by Clara Kensie
Dennis nodded approvingly, but Tristan crossed his arms. “Jillian and Logan are purposely avoiding places with cameras. Aaron will never find them that way.”
Aaron’s fingers hesitated on the keyboard, then stopped, his shoulders sagging.
“They can’t avoid all cameras,” Kellan said. “And Aaron’s all we got. Unless you want me to assign Nathan Gallagher to the case.” He smirked at me, knowing full well that I wouldn’t want Nathan.
Kellan handed Aaron a file. “That’s everything you need to know about your targets. We took pictures of them a few weeks ago, so the photos are recent. Just look for their faces on the internet. Traffic cams, gas stations, drive-throughs.”
Keeping his head ducked so low his glasses almost slipped off, Aaron opened the file. A photo of Logan was on top. Carrying his sax on the driveway of our house in Twelve Lakes. His face was serious, his brown eyes looking cautiously down the street, making sure it was safe.
Jillian’s photo was next. Also taken in Twelve Lakes, this photo was a close-up of her looking out our upstairs window, one hand holding back the curtain, her gray eyes staring into the distance, blond hair falling over her shoulders.
“She’s dyed her hair brown since then,” I told Aaron, remembering my vision of her brown hair in Tennessee. “And they both might be wearing baseball caps.” He didn’t respond, just looked at Jillian’s photo. I held out the ballet shoe and sheet music. “Do you need these?”
He shook his head.
I tried giving him Brinda’s drawings next. “Would these help at all?”
Another shake of his head.
Tucking the items back in my bag, I tried to give him more direction. “Try truck stops,” I said. “We used to eat in truck stops a lot. And twenty-four-hour diners. Try convenience stores, too.”
The number of truck stops, convenience stores and gas stations in this country had to number in the millions. No wonder Aaron was shocked into frozen muteness. Kellan had assigned him an impossible task.
“Jillian likes warm places,” I said. “Maybe you should start with the southern states. And don’t bother looking in the states we’ve already lived. They won’t return. Louisiana and Tennessee are probably out too. That narrows it down for you a little, right?”
Aaron still said nothing.
I found a piece of paper and a pen. “This is my cell phone number,” I said, jotting it down. “Call me the second you find something. Any time, day or night. I’ll answer on the first ring.” I slid a sideways glance to Kellan. “Don’t bring Kellan with you to get them. He’ll just hurt them. I’ll go with you instead.”
Kellan snorted. Tristan fisted his hands. Dennis frowned at both of them.
But Aaron didn’t respond.
Finally I gave up. I went to Tristan, seeking comfort under his arm. We didn’t have to say anything, telepathically or out loud. We both knew it would be almost impossible for Aaron to find them.
Even Dennis failed to suppress a disappointed sigh. He mouthed to me, I’ll talk to the board of directors.
“Thanks, Aaron,” I said. “Good luck.” Disheartened, we turned to leave.
“She’s beautiful.”
The choked words came from Aaron.
I paused in my steps and looked back.
“Your sister,” he said. “She’s beautiful.”
“Yes,” I said. “She is.”
He traced his finger down Jillian’s photo.
I glanced up at Tristan, then smiling, I broadcast my next thought loudly, so he would hear it, and Dennis would hear it, and Kellan would hear it too.
Aaron Jacobs is going to find my brother and sister.
Chapter Sixteen
“Make sure your getaway bag is packed,” I said to Tristan as we entered the kitchen the next morning, hand in hand. I held Marmalade in my other arm, and Mac plodded along at our feet. Tristan nodded with a huge yawn. Poor thing was exhausted. I had actually fallen asleep a little early last night, convinced that with Aaron’s additional help on the case, I would soon find my brother and sister. But Tristan was up most of the night writing a report for his criminal justice class and doubling his efforts to contact the psychics in his database. “As soon as we get a lead, we need to leave.”
“No!” The protest came from Deirdre, who was leaning against the kitchen table, still in her flowered robe. Her skin seemed extra pale against her messy copper hair, making her freckles stand out even more. Dennis stood next to her, one arm around her, his expression grim.
“I’m sorry, Tessa,” he said. “But you can’t leave Lilybrook.”
“Why, because Tristan and I skipped school to go to Tennessee?” I asked. “We’ll make up the work we missed.”
“It’s not about school,” Deirdre said.
Tristan tightened his hold on my hand. “You had a dream, didn’t you, Mom?”
She bit her lips and gripped the back of the chair, then gave a quick nod. “Last night.”
“A precognitive dream? About me?” I’d been hoping Deirdre would have another dream about me—specifically, a dream about me finding Jillian and Logan. But she was so tight, so tense, so terrified.
“Tell me exactly what you dreamed,” Tristan said, “so I can stop it from happening.”
She kept her grip on the chair. “In the dream, Tessa, you left Lilybrook for your brother and sister. But you ended up inside a little house. The walls were silver. Silver walls. So bright it was blinding.”
“Silver?” On the counter near the sink, a steak knife glimmered.
“Silver, and then...” She let out a huge exhale. “Red. The entire room filled with blood. A flood of blood.”
The knife glimmered and glowed, and my pulse quickened, sending my tainted blood through my veins with every beat of my heart.
Brinda Lakhani drew the same exact thing, Tristan flashed to me, then aloud he asked his mother, “When is this supposed to happen?”
“I don’t know when, I don’t know where, I don’t know how.” Shaking, Deirdre stumbled over and clutched my shoulders. And when she looked down at me, the agony in her eyes made my heart stop beating. “The only thing I know, Tessa, is that if you leave Lilybrook,” she said, “you are going to die.”
* * * * *
We hope you enjoyed PART FOUR of
Clara Kensie’s thrilling and romantic serial
RUN TO YOU!
Read on for a sneak peek of
PART FIVE: FIFTH TOUCH....
About the Author
Clara Kensie grew up reading every book she could find and using her diary to write stories about a girl with psychic powers who solved mysteries. She purposely did not hide her diary, hoping someone would read it and assume she was writing about herself. Since then, she’s swapped her diary for a computer and admits her characters are fictional, but otherwise she hasn’t changed one bit.
The complexities of family, friendship and love have always intrigued Clara. Wanting to study human nature, in college she triple-majored in psychology, sociology and social services, then threw in a criminal justice minor for good measure. She interned at a group home for troubled teen girls. She visited prisons. Today Clara lives outside Chicago with her husband, their two kids and their trouble-making cat, appropriately named The King of Chaos. She writes twisty mysteries and chilling thrillers for young adults—but it’s the romance that will take your breath away. When she’s not torturing her characters, she’s on Twitter and Tumblr, reading YA lit or looking for her keys. Visit her website at clarakensie.com.
A family on the run from a deadly past, and a first love that will transcend secrets, lies and danger…
Looking for more Clara Kensie? Be sure to catch all 6 parts in her fast-paced, romantic-suspense serial, Run to You. Available now in ebook format.
Run to You Part 1: First Sight
Run to You Part 2: Second Glance
Run to You Part 3: Third Charm
Run to You Part 4: Fourth Shadow
Run to You Part 5: Fifth Touch
Run to You Part 6: Sixth Sense
Order your copies today!
Be sure to also catch these other great Harlequin TEEN titles, available now:
White Hot Kiss by Jennifer L. Armentrout
Bitter Sweet Love by Jennifer L. Armentrout (novella)
Heartbeat by Elizabeth Scott
Stir Me Up by Sabrina Elkins
Another Little Piece of My Heart by Tracey Martin
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“Captivating, mysterious, fun and deep…for readers of John Green or any realistic YA authors, I would highly recommend this new wonderful novel.”
—Fresh Fiction
Five Strangers. Countless adventures. One epic way to get lost. Don’t miss one of the most anticipated debuts of 2014, Let’s Get Lost (August 2014) by Adi Alsaid.
Available in ebook.
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Four teens across the country have only one thing in common: a girl named Leila.
She crashes into their lives in her absurdly red car at the moment they need someone the most.
Hudson, Bree, Elliot and Sonia find a friend in Leila. And when Leila leaves them, their lives are forever changed. But it is during Leila’s own 4,268-mile journey that she discovers the most important truth—sometimes, what you need most is right where you started. And maybe the only way to find what you’re looking for is to get lost along the way.
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I was going to die.
Inside a little house with silver walls, I was going to bleed to death.
Because Deirdre had a dream.
“How will it happen?” An anxious dread settled in my stomach like a rock. From the counter, the knife flashed again.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I just know that it will.”
“What kind of house has silver walls?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Dennis said solemnly, “because you’ll never be in a house like that. Deirdre’s dreams always happen, Tessa. The only way to keep them from happening is to change the course of events. She dreamed that you left Lilybrook because of your brother and sister. So, to change the course of events, you won’t leave. You’ll stay in Lilybrook.”
“Tristan changes the course of events with his warning premonitions all the time,” I said. “So if he has one about me, I’ll listen. I won’t ignore him anymore. I’ll do what he says. Immediately. I promise.”
“That’s not good enough,” Tristan said. He put his hands on either side of my face and caressed my cheeks with his thumbs. “You almost got hit by that ambulance in Tennessee because you had lifted the fog so high that you were lost in the visions. You walked right in front of it, even though I was yelling for you to stop. It wasn’t that you ignored me; you didn’t hear me. Or what if...” He grimaced, guilt shadowing his face. “What if something like Twelve Lakes happens again?”
My shame was my parents; Tristan’s shame was his failure to keep me safe from Kellan in Twelve Lakes.
“But what about Jillian and Logan?” I asked. “I can’t let a dream stop me from finding them.”
“Aaron Jacobs is looking for them,” Dennis said.
“I’m looking for them too,” Tristan said. “I may not be a human computer like Aaron is, but I’m still searching for matches for Brinda’s drawings, and I’m still contacting psychics around the country. I’ll find them for you, like I promised I would. I’ll bring them to you, here, in Lilybrook.”
The tightness in Deirdre’s face turned from worry to anger. “Dennis spent eight years looking for you,” she said. “Tristan moved away his senior year and put off college for you. They risked their lives to bring you to safety. That you would even consider—”
Dennis took her hand. “You can’t be with your brother and sister if you’re dead, Tessa.”
From atop the fridge, Marmalade mewed.
I stared at the Connellys, and they stared back at me. Deirdre: hurt and resentful. Dennis: decisive and stern. Tristan: distressed and determined.
Tristan and Dennis were almost killed because of me. I owed it to them to stay alive.
And despite the shame that crawled around inside me like a disease, despite my tainted blood, despite being Killers’ Spawn...I didn’t want to die. I wanted to live to see my brother and sister again. I wanted to give them happy, stable, peaceful lives.
I couldn’t give Jillian and Logan happy, stable, peaceful lives if I bled to death inside a little house with silver walls. I needed to live.
For the past eight years, I’d fled from town to town to stay alive. And now, to stay alive, I needed to stay put. I could not change my past, but I could change my future.
“Fine,” I mumbled. “I’ll stay in Lilybrook.”
* * * * *
Read on for an excerpt from another unforgettable
Harlequin TEEN digital-first story
FORETOLD
(Book 1 of Sisters of Fate)
by Rinda Elliott.
Available now at your favorite e-tailer!
Copyright © 2014 by Kara Schein Critzer
Three days after the end of the world began I had two choices—drive into a river or hit a deer. The light of the full moon reflected off the snow; the white stuff falling from the sky came in thick, noisy sheets that slammed the roof of my Honda Civic and coated the windshield.
Snow, in my experience, had always been soft. This version was pissed, spitting at the world with a vengeance. It made clear vision impossible.
Didn’t do much for traction, either.
I had to go so slowly. Exhaustion burned my eyes, dragged at my lungs. I’d lost hope of finding a cheap hotel. The last one had been so full, people had actually been sharing rooms with strangers. I’d had two offers while scurrying back to my car in the parking lot. Hadn’t taken them. If I’d learned one thing on this long trip, it was that people turned into complete freaks when they were scared and a sudden Earth-wide snowstorm made for one wicked fear catalyst. I’d seen fights in grocery stores, fights in snowdrifts on the sides of highways and had even watched one lady jump into a car and drive off while the owner stood holding the gas pump nozzle.
And the directions I’d printed sucked.
It had taken me three days longer than expected to get here from Florida. I’d always wanted to come to this supposed place of great magic nestled on the edge of the Ouachita Mountains in eastern Oklahoma, but Mom freaked every time I brought it up. Too much magic, she said. Plus, the rumors of a real gloaming meadow upset her. As far as the Norse knew, there were only a couple in the United States. My two sisters and I had been conceived in the one up north. Nothing like knowing exactly where your mother had sex with a stranger.
The snow let up slightly and I leaned forward like that would help me see well. I slowed even more, the car going barely faster than a crawl. I’d known what this snow was all about the second it had started.
When my sisters and I were kids, my mother’s idea of a bedtime story had been a creepy Norse rendition of the end of th
e world. Ragnarok. Three years of winter, a great tidal wave and then fire burning across the land. And during all this, there would be battles between warriors who carried the souls of the old gods. Blood and death—my mother’s idea of a nurturing bedtime story.
Kat, Coral and I hadn’t believed her until the souls of the norns inside us made themselves known. I was nine the first time I felt mine. Triplets like us, the norns had been goddess sisters, similar to the Greek fates, but they hadn’t woven threads of prophecy as some stories told; they’d carved runes into wood. The Norse called them the Wyrd Sisters. Kat, Coral and I preferred to think of them as the sisters of fate because the whole damned situation was weird enough.
The car swerved, causing my hands to sweat as my hold on the steering wheel turned to a death grip. My cell phone buzzed in the front pocket of my jeans but I ignored it, too scared to reach for it because I was pretty sure I’d left the actual road at some point.
I risked one hand off the wheel long enough to rub my temple. This anxiety was eating me alive. I’d been driving too long and my head had ached the past twenty-four hours. I missed my sisters. We’d never been apart this long before.
So when the flash of brown stepped in front of my car, I panicked and swerved. The car hit a patch of ice, glanced off a tree and sailed with a groaning, metallic cry right over a ravine and into fast-moving, icy water.
The jarring crash rattled every bone in my body.
Shock froze me for a second or two. Then the terror hit. I screamed as the car floated down the river, slamming into boulders and tree limbs like some tricked-out carnival water slide. My suitcase flew between the bucket seats and hit my shoulder, knocking me into the steering wheel.
Blinking, I wrapped my cold fingers around the wheel until they cramped. I couldn’t see crap! Ride it out or abandon ship? The decision was ripped from me when everything came to a jarring stop.