Shift
Book 2
Jessica Gilliland
For my baby sister, who sees the world through rose-colored glasses. Thank you for always listening to my crazy stories with enthusiasm and wonder.
A Note From Jessica
Thank you so much for taking a chance on Anomaly! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
If you like what you read, please consider writing a review on Amazon for me. I am a new author navigating the rough waters of self-publishing. It’s been a very scary experience for me to have strangers reading my stories and opening myself up to criticism, as I’m sure it is for all authors.
Before embarking on this journey, I didn’t realize the immense weight a review can have. I have a new respect for authors and artists who put themselves out there, and I appreciate every single person that takes the time out of their day to spread a little joy and share their experience in a review.
As scary as it can be, it’s also very exciting when someone tells me how much they liked my writing, and it totally makes up for any negativity that comes my way.
If you have any thoughts about the series or just want to chat with me, I’d love to hear from you.
Email me at [email protected] or send me a personal message on my social media accounts:
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Amazon Author Page:
Http://www.amazon.com/author/jessicagilliland
Links to each book in the series:
Anomaly (Book 1)
https://www.amazon.com/Anomaly-Jessica-Gilliland-ebook/dp/B07NQJ8NPC
Shift (Book 2)
https://www.amazon.com/Shift-Anomaly-Book-Jessica-Gilliland-ebook/dp/B07NQ3T7QX
Collide (Book 3)
https://www.amazon.com/Collide-Anomaly-Book-Jessica-Gilliland-ebook/dp/B07NQ2JV8L
Defect (Book 4)
https://www.amazon.com/Defect-Anomaly-Book-Jessica-Gilliland-ebook/dp/B07NQ3M6V6
Rise (Book 5)
https://www.amazon.com/Rise-Anomaly-Book-Jessica-Gilliland-ebook/dp/B07NQ4FZL8
Chapter One
Ms. Stone’s silver Audi ate up the highway and carried me quickly away from Hawthorn House. I had no idea where to go or what to do, but the further I went, the better I could sort through my thoughts.
After spending five years pining for the life taken from me, I’d gotten back my best friend, my sister and the love of my life. All of it went to hell in a matter of months. I guess, in retrospect, returning to the facility that tortured and tested you to within an inch of your sanity might have been a poor decision. When Jason found me, I was so happy to have him back, I threw caution to the wind. I abandoned my instincts and followed my heart back to the place that almost destroyed it.
My tears had dried, but my eyes felt gritty and exhausted, as though I’d gone days without sleep. I drove with the top down, letting the biting air soothe the worst of the ache. My cell phone buzzed on the passenger seat. I didn’t look at it. I knew it was Jason, just like it had been the last twelve times. I debated throwing it out the window, but I couldn't just yet.
I only got about forty miles down the coast before the tank was empty. I figured it was best to ditch the car, in case it had a GPS. My phone was Hawthorn issued, so it was untraceable. My tracking implant was gone, but Stone had other ways of finding me. Luckily, Jason didn’t. Stone wasn’t likely to ever tell him where I was, and I was thankful for that.
I found a tiny parking strip that hugged an overlook of a public beach. I went through Stone’s dash, and found the owner’s manual, a pair of designer sunglasses, and about twenty dollars in small bills. I put the sunglasses on, shoved the cash in my pocket and left the car behind.
I caught a bus that took me downtown and walked around aimlessly, trying to figure out my next move. I debated heading back to school, and had a mini heart attack when I realized I couldn’t go back to Riverside, either. I couldn’t be Olivia Rivera ever again. If I tried to go back to my old life, I’d definitely be picked up by ACT. I figured that the experiments Stone was doing at Hawthorn paled in comparison to what the government would do to me. Sure, they clothed, fed and counseled me for five years. That was before I skipped town, dug out the tracking chip they stuck in me, and spent six months at a secret facility hell bent on destroying them. They might not be too keen on helping me out after that. They’d probably just kill me on sight.
I seriously considered waiting until nightfall and using my telekinesis to break into a bank, but clearer minds prevailed. In lieu of a bank heist, I decided to sneak into a hotel room after hours and buy myself some time before I had to figure out how to live the rest of my life on the lam.
In short, I had no place to sleep, no money and no identification that I could use. Basically, I was screwed.
I got a sandwich at the local deli and took a seat on a bench near the middle of the main street. As the sky darkened, the streetlights flickered on. The trees that lined Pacific Avenue were draped in warm, white lights and the sound of music began to waft through the bustling street.
There seemed to be more people out at night than during daylight hours, so I knew I’d have to wait awhile before I could even think about sneaking into a hotel room. The longer I sat there, the longer I had to re-evaluate everything; to sit and think about my stupid plan, and my brash decision to leave Hawthorn.
Then it hit me.
Heat rose up in my body, igniting sparks of desire inside me like land mines. I looked around and didn’t see anyone near enough for me to feel that type of emotion so intensely. It got my heart pumping a little faster and my palms sweating. Even my blood felt warmer in my veins. It was like I’d walked in on a couple doing the deed. It was all consuming and abnormally obsessive.
I polished off my water bottle, hoping the cold would help. I tried to walk away from whatever was giving me that feeling, but something wouldn’t let me. I couldn’t get my feet to move and my body was being drawn the other direction.
The gentle strumming of an acoustic guitar drifted over the din of the little street. Artists and musicians were posted every twenty feet or so. The singing that followed the guitar seemed to sink twinkling golden hooks into my brain that tug me toward its source. The voice itself was masculine, warm and sweet like honey, alluring in a way I couldn’t ignore.
I followed the pull toward a crowd of women that had gathered on the sidewalk. They were all ages, from young teens to elderly women. Not a single one paid me any mind. Their attention was riveted to the base of a willowy tree where the voice was coming from.
As I got closer to the tree, my knees weakened. It was night and we were at least a mile from the beach, but I could almost feel the sun warm on my skin. I heard ocean waves crashing and the sound of gulls flying overhead.
I carefully nudged my way through the crowd toward the singer. He was about my age; maybe a handful of years older. His face was framed with thick, dark hair and a scruffy beard that followed the contours of his jaw and cleft chin. His brown eyes peered out warmly from beneath thick, dark brows. His melodic voice rumbled through me, and I swore I could feel a warm breeze carrying the scent of coconut oil and sunscreen. I took a step back from the crowd and tried to shake the collective feeling of longing and lust that invaded my senses. He wasn’t unattractive, by any means, but I also wouldn’t have expected him
to elicit the heated response he was getting.
As though he could feel my inquisitive gaze, his eyes rose to mine and held me there. In that moment, his eyes weren’t just brown; they were a richer, deeper color that set a flutter in my stomach. His full lips formed the words to a song about unrequited love. His voice weaved through me like fingers, tugging me toward him. My pulse tried to maintain a normal rhythm, but there was no fighting it. It felt unnatural and set off alarms inside of me.
My guard came up, and I did what I could to shut down whatever pull he had over me. Though the skillful, deft strumming of his fingers never ceased and he didn't stop singing, I felt his emotions ripple. He took a deep breath, clenched his jaw and pulled his gaze from mine, offering his attention to a redhead who was practically panting over him. She tossed a twenty-dollar bill into his opened guitar case, which overflowed with other large bills. The black fedora that sat beside him was also filled with cash.
Even though I made the conscious effort not to listen to him, I could still feel his pull over me. I used every ounce of will power I had to turn my body around and block out the allure of his voice. I made a mad dash out of the crowd in an attempt to get as far away from the singer as possible. I had to push into the street to break free of the throng of women.
I started walking, looking straight ahead. I tried to find men to focus on, since they seemed immune to the singer's persuasions. I sent out feelers and latched onto one in particular that felt normal to me, even a little bit familiar. The more I felt him out, I realized that this person wasn't just some random guy on the street. I knew him.
I scanned the street, my pulse suddenly racing from excitement and nerves. Then I found him. He wore a bright yellow shirt with some kind of comic book drawing on the front. He was checking out every woman that passed him on her way to the singer's swarm. His emotional landscape felt like insects, constantly buzzing. His thoughts, reactions and limbs could go from zero-to-blur in half a second. He was unmistakable.
“Glitch!” I called his name and watched him whip around, startled. He almost tripped over the curb. He leaned in and his teal eyes narrowed.
“Liv?” Glitch lit up with recognition, like a firework darting into the night sky. He offered me a big, cheesy grin and opened his arms wide to hug me. I was more than happy to leap into them.
I hadn't seen Cooper Glitchman since the night before we were all taken. Five years had passed since then, but he looked pretty much the same. Only now, he seemed to hold himself with more confidence. His shoulders were pulled back, his stride sure. In growing up, he had also grown into himself. His sandy blonde hair was shorter now, messy in a careless, charming sort of way and he had a huge tattoo. It made up a full sleeve on his right arm; a mashup of symbols, animals and the outlines of different states. It was all centered around an intricate compass.
We clung to each other with the quiet desperation that came from years of not knowing where the other was, if they were alright, or if they were even alive.
Eventually, I breathed out, “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“Me, too! Where have you been? Do you live here?” he asked. His voice was deeper, but still slightly gravelly.
“I’m between places right now,” I said, avoiding eye contact. I didn't want to bring up Hawthorn just yet. I was afraid his reaction would be similar to mine the first time Jason mentioned it, and I didn't want to talk about them.
“Yeah.” He laughed and scratched the back of his head. “I’m always between places, too.”
I couldn’t believe it. I just couldn’t believe he was actually standing in front of me after everything that had happened. He took a moment to look me up and down.
"Jeez, Liv. You’re a pretty sweet piece now." He backed up and made an hourglass shape with his hands, then wiggled his brows up and down.
"Thanks, I guess.” I blushed. "You're not so bad yourself, Muscles." I poked his bicep, enjoying the embarrassed blush that flooded to his cheeks.
Another woman pushed past us, rushing toward the singer like she was being pulled by a rope. Glitch followed her with his eyes and sighed. "I love coming here," he mused as his eyes drifted from the woman to the singer. I felt a subtle camaraderie when he looked at him.
"Do you know that guy?" I asked.
“Yeah, he’s my buddy.”
“What’s his deal?”
The song ended and the moment his voice stopped, the crowd of women began to disperse, his sway over them lost. The singer stood and collected the money from his guitar case, put all the bills together and tucked the cash neatly into his pocket. As he put his guitar away and snapped the silver closures down to secure the case, his dark eyes flickered toward me and caught my gaze.
Glitch grinned and furrowed his brow as he watched the singer. "So, you know what a siren is? The super-hot mermaid chicks that sang and lured sailors into the rocks?"
I arched a brow, seeing where he was going. "He does that?"
"Not exactly. He's not a mermaid."
I laughed. "Duh."
"Or a super-hot chick, for that matter."
He most definitely was not. "I see that."
"And he doesn't make people total their ships."
"Duly noted. It’s good to know that my ship is safe."
"But his voice does something to the ladies.”
Yes, it does.
The singer slung his guitar case over his shoulder, pushing his way gently through the thinning crowd, toward us. He was focused intently on me, and I could feel him trying to figure me out. He didn’t think I was normal, either.
"Cash! This is my friend, Olivia.” Glitch introduced me boisterously.
"Hi," he greeted me with a tilt of his head, as if waiting for a little more explanation. He was much taller than me, almost Jason’s height, but that’s where the similarities ended. Whereas Jason was sturdy, muscled and confident, this guy was leaner and not as broad-shouldered. His eyes were soulful, but they didn’t hold your attention, and they certainly didn’t command it; not the way his voice did. There was a certain poetry about that, something endearing. Though he cleaned up well, Jason was most comfortable in t-shirts and jeans. The singer dressed like he was going on a date. He wore dark dress pants, a white button-up and a charcoal-gray vest that fitted him like it was made for him.
“Hi,” I echoed.
He held out his hand and said, "I'm Cash." His voice was pleasant to listen to, and I felt a lesser version of the sway he exuded when he sang. His hand stayed extended. Though he looked calm on the outside, restlessness bubbled beneath his surface. He was wary of me for some reason.
"Call me Liv,” I said, taking his hand.
I saw that he had the same compass tattoo Glitch had on the inside of his forearm. It was the same design, but classic black with no other embellishments like Glitch had.
The crowd of girls and women were gone, and with them, the strength of their lust for him. It was so much easier for me to stand there with him when I didn’t have to try to sort through other people’s desires.
"Cash? Like money?" I asked, recalling the overflow of large bills from his guitar case
"More like Johnny." He grinned charismatically. “My mom’s favorite singer.”
Cash hoisted the strap of his guitar case a little higher up on his shoulder. "So, how do you two know each other?"
Glitch beamed and slipped an arm around my shoulder. “Liv and I are childhood friends.”
Cash studied me carefully. “From the torture lab?”
My heart gave a painful kick. All I could do was nod, uncomfortable talking about Hawthorn.
Glitch gave me one more good squeeze before thankfully changing the subject. “So, what are you doing right now? Do you have anywhere to be?” Glitch asked, rocking back and forth on his heels, excitement bouncing inside him. His eagerness was infectious and it drew a smile from me, despite the weight of Hawthorn crushing my spirit.
“Nope. I’m free if you are.”
Cash stiffened internally. I could see the muscles in his jaw tense subtly.
"This is great! We have so much to catch up on. You’ve got to meet the rest—”
“Glitch,” Cash interrupted. There was no mistaking the sharp warning in his tone.
Glitch arched a brow. “What’s got your thong in a twist, bro?”
Cash’s cheeks darkened a little, and for a moment, there was an uncomfortable silence between us all. After a few seconds, Cash sighed, the smile returned to his lips, and the tension bled from him as quickly as it had risen.
“Alright, but if you come home with us, you leave Hawthorn behind. You think you can do that?” Though the question was posed jokingly, he was dead serious. He’d run into trouble before. He was cautious, and rightly so.
“Yes,” I said automatically, but I knew better. Jason would be looking for me.
“So, do you have a car?” Glitch asked.
“I don’t have it anymore," I admitted quickly, and immediately regretted it. “It’s a long story.”
Cash arched a dark brow. “Oh?”
“It was stolen,” I explained quickly. It wasn’t entirely untrue. I just didn’t tell them I was the one who stole it.
“Doesn’t seem like such a long story.” Cash let out a small laugh.
I blushed and shrugged. I could tell he didn’t necessarily believed me, but he still grinned and offered me the benefit of the doubt for Glitch's sake.
Glitch’s excitement was infectious. I felt it vibrating through us both as he hooked his arm through mine and dragged me through the streets. He didn’t pull me as quickly as I’d prepared myself for. I realized he must still have his implant, impairing his super speed. I stole a glance or two at his neck and saw the scar. It was definitely the same one I had, which meant he could probably still move quicker than a normal person, but not even close to the G forces he used to pull. In retrospect, it was probably safer for him. The poor guy had a tendency to leap without looking.
Shift (Anomaly Book 2) Page 1