by Sherry Soule
Beautifully Broken
By
Sherry Soule
This book or any potion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher or author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher or the author is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
BEAUTIFULLY BROKEN
Copyright © 2011 by Sherry Soule
Cover Art Design by Rachel Rivera
Text Formatted by James Melzer
All rights reserved.
Printed in the United States of America
ISBN: 978-0-615-50812-2
1. Demonology—Fiction. 2. Supernatural—Fiction. 3. Dreams—Fiction. 4. High schools—Fiction. 5. Schools—Fiction. I. Title.
Moonlight Publishing, Inc
2365 Mission St. Suite B13
San Francisco, California 63000
http://www.moonlightpublish.com/
Author note: The narrative is loosely based on the actual Wiccan Religion; however, the author has taken certain liberties with the portrayal of real witchcraft purely for entertainment purposes.
For Brandon and Julianna,
who can always make me smile, even on my darkest days
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Books do not write themselves, which means I have a few fabulous people to thank!
First, I want to thank the brilliant editor, Jennifer Hudock (author of The Goblin Market), who helped me smooth out those rough sections and improve my voice. Many thanks for taking Shiloh’s story and making it sparkle! I’m so lucky and fortunate to work with you. I heart you!
Huge thanks to EDITS [that] ROCK. Your approach to editing and coaching is dazzling and superb. Your invaluable suggestions on changes that strengthened the cadence, and catching those annoying mechanical errors really improved the storyline. I’m glad we had the chance to work together. You guys really do rock!
I also want to thank my amazing cover art, book trailer, and website designer, Rachel Rivera of Parajunkee Designs. Your hard work and talent astounds me. Thank you!
And I wouldn’t have had the guts to come this far if it weren’t for my writing buddies! So special thanks go to my crit partners, author Kate Evangelista, Jordan Mierek, and author Lynn Rush for your friendship, encouragement, and editing skills. Thanks for helping me with those terribly confusing plot issues, Kate. Lynn, thank you for helping me write better “hooks” and inspiring me to create better book blurbs—(try saying that three times fast). And much thanks to Jordan for critiquing and offering great advice. Hugs!
A big thanks to the oh-so-fabulous Bewitching Book Tours, who helped with promotions.
A shout out to Angelique Derr and my BFF Janet Sorel for beta reading. Big hugs!
My BFF Annamarie House—thanks for the support and always believing in me.
Enormous thanks to the dedicated and enthusiastic book review bloggers who embraced my debut novel and gave it such hearty praise. You guys ROCK!! (And have great taste in books!)
Thanks to the wonderful readers who bought this book. I sincerely hope you enjoy my brand of storytelling.
Lastly, cheers to all the wonderful librarians everywhere who encourage us all to read.
CHAPTER ONE
For as long as I could remember, I’d heard whispers in the shadows. Dark, twisting shapes that chilled my blood. Slithering through night, the images flickered, green skin, crimson eyes, sharp claws illuminated even in the dark. Sunlight meant the difference between life and death.
During the day I normally felt safe with the heat of the sun brushing my skin, so that morning when the shadows showed up in my bedroom, I barely recognized their eerie whispering. The desk lamp flickered, startling me. I stared at the last line I’d typed on my essay for English class, my hand hovering over the keyboard.
Homework can wait.
I raised my head and closed the laptop as supernatural hush came over the room. My heart hammered. A hint of chilling menace climbed up my spine. Finishing my homework was the last thing on my mind.
I uncrossed my legs and then jumped off the bed, nearly tripping over my long nightgown. I scanned the dark bends and edges of the room. The swirling azure colors of the witch ball suspended over my bed rotated in a slow circle. I got down on my hands and knees to check under the bed. Nothing. The closet door stood open a crack. I stood up and wavered, shoulders hitching.
My gut clenched. My skin prickled. I dragged my feet over to the closet. I pushed the door wider with my bare foot. On tiptoes, I leaned over the threshold and stretched to grasp the brass chain, then gave it a yank. Light bled across dirty laundry, illuminating metal hangers scattered on the floor. Dusty board games littered the shelf, and haphazardly hanging clothes swayed on the bar. My fuzzy, pink bunny slippers stared at me with glassy button eyes. Nothing unusual.
So why am I so freaked?
The feeling, indistinct but ominous, lingered like the remnants of a bad dream. I couldn’t isolate the source. But something felt wrong.
The closet light and lamp suddenly went out. As I turned around, my peripheral vision caught a maelstrom of shadows. I saw things in it. Something snaked past my leg. Writhed.
Stupid, stupid, stupid! Forgot to keep my telepathic shield up. Again.
Shadows murmured in an ancient language and covered the cream carpet like an opaque stain. The creatures fed off my fear, which was doled out like too much bitter candy. Within the inky blobs were gleaming eyes. Red orbs, open and staring. Spiny reptilian fingers reached to grab my ankles. Instinct jerked me from their grasp. Anthracite things with darkling eyes glared back at me.
Trembles traveled from my legs and vibrated up my neck. Dread choked me like a noose, strangling me from the inside. Bile rose in my throat. I struggled to calm myself; all I had to do was run from the room. Instead I froze, my back flat against the wobbling closet door. My eyes caught something else. An entity too dense and vertical to be serpentine detached itself from the other shadows. Bigger. Darker. Malevolent.
The amorphous darkness was deep and vast, and inside the shadow, a terrible yawning hunger rose in front of my wide eyes. The shadow hung heavily, like a spatter of crude oil, pulsating and swirling until it nearly touched the ceiling. Darkness morphed, muscles expanding over bones, skin convulsing, a resurrection of shiny obsidian, smooth and razor-sharp, created from darkness and shadow. It throbbed, altered, trickled into limbs and flesh and—
Oh, God, it’s almost touching me!
I flinched and stumbled back, bumping into a chair. My knees buckled. I swayed, leaning hard on the doorframe. Blood roared in my ears.
The nest of smaller shadows shimmered and crouched in terror. They whispered in tangled voices, circling my legs like frightened children. Their panic increased, seeping into my gut. My palms went damp.
When scary things get scared—so not good.
Breathing out desperate little choking noises, I shook my head, hoping the image would fade. The headshake didn’t make a difference. Only reinforced my worst nightmare.
While I watched, darkness came alive and c
oalesced, taking on form—human form.
Power surged through the demon as he swelled into a seething black mass of energy, bent on blocking my escape. His rough skin, the color of soot, held a sturdy flexibility more sinuous than flesh like a venomous viper. His strange features—part phantom, part skeleton—fought to become corporeal. Naked. Partially humanoid. No genitals. No hair. He flexed his hands, revealing long fingernails. Talons on his feet. Knife sharp teeth. The creature did not move. He watched me. His ocher eyes blazed, searing through my nightgown and scorching my skin.
Shadows slunk away, blending into the dim corners. Little red eyes blinked. However, the seven-foot-tall creature remained. The hellish warmth radiating from his body entered mine like the breath of a dragon.
I swallowed. Hard. My scalp prickled with sweat. It wasn’t as if I were some girly-girl afraid of her own shadow, but when they had glowing eyes and sharp teeth…well, I tend to freak out.
Okay, focus, Shiloh.
My gaze darted to the window. Sunlight was my only ally. If I lifted the shade, the sun’s rays would swallow the darkness. At least that was the idea. A crack of light ebbed into the room, soaking the crevasses. Inching forward, I kept an eye on the junior shadows with their onyx hands, arms…flashes of carved faces. They continually moved, sliding under the bed in a twisted game of peek-a-boo. The shadow man stood very still. Intent, watchful, calm. Dangerous.
Disgusting odor of sulfur, musty and acrid, wrinkled my nose. I wanted to say something tough and snarky, but I only gaped stupidly at Shadow Man. Big bad evil. Whatever.
I pinched my nose and focused on not throwing up.
Shadow Man raised one hand and pointed at my arm. “Debts must be paid.” His inhuman intonation slid across the space between us, resonant and sinister, like the threat of a snake before it strikes. “You bear the devil’s mark.”
The ugly scar on my forearm—the one I’d lived with for years—burned at his words, as if I’d plunged it into scalding water. I held my arm against me. Tears filled my eyes. I gritted my teeth, twitching, unsure what to do next.
Move. Now. My legs refused to budge. Terror clutched my throat. Please, oh please, go away. I wished for the courage to scream or fight rather than stiffen like a statue, immobile and breathless.
He glowered. The shadows swarmed around me. Are they his little minions? Or are they still as freaked as me? Didn’t matter, because now they had me cornered. I backed against the closet door and stared, waiting for them to attack. Shadow Man stepped closer. The freaky hellspawn crouched behind him. The circle tightened, then he stopped. He cocked his head to the side.
Someone knocked on the door. “Shiloh?” My mother’s voice, loud and anxious, penetrated the wood. Huh. Her frantic tone was almost as odd as the demonic-thingy standing in my bedroom. “What’s going on in there? I heard a noise.”
Why wasn’t my dad the one pounding on my door? He’d want to protect me. Wait—what was I thinking? He would think I was hallucinating. Only I saw paranormals in this dysfunctional family.
No way am I letting the big bad evil leave this room to hurt my dad. Who knows what Shadow Man will do?
“Uh, sorry,” I croaked. “Can’t decide what to wear.”
“Be quieter then.” She twisted the knob. Thankfully, the door was locked.
Now I had no choice but to do something about this…this thing. Before it went after my parents. I glanced from the door to the demonic shadow. I recognized danger. I recognized warnings. I bit my lip, tasting blood.
“Okay.” My fists clenched at my sides. Fingernails cut deep into my palm.
“We’re gonna be late…and do something with your hair.” The soft tread of my mother’s feet padding down the hall rattled me enough to do what I’d first intended—run like hell. I took a step, then surprised myself with a sudden burst of anger. I didn’t know where it came from, but I was glad for it. More than glad.
The eruption of hostility flushed my cheeks. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror above the dresser—my eyes wild and mad and my cheeks stained with the blood of roses. My lips tightened. Fresh tears stung my eyes, and that pissed me off even more.
Come on, Shiloh—think. I rubbed my hurting arm over the cotton nightgown. Door or window?
Shadow Man stood between the door and me. His black and muscular physique looked invulnerable. The heat of his gaze slammed into my scar. Yellow eyes expressed lust, thirst, hunger…death. He crooked a finger like a hook. “Come here.” The demon’s gaze flicked sideways, settling on me with such heaviness and animosity my skin recoiled. “Now, or pay the consequences.”
Anger uncoiled in my heart. Darkness unfurled, as black as the demon before me. I jerked forward, my cheeks flaming. My short fingernails dug into my palms, drawing blood. But I felt no pain. Only the slow graze of terrible rage. I bared my teeth in a snarl. The darkness stirred within my heart: precarious, unwinding.
“Is that a threat?” I asked, but the tone was not mine. This time power flooded my voice.
No one moved. Even the nasty little shades became rigid. Shadow Man hesitated. Our eyes locked. I held my breath, watching him. My heart beat at a dizzying pace. He smiled and flung back his head. A thin stream of smoke spewed from his parted lips. The predatory cloud-snake pulsed with electricity. His smoky vomit was viscous and black, generating an electromagnetic vibration and a sulfurous residue.
Not good.
At that moment, the only things real to me were the rage coursing through my veins and the heat scorching the scar that traced a jagged line from my elbow to my wrist. A constant reminder, ensuring I’d never forget my freakishness.
Well, hell.
Instead of screaming like a smart girl, I decided to be brave and sprint for the one thing that might save me. The window. As I raced past Shadow Man, a blistering heat slashed through my chest. Stumbling, I tripped over a book, and then fell to my knees. I gripped the ledge of the windowsill. Panic and fury radiated through my limbs. Blazing strong, a surge of mystical energy encompassed my body, crackling with power. Static electricity lifted my long hair.
Oh, god. Please—OPEN!
CHAPTER TWO
Instantly, the pink shade covering the window spiraled upward. Light erupted, spilling into all the dark corners of the room. My eyes blurred momentarily. I rose on shaky legs and searched the room. Empty.
I stood still as ice for several minutes until my heart settled down. My mind ran in helpless, futile circles. Had I somehow subconsciously willed the window shade up?
The mystical power I’d experienced tingled in my fingertips.
Lately the shadows had appeared more often, growing bolder, but they’d never formed a human shape before, or attempted to become tangible. Real. In retrospect, I should’ve known that was a bad sign.
Unease swelled within me. My bedroom wasn’t my safe sanctum anymore. Open to danger. Susceptible to whatever nightmare wanted in. Unprotected during the day now.
My legs gave out. Miserable and weak, I pressed my back into the wall and slid down, bursting into sobs. I hugged my knees to my chest and swiped at the snot coming out of my nose with my sleeve. Why me? Really. I wanted to know. My life was sucky enough without some curse of darkness. A series of bad choices. Bad dreams. Bad hair days.
Blah, blah, blah. Well, I guess bad hair days didn’t really count, but when you’re fifteen, weird and boyfriend-less, everything meant far more than it should.
The light dimmed—a cloud separating the sun from the earth. Grim May weather made my room seem oddly dismal and barren. Hollow, just like me. People think that just because Katy Perry sings about melting popsicles and sunny beaches, California is perpetually bathed by the sun. Not so along the northern coast.
I shivered and sought to ground myself by glancing at the messy room—the mound of clothes in the corner, the unfinished homework littering the desk, the books stacked below the windowsill—all things that reminded me of who I was. Shiloh Ravenwolf. A typical
teenage girl in a typical teenage girl’s room. Well, except for the dreamcatchers over the window, the bottle of holy water near the bed, and the burnt sage leaves resting in a bowl.
My vision, blurred by shock, gradually unclouded. My breathing slowed.
“Shiloh! Nearly time to go.” The sound of Dad’s strong voice, even muffled through the walls, got me back on my feet. I stretched my tense limbs and rubbed the outer edge of my eye. The aroma of coffee and bacon drifted beneath my door, pulling me further from the horror and closer to my familiar, secure world. I brushed my hair from my forehead, steeled my spine. And like an actress on cue, I plastered on a big, fake smile, hoping to conceal the terror I’d just endured.
After I blew my nose, I picked out something to wear to church that would ward off today’s projected sixty-degree weather: a black tunic sweater-dress with leggings. I parted my waist-length black hair along the hairline and braided it, letting the thick braid rest on my cheek. At least the hair was out of my face, which should keep my mother off my back. Or at least, not tick her off. Not much made her happy. I made a quick attempt at applying makeup before heading downstairs to the kitchen.
My parents sat at the table, eating breakfast. I hung back in the doorway and studied them. Tried to gauge their mood. From the small TV on the counter, a newscaster announced, “...third disappearance in the sleepy town of Whispering Pines. Sheriff Boyd has yet to confirm whether the most recent case is related to the string of missing persons reported over the last sixteen years.”