Under Sunless Skies (Starlight Saga Book 2)

by Sherry Soule

  I rush back to Hayden and kneel beside him. “Help is on the way. I texted Vi to tell Zach to meet us here.”

  He lifts his head, and his eyes drift open. Pain etches itself across his face. “Damn good driving…” He takes a stuttering breath. “Thanks for the rescue.”

  I sniffle and cradle his head in my lap. I’ll be pissed off tomorrow at him for lying to me and keeping secrets. Right now, I’m relieved we survived another near-death experience.

  “You never listen to me,” he murmurs against my thigh. “You should’ve left.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I brush bloodstained hair off his forehead. “We need to get out of here before the cops arrive.”

  “You saved my life.” Drawing in a harsh breath, he says, “Are you all right?”

  The adrenaline is fading and I hang my head, trying to catch my breath. “I’m fine, but you? Not so much.”

  Hayden half-smiles, only one corner lifting. “You should’ve driven off, like I told you. But you stayed and helped. You didn’t have to risk your life.”

  “I couldn’t leave you.” I let out a shaky breath. “I never would’ve forgiven myself if I ran off and left you.”

  The sirens sound closer and louder now. A blinding flash of blue light explodes next to us and startles me. Zach appears and scoops up Hayden without asking what happened.

  “Sloane,” Zach commands. “Go straight home. Now. I’ll take Hayden to my uncle.” Zach teleports in another glaring explosion of light, and I’m left alone in the school parking lot.

  I jump in the Jetta and drive home, passing the racing police cars on their way to the school, and a parking lot filled with reaper blood and fallen lampposts.

  FRIGHT NIGHT BABBLE

  Hey there, Grinning Gremlins!

  The reluctant hero is an archetype so overused that it drives me insane. Every so often, I’ll come across a book or movie where the character doesn’t want to be involved in saving the world or rescuing the kidnapped princess, but then they decide after much debate to join the quest.

  Reluctant heroes whine, moan, and refuse to accept their role while all the other characters claim he or she is “The Chosen One.”

  The unlikely hero is characteristically portrayed as either an ordinary person plunged into extraordinary situations that require him to rise to bravery, or a person with special superhuman abilities who demonstrates a desire to avoid using those wicked cool powers for the benefit of others. These protagonists need to suck it up and get over themselves already!

  Reluctant heroes like Neo, Buffy, Shiloh Trudell, Han Solo, Shrek, Harry Potter, and Bilbo Baggins are just a few examples of unwilling heroes that eventually save the day and protect their fictional world.

  Peace, love, and horror flicks,

  Sloane

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  For a whole week, there’s no sign of reapers or Xavier. My life goes back to somewhat normal. For the moment, I’m relatively safe, and it isn’t like some anti-human hate group is going to ambush the high school or invade my home. Xavier might know I go to school with Hayden, but he isn’t stupid enough to show up at my house or invade the school. I hope.

  Still, the threat of the ferocious reapers hangs over my head like a noose. I would’ve expected an advanced species to develop an anti-reaper repellant by now.

  In my bedroom, I try to study and focus on writing an essay on Hamlet, but my thoughts keep wandering back to Hayden and all his epic lies. His text messages state that he’s been rehabbing at his uncle’s house and loading up on those awesome interstellar meds. Although I’m grateful that Hayden’s going to live, part of me is still pissed at him for being Mr. Guarded. All those secrets he kept from me have almost destroyed our tenuous friendship.

  I get out my Hello Kitty notebook and a pen to add some notes to process all the new info I recently discovered. The alien secrets are just piling up lately and making my head spin like Linda Blair.

  Zetas have a return trip planned. Check.

  They’re all about colonization. Check.

  Hayden’s engaged to another chick. Check.

  Hayden is beyond infuriating. A big fat liar. And stab-worthy. Check.

  There’s no one I can trust anymore. Double-check

  Then I scan my blackmail suspect list again. I’m starting to get this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that it’s someone I know. Possibly a friend. So I add to the notebook: Blackmailer might be someone close to me. Check.

  Then I warily add: Viola Saks. Check. Raymond McGregor. Check. Tanisha Jackson. Check.

  Rereading all the information I’ve documented, I shake my head, and then cross out each of my friend’s names. It can’t be one of them. I’m just being overly paranoid again.

  What possible reason would any of them have for the threats?

  I shove my precious notebook into my backpack and zip it tight.

  When I go downstairs to grab a soda, I freeze in the living room. From the flat-screen hanging on the wall, a handsome, black newsman says, “We are coming to you live from the streets of Grimm Haven with breaking news of another deadly animal attack,” he says in what sounds like a Moviefone-announcer impersonation. “A feral bear that the police believe is hiding in the forest and terrorizing residents on the island has bitten a college coed near her dorm. She was found in the woods near a popular hiking trail and law enforcement is certain that forensic evidence will confirm that this is the same animal that escaped a local zoo and is responsible for the recent incident…”

  My heart skips a troubled beat. Not a bear, just reapers searching for anyone with alien goo on their skin, like me. That poor girl must’ve been slimed with ectoplasm. Which means…I’m not the only person in Grimm Haven the reapers are searching for. And if ST is letting these mutants roam free on the island, anyone with residue could be killed or captured. There must be a way to stop them, except I don’t have a clue how to do it.

  But today I don’t want to dwell on evil government agencies, Zeta laws, or bloodthirsty mutants. I’m seriously craving some normal. Back in my bedroom, I grab my iPod. Headphones on. Loud grunge music. Close eyes. Five seconds later, I’m cranked in and starting to forget all my troubles.

  Later that night, I’m all nerves about going to the prom with Saxton. One minute I want to cancel and the next I don’t. I tell myself that I need a shot of ordinary teenage fun in my life. I refuse to let Hayden’s lies or any hateful Meleah ruin my night. High school dances are no place for lame alien politics. Plus, Hayden’s last text indicated his smelly ectoplasm should be completely worn off my skin by now. So, yay!

  Only one thing left to do before I get ready for the prom—dye my light-colored hair. I used the cash my mom gave me TO READ a bottle of Manic Panic hair color after shopping with Viola and Tanisha for dresses. It only takes me an hour to transform myself from an average-looking blonde into a fierce violet goddess. Then I style my freshly colored hair into a teased, chignon updo that is very glam rock!

  Although there’s nothing different about my makeup, I’m empowered by the change. And I feel different. Stronger. More self-assured. As if I’ve finally regained my sense of self again in this messed up world with my vibrant hair color.

  As I slip on my dress and lace the corset, a sense of confidence strikes my core. I examine my appearance in the mirror before going downstairs. It’s like looking at a stranger with my dark purple waves and my eyes a striking hazel due to the smoky, smudged eyeliner. The gown cinches in my waist, although my boobs are practically pouring out of the bodice. Instead of hiding my curves tonight, I’m embracing them. I am comfortable in my own skin. Showing the world my flaws doesn’t make me afraid anymore of what others are going to say about me.

  Too bad, I still look flabby. Might be time to take a self-defense course. I’ll sign up this summer so I won’t need to rely on anyone to protect me. Every woman should know how to defend herself. Not to mention, I’ll get to beat the crap out of people during class, so it’ll be both fun a
nd empowering. Satisfied with my reflection, I go downstairs to wait in the living room for my prom date.

  My mom gushes the moment she sees me. She’s smiling, but it doesn’t quite reach her bloodshot eyes. “Oh, baby girl, you look wonderful. If only your father could be here, but he’s still in negotiations with the Galactic Brotherhood.”

  “How’s that going?” I ask. “Do you think the GB will decide to help us?”

  “I don’t know, honey.” She holds up a digital camera and checks to make sure the shutter is open. “But they’ve agreed to protect us from Sector Thirteen for now.”

  Maybe that’s why Xavier hasn’t shown up at my house yet if he’s figured out where I live. He can’t very well go against the GB and still hope to marry off his daughter to Hayden. At least my family is safe for now.

  She snaps a few pics of me posing in my formal gown, then the hand holding the digital camera drops to her side. “You’ve lost weight and changed your hair color again. Are you feeling all right?”

  “Fantastic…I just, um, haven’t been very hungry lately.”

  “Are you sick? Maybe you should stay home tonight—”

  “Mom!” I snap, then soften my tone. “Nothing’s wrong with me.”

  “You look like you’re back to a size twelve or smaller,” my mom says, tilting her head and studying me. “Your dress is lovely, but why don’t you ever wear any other colors?”

  I spin in a circle, the skirt floating around my legs. “I’ll stop wearing black when they make a darker color.”

  She laughs, but the humor sounds forced. “Do you like this Saxton fellow?”

  “No, we’re just friends.”

  “What happened with Hayden?” she asks, and when I don’t answer, she continues, “This is about that boy, of course. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before now! The mood swings, the weight loss, the anger— ”

  “It’s complicated and not a subject I feel like discussing tonight, Mom.”

  “God, I’m so dense. That should have been my first thought. Did you…have sex with Hayden? Is that why you’ve been acting so moody?” She goes into the dining room, grabs a banana from a basket on the dining room table, and comes back to the living room. “Please tell me you practiced safe sex—”

  “Just stop!” Every muscle in my body tenses. “I told you before that I’m extra careful and used protection, yet here you are, holding a banana, and looking like the sexual reproduction lecture you’re about to give me will get your name posted on some government watch-list,” I say, bitterness saturating my voice. “This conversation is over.”

  My mom drops the fruit on the coffee table and wrings both hands on her paint-splattered shirt. “Sorry, I just thought…well, you’ve been more temperamental than usual lately.”

  “I’ve had a lot to deal with!”

  My mom stares at me sadly. “Why do you make everything so difficult?”

  She looks so miserable that I almost put my arms around her and say I’m sorry. Instead, I stand stiffly, my blood raging and sparking ugly emotions.

  “Me? Your lies turned my life upside down!”

  “Listen, can we start over? You tell me all about the breakup and I promise not to let my head explode or judge in anyway, okay?”

  “I don’t want to talk about this. Can you please, please just drop it?”

  A rumbling engine outside ends the conversation. I’m saved! I hurry to the front door to open it before she can say anything else. Saxton stands on the porch, dressed in a black suit, white shirt, and tie.

  “You look freakin’ hot.” His gaze lingers on my cleavage. My ridiculous, mega-breasts have him drooling like the neighbor’s Great Dane.

  Maybe I should hand him a tissue to wipe his chin.

  “Thanks. You look nice, too,” I say.

  Saxton removes a small case from his pocket and slips a breath mint into his mouth. I sincerely hope he doesn’t plan on trying to kiss me, because that’s so not gonna happen.

  Saxton sticks his head through the open doorway. “Hi, Mrs. Masterson.”

  “Hello, Saxton. Have fun tonight,” my mom replies.

  “Bye, Mom.” I go out the door, closing it behind me before my mom asks to take more pictures. I practically drag Saxton off the porch and we cross the lawn to his 4x4 Dodge Ram truck.

  “Are you trying to tell me something with this misogynistic truck?”

  He stumbles back a step and frowns. “What?”

  “Your ride. It’s too anti-woman, jock-like, and gender-selective. Like a redneck’s wet dream. You know, put the tailgate down and drink a beer at a football game type ride.”

  He shakes his head. “Were you hoping for a limo?”

  “Hell no! Then you might get the wrong idea. I don’t do backseats on the first date.”

  “This is a date?”

  “Hell no! We’re just two people that happen to be going to a dance in your redneck truck.”

  “I’ve never gone to a dance before...in my truck.” Smiling, he rests his hand on the passenger-side door and opens it. “You’re nervously babbling. So, we doing this or not?”

  “Hell yes!” I say, then lift the hem of my dress and climb into the cab.

  Saxton gets in and the truck roars to life. “What’s the weirdness with you and your mom? She looks like she’s been crying.”

  “You’re imagining things. My dad is away on business and she misses him.” I point through the windshield at the road without looking at him. “Now onto the dance.”

  During the drive to school, we chat about our upcoming mid-terms, keeping up our GPA and transcripts, but I can’t wait to get to the prom and see Viola. When Saxton parks in the lot, he jumps out and goes around the truck to open my door.

  “Excited?” he asks.

  “Yup. So how do you feel about dancing?” I ask, guessing most guys detest the very idea with every masculine fiber of their being.

  “I’m not morally opposed to some grinding.” Saxton takes my hand and helps me out of the truck.

  The thumping base of a hip-hop song outflows from the gymnasium. As we walk over, Saxton tries to awkwardly take my hand again, but I lift my arm and pretend to straighten my dress.

  Folds of silky fabric frame the doorway to give the gym entrance a curtain-like effect and Saxton parts the drapes. Even the most heavily chaperoned high school dances can degenerate into grind fests, underage drinking, and general acts of douchebaggery, but still, it should be fun.

  I take a deep breath, then step inside the dimly lit gym, overly decorated with Chinese lanterns, colorful helium balloons, and twinkling string lights. A DJ is setup on the stage, spinning random songs. Everywhere I look, couples dance close together, touching shoulders, butts, hips, and everywhere else. It’s an icky grope-fest that I hope Saxton won’t want to partake in.

  Two seniors approach Saxton, and the boys start talking extreme sports. While his friends distract him, I scan the room, spotting Viola fidgeting alone at the edge of the dance floor. Five teachers, including Arcane, roam the periphery, staring kids down with stern expressions.

  “I’ll be back in a minute,” I tell Saxton and dash off.

  Viola catches sight of me pushing through the dancers and waves in my direction.

  When I reach her side, I grab her arm. “You look amazing, Vi!” I shout over the music. “Like a dark Gothic queen.”

  “Thanks!” She hugs me. “Your dress is incredible.”

  Tanisha and Raymond quickly join us, tugging us into the throng of gyrating teens for a group dance. While I’m still pissed at Tanisha, I’ll wave the white flag for one night. We shake our hips and wildly wave our arms to three songs, giggling and being silly-stupid, but having lots of fun. Viola catches a glimpse of Zach and ditches us to make her way over to him.

  While still dancing under the dazzling lights with Tanisha and Raymond, I become aware of Viola and Zach arguing near the stage. Zach’s posture stiffens and Viola’s angular features contort into a scowl. Then he
gives Viola a tense smile and a quick hug before swaggering to a group of his basketball teammates. One of the jocks opens his jacket and I catch sight of a silver flask. I hurry to Viola, who now has teary eyes.

  “Is everything okay?” I place a hand on her slim shoulder, squeezing it. “Are you guys fighting?”

  “No. Yes. Sort of.” Viola dabs at the corner of her eyes with her lacy sleeve. “Being a secret couple is hard.”

  “Yeah, I know. Believe me, I wrote the book on it.”

  “Just the thought of being a clingy girlfriend is already cramping my flair. Look, I know you hate Zach—”

  “Hate is a strong word. I like to think of it more as in I’m just allergic to asshats.”

  We skirt the edge of the dance area, watching the other kids bumping and grinding.

  “You know what pisses me off the most?” She inclines her head close to mine. “I’m starting to really like Zach.”

  I pucker my lips as an idea comes to mind. “Let’s ditch this lameness. We can go to the movies, eat popcorn, and munch on artery-clogging treats.”

  Viola shakes her head. “Nah. Let’s stick it out here.” She gestures at her pretty gown. “Otherwise, I got all fancy for nothing.”

  “C’mon, Viola. Remember? Fries before guys.”

  She weakly smiles. “I’m not going to let Zach ruin this for me, Sloane…this is my senior prom and I plan to make the best of it.” Viola points out Emma and grimaces at her light colored dress. “I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing white before, during, or after Labor Day.”

  “I hear ya.” I nod. “Most people use a bleach pen on a stained white shirt. I use a sharpie if there’s anything not black on my outfit.”

  Heat blooms in my belly when I spot Hayden standing near a table laden with refreshments. His smoldering stare is so concentrated on me that I stop moving. He wears a fitted suit and abandons the tie. Still badass, still sexy, always Hayden.