Orion's Kiss

by Claire Luana

  Orion's Kiss

  Claire Luana

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  About the Author

  Also by Claire Luana

  Orion’s Kiss

  Copyright © 2019 by Claire Luana

  * * *

  ISBN: 978-1-948947-88-6 (Paperback)

  ISBN: 978-1-948947-87-9 (Ebook)

  * * *

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the author.

  * * *

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  * * *

  Cover Design: MoorBooks

  Chapter 1

  Today is the day my sister is going to die. I know I can’t stop it. But I have to try.

  “Want some toast, sweetie?” My mom asks as I come downstairs. She’s wearing her work clothes—burgundy slacks and a black cowl neck sweater, but her feet are bare and her red curls are still damp around her shoulders.

  I paste a half-hearted smile on my face. “We have any cinnamon raisin left?”

  “One or two?” she asks from behind the refrigerator door.

  “One,” I respond, plopping onto a stool on the other side of the kitchen island. I’m not sure my churning stomach will put up with even one piece, but if I refuse breakfast, the questions will start. The motherly concern. I can’t handle that right now.

  Mom pops the bread into the toaster and retrieves her cup of coffee. “Not sure how you stand that stuff. Raisins.” She shudders, smiling as she takes a sip.

  “I’m in it for the cinnamon swirl,” I say. “I tolerate the raisins.”

  She cocks her head at me, and I know my acting hasn’t been good enough. I’m not a very good liar. She comes around the island and brushes a lock of brown hair off my forehead. “You all right?”

  I stifle a sigh. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want her to go all Freud on me and try to make it better. “Just another bad dream.”

  Cue mother-therapist concern. “Want to talk about it?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t really remember it,” I lie.

  Her green eyes search my face and I adopt what I hope is my most sincere expression.

  It seems to work. Mom nods. “Well, if you remember anything and want to talk, you know where to find me.”

  Right. Like my mom being the school psychologist isn’t embarrassing enough, I want to be seen in her office? I don’t think so. Besides, she can’t help me with this. No one can. Well, maybe Zoe could.

  The toaster dings and I’m grateful for it.

  I grab my toast and head back up to my room.

  “We leave in fifteen,” Mom calls after me.

  “’Kay!” I holler, pounding up the stairs and sagging against my closed door. The vision plays over and over in my head. It’s always strongest when it first comes. Right now, it’s screaming at me—Do something! Stop this! Fix this!—but I can’t. The vision knows it, and I know it. I’ve tried so many times before. Tried and failed. Sometimes I think all I am is the failures, and the rest of this life is the dream. My throat tightens and I fight back tears. Stupid teenage body with stupid teenage hormones. Inconvenient is an understatement. I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly.

  I realize I’m getting ahead of myself. To explain everything, I should go back to the beginning. Way, way back.

  My name’s Meriah Carmichael. Or it least it is in this lifetime.

  Once upon a time, my name was Merope. And I wasn’t human. I was half-nymph, half-Titan. I know, I know. It sounds crazy-pants. But sometimes the craziest stories are the ones that are true.

  You don’t really need to know the whole sordid history. The short version: I was the youngest of seven sisters. Our father was a Titan named Atlas. You’ve probably heard of him—you know, the one who holds up the Earth? Well, that fun little task was a punishment meted out by Zeus, the god of the Olympians, after he defeated the Titans in an epic war. One of my sisters got the crazy idea to free dear old Dad from his eternal punishment, but things went sideways. Instead of freeing our father, my sisters and I got ourselves cursed.

  “Five-minute warning!” Mom calls up from below.

  “Crap!” How did ten minutes pass already? I fly about my room, shoving my homework into my backpack, grabbing socks and my ratty but insanely-comfy Chuck Taylors. Mom tried to donate them to Goodwill once, but I rescued them from the bag. I keep a close eye on them now.

  I’m sitting on the bench by the garage door tying the laces when Mom appears, her purse in hand. She looks surprised to see me here on time but quickly recovers. I may…usually…be late. “Lunch?” she asks.

  “I’ll grab something with Zoe,” I say.

  “Money?”

  I hold my hand out and she rummages around in her huge purse before pulling out a ten. I don’t know how she finds anything in there. It’s like a black hole.

  I open the door and she grabs my fleece off one of the hooks. “Coat.”

  I take it. It’s halfway through April; I definitely don’t need a coat. But it’s not worth the argument. What is it about adults and staying warm? You’d think I was headed out on the Lewis and Clark Expedition for all the gear she thinks I need to bring.

  We back out of the garage and head towards Summit High School, where Mom works and I’m a junior. The orderly green streets of Bend, Oregon slide by. I rest my forehead against the window. Where was I…?

  Oh, yeah. The curse. The most frustrating part of this all (and trust me, there are some insanely frustrating parts) is that I don’t really know how we got cursed. I got knocked out in the struggle, and when I came to, my sisters were gone. So were Zeus and his bodyguard, Orion. I was alone. The only sign of my sisters was a new constellation in the sky. The Pleiades. Well, two new constellations. Because for some reason, Orion ended up there too.

  My fellow nymphs told me that Zeus had sent their bodies up to the sky so they couldn’t meddle anymore. That made some sort of sense to me. Olympians did whatever the hell they wanted, after all.

  I missed my sisters something fierce for the first few years, but Ancient Greece is a pretty interesting place and eventually I moved on. I got married. That was a disaster. Tell you about it later. I had kids, which was pretty cool, actually. I grew old. I died.

  And then things got weird.

  We pull into the parking lot. “Dad and I have drinks and then dinner at the Robinsons tonight, remember?” Mom says. “Can you get a ride home from practice with Zoe?”

  I nod. I can’t keep track of the workings of my parents’ busy social lives. But it’s fine. Better than fine. It means pizza for dinner, then I don’t have to explain where I’m hea
ded. Because I have plans tonight too. I have to try to save my sister’s life.

  “I can get a ride.” Then a thought occurs to me. “You’ll have the car?” We only have one car in our family because my parents are all about trying to reduce their carbon footprint. It means my dad rides his bike to work and I’m basically the only person in the whole junior class without wheels. But yay, saving the planet!

  “I’m heading straight over to your dad’s office to pick him up,” Mom says as we get out of the car. “You need to go somewhere tonight?”

  I shrug. “Maybe just to Zoe’s. It’s fine.” If I can’t get a ride with Zoe tonight, I’ll have to take my bike.

  “Have a great day today.” Mom tries to pull me in for a kiss on the head. I shy away. She knows the rules; I laid them down freshman year. No public displays of motherly affection at school.

  “You too,” I manage, then I head towards the library. Mom has to get to school forty-five minutes before class starts, so that means I do too. I try not to think about how life-changing forty-five extra minutes of sleep every day would be.

  I plunk down at my usual table nestled in the back of the school library. Sometimes I study in the morning, but most days I just read comics or zone out.

  Today my mind flits back to the past. You need the rest of the story. Sorry, even the quick version isn’t very quick. After I died, I…was born again. Reincarnated. The ancient Greeks don’t really believe in that stuff—we all thought you crossed the River Styx and went to Tartarus to hang with Hades and Persephone for eternity. But, surprise! Reincarnation.

  I didn’t remember who I was right away. It was when I turned twelve, maybe thirteen (this was a long time ago, it’s all pretty fuzzy) that I started having the dreams. But they weren’t really dreams. They were visions of the past. Of my past life as Merope. And then I started having visions of the future. Oh, did I forget to mention? I’m a seer. That’s important.

  I started seeing these visions of the future. Of my sisters. It turns out I wasn’t the only one who had been reincarnated. I was crazy excited at first. My sisters’ bodies may have been turned into stars, but somehow, their spirits lived on. But someone else had been reborn too. Orion. If Zeus was a mob boss, Orion was his hit man. Except with a bow and arrow, not a Tommy gun. I was less excited about Orion turning up. As you might imagine.

  My visions turned dark. I started seeing my sisters—dying. I started seeing Orion killing them.

  And kill them he did. Every last one of them. I tried to get to them before he did, but I couldn’t. It’s like the Fates placed stumbling blocks in my path every step of the way. The Fates—those three crusty old ladies are up there on Olympus with their loom of souls weaving the cloth of all of our messed-up lives. I’m seriously pissed at those bitches.

  But Orion didn’t kill me. He didn’t even try. I don’t know why. So I mourned and grieved. Married, had children. And died.

  And then it started again.

  And again.

  And again.

  So many agains.

  Which brings us to now. To today. To one more chance for me to stop that bastard before he kills again, before he strikes down some poor innocent girl who doesn’t even realize she has the misfortune of being the reincarnated version of a cursed ancient nymph. Who doesn’t realize today is her last day on Earth.

  I stare down at my unopened notebook on the table before me, trying to shove down the anger and helplessness that always war within me on a day like today. I tell myself that today will be different. But I know, deep down, that it’s not true. I’m not a very good liar.

  Chapter 2

  Zoe finds me at lunch. She slides into the seat across from me, her face bright with excitement. Though I’m feeling anything but, I play along. “What?”

  “Brandon. Cook. Borrowed. My. Pen.” She announces it like man has just landed on the moon. For Zoe, it’s as momentous an occasion.

  My hands fly before my mouth as I let out a squeal of delight. “Did you talk to him?”

  She nods before looking around surreptitiously and leaning in to whisper. “He told me he liked my pen. I said, ‘Thanks.’”

  I lean back. “What pen was it?”

  With a grin, Zoe pulls it out of her bag. It has rainbow sparkles and a unicorn horn on the top.

  A laugh bursts from me and it feels good in this moment to let my worries melt away in the light of Zoe’s triumph.

  “Zo.” I take it from her, admiring the sparkles as I twirl the pen in my hands. “You’re wild, woman.”

  “At least he won’t forget me now.” She grins, stashing the pen in her backpack and pulling out her lunch. Her mom always makes her these adorable little bento boxes full of perfectly cut veggies and sandwiches.

  “Every time he sees a unicorn, he’ll think of you.”

  She steeples her fingers before her face and raises an eyebrow in her best imitation of an evil villain. “Yes, my plan is working.”

  I wish I could make my eyebrow do that. I could, in other lifetimes. For whatever reason, this particular body does not want to cooperate. There are times when one raised eyebrow is really the best form of communication.

  “Didn’t see you at the lockers before first period,” she says, snapping into a baby carrot. “You have a test or something?”

  I dip one of my chicken fingers in barbecue sauce like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “No. Just…needed some time.”

  “Mer…” Zoe’s face is all concern. She tries to meet my eyes. “What is it?”

  “I don’t want to dampen your good day,” I say around a bite.

  Zoe scoffs. “No news can dampen the miracle of the Day of the Unicorn Pen.” She says it like it’s a high holy day. “Spill.”

  That’s Zoe. She should be in the best friend hall of fame. She knows what’s wrong before I do half the time.

  I sigh. “It’s happening again. I had a dream.”

  Her face goes ashen. “When?”

  “See!” I run my hands through my brown curls. “Argh. Dampened!”

  “Mer, this is more important than boys. Even the perfect, the only, Brandon Cook. Do you know when?”

  “Tonight,” I say.

  “So soon?” She looks down at the gray surface of the table, tracing the gash marks where some kid carved Go Storm. That’s what they call our sports teams. “I thought we’d have more time.”

  “Sometimes I have weeks of warning. Even months. Sometimes just minutes. We have nothing, though, Zo. This is my problem.”

  “Your problem is my problem,” Zoe counters. What’d I tell you? Best friend hall of fame.

  Okay, brief back up. Zoe and I met in kindergarten. We were both obsessed with the movie Happy Feet, so of course we became instant besties. I’m pleased to report our movie taste has improved since then. Though dancing penguins, just between you and me, are still kinda my jam. Even though she’s a bit hopeless in the dude department, Zoe’s pretty gorgeous, with long, smooth black hair I’d kill for, this cute little face, seriously athletic bod, big soulful brown eyes. Zoe’s Korean-American, and sometimes I think her parents expect her to have cured cancer or something before graduating. She has an older brother, Jason, who’s literally the perfect child (he’s at MIT right now studying civil engineering), so we blame him for their unrealistic expectations. She’s in like every club and activity known to man—yearbook, junior class president—plus on the soccer, basketball, and track team. I’m on track too, but I run cross country in the fall. The hand-eye coordination thing is a no-go for me.

  Despite her insane schedule of obligations, Zoe is always there for me. No questions asked. I won’t be able to get through what’s coming without her. I’ve tried to bear this burden alone in past lifetimes, and I’ll tell you, it never goes very well. Human beings need someone to talk to. So when I started getting the visions again, when I started remembering who, and what, I am, I told her. And of course, like the ultimate best friend, she was totally cool
with it. It went kinda like this: Ancient reincarnating cursed Greek nymph-Titan who can see the future? No big. What color Otter Pop do you want?

  “Earth to Mer.” She snaps in front of my face and I come back to the moment. “What are you going to do?” Zoe asks.

  I look around and whisper. “What we talked about.”

  She shakes her head vigorously. “You can’t. What if you get caught? You could go to jail.”

  “Won’t be the first time.” I have been imprisoned exactly twice, actually, in past lives. Once in the dark ages (turns out the eleventh-century church wasn’t super stoked about my female magic seer powers), and once in colonial Louisiana. That was just a misunderstanding.

  “That’s not funny. That was then. This is now. I need you. Who would I dress up with for Halloween if you’re in jail? No one will recognize Thelma without Louise. And who will come to all the Storm baseball games with me?” Zoe’s crush, Brandon, is our school’s shortstop. “And who—”

  “I get it,” I say gently. “But wherever it’s going to happen is super remote. No one is going to be around. No one will see me.”

  “How does…it happen?” she asks.

  “Car accident.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad, I guess. People die in car accidents all the time.”

  That’s true. But not this time if I help stop it.

  “I’m coming with you,” Zoe insists.