Startled to attention, Emma threw the orb to Kapoi who encased a secondary beast that she didn’t recognize at first. She gasped when she saw leathery wings struggling against the translucent orb. Dragon! She thought. Through her classes at the Academy, Emma knew how rare they were, but also knew that things within the King’s Court had been extremely tense as of late. She wondered if there was a correlation between the two and made a silent promise to help out her fellow guardians in any way she could.
As the second beast disappeared, Emma rushed to Mattox’s side. He had to be hurt by the orb, she’d heard the awful sound it had made when he picked it up.
Mattox grabbed her hand, reassuring her both mentally and verbally he was alright. “I swear, hunter orbs have it out for my family!” he laughed. “At least it’s not broken,” Mattox said, mocking that his brother Malcolm had actually indeed broken his arm in a similar incident. He stopped swinging his arm around like a madman and bent down and kissed Emma softly. “I’m okay, Em.”
His nickname for her sent an electric current down her spine just like it had the first time. She brushed the scar on his cheek and smiled. “I know.”
Just then a voice came over the earpieces that Kapoi had given them. The device was smaller than a dime, as clear as if the voice was right beside them, and was tucked away out of sight behind Emma’s ear. She was shocked when told it was standard equipment for hunters and novice trainees like herself. The King’s Court and its high tech gadgets never ceased to amaze her.
The voice explained that a fracture had just been spotted in Central Park and guardians on the scene were requesting backup. Emma shivered, recalling images she’d seen during training in the virtual chamber. She pictured the dark shadows from the netherworld pouring out of the golden ribbon of light like smoke falling to the earth leaching out over the landscape. The beasts would scatter under the light of the full moon, hoping to slither away and avoid being detected. Shadowskins roamed the earth and fed on humans for their masters the Nevra-Hsi in the Netherworld. It was an undeniable truth and the world Emma now lived in.
Kapoi rushed over to the couple. It was obvious he was eager to join his fellow hunters in Central Park. “So did it work? Were you able to shield us?”
Emma looked from Kapoi to Mattox with a devious smirk on her face. The Netherworld had no idea what was about to hit them. “Oh hell yeah!”
†††
Authors Bio – CK Dawn
Coffee loving gamer girl, Sci-fi enthusiast, and overall crafty individual, CK Dawn graduated from Texas Tech University with a degree in Interior Design and a minor in Architecture (I know, right?). Loving to be creative but feeling stifled by invoices, custom orders, and curtain patterns, she decided instead to follow her favorite philosophy: if you do what you love you'll never work a day in your life. So, a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away... she finally decided to pick one of the stories that had been bouncing around in her head and penned The Netherwalker Series.
CK lives with the love of her life John, his cat Scout, her cat Hagrid, their mutually adopted and socialized feral kitten Pepper (yes, cats have favorite humans. It's a thing), and their dog Diesel (aka Methane-- Please, don't make her explain).
She credits her mother for the strong independent woman she is, her father for her inner peace and beautiful outlook on life, and the summers of sweaty, manual labor on her grandparents' farm for her strong work ethic. In writing, CK has truly found her bliss. Stay tuned, because there will be a lot more to come in her Netherwalker Series. Seriously, things have only just begun.
I love connecting with readers and fans! Hope to talk to you soon. –CK
Website ~ Amazon ~ Facebook ~ Twitter ~ Instagram ~ Street Team ~ Goodreads
Other Books by CK Dawn
Cloak of Shadows
What if all you've ever known of King Arthur's legend was a lie to mislead you from the truth? What if Camelot truly existed, but was destroyed to keep its secrets? And, what if there were descendants of the Knights of the Round Table defending us today from the creatures that lurk within the shadows? If the gloaming came looking for you would you answer its call?
Fourteen year old Abigail Thorne answered the gloaming and it turned her life upside down. Along with her mentor Lourdes Reese, a seasoned hunter in the King's Court, they banish the evil shadows while most dociles sleep in their beds. Fighting hidden creatures that feed on humans, glimpsing fractures that lead to another world, and wielding magical weapons all before geometry? That's a normal day for Abbey now, and she loves every minute of it. As for Lourdes Reese, she has unique abilities that can't be explained and is the best hunter the King's Court has seen in over a thousand years. Abbey and Lourdie have no idea that being sent to Britain will unleash a chain of events that will change everything and everyone they love forever.
A life will be lost, a life will be taken, and an unexpected new romance will emerge all while the fate of two worlds balances on the edge of a hunter's blade.
A Neophyte’s Tale
Abigail Thorne hears voices. Well, one voice repeating one word over and over again. Soft and sweet with the promise of power, it calls to her. The twelve year old has no idea that the tender little word is a catalyst that serves to reveal a world hidden to most humans. Abbey has yet to discover that following the word's call to its origin will change the course of her life forever.
Abbey and her mother don't have much, and depending on the day, sometimes they don't even have a roof over their heads. She wants more out of life than just wondering where her next meal is. So she shouldn't be wasting her time daydreaming about going on a selfish quest, should she?
Does she have the strength to leave behind what little she has? Will she have the courage to break through the illusions surrounding her and lift the cloak of shadows?
Book 6: Hallowed Eve
By DB Nielsen
COPYRIGHT
Hallowed Eve
Copyright © DB Nielsen 2015
First published as part of the Anthology ‘Darkness Echoes’ in paperback and e-book 2015
The right of DB Nielsen to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form, or with any binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locals is entirely coincidental.
Cover Art: Kellie Dennis at Book Cover by Design
DEDICATION
Big thanks to all my fellow authors of this Anthology. And thanks to friends and fans for becoming my ‘beta group’ emotionally and editorially your support has been invaluable.
Most of all, thanks and love to my family for all the support, the continual encouragement and commitment to the dream – in particular to Alain for his act of faith and tireless enthusiasm (for all the above and everything else besides).
Chapter One
Monday morning. First period. Multiple choice pop quiz.
Overwhelmed, I stare blankly at the questions in front of me. How badly am I going to be judged if I fail this? My eyes flicker around the classroom, glancing at some of the other students, before turning back to confront question nine.
Focus, Evee, focus. You can do this.
Okay, so I can definitely rule out answers “A” and “D”, but I can’t decide between the other two. Hard to use a process of elimination; they both seem right somehow. God, why do I have to be so indecisive?
Bloody hell, just tick something, Evee.
Making my
choice, though I still feel uncertain, I’m about to lock in my answer when I hear my name being called.
‘Evelyn Hale?’
‘Yeah…?’
‘Yeah? Is that the way to answer a teacher when they call your attention?’
‘Uh … no. I guess not, Ms. Young. Sorry,’ I mumble in embarrassment, sinking low into my chair.
‘Sit up, Evelyn,’ she instructs in her tyrannical voice as she strides down the aisle of occupied desks to where I sit, roughly in the middle of the classroom. ‘Now, would you like to inform the class what you’re doing when the rest of us are studying Wuthering Heights?’
Actually, I really wouldn’t, but it doesn’t look like she’s giving me much of a choice.
‘Um … nothing.’ Furtively, I drop my hands into my lap.
She stops beside my desk, so close I almost choke on the smell of her cheap floral perfume, and holds out her hand for the iPhone I’ve tried to hide from her sight. Reluctantly, I hand it over, my heart thudding so loudly in my chest that I’m certain everyone at the opposite end of the school can hear it.
Her thin lips purse together in disapproval as she skims the text on the screen.
‘You have an interesting definition of “nothing”, Evelyn. So, would you care to enlighten your classmates about what you were doing? I’m certain they’ll be most interested in how you were wasting their valuable class time. Just read from where you were up to.’
No, I don’t care to, even if their interest in what I’m doing is enough to save this lesson from the seven circles of hell and boredom, but I reluctantly take my cellphone from her outstretched hand and begin.
‘“Which hot vampire is destined to be your dream boyfriend?”’ I read from the pop quiz appearing on my Facebook page. My voice quivers in embarrassment as I read.
Ms. Young looks at me pointedly as the classroom fills with snickers. If the earth suddenly opens up and swallows me whole, I’d be totally thrilled. But no such luck.
Sighing, I continue. ‘“Question Nine. Describe your dream vampire type. Is he – A: Totally badass. Long hair and tattoos. B: Tall, dark, handsome and brooding. C: Blond and athletic, with a touch of misunderstood. D: A pretty boy. Too much angel to be a devil?”’
By now, the laughter is almost deafening. I want to die. And here I was, afraid of being judged. At least being judged by my friends would have been far better than the humiliation I’m experiencing at this moment.
Only my best friend, Taylor, sitting at the front of the classroom because she refuses to wear her glasses, sends me a small shrug, her lips twisting sympathetically. But I can see her shoulders are shaking, so I know she’s just holding the laughter back out of loyalty to me.
I pretend I’m not here. It works for about thirty seconds.
Ms. Young stares at me for what seems to be ages. I have this sudden brainwave that she’d have gone for “B”; she’s completely obsessed with Heathcliff and makes us write essays on how he conforms to an ideal Byronic villain-hero.
Before I can come up with an excuse for my sudden stint of delinquency, Ms. Young holds out her hand again. I pass my phone back to her with a sick feeling in my stomach.
‘You can pick it up from Principal Shore later,’ she says, referring to the school’s newly-appointed, uber-conservative headmaster as she walks back to the front of the classroom. I watch my iPhone disappearing into her desk drawer as she finally turns back to address the class.
‘Right. Settle down.’ She gets us all under control but not before I hear a few sarcastic comments made at my expense. ‘Evelyn, seeing as you’ve brought up the topic of romantic heroes,’ I can almost hear the class groan – no doubt they’ll blame me for this additional torture, ‘why don’t you share your thoughts on why Heathcliff fits the stereotype of the Gothic Romantic figure?’
*
Half an hour later, the bell rings and I gather my books quickly, wanting to escape the frosty glares I’ve been receiving.
Taylor joins me in the hallway, and says, ‘Epic fail, Evee! You idiot! What were you thinking?’
I roll my eyes at her. As if she doesn’t already know; I wasn’t thinking. Why ask me anyway? It’s bad enough that my phone has been confiscated but I’m going to have to brave Principal Shore to get it back, and there’s no way I’m going to survive that experience unscathed. He’s already called my mom on two previous occasions – and the school year has barely even started – and it certainly wasn’t to congratulate her on her daughter making the final cut for one of the coveted positions on the cheerleading squad.
At the lockers, I throw my books in and ignore everyone’s mockery.
‘So what was it, Evee? A, B, C or D? I’m guessing D,’ Mia Markowicz jeers as she walks by, flicking her long, silky strawberry-blonde hair back in a gesture of disdain. I’ve noticed since the beginning of the year that if she ever has to make reference to me, the comments are always spiteful. I feel like retaliating. But that would mean that I actually care what she thinks.
‘I would have gone with A,’ says Taylor, applying a layer of lip gloss to her perfect bow-shaped lips.
‘Well, it was nice having you as a friend, because when your mom finds out that her daughter is dating the Sons of Anarchy, she’s gonna lock you in the attic for the rest of your life,’ I point out as I pull out my folder for our next lesson, which is chemistry. ‘And, for your information, I chose–’
‘E – V,’ Sam Harris approaches from behind and throws his arm around my shoulders. ‘You’re wanted.’
Sam Harris is exactly the same height as me, so eye contact is inevitable. I twist myself away from him and give him my most withering look. Some girls think he’s good-looking – and I suppose he is in a freckly kind of way. I’ve never found him that attractive myself. But, strangely, he’s one of those guys who can be like your best girlfriend.
‘Principal Shore wants you in his office right away.’
Stiffening beside him, I ask, ‘Now?’
He’s nice enough not to take pleasure from my pain. ‘Sorry, kid. Right away. I was just there when the delectable Ms. Young brought in your iPhone.’
I’m not a kid – I’ve had breasts since I was twelve – but I’m not in the mood to contradict him. Besides, why shoot the messenger? It’s not like any of this is Sam’s fault.
Putting my folder back in my locker, I turn to Taylor who commiserates with me before she gives me a little push in the direction of Principal Shore’s office.
I give her a meaningful look as I say, ‘Make sure you start dredging the lake when my body fails to turn up.’
Chapter Two
I sit in front of Principal Shore, watching as he knits his fingers together to cradle his chin as he addresses me.
‘Miss Hale. Evelyn,’ he begins.
The silvery-grey hair at his temples should make him look distinguished but instead it makes him look older than he is. I suspect he’s not more than in his late forties but the greying strands age him about ten years. It doesn’t help that he has a permanent icy scowl on his face.
‘I think we’ve already had this talk before. I’m not going to pretend that texting in class isn’t a big deal; you’re here to learn. Since the beginning of term, you’ve been distracted and often disrespectful to your teachers. We’ve made allowances because of your circumstances. Your mother seems to think your behavior is caused by the remembered loss of your father.’ I get this twitch in my stomach as my head jerks up. It’s the first time my father has been mentioned by anyone in such a long time that I can pretend he never existed. But Principal Shore’s dredging up the old pain and seems to know the secrets of my deepest misery, and it makes me feel nauseous. ‘It’s been almost ten years this October, I understand.’
He stops for confirmation. So I nod, not trusting myself to speak, feeling like there’s a knife twisting in my gut.
He stares at me out of ice-blue eyes from across his wide desk, which is overflowing with manila folders and official-lo
oking papers. I don’t know what he reads on my face. Is it despair? Anger? Confusion? Probably all of the above.
I still say nothing.
Principal Shore stands up, and moves across to the window overlooking the school grounds. ‘Come here, Evelyn. Look down there and tell me what you see.’
I do as he asks. Anything to avoid talking about my father.
‘The classrooms, the Quad, and some students,’ I mutter, barely bothering to glance out the window.
‘Very observant,’ he says, drily.
Well, he’s wrong because I am observant.
I have observed Principal Shore. His pauses are long, his speeches are never-ending, and he has an annoying habit of popping fresh breath mints into his mouth while he’s interrogating a student as if he’s afraid of catching halitosis.
‘There are over a thousand students in this school, each with their own issues. Divorced parents. Teen angst. Sexual confusion. Financial difficulties…’
Principal Shore continues talking but suddenly it is soundless. I watch his mouth move but it’s like watching a silent movie. Voiceless. He seems unaware of any change.
‘Principal Shore?’ I whisper, trying to get his attention.
He doesn’t notice me. He also doesn’t notice the creeping chill that’s making his breath spill from his mouth in erratic, tiny puffs of vapor as he silently talks. Nor the pattern of white frost quickly stealing across the glass from the edges of the window frame.
I’m frozen. Paralyzed with fear. I want to move but my feet have taken root in the worn carpet.
Darkness Echoes: A Spooky YA Short Story Collection Page 36