by C. R. Jane
I held my breath, waiting to see if the orcs would jump up again.
More of the shards shot out of my wings and sailed out of the room as if on a mission to attack the other orcs, three dozen at least.
Before long, my bedroom resembled a massacre. I hovered in the air, my wings beating, while the three elves dragged themselves out from under the collapsed orcs. Bloodied and bruised, at least they still breathed. I let out a half-cry, half-laughter.
“Oh, shit! I can’t believe we survived,” I said, my gut churning. “Yet I killed so many.” Sure, they’d tried to murder me, but I didn’t feel right taking their lives.
“Come down here so we can show you our appreciation. But they aren’t dead—just stunned,” Truid said, stretching his hand out for me to take it.
“They’re not dead?!” Oh, thank god, as I didn’t want to live with that on my conscience.
I reached down from the top ceiling, angling myself forward, and beat my wings, which only propelled me into a downward spiral. I fell and flailed my arms, crying out.
Truid snatched me on the way down and set me onto my feet. But he didn’t release me and instead gripped me with such strength, I looped my arms around his neck. “Thank you,” I said. “Seems I still have to learn how to control these things.”
Luca and Brey approached me, stepping over bodies, and the three of us stood in a tight circle. “We’ll help you learn…” Brey said. “Let’s finish this mess.”
I looked around us as I slipped out of Truid’s embrace. “Won’t they come back for me once they wake up?”
Luca stood next to me, his hand cupping my cheek, a thumb running across my bottom lip. “Little one, it seems you have the power of influence. You asked them to stop, and they did. You must now force all your energy into your command.”
I nodded and closed my eyes, concentrating, drawing on the energy whirling inside me, the fire deep in my chest. I pictured the orcs in my mind and released the words on the forefront of my thoughts. “You will not remember me, my home, or this night when you awaken.” The voice streaming from my mouth didn’t sound like mine. It was deep and powerful, echoing around us.
I bounced on my toes. “I did that. Did you see?”
All three elves laughed at me and each kissed my cheek before turning to the bodies. “Let’s get this cleaned up,” Brey said. “I have plans to continue our earlier activities, and we’re taking turns from different angles, all right?” He smirked in my direction.
I had no idea how to respond to his comment because my first reaction was: yes. But I also wanted to collapse and just breathe easy for a moment and let the night sink in.
The men set about hauling the orcs outside my house by the feet and arms. They’d probably place them somewhere in the woods. The four of us were still naked, but it didn’t seem to faze the elves as they worked.
My room was in shambles. A large crack had slithered down a wall, and that meant the place would require major reconstruction. I huffed, but on the bright side, I wasn’t alone any longer. I had three elves by my side, and a lifetime to get to know them, to discover who I really was, how to use my wings and this power of influence. Then I’d make a real life for myself. Part of me knew I’d already fallen for the three handsome elves who’d crashed into my life with a bang. I wished Dad was still here to see that I embraced being an elf, and that I could never hate him for keeping such a secret from me.
For the first time in too long, I beamed about the potential of my future. I smiled to myself, unable to believe that out of chaos something beautiful had arisen. And I intended to make the most of it… No more squandering my days hiding inside my store. I had three handsome elves who’d make sure of that.
This is the beginning of new story, so there will be more coming from Mila Young in the Tricked fairy tale retelling of The Elves and the Shoemaker.
Mila Young tackles everything with the zeal and bravado of the fairytale heroes she grew up reading about. She slays monsters, real and imaginary, like there's no tomorrow. By day she rocks a keyboard as a marketing extraordinaire. At night she battles with her might pen-sword, creating fairytale retellings, and sexy ever after tales. In her spare time, she loves pretending she's a mighty warrior, walks on the beach with her dogs, cuddling up with her cats, and devouring every fantasy tale she can get her pinkies on.
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Soul Echo
Harper Wylde
Copyright © 2018 by Harper Wylde
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review, and except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Chapter One
Felicity
The tray fell from my hand and clattered to the floor along with a heap of dirty dishes, the crash shattering the glass into slivered shards that flew across the length of the kitchen. Bending over, I crossed my arms over my stomach and squeezed my eyes shut as I tried not to cry out at the pain tearing through my head. The sharp stabbing sensation rendered me nearly unable to see, let alone stand, and I dropped to my knees on the cold, hard linoleum tiles that covered the floor of the Backroads Diner, a popular hole in the wall eatery on the edge of town. Hunching over, I grabbed the sides of my head, rocking back and forth while I waited out the agony.
My 'episodes,' as I called them, were picking up in frequency. I gritted my teeth, begging my growing panic to settle as the knife-like pain slowly ebbed.
"Holy shit, Liss, what the actual fuck just happened?" Jeremy rushed around the long, wide counter lining one side of the diner and reached down to help me back to my feet. Taking his hand, I leaned on him as I righted myself, brushing the small pieces of glass off my knees and checking the small cuts left in their wake.
"Just a migraine." I waved him off, hoping the excuse I'd invented to explain the sudden, shooting pain still held strong. Straightening the skirt of my uniform, I surveyed the mess I'd created. Broken plates, glasses, and the remnants of food from table eight littered the sea green linoleum. My cheeks heated as I felt the stares from the patrons of the usually chatty restaurant. The silence burned through me, and I rushed to the back corner of the diner to grab a broom and dustpan.
"Liss," Jeremy followed, his long strides eating up the distance in half the time. Reaching to pull the cleaning tools from my hands, he appraised me with steely eyes. "That looked like way more than a fucking migraine. What the hell is going on? You've been avoiding me since…" He trailed off, leaving the rest of his sentence unspoken.
"It's ok, you can say it." I forced my blue eyes up to his face, catching the sympathy written there.
"Since Luca died." The statement stung, even though I'd been prepared for the words themselves. It'd only been three weeks since my twin brother had been killed, and the wounds were still fresh-although I didn't truly think they'd ever heal. Not this time. My heart had been ripped apart too many times for that.
My throat ached as I held back the emotions that swamped me. Hearing 'Luca' and 'died' in the same sentence was so incredibly wrong, and yet the living nightmare those two words created together haunt
ed my waking reality.
Ignoring Jeremy's gentle accusation, I brushed past him, grabbing the broom back as I went. The chatter in the diner was resuming its normal level, but all the eyes in the place were still flicking in my direction. I felt their censure, their curiosity, and even their pity as I began to sweep the glass into a pile. It'd been like this since I started this job almost two weeks ago. Very little happened in Preston Valley, and my brother's death was headline news. This small town was full of busy bodies, and they enjoyed gawking and gossiping over eggs and coffee.
Joining me, Jeremy began to help sweep with a second broom he'd procured from somewhere in the back. His tall frame meant he had to hunch over as he worked, making him appear a little ridiculous.
"Don't ignore the people who care about you, Liss. I know things have been hard, but you still have people in your corner… like me." As he spoke, he drew closer, reaching out at the end to squeeze my upper arm before giving it a warm caress. Jeremy had always been a great friend, but recently, his attentions seemed to surpass the label.
However, I had very few people who fit into the friends category in my life, and I wasn't about to lose this one simply because his feelings were getting ahead of mine. "I know, Jer. Thank you. It's just bad headaches." I offered him a warm smile hoping it would be enough for now and went back to sweeping. The truth was, I didn't know what was causing the pain, but whatever it was didn't feel normal. Each time an 'episode' occurred, my head felt like it was going to explode and my ears started ringing. Voices sounded as if they were underwater, and my entire body buzzed in a way that was decidedly unnatural.
Collecting the pile of broken glass, I swept it up with the dustpan and tossed the remains into the trash can with a wince. I knew those dishes would be coming out of my weekly paycheck. At this rate, I couldn't afford any more mishaps, or I wouldn't be able to make my rent payment. The small studio apartment I lived in was located in a rougher part of town, but it was all I could afford given my waitressing salary. Nevertheless, it was home, and it was solely my own. After a life raised in various foster homes, being on my own was a welcomed change, even if it hadn't been my original choice.
I'd never forget the day I walked into what would become my last foster home to find my foster parents, the Mariners, packing my brother's belongings-mostly because it was the same exact day as his funeral. As I cleared dishes and wiped down chrome lined tabletops, the last conversation I'd had with my foster mother, Miranda Mariner, played through my mind.
"Are those my brother's?" I questioned as I surveyed the stacks of brown cardboard boxes sitting in neat rows in the living room. Outrage slipped in around the edges of my raw voice as I tried to control my emotions.
"Now dear, we can't keep his things in that room forever. It's time to weed out and move on with our lives. We thought it would be helpful if we packed his belongings for you, so as not to upset you any further, darling," she cooed at me, and my eyes flew to her face in shock.
"Luca hasn't even been gone for a week!" I gaped, nearly screeching. This had to be some elaborate joke. I knew they wouldn't keep his room set up for long, but the dirt was still fresh on his grave-as inthis morning. "You can't…" I trailed off, unsure how to voice my upset without causing grave repercussions. Luca had always been the one who had a way with words, charming people into doing what he wanted. Without him, I didn't know how to proceed. I'd always been much more blunt and to the point than he.
"Oh, Felicity, there you are," John said in his friendly tone as he clomped down the stairs to join his wife. While he wasn't nearly as vicious or vindictive, the man had no backbone when it came to his wife's wants. In his arms was yet another box, and I took deep, measured breaths as I saw red. Their hands were on Luca's things. Who knew what they deemed important enough to pack and what they were simply throwing away. These things were all I had left of my brother.
Suddenly it felt hard to breathe and I reached up to rub at the aching spot in my chest before lunging forward and snatching the box from John's hands, hugging it close to my body. My gaze flicked back and forth between my foster parents, and a bad feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. Somehow, I just knew whatever they were going to say next was going to rock my world for the second time that day.
John wrapped an arm around his wife's shoulders, looking contrite as she began to speak. "We know this is unfortunate timing…" She lowered her voice and mumbled, "so unfortunate." She took a deep breath before continuing on, "But you're eighteen now. We had spoken to your brother about all of this a few weeks ago-before you turned eighteen, giving him plenty of notice-and he was making arrangements for the two of you to find your own way in the world now. We've done well by you both and we think it's only fair that you take the upbringing we've afforded for you and make something of your life. We can't have you moping around, and we both feel as though this change is the best way to foist you out of your misery and back into the real world." Stars shone in her eyes as she droned on romantically about saving me from myself and the grand adventure they were sending me on while I tried to process the reality of what she was saying.
"You're… kicking me out." I didn't phrase it as a question because it wasn't. It was a statement that we all needed to hear out loud.
"No, no, no." Miranda over exaggerated her words, waving her hand through the air as though to clear it. Using the same hand, she smoothed back her overly styled tawny hair and pasted another contrived smile onto her face. "We're helping you leave the nest, darling. Pushing you to take the next steps in life. We both feel that focusing on what comes next will help to ease your pain and allow you to move forward while leaving all the… unpleasantries of the past behind as you make a fresh start… somewhere else."
Her meaning had been clear. I was no longer wanted nor welcomed in Miranda Mariner's house, and I'd spent the rest of that night grabbing the few items I'd wanted from my own room while packing up every last piece of Luca's things. The boxes and my two suitcases had been precariously stuffed into the bright red Buick Regal that my foster parents had purchased for Luca and me to share-and were allowing me to keep-and I'd taken off in the middle of the night without a word. There was nothing left to be said.
That was all but two weeks ago, and to say I was making it work would be a gross overstatement of my abilities. Unable to bring myself to sell the car that was still permeated with Luca's scent, I'd sought out a job and the cheapest living arrangements I could find. I was still alive, and while that felt incredibly unfair, I counted it as a win simply because I knew Luca would want me to. He wouldn't want to see me break down like I was desperate to do every night when I crawled into bed, alone in my dark, creepy apartment.
Shivers raced up my spine and the hair on my arms stood on end as I ran my cleaning rag around the top of a recently vacated booth. It wasn't the first time I'd had such a reaction lately. The feelings of being watched had started the same day my episodes began-the day Luca had died.
Discreetly peering over my shoulder, I glanced around the restaurant and tried to gauge what was setting off all of my internal alarm bells, yet nothing seemed out of place and the customers were all regulars.
Shutting down my brain, I worked the rest of my shift as numbly as possible, offering tight, polite smiles to the customers as I took their orders and served their food. By the time the end of the night arrived, I was nearly asleep on my feet. Every night when I closed my eyes, a variety of nightmares would overtake my dreams, and my lack of sleep was finally catching up to me.
I yawned as I mopped the floors, preparing the diner for another long day of customers tomorrow.
"Why don't you let me drive you home tonight?" Jeremy offered as he finished cleaning out the e
spresso machine behind the countertop bar.
"I live five minutes from here." I sent him a half-hearted smile that I wasn't sure reached my tired eyes, and swept the mop across the floor, cringing at the mucky brown tint of the water.
"I know you do, but it's almost midnight, and I can tell you're tired. I don't mind." He shrugged nonchalantly, but I knew it was anything but. I sighed quietly. Honestly, I would have accepted in a heartbeat if I knew my saying yes wouldn't trigger his feelings to grow. Looking up, I let my gaze wander over my friend. Jeremy stood at six feet tall, all long, lean muscle. His sandy colored hair was rumpled purposefully, and his style was all his own-a mix of preppy and rocker that he pulled off flawlessly. Jeremy and Luca had been on the wrestling team together in high school, and while our friendship had started at the mutual acquaintance level, it'd quickly grown. We just clicked, but it'd always just been as friends.
I must be stupid, I chastised myself. The girls of Preston Valley would fall all over themselves to get Jer's attention, and here I was constantly turning him down. Maybe something was wrong with me, or maybe it was just bad timing. Whatever it was, I couldn't move past the fact that I knew-deep down-he wasn't the one for me. And if that was true, I wouldn't risk losing our friendship by starting something that would inevitably end. Half of me craved the idea of having someone to care about, while the other half rejected letting someone get that close again. My heart couldn't handle more brokenness, and death seemed to follow me like a dark cloud that wouldn't dissipate.
My resolve turned to steel. "Thanks anyway, Jer. I promise to head directly home and go straight to sleep." I motioned a signal that I felt resembled 'girl scouts honor' or something like that and returned my focus to finishing up work. The numbness I'd injected into my heart earlier was beginning to wear off, and I needed to get out of there before I deflated.