The Akasha Chronicles Trilogy Boxed Set: The Complete Emily Adams Series

by Natalie Wright

  I ended my silent prayer but continued to meditate. Breathe in. Breathe out. In and out. In and out.

  I don’t know how long I’d been in that place apart from our world, but when I opened my eyes at last, everyone was gone. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and saw that I’d meditated for almost two hours. I wondered if anyone had tried to say good-bye to me?

  I heard a voice say, “Want me to walk you home?”

  Jake sat about two feet away from me, his eyes closed, his legs curled into the lotus position. His face looked calm and serene.

  “Sure. I was so lost in meditation, I guess I lost track of time.”

  His eyes opened, and they were that dark, sapphire blue that I love so much. The deep calm of his meditation caused his eyes to twinkle like they had stars bursting in them.

  “You’re luminous,” I said.

  “So are you.”

  “Why did you stay?”

  “To walk you home.”

  I reached my hand out to his, and he put his hand in mine, as naturally as if we had done that every day for countless days. When our hands touched, I felt that zinging tingle that I’d felt before, and the warmth from his hand traveled into mine and up through my arm.

  “Did you feel that?”

  He nodded.

  “Have you ever felt it before?”

  He again nodded but said nothing.

  “Have you ever felt that when you held hands with anyone else?”

  He shook his head. “Have you?” he asked.

  I shook my head.

  He held out his other hand for mine, and I gently gave it to him. I closed my eyes and allowed the tingling warmth to spread through my whole body. We sat like that for a few minutes, our breathing low and steady.

  When I opened my eyes, his aura was so bright, it almost hurt to look at him.

  “Jake, your aura. You’re glowing like you’re on fire.”

  “I know,” he said, his voice low and calm.

  “But how can you know? You can’t see auras.”

  “I know because I can feel it.”

  When Owen had touched me, it caused my insides to turn to jelly, my palms to sweat, and my heart to race. Owen’s touch had woken the sleeping tiger within me and had kindled a desire powerful enough to lure me into all the trouble that began the whole mess. I’d loved his touch.

  And when Tristan had held my hand in his earlier that day, my heart had picked up speed a bit. My insides weren’t exactly jelly, but if Tristan had tried to kiss me, I don’t know that I’d have stopped him.

  But Jake’s touch was different. It caused a warm, tingling heat that warmed me from the inside out and calmed me. It was like with my hands in his, I knew I was safe. I knew I was … home.

  “Jake, earlier, when I sparred with Tristan. I don’t feel … I’m not interested in him.”

  “I know,” he said.

  “Then why were you so mad?”

  “Because I’m a guy and a douche bag sometimes.” He smiled his sweet but mischievous smile.

  I’m interested in you. That’s what I wanted to say to him. And I wanted to pounce on him and roll around on the floor, kissing like mad.

  Steel yourself. Keep focused. You have a job to do.

  I gently removed my hands from his. I wanted to about as much as I wanted to go back to the Umbra Perdita, but I had to pull away. For now. Until we face Ciardha, my only focus has to be the battle ahead.

  “It’s getting late,” I said. “We need to go.”

  Jake didn’t argue or look upset. He simply nodded and helped me gather my things.

  I wanted to tell him that he was my one – my home. But I kept it to myself.

  I hoped that we lived through whatever battles lay ahead. I hoped to someday be able to feel his soft lips on mine and melt into him and swim down, down, down with him and never come back up.

  13. You’ve Got it Bad for Her

  Jake

  Emily and the other girls in the L.T. went to work on Greta. They tried their best to make her blend in with the ever-increasingly turned population. It wasn’t easy. Despite Greta’s bitchiness, she glowed with Lucent Energy.

  “Greta, sit still!” Emily said. Greta had brought what she called a makeup case but which, to me, looked like carry-on luggage. Emily used some of Greta’s makeup to apply dark shadows under Greta’s eyes.

  “Stop poking at me with the brush,” Greta said. “You don’t know the first thing about applying makeup. Give the damned brush to Ashley or Julie.”

  “Fine,” Emily said. She handed the makeup brush to Ashley. “Do you think you can redden the rims of her eyes?”

  “Sure,” Ashley said. She dug around in Greta’s suitcase and pulled out some kind of stick. Greta sat patiently and didn’t say a word as Ashley worked the stick around the rims of Greta’s eyes. When Ashley was done, Julie, Taisha, Ashley, Megan and Emily stood back and appraised their work.

  “She’s damned white, but I think we should go even paler,” Taisha said. “Some of the white-skinned shadow people are so pale they look like ghosts.”

  “Don’t they?” said Megan. “It scares the bejeezus out of me.”

  “You’re one to talk, Megan,” said Ashley. “You’re so white you glow in the dark.”

  Julie scrounged around in Greta’s magical box of beauty, found something in a small case, and pulled out what looked like a large kabuki brush.

  “What are you doing with that? You’re not putting eye shadow on my whole face, are you?” Greta asked. She pulled her face back from Julie.

  “Calm down. It’s the only thing in here that’s pale enough. It’s not like it’s permanent.” Julie smudged the brush into the container and swept it across Greta’s face.

  To her hair, they did nothing. Apparently Greta has naturally wavy and slightly frizzy hair. Who knew? I wonder how many hours she wastes every day straightening her hair?

  The girls again stood back and studied Greta.

  “Almost there,” said Emily. “Time for wardrobe.”

  “Don’t even think about it,” said Greta. “I am not going to wear someone else’s clothes.”

  “You can’t go on a stakeout in shadow territory wearing that!” said Julie.

  “Even before the shadows took over, if you wore that in my neighborhood, girl, you’d ’ave been walking trouble,” said Taisha.

  “What’s wrong with this?” Greta said. She stood and looked down at her clothes, trying to figure out why they insisted it wouldn’t work.

  Greta had toned down her look – a lot – since things started going wonky. She no longer looked like she just stepped off of a Paris runway. But she still looked like she came out of a department store showroom.

  “Seriously, Emily, tell me one thing wrong with what I’m wearing,” Greta said.

  “For starters, your clothes are too clean.”

  Greta laughed. “Just because you don’t bathe and wear crap you scraped off of your floor doesn’t mean that all of us should.”

  Emily didn’t respond to Greta’s catty comment. Instead she handed her a bag. “Here. Go to the back room and put these on.”

  Greta took the bag in her hand and looked at it like it was full of venomous snakes or something. “What’s in here?”

  “Appropriate attire for your stakeout,” Julie said.

  “I donated some shirts,” Megan said. She looked like a puppy waiting for praise from her master. Emily obliged her. She smiled at her and gave her a wink.

  “It’ll be fine, Greta. You won’t break out in hives or get a disease from any of it,” said Emily. “It’s all clean, and I made sure there wasn’t even any polyester in there.”

  “Ha, ha. Very funny,” Greta said.

  “Just go try it on, girl,” said Julie.

  Greta took the bag of clothes to the back room and shut the door. It seemed like an eternity that she was in there. How long does it take to put on a pair of pants and a shirt?

  When she finally emerged, the
full transformation was revealed. I have to say, the girls did an amazing job on her. Greta’s clean, pressed, expensive clothes were replaced by ones that were probably purchased at a discount store to begin with, then weathered to a soft, worn patina. Her shirt was too small, her pants too big. The overall effect was of a street person who had once been pretty but had gone to seed. The only thing missing was the odor of decay.

  Greta slowly walked toward the gathered group of L.T.

  “Greta, you look like shit,” I said.

  “Bite me.”

  It was an effort, but I stifled a laugh. I looked over at Tristan, and he smiled from ear to ear.

  “If you say one word, I’ll beat the crap out of you,” Greta said to Tristan.

  He held up his hands in a surrender fashion, but as soon as she walked by and could no longer see him, he went back to smiling as he watched her walk by.

  “Good luck with your stakeout,” I said to him.

  “I need it, man, I need it. Damn, that woman gets mad faster than a cat dunked in a toilet.”

  “You been dunking any cats lately?”

  “Haaa, you know I have,” he jested.

  “She may be a handful, but I think you’re up for the challenge.”

  “I may be up for it. Question is do I want to take on that particular challenge?”

  Greta was at the weapons table, getting ready to spar with a sword. Tristan’s face softened as he watched her prepare for her training.

  “Man, you don’t have a choice. You’ve got it bad for her!”

  “I know, J, I know. Pray for me, man. That’s all I can say. Pray for me. I may be better off with shadow dude than in her clutches. Whad’ya think?”

  I’d been in the Umbra Perdita. I’d been the pawn in one of Ciardha's twisted games, and it wasn’t a joking matter. That dark, egomaniacal, sick bastard had nearly broken me once. I didn’t want to think about what he’d do to me if he ever got me in his clutches again. But I chuckled along with Tristan’s joke and didn’t mention to him that at the mere thought of the ‘dark dude’ my insides had turned to water.

  “Don’t put that out there, T. You haven’t gotten the full hit of Ciardha yet. Greta may be a bitchy hell-cat of a girl, but no way you’re safer in Ciardha’s hands than hers.”

  “I was just kidding. Lighten up, J. You need to relax more.”

  “Yeah, probably. It’s hard, though, you know? It’s like, every time I try to think good thoughts, a shadow thought creeps into my mind and I’m off chasing it down.”

  “Where do your shadows come from?” Tristan asked.

  “Mostly from the past, I guess. Mostly thoughts about her.” I inclined my head toward Emily.

  “You gotta let that junk go, man.”

  “I know. I’m trying. Emily and I are at least back to being friends. But sometimes–”

  “No ‘but sometimes’, man. You gotta get that past crap outta your head, J. That dark crud will eat you up.”

  “So you don’t think about the past? Like, you never remember the shit from your childhood and get sad or pissed off?”

  “Oh, I guess the memories come up sometimes. Maybe I’ve had more practice shoveling that crap out of the way than some.” Tristan let out one of his low, throaty laughs.

  “So how, exactly, do you shovel bad shit out of your way?”

  Tristan didn’t answer immediately and looked like he was thinking about it. “Think about something better, I guess.”

  “Yeah? In this giant shithole of a life we’re living, you have something good to think about?”

  Tristan nodded.

  “Well? What is it?”

  He slapped me playfully on the back. I swallowed the cry of pain that wanted to come out. I didn’t want him to see how much his playful slaps hurt.

  “Some thoughts should be private.”

  “Oh, come on. What happy place do you go to keep yourself so cheerful all the time?”

  “You wanna know my happy place? Okay, J, I’ll tell you. But you can’t be using mine now, okay? You gotta create your own. See that blonde hell-cat over there trying to act all tough, swinging that sword like some kind of teenage cheerleader Ninja warrior?”

  “Greta?”

  Tristan nodded. “See, like right now, I’m thinking about how I’d like to walk over there, real slow and easy, and pick that girl up into my arms and walk out of here and keep walking. Walk ’til we found a place without Dark Mobsters and this Ciardha asshole and lurking shadows and people disappearing. To someplace sunny and warm. That’s it. A sandy beach somewhere. And I’d lay her down on the warm sand and kiss her like she was meant to be kissed.”

  “You’d have to walk a long way.”

  “I’ve got strong legs.”

  “You just keep pressing forward, no matter what?”

  “What other choice is there? Sit on a stoop and pout and cry and give up? My mama didn’t raise a quitter. She may not be here in the flesh anymore – God rest your soul, Mama – but she’s still here.”

  He put his fist over his heart and pounded his chest lightly. “I wouldn’t be doin’ her memory no honor at all if I was to give up on myself.”

  I smiled at him and clapped him on the back. “Thanks, man. I needed that.”

  “Any time, J. Hey, maybe you should try it with Red.”

  “What?”

  “When the shadows are getting’ ya down, let your mind wander with Red there.”

  “I don’t know if it will work, T. It’s thoughts of her that usually get me down in the first place.”

  “Just turn it around. Don’t think about it like it was. Make it how you want it to be. It’s your mind, man. Fill it with the stuff you like instead of junk you hate.”

  “I’ll try it. I really will. I got nothin’ to lose, right?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Hey, when are you and Hell Cat over there going to start your stakeout?”

  “Today. We’re going to practice here a bit, then go sit in my car. I’ve got it parked a few cars back outside the door to my building. We’ll be able to see the dark dude coming or going.”

  “Be careful, man.”

  “Always.”

  14. David

  The Apocalyptic World

  David pulled his car into the garage, happy to be home at last.

  He had kept to the right lane, went with the flow of traffic, and tried his best to avoid pissing anyone off. Yet despite his ‘quiet’ driving, in the thirty-minute trip from the accounting office to his suburban home, he’d been honked at, flipped off repeatedly, and had even seen a man show him a pistol in warning, all for driving offenses he didn’t know he’d committed.

  The whole world’s gone mad! he thought. Over the past couple of months, he swore it was like someone had spread a plague of bad mood over the entire city. But that was crazy. A whole city can’t come down with a bad mood, can it?

  As David turned onto his street, he finally felt a normal air flow return to his body. The relief spread through him with the new air carried into his lungs. He could see his house, the warmth of the lights inside shining like a lighthouse beacon. He’d avoided being dashed into nothing on the rocks. The beacon drew him home to safety.

  David whistled softly to himself as he grabbed the briefcase from the passenger seat. Why do I bother bringing this home? Once encamped in the coziness of his den of protection, he never bothered to look at the papers full of figures. His happiness surged at the feeling of accomplishment for just making it home. Home to his beautiful wife. Maybe tonight we’ll start the family we both want so badly. A smile brightened his face at the thought.

  He opened the door and called out to her. “Terri – I’m home!”

  His call got no reply. David casually threw his briefcase onto the small desk built into the hallway on the way to the kitchen, loosened his tie, and made a beeline for the wine refrigerator.

  “Terri, I’m opening a bottle of white. Want me to pour you a glass?”

  Sil
ence.

  “Terri?”

  The house answered with an eerie quiet.

  David listened. He heard not a sound save for the low hum of the refrigerator. He stood still. His lungs once again took a break from breathing.

  The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Prickles broke out over the skin of his arms and legs.

  Something isn’t right.

  He called once more, though this time he knew he’d get no reply. “Terri?”

  The only response was the sound of the blood rushing through his veins. His heart pounded so hard it threatened to leap out of his chest.

  David’s legs carried him. He flew into the dining room, then the formal living room, next down the hall to the bedroom. It was like he was in one of his nightmares where he’d run and run, his legs pumping, but he never got anywhere. The door to their bedroom was closed. He knew he had to open that door and look inside, but he didn’t want to. He knew that whatever lay behind that door was a wrong he’d wish he’d never seen.

  But it was his Terri. He had to open the door. He had to see.

  David’s hand reached the knob. Turn it, push it open. His ears were hot and filled with the roar of his rushing blood.

  He expected to find a room splattered in blood. He expected to find his wife’s lifeless body, lying on the floor or maybe in the adjoining bathroom. He expected to spill tears at the loss of his love.

  Instead, he was met with a searing pain as she thrust the knife down once, then twice, then side to side. Soon it was his blood spattered across the room.

  He heard himself quietly ask, “Why?” When he tried to speak again, his words were drowned in the gurgling blood that poured into his throat.

  David felt the ground meet his body as he fell to the floor. He looked up, and his eyes met hers. Terri’s once clear, blue eyes were entirely black. Eyes that he had once looked into and professed love, and they had answered back with a twinkling clarity of her own deep feelings. Eyes that were the window to her beautiful soul. The soul housed within those eyes had either left her body or had been overtaken by something dark. Her body was as if encased in a shadow. He felt the hot tears well in his eyes. They seared his cheeks as they spilled.