perfect olive skin, his deep brown eyes, even his messy hair. I hated that, for the next ten minutes, I was stuck near him, with no way out. I wanted to be as far away from him as humanly possible.

  “Clara,” he said in a charming voice, breaking the silence. “You can’t ignore
me forever.”

  I sighed, knowing this was partially true. Erik had an unexplainable aura that followed him everywhere, pulling everyone in—including me. There was no denying that. He knew he had this strange power over me, just like he did with everyone in the parish. But this time I saw past his charm, and I wasn’t going to let him pull me back in.

  “It should be easy,” I snapped. I was surprised that my voice sounded strong and not shaky.

  The cab of the truck was silent again, except for the hard tapping of the rain. The smooth lips I had once admired were now unnaturally pursed—he was undoubtedly searching for something to say.

  “Easy. Really,” he murmured, but there was a hint of a question in his tone.

  I wiggled down in my seat and looked to the passenger window. The blue glow of the sky struck across the wet glass, and for a moment I could see my reflection in the haze.

  My skin looked even paler on dreary days like these, and my freckles darker, especially when my hair was down against my face. I ran my fingers through the auburn tangles and pushed them behind my ears. It didn’t seem to help my translucent reflection.

  My eyes were still fixated on the window when we passed the sign that read: RED RIVER PARISH HIGH—Home of the Mighty Bulldogs. Through the veil of rain and gloom, our eerie Edwardian-style school sat somberly in the background, waiting for us to enter. At dawn and dusk, the light would hit the lines of the school, highlighting the beauty in its architecture. It was picturesque, but today, its beauty was masked with a gothic veil. Today everything was bleak.

  The truck slowed as we took an easy turn into the back parking lot of the school, and then jolted when the wheels rolled over the first of the three familiar speed bumps. Erik immediately took a hard left, away from the school building, and slammed on the brakes. The truck came to a screeching halt under an isolated bald cypress tree that dripped with both rain and moss.

  I heard him toss his shades onto the dashboard, but I kept my eyes focused ahead on the tree.

  “You wish to ignore me,” he said. Though it was a statement, he sounded confused.

  I glanced long enough to realize he was inching his way toward me, and then shot my attention back to the tree.

  “Come on, Clarabella,” he continued with a grin. “That’s not what you want.”

  His hand slid over mine, like it always did when he wanted something, but I pulled away. I felt my mind slightly spin for a moment, before realizing his grin had faded and he was studying me.

  “So ripping a few entries from your journal was a bad idea. I get it,” he said, releasing a heavy breath of peppermint into the air. “But surely you can get over that.”

  His words fueled the fire inside of me. I thought back to all the times he had been in my house—in my room. All the unintentional opportunities I had given him to go through all of my things, to steal my journal. Everything I felt, my unexplainable thoughts and emotions, were written within those pages. I was mortified he had read them. He wants me to just get over it? My temples pulsed.

  “I want it back.” I paused to correct myself. “I want back every single page.”

  He chuckled to himself before letting me in on his bad joke. “The only page you’re going to find is the one in your hand.”

  “Where are the others?”

  He was silent.

  “Tell me, Erik!” I demanded an answer.

  “Listen, Clara—forget about it. You don’t need them back.” His eyes were black poison when he looked at me. I couldn’t look away from them. His voice buzzed in my head. “Forget about it,” he repeated slowly.

  My mind went fuzzy again.

  Somehow I managed to tuck his words in my pocket—to shake out the buzz. My mind cleared and soared back to what I wanted. The pages.

  “Give them to me,” I demanded.

  He appeared surprised by my reaction, almost irritated. I noticed his mouth tighten as if he were biting the inside of his cheek.

  “Give them to me now—or never talk to me again.”

  He was glaring at me with sinister eyes, while his chest expanded and breath quickened. Maybe he was angry that his usual charm had failed to work, or maybe he didn’t approve of my demands. Either way something had stirred him.

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Fine,” I said. “I never want to see you again.” I slid over to the truck door and pushed it open. I was finally free of the truck—free of him—but now I was standing with my bag in the pouring rain.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Get back in the truck, Clara.”

  His voice faded into the sound of rain as I broke into a frantic run. It was all I could do. I ran through the old cypress trees that shadowed the cracked parking lot, and then ran some more. I ran, seemingly for miles in the rain, darting through the woods that overlooked our school. Feelings of betrayal churned inside of me. Agony and humiliation drove me. I couldn’t stop. I wanted nothing more than to be numb. The rain continued to pour down through the trees, soaking every inch of my body.

  Time passed, I know, but I didn’t feel it pass. My clothes felt heavy, my legs weighted, as I treaded through the muddy landscape. My eyes burned, and nothing appeared clear anymore. My body was giving in. I had put up a good fight, but I couldn’t run from this. I couldn’t stop this. I slowly crumbled into the soggy earth and began to cry.

  The soft, wet earth embraced my body while my mind spun with thoughts I didn’t understand. Over the last few years, I had learned to cope with many things—the numerous rumors concerning my move to Red River Parish, the emptiness of not knowing my past, who I was, or what had become of my family—but not this. I had never confided in anyone the way I had with Erik—never allowed myself to be this vulnerable. And here I was exposed, defenseless to the pain.

  Lifting myself from the mush, I purposed to forget Erik—to forget I ever called him my friend. I could be strong, I told myself. But I knew I was lying.

  -2-

  THREAT

  Our house looked dark and unwelcoming in the downpour. Pools of rain always collected on the roof before dripping down the white shutters. The house looked like it was weeping. Appropriate, I thought.

  I stepped carefully up the slippery steps of the porch—one, two, three, four. I always had to count them—one of my idiosyncrasies. With my remaining energy, I raked off my sneakers and reached for the door.

  The familiar cluttered walls welcomed me home. I dragged myself upstairs, past the crooked paintings that Alice had recently hung, sliding my hand along the rail. Twelve steps to the top, six steps into my room, and eight more into my bathroom. I made it to the bathroom sink in ten steps.

  Staring back from the mirror was a face I hardly recognized. My eyes were swollen and pink from the tears—my hair a knotted mess. Traces of splattered mud speckled my face and neck, while the remainder of it caked my clothes. I was exhausted from it all—the running, the crying, the deception. And for the first time, I could see the damage.

  I stumbled over to the old claw-foot tub, still dewy from my morning shower, and twisted the hot water nozzle to the shower on—all the way on. I shifted out of my jacket, then stepped into the tub wearing the rest of my muck-covered clothes and pulled the plastic lining, until I was sealed in with a cloud of steam.

  The heat and the pressure from the water calmed my nerves as it washed away the brush and grime from my skin and clothes. Before long my jeans were clean enough to take off, then my shirt. I closed my eyes and sank to the back of the tub, listening only to the hissing of the water. My mind was almost at ease.

  “You normally shower with clothes on?”

  Erik. One hand quickly shot over my chest to cover my bra, and the other one to my underwear.

  “What are you doing here? Get out!” No one had ever seen that much of my skin before—I felt my face turn red.

  “No.”

  “No?” I waited, fuming with detest.

  “That’s right. I’m not going anywhere—but you can tr
y to run again.” He chuckled. He seemed to be enjoying the situation. He looped his fingers around a red towel hanging on the wall. It moved back and forth on its hook, taunting me.

  “Give me the towel.”

  “No.” Our eyes met. “We’re going to talk first,” he said.

  “You think this is funny, don’t you?” I pulled my knees up and curled my arms around them to hide my exposed skin. I still felt mortified that he was seeing me this way. “This is nothing but a game to you.”

  Erik pulled at his soaked T-shirt, loosening the gray material from the hard lines of his abdomen, and then tossed the towel over his shoulder. There was no doubting his beauty and my attraction to him.

  “I find it entertaining, yes. But this isn’t a game.” With a devilish grin, he trotted forward to the tub and turned the water off. “I was very surprised with your reaction today. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

  I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t think of a clear way to address what was just said, and in all honesty, I agreed with him. When have I ever stood up to anyone?

  “Something big is about to happen, Clara. And it will be easier if we are friends.”

  “I don’t want anything to do with you,” I blurted.

  “You’re only making this process harder on yourself.” In one smooth motion, he lowered himself, balancing his weight on the edge of the porcelain tub. “You will eventually have to let go, or there will be much to endure.”

  He was telling me what to do again, and I didn’t like it.

  I quickly grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled with all my weight. He toppled over the edge of the tub, while I jumped out with the red towel in hand. I sprinted through the bathroom door and slid into my room, but before I could slam the door behind me, his arms closed around my shoulders.