Transcending Darkness
Title Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Epilogue
About Airicka Phoenix
TRANSCENDING DARKNESS
By Airicka Phoenix
Transcending Darkness ©2013 by Airicka Phoenix
All rights reserved.
www.AirickaPhoenix.com
This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of the copyright owner and/or the publisher of this book, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Cover Designer: Airicka’s Mystical Creations
Interior Design: Airicka Phoenix
Editor & Formatter: Kathy Eccleston
ISBN-13: 978-1517123970
ISBN-10: 1517123976
Published by Airicka Phoenix
Also available in eBook and paperback publication
Also by Airicka Phoenix
Games of Fire
Betraying Innocence
TOUCH SAGA
Touching Smoke
Touching Fire
Touching Eternity
THE LOST GIRL SERIES
Finding Kia
Revealing Kia
REGENERATION SERIES
When Night Falls
THE BABY SAGA
Forever His Baby
Bye-Bye Baby
Be My Baby
Always Yours, Baby
IN THE DARK SERIES
My Soul For You
Kissing Trouble
SONS OF JUDGMENT SAGA
Octavian’s Undoing
Gideon’s Promise
ANTHOLOGY
Whispered Beginnings: A Clever Fiction Anthology
Midnight Surrender Anthology
Dedication
To Jessica,
For having my back and not getting me locked up.
TRANSCENDING DARKNESS
Chapter 1
“How badly do you want to be free, Juliette?”
As questions went, it was a redundant one. What sort of person didn’t want to be free of the tether binding them to a lifetime of oppression and abuse? What kind of person thrived on the fear of not knowing if they would live to see another day? But Juliette knew it wasn’t the answer Arlo was after. For him, it was to remind her just how far beneath his boots she stood and how her life was his to do with as he so wished.
“I’m sorry the payment was late this month,” she began, talking to his filthy boots rather than facing the man sitting on the hood of his shiny, black Bentley, or the five other men standing in a perfect circular formation around her, caging her in. “I couldn’t pull enough hours—”
“That wasn’t my question.” Arlo slid off the car¸ disturbing the dirt beneath their feet as he kicked absently at a soda can. The bit of metal clattered noisily in the late afternoon as it tumbled across the parking lot. “Do you want to be free?”
Arlo wasn’t much taller than her. Maybe a foot at the very most, but he had intimidation on his side, which was something Juliette severely lacked. Plus he had the gun tucked into the waistband of his black jeans. The butt stood out against the white material of his t-shirt. It was all Juliette could see despite her best efforts not to stare.
Swallowing the thick chunks of bile pooling at the back of her throat, Juliette nodded. “Yes.”
His footsteps drew closer, deliberately slow as the space between them shrank rapidly. He stopped when she could smell the sharp stink of tobacco on his dark clothes and clearly make out the broken road map scarring his boots. The sweet stench of cinnamon rolls curled into the space separating them to claw across her cheeks. It tangled with the stench of stale beer wafting off his breath and taunted the sickness she was fighting so hard to suppress.
“We had a deal you and I, didn’t we?” He reached up and it took all her courage not to cringe when he plucked a coil of her hair off her shoulder. He wound it around a dirty finger, tight enough to tug strands from her scalp. “You promised to pay the debt your father owed me and I wouldn’t take your pretty little sister as compensation. So far, I have kept my end of the bargain, but you haven’t kept yours.”
“I’m sorry—”
With the speeds of an angry cobra, his free hand shot out and closed around her jaw. Jagged nails bit into tender skin as she was wrenched closer. His foul breath cut across her cheeks, burning her senses. Tears sprang to her eyes and were quickly blinked back; he already held all the power over her. She refused to let him see her cry. Oh, but he tried every chance he got to break her.
“Sorry doesn’t get me my money, Juliette,” he murmured in a taunting whisper that was followed by pressure on her face. His cold, brown eyes sliced into her from amongst a messy cap of equally brown hair. Most would have considered him handsome, and maybe he was with his built frame and rugged features, but all Juliette could see was a monster. “I want my money, or something of equal value.”
Crippling terror vaulted up the cavity of her body in a numbing lance when his hand dropped the lock of her hair to snake up the side of her thigh, dragging the worn hem of her waitress uniform up her leg in the process. Chills rushed over her in a torrent of hot and cold. She reflexively grabbed his wrist, but it slid effortlessly inward despite her using both hands against only one of his.
“No, please…”
The hand on her face tightened to the point of blinding pain. Her cry went ignored.
“I own you.”
The hand tucked between her legs to grind in painful nudges over the slip of cotton covering her mound. Her resistance had no effect on him. She was barely able to push him away and that amused him. It lit the dark glimmer of triumph shimmering across his eyes and radiated in the possessive grip of his fingers bruising her jaw. He pulled her in closer so their mouths were mere inches apart and she was forced to swallow every one of his foul exhales.
“Everything you have, everything you will have … mine, and there is nothing you can do about it, Juliette.”
The sickening truth rippled up the length of her to curdle in her chest. It warped around her heart and lungs until she was sure she would suffocate right there at his feet. But even death had abandoned her to his mercy.
“I’m sorry,” she choked out, struggling not to fight, while simultaneously restraining his prodding fingers from pushing past the material of her panties. “I’ll get your money!” she promised over the loud boom of ter
ror thundering between her ears. “I promise.”
“See that you do.” His gaze lingered on her mouth, dark and hungry. “And make sure this is the only time we have this conversation.”
He released her and Juliette staggered back in a fit of coughs. A sob worked up into her throat and curled into a tight ball that made her want to do the same across the dirt. Cold, clammy hands went to her face to rub the welts he’d left behind on her skin. The muggy, summer breeze slipped beneath her dress to lick tauntingly at the sweat dampening the material. A violent shudder claimed her.
“And to ensure that this never happens again,” he pivoted on his heels and meandered back to his car. “I want two months’ worth by tomorrow.”
“Two months?” Juliette’s disbelief came out in a choked gasp. “I can’t get six thousand dollars in a day.”
Pausing at the driver’s side door of his Bentley, Arlo turned. “That’s your problem, puta.” He yanked open his door. “Six thousand or your sister by five o’clock tomorrow.”
There was nothing to do but stand back and watch as the group disassembled and peeled off in a plume of dust and exhaust. Around her, the world seemed to roar back into focus with a vengeance. Sights and sounds slammed into her. Their normality paralyzed the breath she was desperately trying to suck in. Despite the heat, her skin prickled in pimples that itched beneath her uniform. Her stomach writhed, a pit of angry snakes struggling for dominance. Nausea pushed against her, threatening to take her under. But she couldn’t. She had work and she couldn’t go in smelling like vomit and sweat.
Knees wobbled as she staggered her way unsteadily to the Around the Bend diner. The squat little burger joint catered mainly to truckers, hookers and the occasional family passing through and was, literally, around the bend before an abrupt drop into the churning Anyox river. It sat off the main highway into the city and was the main stop for most people coming or going. But as tips went, it was questionable. The only ones who actually gave good ones were the truckers and only after spending an hour squeezing her ass. But it was a job and it paid some of her bills.
The afternoon rush had already begun when she stumbled through the door into a wall of palpable heat. Low chatter sweltered through the rancid stench of burnt fries, grease, and stale perfume. Someone had put a quarter into the jukebox and Dolly Parton crooned from the crackling speakers bolted into the two corners of the room. Overhead, the twin fans wobbled and creaked as they churned the sour air like dough beneath a blender head. Juliette always wondered when the two would just dislocate from the ceiling and kill somebody. It was only a matter of time.
“Juliette!” More hairspray than person, Charis Paxton slapped the rag in her hands down onto the counter and speared her tiny fists on voluminous hips. The plastic bangles circling twiggy arms clattered noisily. “You’re late!”
Automatically, Juliette’s gaze darted to the clock behind the auburn beehive adding about two feet to Charis’s four foot nothing stature.
“I’m sorry—”
One child-sized hand cut through the air, five slender fingers splayed in a clear warning to stop talking. She stood like an irate traffic guard at an intersection, but meaner. She burned Juliette with her squinty, blue eyes.
“This isn’t some charity place,” she bit out. “You’re not going to get paid for being lazy.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell the woman that she had never been late a single day in two years and that it was only five minutes, but she knew that would only get her fired.
“Do you have any idea how many applications we get a day for your position?” Charis went on in her chirpy squeak. “We could have you replaced within the hour.”
It didn’t matter whether or not that was true. Juliette was in no position to test the theory. So she apologized again before ducking her head and hurrying behind the counter. Her worn sneakers squeaked against the grimy linoleum in her haste to get away from the shrewd woman watching her every movement. Charis didn’t stop her as Juliette disappeared into the back.
Larry, Charis’s husband and their fry cook, looked up from the grill he was scraping with a metal spatula. His pudgy face was flushed and shone with sweat that he wiped off on the hem of his filthy apron. His beady eyes watched Juliette as she darted into the miniature-sized staffroom tucked between the walk-in and the bathroom.
The kitchen was a small, cramped place that barely fit two people. Most of the space was claimed by the grill and deep fryer combo crammed into one corner. It was attached to a sheet of dented metal that ended under the takeout window. The walk-in took up the rest.
Around the Bend was the kind of place she felt like people needed to get a tetanus shot before stepping into, or the sort of place that killed its customers and served them in the burger mix. It was dingy and badly maintained. It made no sense to her why anyone would want to eat there. But people did and so long as they did, she continued to get a paycheck once a week. By no means was it enough to support her, her sister, and the tower of bills that just kept getting bigger each day, but it was something. The rest was made up from her two other jobs that she did throughout the week. Yet no matter how many jobs she worked or how many paychecks she pulled in, it was never enough. Between the mortgage, bills, Viola’s tuition, and Arlo, she barely saw a penny of it.
Things hadn’t always been bad. There had been a time when she had been a normal carefree teenager with a room full of all the crap girls wanted when their life was perfect. She’d had a mother and a father and an irritating baby sister. They had even had a tiny dog that slept on a velvet cushion on her window seat. Back then, she never had to worry about making ends meet. She never even knew where the money came from, only that they had it and she was popular and rich and the envy of everyone at her elite prep school.
Then her mother had died. No amount of money in the world could save her. The cancer had been too advanced. It had taken over her body seemingly overnight. She barely lasted a year. Juliette’s world had fractured the second her mother’s heart monitor had flat lined. Her perfectly manicured existence tumbled into dark chaos and no one stayed to hold her hand through it. Her perfect boyfriend had called her an emotionally unresponsive bitch and left her for her best friend. All the kids who had once begged for a second of her time were nowhere to be seen. Her father drowned himself in whiskey, quit his job, and squandered their money on horses. The checks to the school bounced. The bank began to call three times a day. The cupboards had more cobwebs than food and she had a nine year old sister who needed her. Abandoning her dreams of partying it up in college, Juliette had gotten a job, then two, then three. She worked her fingers to the bone and went home exhausted only to wake up an hour later and do it all over again. But that was her life and someone had to do it.
“Larry?” Securing the apron strings around her waist, Juliette faced the giant beast of a man dumping greasy onion rings out of the fryer. “I was wondering if I could get an advance on my paycheck this week?”
Twisting enormous hands in his apron, Larry turned to her. “You’re still paying off the last advance I gave you.”
“Then an advance on my next week pay? You know I’m good for it,” she pressed. “I’ve been working here for two years. I’m always on time and I come in every time you guys ask me to.”
“Always on time?” he mumbled with a raised eyebrow.
Juliette grimaced. “Today was an exception. I ran into some complications.”
Larry grunted and went back to scooping onion rings into a paper covered basket. “How much do you need?”
It was a struggle not to look away, to not shift uneasily. “Six thousand.”
Larry’s tiny eyes nearly bulged from their sockets. “Six thousand dollars?”
“You know I’ll pay every penny back!” she cut in hurriedly.
“What the hell do you need six thousand dollars for?”
“Bills,” she semi-lied.
“I don’t have that kind of money,” Larry shot bac
k. “Are you crazy? Do I look like a bank to you?”
Already mortified for having even asked, Juliette bristled. “Well, what about three thousand?”
“No!” he barked. “Get to work.”
Cheeks hot, she spun on her heels and stormed from the kitchen.
The Twin Peaks Hotel was the crème de la crème of luxury and sat nestled in the heart of the city. Its gleaming walls of glass glinted in the fading afternoon light. Sparks sliced down the sharp lines in blinding winks. The building itself rose from a bed of lavish green like a sword jutting from its magnificent hilt. For miles all around, lush hills rose and dipped. Manicured bushes swayed daintily in a breeze that wouldn’t dare be anything but soothing. Even in the winter, the surrounding park and golf course remained the picture of absolute perfection. Back when life had been simple, Juliette had dreamed of renting one of the condos at the very top and entertaining the most exclusive people. She used to drive out with her friends and walk the grounds, chattering on like the world was already hers.
Stupid, she thought now as she shifted the strap on her purse higher and ducked through the staff doors at exactly five.
Unlike the cool scent of lavender, sea breeze, and money wafting through the lobby and corridors, the staff area stank of sweat, harsh cleaners, and desperation. The paint was a little duller there, the carpets a little more rundown. It was the type of place dreams went to die. But it was substantially better than Around the Bend. It was certainly cleaner.
Unhooking her purse from around her shoulders, Juliette marched into the change area and made a beeline through the rows of metal lockers and wooden benches. Her locker was tucked away in the far, left corner, away from the showers, the door, and the bathrooms. The alcove held three other lockers owned by three other women Juliette had never talked to, not once in four years. But she was fine with that. Friends required a level of dedication she didn’t have time for.
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