Pandemonium , livre ebook

Archway Publishing - Moira Barrie

Découvre YouScribe en t'inscrivant gratuitement

Je m'inscris

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

160 pages

English

Vous pourrez modifier la taille du texte de cet ouvrage

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

A propos
Informations
Extrait

Description

In this continuing fantasy tale, a young woman living in a new world faces a host of battles and obstacles that force her to push her abilities.

Ava Buchanan is plagued by nightmares and flashbacks of the horrifying night at her house, her imposter mother, and scorching flames. The box that she ran into the burning home to retrieve—the box that made her lose Laila—is now in her possession, thanks to Aidan, her half-werewolf, half-human lover who will do anything to protect her. Now left with many questions that include how she and Kieran made it through the portal, Ava can only hope the truth and her lost memories will eventually be revealed. Yet with so many being tortured to reveal her whereabouts, Ava’s wish may be more challenging than she imagines.
Ava has been thrown into a new world where everything she has always known to be right is crumbling around her. As new people, battles, and abilities line her path forward, she faces pressure from others to use her newfound power for their gain. Uncertain of who to trust as centuries swirl around her, Ava must decide whether to become the person everyone wants her to be or transform into who she is meant to be.
In this continuing fantasy tale, a young woman living in a new world faces a host of battles and obstacles that force her to push her abilities.

Sujets

Fiction

Fantasy

Informations

Publié par	Archway Publishing
Date de parution	05 juillet 2022
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781665725132
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0250€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Pandemonium
Encroaching Shadows

Moira Barrie

Copyright © 2022 Moira Barrie.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Archway Publishing
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.archwaypublishing.com
844-669-3957

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-6657-2512-5 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6657-2511-8 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-6657-2513-2 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022910901

Archway Publishing rev. date: 07/05/2022
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
The fear of death follows from the fear of life.
A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.
—Mark Twain

Chapter 1
T he heavy wooden door creaks open, bringing some much-needed light into this desolate area. As much as I enjoy seeing the light, there are two reasons it would be shed here. I’ve only been here one day, so it is not time for me to come out and pretend all this torture never happened. Am I strong enough to deal with this again? Curling into a ball on the cold, damp floor of the cellar is the only way to protect myself without letting her see me cry. Weakness is not an option. Pull yourself together.
Her shadow appears before me, giving away the object she is holding, but my hazel eyes won’t leave the view of the harsh floor. My skin welts from the concrete constantly rubbing me. The few memories I have left are my only salvation, but her evil voice interrupts my thoughts and trails through my mind. She is pacing around me, circling the object on my bare back. One blow and then another, each time more painful than the last, all at her discretion.
“Why are you doing this to me?” My voice quakes in fear as I use all my strength to lift my head to meet those cold, dark eyes. There are no lights in this darkness. My eyes have become accustomed to the dark—so much so that when she sheds light in here, my eyes burn, surely another one of her tactics. I haven’t eaten in days, and I’m sure if there were flies in here, they would be attracted to me.
Her voice is raspy. It reveals the pleasure she feels from my pain. Her teeth barely show as she grins at me. “Because I can. Because you are a dirty little bitch like your mother. Because if you tell anyone, I will kill you.” She spoke with a promise—a promise I know will come true one day, just not today. “Now tell me where your mother is—”
“No!” My terror is reflected in the scream I can barely let out. I can only imagine what she would do to my mother. Wait, my mother. This must be a dream or a memory. Someone is calling my name, but no one would find me down here, locked up and caged. She takes a needle out of her jacket pocket and stabs me violently in the arm. My young, fragile body takes in the bright-green serum that cools me from head to toe.
The woman says I won’t remember what happened, but she was wrong. I can still feel the lingering pain and my body convulsing with each blow to my back. I can hear the whip cracking.
It is her. The imposter. The mother I thought was mine but wasn’t. I must kill her.
I slowly wake and see a dark-haired, dark-eyed man standing by the foot of the bed. I pretend to sleep on. This large bed is soft and comforting, and yet the feel of the concrete floor is still fresh in my mind and senses. With one eye barely open, I can see him rubbing his hand through the salt-and-pepper scruff on his perfectly sculpted face. He is looking at me inquisitively, like he has many questions to ask but cannot find the words to do so. Having a stranger just watching me is creepy, but we are at a standoff right now. He won’t speak, and I won’t wake from my fake sleep. We both know it to be true.
I stretch cautiously, moving my leg in search of Laila, but there is no feel of her. Normally, as soon as I make any movement, she is by my side. The panic starts to run through me, and the electricity is boiling, making the huge canopy and the covers on the bed shake. I can hear the crackling of a fireplace in the room, slowly burning. The embers burn out before they touch the cathedral ceiling. I can sense everything in the room without even opening my eyes. I can almost visualize the paintings on the walls; they are a nice contrast to the otherwise dark interior.
Doors fly open and slam against the wall behind them. It takes every ounce of my control to not jolt out of this bed. A fury storms in, and the footsteps behind it are loud and intense. A familiar voice speaks. “Is she still asleep?” The Irish voice puts me at comfort a bit, and all the electricity in me stops building.
“Yes, son. She is.”
Oh my, he has the same sweet accent as Aidan. I slowly start to open my eyes to see that he and Aidan bare a strong resemblance. Clearly these men do not age, as the man at the foot of my bed looks way too young to have fathered Aidan. Marcus had once mentioned that Aidan is the strongest of his kind. Does that mean his father is also a werewolf?
I keep flashing back to the night at my house. My mother—well, not my mother, some imposter—and the burning flames. I move to touch my arm, surprised it is not broken from the heavy beam that fell on me, and both men turn immediately at my sudden shuffle. There are two sets of eyes locked on me, one dark and the other Aidan’s intense blue.
I need to say something to break the silence, as I can feel my eyes getting bigger with each passing second. One thing comes to mind. “Where is Laila?” My voice is small, almost unheard. I cast all potential rudeness aside and raise my voice. “Where is Laila?”
Aidan turns his eyes away from me, something he never does when he is speaking to me. In fact, he always insists on eye contact. Why isn’t he answering me? I shoot my eyes to his father, hoping they hold the answer I am looking for.
“Ava, I would love to catch up with you. It has been centuries, after all. Right now you need to have a discussion with my son, which I do not care to be a part of. When you two have finished, please come downstairs and have some breakfast.” His voice is kind—a genuine spirit I can tell.
“I cannot wait to speak with you. I have many questions.” I fold the blankets down and hop out of the tall bed and onto the dark wooden floor. I am in the same dress I was wearing at the charity event. I roll my eyes at my state and slide over to give Aidan’s father a hug before he departs the room.
“You will never change, Ava.” He smiles and returns the hug as though he hasn’t received one in many years. He hugs me close, stroking the back of my head, and it reminds me of a father’s hug to a daughter. Warm. Sincere. Filled with love. He holds me at arm’s length. “I am glad to see you are in one piece and not badly injured.” My eyes shoot to Aidan over his shoulder, and he releases me, knowing full well I need to have a serious conversation with his son. Why is Aidan always the one who can give me the answers I seek?
I hear the door close, and the footsteps are removed from earshot. “Well …” He knows exactly what I am referring to. “There were faint barking sounds when the log fell on me, so I know she followed me in the house …” Every sentence is a runoff, just waiting for him to complete it.
“Ava … I am so sorry.”
Tears swell in my eyes as he moves closer to me. My mind is imagining the worst. He needs to get it out. I put my hand out to his chest to stop him from coming closer.
He lets out a gasp and speaks with his head down. “The house was on fire, and she ran in behind you.” He raises his eyes to meet mine, and my hand slowly drops from his chest. “By the time I got upstairs, she was by your side, barking, trying to wake you up. Her bark led me right to you. I saw the joist lying on top of you, moved it, and picked you up into my arms. I kept calling her to follow me, but she wouldn’t. I had to get you out of there. I have this …” He trails off and moves away from me to walk to the other side of the room. He opens a door that leads to a large walk-in closet.
I move my head to see him, but I’ve lost sight of him. When he reappears, he is holding the box.
It’s the box I ran into the house to get. The box that made me lose her.
He moves closer to me, but I am rendered speechless. I cannot hold it, but he keeps gesturing for me to take it. Sadness and tears overcome me, and I sob. “What happened to her?”
He shakes his head