Fear Me Not (The EVE Chronicles) (27 page)

I look away from the leafy trees rushing past and smile.

“Yeah, all ears.”

“Okay, so the convenience store is sort of small, but right by it is the laundromat -”

Her words fade into the background, the happy tone enough for me. I lean my forehead against the car window. Dad thrums the steering wheel with his fingers. The bushes are heavy with buds ready to explode in colorful flowers of summer, and the trees are green with new, sweet leaves. The houses are white-washed, red tile and blue tile and iron wrought fences. Minivans in the driveways and swings in the trees. Nothing very fancy, but it’s a good family neighborhood. No smog, no ambulances wailing, just sunlight and fresh grass.

Dad pulls over in front of a blue house with white trim. There are steps, a wind chime near the door. The cherry tree in front has a tire swing. We get out to appreciate it, the air clean and warm. Alisa breathes deep and smiles, dragging me by the hand to the tire swing. Dad waits on the curb for the moving truck.

“Dad! Watch!” Alisa shouts. I let the tight-wound swing go. Alisa spins in a blur, ponytail flying. She laughs and gets to her feet when it ends, wobbling.

“That thing is ancient. Be careful,” He sighs.

“Tell it to Vic, she’s the one twisting it!”

“You asked for it, kiddo.” I smirk.

“Yeah? You get in it then. I’ll push.”

 I lean back, my feet straight out. The world is mixed by blades of wind, the colors indiscriminate greens. The sky stays the same. The high whistling of the wind sounds familiar - like my screams for help ringing through empty forest air. I dig my heels in and stop the swing. Alisa pats my back.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I smile. “Here, swing’s yours. I’m going to check out the backyard.”

“Okay,” She singsongs softly.

The picket fence keeps in the young grass. Dandelions and wildflowers poke from the warming earth. The patio is worn, but with a fresh coat of paint it’ll be pretty again. I hear the moving truck backing up the driveway. The sound of heavy boxes dropping echoes in the empty house. Alisa opens the patio door and waves. I wave.

“Vic! Come out here for a sec,” Dad calls.

“Coming!” I jog to the front yard. Dad puts his hand on my shoulder and points to the curb in the distance.

“Is that someone you know? They asked for you. I told him you were in the back, but he said not to get you -”

A dark figure stands by the stop sign at the end of the road. What’s left of my heart gives a tortuous flutter. There’s no way he could be here.

“Yeah, I know him. Thanks Dad.”

“When you’re done talking, come in and unpack, alright?”

I can’t hear him, anymore. The dark figure takes all my energy, all my vision and blood and breath. The sidewalk between me and the figure feels so long. If I’ve fallen asleep in the car, it’s okay. I’ll take this dream and make it last. There’s distance between us, but as I get closer his shape gets sharper. As I get closer it gets easier.

“Shadus?”

Crimson irises. Dark hair that’s longer and more mussed than ever. A smile blooms on that familiar, angular face. I want to make words, but they don’t come. My eyes prickle, burn, a hundred things I want to say clambering for first place, words upon words upon words. Words that ask him where he’s been. Words that tell him how much it hurt. He leans down and our foreheads touch, and his skin is hot and his hair is soft and blood sings in my veins.

Maybe we don’t need words.

And then he changes. His form grows curvier, his hair grows longer, his eyes turning to amethysts. In horror, I realize it’s the dark-haired woman. I scramble away, and she throws her head back and laughs that maniacal laughs.

I jolt awake.

Rude white light wrenches me into reality and I come crashing back into my body. The smell of metal and something sweet and strong, like incense, burns at my nose. I’m sore all over, like I got hit by a truck. I sit up, looking around the huge, perfectly white room. The walls and ceilings seem to be one, but I can see a dark door at the end, far away. Strange orbs of light levitate off the ground and shed luminance about. I look down – I’m dressed in a white robe, the kind I’d seen Shadus and the others wear for
patra
.

What the hell happened to me? Why am I –

It all comes rushing back at once. Osha.
Zol
. The
mharata
and Yulan and Raine, Taj’s determined face. And Shadus’ kind one that told me to be happy.

“Victoria.”

I whirl around. The voice has a thick accent, like its European. It belongs to a male, his head shaved and his height intimidating. He’s lean, but his muscles tell of years of hard work. His dark brows are thin, and his eyes even thinner. But even from here I can see his irises are a pale pink.

Mharata
.

“Victoria,” He repeats, and bows. He wears a similar robe to mine, but his is gray.

“Where am I?” I scramble backwards. “Who are you?”

The
mharata
straightens, expression blank. “You are in the Hall of Ascendance, on the Gutter reservation in Colorado. I am Loeth, maester of the
mharata
and guider of your path.”

Everything in me sinks. My EVE organ splinters with cold pain. Loeth bows again, deeper.

“Welcome,
zol
. We have waited long for your return.”

Acknowledgments

~To the reader; there is no greater joy for me than knowing you’ve read to the end. I hope you’ll keep reading until the end of time. 

~To all the LBs  – this book has been seen by you in its various incarnations, but only now is it a real book. Time flies! Thank you so much for your all the love and support.

~To Katie Ashley, Emily Snow, Michelle Valentine, and all the other wonderful authors-friends I’ve made in the romance indie community along the way – thank you. You have been nothing but kind and loving, and I can only hope to show you the same care and support.

~To the community, reviewers, book bloggers, goodreads librarians – There is a special magic you bring to an author’s life, and I’m so grateful for it. There is nothing I love more than interacting with you, hearing your stories, and talking about the books we love together. You are the light at the end of the tunnel. Thank you so, so much.

About the Author

Sara Wolf is the author of the LOVELY VICIOUS series and FEAR ME NOT, the first book in The EVE Chronicles, a YA/Sci-Fi series. She’s currently working on the final book in the LOVELY VICIOUS series. She’s addicted to the Vampire Diaries, The Walking Dead, True Detective, pink Starbursts, pizza, and damaged heroes. For additional books, news, teasers, and giveaways, visit her at sarawolfbooks.blogspot.com or facebook.com/sara.wolf.3304