Beautifully Unnatural: A Young Adult Paranormal Boxed Set

by Amy Miles

  “Kylie.” He wiggled his fingers back and forth past my eyes. “I said, are you okay?”

  I opened my mouth to tell him to chill, but then—boom!—the images burst into my head again as if by photographic memory. “You have to find her fast,” the woman’s voice shrilled. What was this? A depressing movie-of-the-week scene starring Mark Hernandez and some weepy heroine? “S-stop!”

  “What’s going on?” He sounded frustrated.

  I couldn’t repeat what I’d just seen. That I’d pictured him taking notes while some brunette sobbed her head off because, somehow, I knew the scene was real, that it had actually happened—that it’d somehow gotten from his brain to mine, which was obviously impossible. No, definitely wasn’t going to share that info. He’d think I was crazy. Oh, no. Was I crazy? Had some whacko poisoned my box of bran flakes cereal? “It’s n-nothing. I’m fine.”

  He stared at me. “Are you sure?”

  Most definitely not, but I had to get away from him before I heard that lady’s plea again. It sounded way too tormented. “Yeah, great. I have your card, so gotta go now. Bye.”

  I threw the door closed, ran down the hall to my room, and dove face down on my bed. How could this be real? Hallucinating. I had to be hallucinating.

  I mean, I’d seen a scene from the salesman’s life. Twice. But, how? We’d shaken hands, I’d felt buzzing course up my arm and then—bam!—images played in my head. Had my brain somehow peeked into his? Not possible, but what other explanation could there be?

  I shuddered.

  As with anytime I freaked out, I wanted to run to my dad. He gives pretty cool advice, probably because he’s a psychologist and all. He’d totally reassure me I wasn’t losing my mind and come up with a good explanation for what had happened.

  But, he was gone. Left early for a patient. Well, what about his daughter? Left her high and dry, didn’t he?

  I glanced at my watch. If I didn’t leave for school now, I’d be late. I’m never late. It gives teachers a bad impression and they can switch an A to an A- with the flick of a pen. There wasn’t time to freak. Besides, who cares that I’d seen a stranger’s thoughts? Had to have been a fluke. One of those weird, unexplainable psychic things you hear about on TV that only happen once and then that’s the end of it.

  Pushing it out of my mind, I snagged my backpack from my bedroom, and bolted out the front door. To help forget this random encounter, I’d focus on my goal for today: Talk to Joel in a way that lets him know I’m interested. No sarcasm. Just proper flirting. Sounded simple enough.

  If it were anyone but me, that is.

  *****

  My Wolf's Bane

  by

  Veronica Blade

  Chapter One

  Scooping up my backpack, I abandoned my geriatric car and forged through the double doors of the school. The patter of my sandals echoed through the hallway as I smiled at a group of classmates passing by.

  My nose detected the bathroom before my eyes did, filling with the smell of disinfectant and… paint? Whatever. I'd take the toxic fumes over my former home school days, where my parents had kept me trapped without a social life.

  Inside the empty restroom, I rummaged through my backpack for my makeup bag. I set it on the edge of the sink, then surveyed the damage. At least I'd had time to do my hair before I'd stormed out of the house. Long, dark brown hair cascaded over my shoulders in thick waves. My face was a different story though. Evidence of sleep deprivation circled my eyes and my normally olive skin was pale.

  As I stared at my reflection, I wondered how to handle my very dead car without involving my mom or dad. After the bomb they'd dropped last night - that we'd be moving again in just a few weeks - I didn't want to speak to either of them. I mean, what kind of parents uproot their kid two to three times a year? There had to be a way to convince them to stay a few weeks more, until I turned eighteen. Then I could make my own choices.

  The restroom door swung open behind me, letting in the dull roar of voices and banging lockers, and a younger girl disappeared into a stall. Was it time for my first class already? I checked the time on my cell and realized I'd been holding the mascara brush for several minutes, yet my lashes were still naked. Crap.

  I tossed the makeup bag into my backpack, slung it over my shoulder and whipped open the door. Barreling out of the bathroom, I slammed into what felt like a walking boulder. I ricocheted off the human rock and my backpack hit the wall behind me, throwing me off balance and pitching me forward into the hard, linoleum tile.

  My palms cushioned my fall, but I winced as pain spiked up my wrists. On all fours, I lifted my chin and peeked through my curtain of dark hair.

  He wore a black tee that molded to his wide, muscular shoulders and jeans that fit over powerful legs. Wow. I'd thought my soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend was cute, but this guy…

  “You okay?” the hottie asked in a sexy, gravelly voice, stretching a hand toward me. His hand wrapped around mine and effortlessly pulled me up, as if I weighed no more than my calculus book. Maybe it was the throbbing in my limbs or the warmth of his hands on my elbows. Or maybe it was his earthy scent invading my senses, but a wave of dizziness hit me and I tipped forward.

  His hands shot to my hips to steady me. “Easy there.”

  I stared into his deep, green eyes as my palms rested on his hard biceps for support. Lord, he smelled good, like the forest after rain.

  My breath hitched.

  The scuffling of feet and rustling clothes seemed quieter than it should've been. I glanced over my shoulder to see what was up. Nearly everyone in the hallway had their eyes fixed on me. No doubt, most of them had witnessed me doing the Humpty-Dumpty and, by the end of the day, the incident would be all over school. Probably even caught on video and uploaded to YouTube, me with no makeup and totally un-cute. Ugh.

  Hot Guy may have been standing right in front of the bathroom in my way, but I shouldn't have been speeding. I opened my mouth to apologize when I recognized Daniel's voice.

  “That's my girl you're touching, freak.” Daniel sneered, flicked his long, dirty-blond hair over his shoulder and clamped onto my wrist. “Hands off.”

  Hot Guy nudged me aside and stepped forward until he almost butted chests with Daniel. “You need to learn some manners.”

  “Oh, yeah? You gonna try to teach me, girly boy?”

  Though I knew Daniel was acting like an idiot, the school gossip mill didn't need any more material on me today. I was more than finished with Daniel, but I didn't necessarily want him to get a public smack-down - even though he probably deserved it. Wedging myself between them, I twisted to meet Daniel's gaze. “Let's just go.”

  “Good idea.” Daniel gave Hot Guy another scalding look before grabbing my hand and jerking me away. I breathed a sigh of relief that I wouldn't have to referee a brawl.

  “Ass hat,” Hot Guy muttered.

  Daniel kept walking, practically dragging me along. He couldn't have heard the insult or he would've stopped and turned on Hot Guy. But I had heard it so clearly. Weird.

  “Hang on and I'll walk you to class.” Daniel paused at his locker and spun the combination lock.

  “Sure,” I said absently. I glanced over my shoulder to Hot Guy, who was leaning against a locker fiddling with his cell phone. The least I could do was give him an apologetic smile and mime, “Sorry.”

  I didn't get a chance. His gaze met mine, his mouth twisting as he raised one brow. Okay, so this wasn't going to be an easy fix. Hot Guy seemed too old to be in high school anyway. Probably a college student dropping off his younger sibling, which meant I'd never see him again.

  I wanted to keep staring at his perfectly sculpted nose, angular cheekbones and deep brown hair that fell haphazardly over his forehead, but he spun and strolled off in the opposite direction. A tug of my hand drew my focus back to my future ex-boyfriend.

  “Hold up,” I said. The warning bell sounded, but I barely heard it as I yanked my hand from his. “Why'd you have
to act like such a psycho?”

  Daniel shrugged, as though the answer was obvious. “He was touching you.”

  I laughed. “Seriously?”

  “You're mine, Autumn. No other guy can ever touch you again.” He said it like he couldn't believe I'd even question him.

  “I'm no one's property,” I hissed. “Besides, I tripped and he was just helping me up.”

  “Why are you defending that loser?” His voice rose and his face flushed.

  My hands balled into fists. “Because I don't like how you treat people.”

  “What are you talking about?” He gave me a look that said it all - I was insane. I opened my mouth to start in on him, but his eyes swept the corridor before he said, “We're gonna be late for class.”

  Daniel was right. The hall was deserted. A stream of mild curses spewed from my mouth as I sprinted to homeroom with only seconds to spare.

  *****

  Rise From Darkness

  by

  Ciara Knight

  Chapter One

  Seagulls squawked above the endless blue sea and skimmed over the ocean, before landing on the empty beach. Gabby sighed and returned to her work. With her already stained finger, she smudged the gritty edge of the blue charcoal blob on her paper, mixing it with white in an attempt to create the crest of a wave. Nothing helped. It still looked more like a dark alley than a serene ocean. The picture lacked flare. She glanced down at her castoffs, fluttering in the sand around her feet. All the pictures did. Everything she’d created in the last year was flat, devoid of energy or life.

  Dejected, she stared down the beach, searching, hoping he’d be there today. She’d only spotted him a few times. The image of his heavenly blue eye winking at her as he jogged by, his light hair framing an arched brow, made the twinge of loneliness disappear. He appeared around her age, sixteen, or maybe seventeen.

  Funny, she’d never had much time for boys since they moved so often, but there was something different about him, a little ray of sunshine to brighten her dull day. But hope as she might, the beach remained empty, except for the seagulls.

  Curling her toes in the coarse sand, she inhaled salty air. Heat pulsed along her skin and instinctively she rubbed the jagged edges of the circular scar above her knee, a constant reminder of the fatal car accident that had robbed her of her mother when she was only fifteen.

  Her father once referred to the scar as her Mitsubishi branding—three diamonds joined at their points. Somehow, the car’s logo had branded her skin, yet to this day, she couldn’t figure out how. Everything had happened so fast, like a blur. But she remembered the pain, and the haunting smell of gasoline and burning rubber. While her injuries had healed, the loss tugging at her heart was still raw.

  A tremor shot through. She closed her eyes as a dull burn coursed beneath her skin.

  She wouldn’t allow the visions back into her head. She’d already been locked up for telling the doctors strange dark creatures caused their car accident, and she wasn’t going back to a psych ward.

  Taking a deep breath, she tossed the charcoal stick into her art box and slammed it shut. Hearing the little green happy pills she stashed amongst her art supplies rattle in their bottle, she reached for the latch then shook her head and pulled away. They didn’t make the world a better place. They only suppressed the sadness, leaving her feeling hollow and empty. She was tired of avoidance. As sad and scary as it was, she had to start facing her past.

  Waves surged up the beach, beckoning to her. She tucked the castoff pages into her sketchpad then set it down on the sand beside her beach towel. The clear ocean rolled onto the beach again. She rose and shuffled across the damp, packed sand, then dove into the cool surf, washing away the memories of that night.

  Once beyond the break zone, she floated on the surface, letting the ripples soothe her blazing skin. She stared at the expanse of light blue above her, reminiscent of her mother’s bright eyes. “I miss you,” she whispered.

  Droplets of water fell from Gabby’s fingertip as she reached back to trace the other burn mark on her shoulder.

  Water swooshed and bubbled in her ears. The bathtub-like temperature of the water massaged the tension from her aching body and she felt each muscle relax. It was a welcome change after being cooped up in the tiny, broken-down shack her dad referred to as home.

  Yeah, some home, she thought. She glanced back at the empty beach. Kemp, Florida, located north of Tampa and south of Tallahassee, but west of nowhere. She was determined to make it work this time.

  Dark, swollen clouds rolled toward the Florida coastline, shrouding the warmth of the sun, but she continued to float on her back and ignored the oncoming storm. It was nothing to be concerned about after all. Like clockwork, a storm threatened every other late summer afternoon in this desolate place.

  Treading water, she slicked loose strands of her hair back from her face, noticing someone with light hair on the beach watching her with a dog by his side. A wave swelled and she lost sight of them.

  She scanned the wave. A shadow swirled through the white-crested water and darted below her. She blinked, narrowing her gaze as her heart pounded against her ribs, thumping in time with the swelling surf. She closed her eyes for a second. Just your psychotic brain at work again. She held her breath and forced her gaze back to the water, catching a glimpse of the sea creature before it plunged into the depths of the ocean.

  Her lungs clamped down on the air and wouldn’t release it. The hair on her body bristled, feeling like thousands of mosquitoes nipping at her for the last ounce of her blood.

  Mouth open wide, she gasped for any oxygen that the vision had trapped inches from her body. Just your imagination, nothing more, she reminded herself, willing the pounding in her ears to slow. That was what the shrink had said when she’d told him about the images of monsters and demons she kept seeing.

  Forcing her shaking limps to steady, she inhaled deeply, refusing to panic this time. Every little bump in the night had paralyzed her since the dreams had started nearly a year ago, but not this time. A new year was starting, a new phase of her life. It was time she faced her fears and made a plan.

  A slight tickle against her feet sent a charge up her leg and she gasped in surprise, but no sharp teeth or fangs pierced her skin. It’s just seaweed. Shaking her head at her own ridiculousness, she calmly started a modified breaststroke toward shore. Her arms still shook, but at least she’d avoided a full-on panic attack, which usually left her in a crippled heap on her bedroom floor. Swimming in the ocean was no place to have one of those.

  After four or five strokes, her breathing returned to normal. The waves were picking up, pounding against the back of her head, but she continued to swim, riding the surf and letting it carry her toward shore when possible. The water tugged, pulling at her body from below with each retracting wave. Pushing all her strength and energy into her limbs, she picked up speed, fighting the undertow her father had warned her about.

  As she kicked feverishly against the current, something rough, like sandpaper, brushed against her leg. She caught a glimpse of a large shadow as it torpedoed away and turned, just as the next wave crashed over her head, sending her underwater. Water sent her body into a spin, disorienting her. Flailing arms overhead, feet to the side, she twisted and spotted light filtering through the ocean. She swiped her arms propelling herself upward, but her hands were fisted in panic. Forcing her fingers to release, she clawed toward the surface.

  Finally breaking through, she gasped, dragging air into her greedy lungs. What was that thing? She thought as she rode the waves for a moment, trying to catch her breath. Desperate to be back on the safety of the beach, she kicked against the current. But waves overwhelmed, each stroke taking her farther from the stretch of white sand.

  Panic urged her to swim harder. Still nothing. The ocean swelled around her, elongating the distance like the hospital hallway in her recurring nightmare. The clouds merged into a solid sheet of darkness overhead a
s the wind picked up and the waves surged harder.

  Her shoulders ached and her sides cramped, but still she fought onward. Lactic acid burned along the muscles in her back from exhaustion. Salt water caked her eyes, nearly blinding her, but she was afraid to stop swimming long enough to clear away the crust.

  I’m going to die out here. Her limbs weighted her down, dragging her to a stop. Mom. Help me. I don’t want to die. She heaved through the crushing pressure in her chest and struggled to push herself further up on the surface as she searched for the beach.

  It was gone. She spun in a frantic circle, hoping she’d just gotten turned around. Nothing. No beach. No palm trees. No mysterious light-haired stranger. Only miles and miles of water in all directions.

  Just a dream…it’s just a dream. It had to be one of her nightmares. She tried not to think about how her visions were now invading every aspect of her life. She had to wake, now.

  A large wave crashed over her like a kraken emerging from the depths. She choked and spit the seawater from her mouth. The salt singed her throat and nose, the pain confirming this wasn’t a dream.

  Her last shred of hope vanished and dread crept in. Trapped.

  Her muscles cramped and paralyzing pain ripped through her.

  “Help!” Another wave rolled over her. “H-help, p-please,” she sputtered, but thunder muffled her weak pleas.

  The ocean wanted to claim her. She kicked frantically just to keep her chin above the water. Then her ankle caught in something. Panic roared through her and she twisted to free herself but the noose only tightened. Fire shot up her calf, through her thigh, and spread into her abdomen.

  She plunged her head underwater, contorting into a ball. As she reached to free her foot, her fingers brushed a bumpy surface. It moved, tightening its grip, pulling on her ankle until she feared it would be ripped off. She cried out, releasing a mass of bubbles, and slammed her other heel into the creature. Its grip loosened and she swam wildly for the surface, spitting and choking. Her entire body trembled and she wanted to scream in frustration and fear but only whimpers escaped between gasping breaths.