by Orts, Teresa
I shook my head from side to side. “My parents wouldn’t let you.”
My parents never found out that Nate and I had gone to New York together. Supposedly, as soon as Nate had heard the news about the taxi accident, he’d flown to New York to be by my side. We told my parents Nate happened to be in Boston on a family trip. That’s why he’d reached New York before my parents did.
“You can stay at my place, or we’ll work something out, okay?” Nate rested my face on his chest and kissed me on the head.
I glanced at his reflection in the elevator mirror. He seemed so devastated. This was going to haunt us for a long time, and Nate was aware of it.
The door opened in the underground parking garage. The muscles between my shoulders automatically tightened. Just what I needed right now, a basement. Nate grabbed my hand as we walked through the dim lot. Exit lights lit up the back wall.
There were only a few cars left. Tyson’s SUV and Chase’s old pickup truck were parked next to each other. Nate’s sports car was right at the end.
I came to a halt, letting go of Nate’s hand as something rustled behind Tyson’s car. Every hair on my arms stood on end.
“There’s something there.” My words tumbled over each other.
I was sure Nate heard it, too.
“It’s probably the plumbing in the boiler room.”
That couldn’t be it. The sound had come from behind Tyson’s car. I focused on breathing. Inhale and exhale. Inhale and exhale. I couldn’t have a nervous breakdown here.
“There is no one there. I promise you.”
I couldn’t look. Panic was taking hold of me. I was sure there was someone there.
“Please look. I’ll be okay.”
Resting his hand on my shoulder, Nate made me turn around. But automatically I shut my eyes. I couldn’t do it. If there was someone hiding there, I was going to panic, and if there wasn’t, I was going to have to admit I was losing my mind.
“What is it, Sophie? You need to let me help you.” Nate begged.
Tears cascaded down my cheeks when I opened my eyes.
“They’re going to come and get us,” I sobbed without making any sense.
“Sophie, no one’s coming to get us. It’s all over. I swear. It’s just you and me.”
I wanted to believe his words, but I was too scared.
Nate held me in his arms and I buried my face in his chest. Why was this still haunting me? It was supposed to be over. It all had ended at the Cloisters.
“Every night, it comes back. I can’t stand it anymore.”
“I know. I know,” Nate whispered in my ear. “We’ll get through it. I promise.”
Not even in the comfort of Nate’s arms did I feel safe anymore. My hands were shaking.
To make me feel better, Nate walked over to Tyson’s car and circled around it. “There’s nothing. You see?”
I nodded, trying to piece myself back together.
Nate took my hand and we walked toward his car. He slid the car key out of his jeans pocket and pressed the remote control from the distance. The locks of his car clacked in a simultaneous sequence.
We heard the noise again from behind Tyson’s car. This time it was louder, and it was clear it had come from there. I turned back to Nate, pleading for reassurance in his eyes, but he was staring in shock at the front of his car.
“Sophie, get into the car! Quick!”
I turned around to see that someone had drawn a cross with the arms curved down, the Egyptian symbol for blood, in the dust on Nate’s windshield.
COMING SOON!
THE YEAR OF THE GREAT SEVENTH – BOOK 2
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
First of all, special thanks to Hamish for always taking me seriously no matter how crazy my plans are—and believe me, I can come up with crazy ideas! Many thanks also to my sister for letting me drag her to Bologna, Italy to try to make this book happen. You rock, sis'!
I want to dedicate this novel to all the random strangers who, by chance, became treasured friends. At the top of this category are Carolyn Pinard and Cyndi Henry. It's nice to know that there are still wonderful people left in this world. Hope one day I can put faces to your names!
Big thanks to my New York crowd for turning my life into such a great adventure, and my Guada friends for never taking me seriously. And last but not least, a bow to the city that never sleeps. Thank you for all those magical years.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Teresa Orts studied economics and went on to work in the financial industry. She lives in London with her husband and son and this is her first novel. If you want to know more about her, please visit her website www.teresaorts.com
Table of Contents
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XX
CHAPTER XXI
CHAPTER XXII
CHAPTER XXIII
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR