Resistance

by Allana Kephart

  Copyright © 2014 – Allana Kephart & Melissa Simmons

  All rights reserved as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the Authors. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the publisher.

  ****SMASHWORDS EDITION****

  Interior design and typesetting by C.L. Foster

  Cover design by Starla Huchton (Designs by Starla)

  Interior art by As You Like Designs

  Edited by Stacy Sanford

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locals, or persons living or dead is coincidental.

  The authors acknowledge the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the word marks mentioned in this work of fiction.

  Dedication

  For my dad, whose laugh and smiling face I miss every day. ~Melissa

  For Mel. Thank you for inspiring me and helping me make my dream a reality. ~Allana

  And for Emma, whose strength inspires us every single day. We love you, sweetie. Don’t ever stop being you.

  ~Melissa & Allana

  The year 2102—the world as it was no longer exists. Ravaged by nuclear war and polluted almost to the point of no return, Earth was dying. When the faeries came and brought their healing magic, humanity was grateful at first. Centuries of damage repaired in just five years, and during the course of that rehabilitation, they invaded. Quietly overthrown, the human race is now enslaved. The majority doesn’t even realize they have no free will. Branded, herded and kept only to further the agendas of the Fae Courts, humanity could be facing extinction.

  But a resistance is coming…

  Fianna Dolan has spent her entire young life preparing herself for an uprising against the Fae. One scorching summer night Fi's parents leave and never return. Thrust into a position of power she never expected, Fi struggles with her new position and the responsibility it entails. When a secretive fae man known only as Flint breaches the city’s defenses claiming he can help, Fi begins to doubt everything she's ever considered truth. As betrayals and deception come to light, will Fi want the answers she’s been seeking, or will trusting Flint lead to her destruction?

  Praise for RESISTANCE

  “Flint will become your favorite silly/swoony book boyfriend & the book will keep you on the edge of your seat wanting more.”

  ~Jamie, Krystal Clear Book Reviews

  “Excellent debut, well written, beautiful characters, and flowing story line. This book is a must read!”

  ~Tia, Goodreads Reviewer

  “This is an excellent debut novel and I recommend it highly. Definitely a 5 star read.”

  ~KJ, Kj Reads A Lot

  “I loved reading and following a long with each and every character in Resistance. They all seem so real as if you are standing right there beside them and you want to reach out and give Fi, Eirnin, Flint and Lumi all a helping hand.”

  ~Nancy, The Avid Reader

  “Wonderful book, wonderful characters and wonderful suspense.”

  ~Jacinta Maree, author of My Demonic Ghost Series

  “…these authors have taken the paranormal/dystopian genre by storm and I am DYING to see where they take me next.”

  ~Jenn, Bookworm Betties

  “What an amazing read!!! I absolutely loved this story!”

  ~Becca, Goodreads Reviewer

  “LOVED this book!! It has everything a reader is looking forward to in a great read.”

  ~Ramona, Goodreads Reviewer

  “…a diamond in the rough let me tell you! By far a great dystopian novel…”

  ~H.P. Landry, author of Wrecked

  “…you will be wondering what will happen next until the end trust me. I recommend this book and can’t wait until the next one comes out.”

  ~Sue Ellen, Girly Girl Book Reviews

  “Part fantasy, part dystopian, part romance, with a strong circle of main characters and a ton of awesomeness!”

  ~Shelah, Goodreads Reviewer

  “I simply cannot wait to see where it goes in book two…!”

  ~Stephanie, Goodreads Reviewer

  “I found myself completely glued to this captivating story - I absolutely could not put it down.”

  ~Cheryl, Goodreads Reviewer

  “Five stars. Good story.”

  ~Medina, Amazon Reviewer

  “I thoroughly enjoyed Resistance. I’m looking forward to the rest of the series!”

  ~Tyffani Clark Kemp, author of the Without Rules Series

  “It is quite an interesting read that will definitely keep your attention. There is a mystery of secrets, lies and deceit that slowly unfolds leading to the trust as to who is behind it all. I definitely recommend it.”

  ~Maggie Thom, author of The Caspian Wine Series

  “I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of this book…The story was well paced and quite suspenseful. I couldn’t wait to burn through the pages to see where it would go, and what other surprises the authors had for me, because this book was filled with twists and turns that kept me enthralled.”

  ~Roxanne Kade, author of Therian

  Prologue—Fianna Kearney Dolan

  2065, Ireland

  I can tell I’m dreaming as I take in the dreadful scene in front of me. This is the second vision I’ve had come to me in nightmare form, and I am hopeful it will also be my last. I still feel strong arms around me and know I’m being held firmly in the embrace of the man I love as I sleep, yet I can smell the acrid smoke and feel the heat from the flames as I watch my father’s house burn. I hear the screams of my father and brothers as they roast alive in the house where I grew up. I see the flames building and I know I have to try and help them. I command my legs to move, but it’s like I’m being restrained by invisible bonds. I cannot move forward. I tamp the panic down and remind myself this is only a dream; my father is not burning alive in front of me. There is a voice in my head suddenly; coaxing me to go home, see my boys and prove to myself that they are alive and well. The voice whispering instructions to me sounds like my twin sister, Aoife; dead for five years now. Never once in her life did I hesitate to listen when she issued advice, and I’m not going to start now. Gagging on the stench and terrified to my bones with the knowledge that even in a dream I cannot save my family, I stagger back from the front walk and glance down the street to the home I share with my husband and our two sons. There’s no smoke that I can see from here, so I try to dispel the unease that has settled under my skin.

  I canter down the short incline to reach my home; heart pounding with trepidation as I consider what I might find there. There is a feeling in my gut that bodes ill for my family. I do my best to stay calm as I throw open the door and look around the entryway, calling out, “Seamus?” at the top of my voice. I can’t hear anything but the beating of my own heart inside the normally animated, noisy house. My dread crystallizes into a ball of ice that settles in my heart as I do a circuit of the downstairs of the house. No sign of my husband or sons anywhere. Even the normal day to day detritus of life with two boys under the age of five is absent. Confusion wars with worry and I shout again, not as loud this time. “Seamus? Patrick? Where are you?”

  “The bedroom, Fianna. You’ll find answers there,” I hear my sister say in her eerily serene voice and I cringe inside; heading for the staircase to the second floor. When I reach our bedroom, the door is slightly ajar and I hear an odd creaking noise. I take a deep breath and wish I hadn’t instantly; the smell brings tears to my eyes. Ro
t and urine assault my senses and I do my best to stifle a sob and ignore the rancid air. With a shaking hand I push the door inward and cry out at the sight that greets me. My husband, normally ruddy with fervor, is gray and silent as he hangs from a rafter. His arms hang limply at his sides and his wedding ring is absent from his left hand. Guilt and grief tear at me. The window is cracked open as it usually is when we go to bed at night, and the breeze coming through has set him swinging slightly. One of the dining chairs from downstairs is turned on its side on the floor beneath him; leaving me a macabre image of him stepping off and then floundering for his footing as his oxygen is cut off.

  “I’m so sorry, Seamus,” I whisper around my tears as I back out of the door and turn towards my sons’ bedroom at the end of the hall.

  “They aren’t here, Fianna,” Aoife seems to sing in my head; making me start to shake. I ignore her, run to their room and push the door open wordlessly. She is right, of course. Not only are my sons not physically present, but none of their belongings are either. The room is barren and cold. I feel the panic rising in me, threatening to undo me from the inside.

  “This isn’t real, it isn’t real!” I start chanting to myself as I tear through the house looking for any evidence of my boys. “Where are they, Aoife? Tell me, please tell me now! Where are my boys?” I am sobbing now, and the need to see their precious little faces is too much for me to ignore any longer. Lightheadedness takes me, and before I realize what’s going on, I’m on my knees on the floor in the den where they love to play with their building blocks, gasping for breath.

  “They are with him, sister. You know where. You should go now,” Aoife says, sounding somber. I jump up as understanding finally dawns. I know where I have to go to find my sons. I only hope they fare better in this twisted fate than the rest of my family. I am running now, through fields of wildflowers and down a path to a valley where there is a cottage hidden in the side of a hill, listening to my sister’s whispered words the entire time. With each step I take I am surer that I will never recover from what I’m about to witness. Normally when I reach this door, I bound inside for a joyous reunion. I’m terrified of the devastation I can feel waiting for me there now.

  I take a deep breath and remind myself that I am safely asleep in the arms of my lover. This is a horrific nightmare that I know I must let play out before I can wake from its grip. I can do this I tell myself, and turn the knob. Again, it’s the smell that hits me first; the pungent metallic stench of blood floods my senses. I realize I’ve involuntarily closed my eyes and am crying, shaking my head back and forth. I don’t need to see the husks left behind to know there is no one left alive here. I hear my sister’s voice in my head telling me I must open my eyes. To do what I must to save them, I have to witness their demise. Choking back a sob, I force my eyes to open and see what is left of those I love most in this world.

  There are no words to describe the agony that tears through me as I look upon the still forms strewn like refuse across the great room of the cottage. My sons, Patrick and Seamus, lie close to one another like broken dolls. I step closer and see that there are parts of them missing, and I am suddenly and violently ill. Gagging and sobbing, I kneel next to what is left of my boys and press a kiss to each of their foreheads, trying to ignore the blood and the gaping wounds. I press my hands into my eyes, shaking with sobs, and my sister nudges me once again. How can there be more? I wonder in horror.

  I make myself stand and head to the back of the house. Here the smell of blood is strong as well, and I am struck again by the utter violence that took place in what was previously a quiet retreat. When I enter the kitchen, I find I can still be shocked. The bodies here have clearly been posed after death. The tall, dark haired man is clutching the smaller form of a woman to his body. They are propped up on the floor against a cupboard, looking peaceful except for the yawning slits in both their throats and the pool of dark, red blood they’re sitting in. I listen as my sister whispers for me to look down upon the dead bodies of my lover and myself, and vow vengeance for the loss of the life I wished for.

  Jerking awake, I bolt upright in bed bathed in a cold sweat and look around wildly. I feel a little calmer when I see the inhalations of the man sleeping soundly in the bed beside me. There are tears on my cheeks and I feel my heart breaking in my chest as I look down at the sleeping face on the pillow, knowing that I have to hurt him to save us all. He rolls onto his back and flings an arm over his head as I study the perfection of his face; memorizing every detail to treasure later. Battling the sobs that long to wrench themselves free of my chest, I lean down and press a kiss to his lips before I slip out of bed and tiptoe to the door without looking back.

  My legs feel like they are made of lead as I trudge through the wildflowers and back to the home I share with my husband and sons. I feel weighted down by the magnitude of the undertaking that has been sent to me in the vision. I think about everything that is left to do before I can really relax and have to stifle a new sob. Two hearts broken already, and next I have to uproot my sons and husband and move them across the ocean to America without telling them why. Once there, I must bide my time and make my plans to stop the Fae from inflicting their rule on all of humanity.

  Chapter 1— Flint

  July 2101

  There is something unbearably miserable about summer months. It has been a steady eighty degrees for the past week, and nightfall never seems to aid in dropping the temperature. I am hanging limply over a branch in a dangerously high tree and probably look dead from below, but it is the first time I’ve been comfortable this season. What the humans below think of me is not my concern right now.

  Considering most everyone on the ground wants my kind dead, this is probably not the smartest thing I’ve ever done. Though, neither was entering a compound of Fae-Hating-Crazies when you’re a Kitsune.

  Yes, that’s a long story, and I’m not even sure I have all the correct details about how this all started. I lived in Scotland for a good portion of all this nonsense and, foolishly, I believed whatever happened to fall out of my father’s mouth.

  From what I understand, around the mid two-thousands, the humans got into another giant tiff. No one knows exactly what they were all fighting about this time, but most assume it was something trivial. Religion, possibly. Or some girl causing drama between brothers and accidentally causing a war. It might have even been the Great Big Foot debate, for all it matters. To be honest, after a few centuries no one really gives a shit about what you were bickering about. Just that you were, and that while you were doing so, you created a pissing match that escalated into what was titled, “World War III”.

  My people were not exactly happy about this. Humans tend to be rather narrow-minded and forget they are not the only living creatures inhabiting the planet. They also tend to forget we are not the only ones who pull energy from nature, and throwing grenades at each other is a damn good way to muck up the oxygen supply. Oops.

  The Fae had far more than enough by that point and figured it was high time to speak up and step in. My father’s exact words were that ‘we came in peace’, and because they were all so stupid, we simply had to put them on leashes and take over. I believed him at first. Then I spoke to a few. They’re not nearly as stupid as he’d led me to think.

  In fact, I would later come to find out that everything he told me about this whole issue was false. The humans were not being pigheaded at all, but oblivious. They’d believed wholeheartedly that the Fae merely wanted to help, when in reality, they wanted control. And they got it-right out from under the noses of the mortals. Some of the humans are still happily oblivious; perfectly content living under Fae rules and regulations, taking the abuse or praise they have been raised to believe they deserve.

  Others, however, are not so keen on this yet. The people on the ground beneath me are prime examples of this. A rebellion. Not every Court member has heard of these gatherings yet, and several who have believe it’s all just talk. “Th
ere is no possible way any number of humans could all agree on something, let alone stand up for it,” is their excuse. “They’re not that smart.”

  I beg to differ. See, I’m a rare breed — an idiot who abandoned his family and Court to come see these people, based solely on rumors and theories. I didn’t know any of them existed until I got here, and now I don’t know how to enter. Based on the guards and poorly placed iron spikes in some trees and grasses, no one really wants to hear from an Autumn Court reject who would like to offer his services. ‘I’m here to help’ didn’t exactly work in their favor the last time.

  Putting it lightly, I really didn’t think this move through. I never said I was a genius.

  Neither are the people here though, honestly. Again, even if most of the Fae have either not heard of, or do not believe these rebellions are happening, there are a few paranoid ones who do. And trust me, they would love to waltz in and put a stop to it. And as of right now, the only things protecting them are some weak - and I might add easily distracted - larger humans who walk around in circles with bows and iron-tipped arrows with constipated looks on their faces. In my animal form, a marginally small Fennec fox, I was able to walk right past one of them. I almost pity these people…