Obumbrate (24 page)

"Chase was a madman who only thought of himself," I hissed, the thought of him alone bringing my fire to a brighter blaze. It wrapped up my arms protectively. "He has nothing to do with this, he's dead."

The Queen didn't move, the scales on her body inching up and around her shoulders and neck. "Curious, that he knew exactly where and when to find you. Especially when you made the decision to attend the event at the last moment."

"He was hunting me!" I shouted, writhing. "Sooner or later he'd of found me."

"And yet he chose that moment, that part in time, to seek you out and attack you in a full house." She paused. "Shocking how no one leapt to your defense but your little crew."

I began to argue with her, the words sinking in. She was implying something very heavy, a damning thought that Chase's attempt to kill me was set up from the start. I licked my dry lips. "I bet there's only a few in all of Charon who could stun a whole room, and even fewer who could find piece of my past and use them to have me killed."

"Alas," she clasped her hands together, elation spreading on her face. "She's finally putting it together."

My skin began to turn cold, ice water running in my veins. The fire on my arms and hands dulled, pulling into the skin until only sparks remained. "It was you. You orchestrated the whole thing that night. Because of you, Leo is dead!"

"And what a pity that is, truly." For a moment, she looked remorseful, but it quickly vanished under her mood-altering mask.

"You're just as bad as Kayden." I shook my head, refusing to let tears pool in my eyes. I would not give her the benefit to see me cry. "Why are you bringing this up? Why now?"

"I'm curious as to how you survived." Her voice had gone soft, probing. Tilting to her head to one side, she came to stand in front of me, leaving only inches between us. "Everyone knows demon poison to Nephilim is a sure death sentence. What makes you so special that you lived?"

I thought back to that day, ghosts of the screams ringing in my ears, faded images of blood and fire clouding my eyes. "I... I don't remember. Kayden said Ursula gave him something-"

I froze, all air leaving my lungs. One brief, tucked away memory surfaced, like a hidden body rising to the top of a lake. A tiny vial, as small as my pinky finger, filled with a thick, dark red liquid. The vial opened, held over my screaming mouth, and the pain washing away.

"
That was your blood
." The words crashed over me instantly. I could barely speak the words as they left my lips. "Your blood and mine, mixed."

The Queen's exalted look brought air back to my lungs, blotches of rage coloring my cheeks. The moment I said it out loud, she gave me a full, frighteningly beautiful smile. "Little unknown secret of a demon-Nephilim hybrid; our blood works as an anti-venom against both Nephilim fire and demon poison."

In that tiny, blink of a moment, everything changed. I was no longer in control of my life. Someone had already moved me across the board, placed me in the direct line of fire, and had left me to fend for myself. Any strength I had left vanished. If it hadn't been for the bands holding my wrists, I would have collapsed onto my knees.

"Don't look so stunned, Essallie. It'll all be over before you know it," the Queen soothed, reaching out to touch my face again. This time it was gentle, caressing my cheek as if I was her favorite new pet. "In a matter of days, your soul will split, and I will finally have my wish. A daughter I can call my own."

"I won't let you," I started to scream, pushing away her hand with a swift shake. "I won't let you use me like this."

"Darling," her voice carried through like a mist, clouding my mind as darkness swelled overhead. "You don't have a choice." 

AND NOW, A SNEAK PEEK OF THE FIRST BOOK IN ALIVIA ANDERS' UNWANTED, A NEW SERIES AVAILABLE SUMMER 2013.

Escape means to survive.

Survive means to live.

The cabinet was small, barely holding enough space for the pipes. Bottles of cleaner, rags and brushes, and several wrenches joined me in the miniscule room. This was most likely the only moment I would be thankful for my recent years of near-death starvation at my aunt's hand.

I was told once that when your adrenaline hits, everything slows to a crawl. At the time, Dad had used the words
senses heightened
, joking that for a blink in our lives, we became superheroes.

For my sake, I hope he was right. If the owner of the home found me, there would be no escape.

My fingers grasp for one of the wrenches before I stay quiet and still.

Footsteps sounded onto the linoleum tiles. A chair was pulled back from the table, a mound of papers thudding on the tabletop.

I dare not breathe. My heart races faster than helicopter blades slicing through the cloudy skies on an emergency rescue. Pressure builds in my ears, chest, and throat until I ache to gasp.

Seconds tick by slower than syrup from a tree, and I'm tempted to run. It crosses my mind that I could catch the owner off guard, burst from the cabinet doors and run. Outside the doors, it has gone silent, papers stilled and feet unaccounted for. All I can be sure of is that my heart beats faster with each passing moment.

The cabinet door flies open.

A hand reaches in, grasping in a frenzy for me until it finds my arm, pulls me out and throws me onto the tiled floor. The blackened barrel of a gun holds true to my face.

I know better than to scream for help. Instead I scramble with haste, rolling over and finding myself on my feet.

The man keeps his gun trained on me, hand and arm military steady. His expression stays cool, calm. It reminds me of how Branden would get when one of his dealers would try and stiff him. Like a lion lying in wait, poised and in control, ready to attack the first weak spot his opponent shows.

I refuse to hive this man a weak spot.

He motions his free hand to the chair pulled from the table, the one he sat in moments ago. Our eyes stay locked and unblinking, neither moving.

"I think you should have a seat."

I say nothing. In my head I begin to visualize the different ways our encounter could proceed, all of them with me staying strong. I picture myself stuffer than a wooden board, harder than the toughest rock from the deepest volcano.

He sighs disappointingly. "Unless you prefer that I call the police?" His free hand now reaches for the wireless phone mounted on the wall, inches away.

My fists clench tighter, teeth locked. The willful voice in my mind screams.
Run! Attack him! Take the gun from him and go!
But the fading, confused girl in me struggles. Part of me still clings to the past I had just left. The truth that I am no longer Ariana Melrose, social butterfly of Miami, daughter of the man who built the Unwanted system. I was now Ariana, fugitive of the law, outcast of society, Marked an Unwanted, fighting a system my own blood has created.

Time has been taken from me. A lifetime of decisions, gone.

Unwanted. Unloved. Undesired.

"No one," I say, watching his hand freeze as the loud and clear sound of my voice fills the gunpowder-packed silence. "Is going to take me alive, Unwanted or not."

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

What rests on these pages would have never been possible without the love and support I have had along the way. For that, I thank my family for understanding that even though the dishes were skipped more than a million times, I promise the work shows on these pages. I couldn't have finished this without the help of my absolute best friend Stephanie B., each Taco Bell and McDonald's run makes so much more sense when we dissect my brain over fast food and not carrot sticks. Shawna S., another best friend, each vent session helped immensely. Thank you for all my friends named Katie, you each helped in your own uniquely weird ways, from graphic designs to grammar and more. Thank you to Willow Cross, you're an angel girl, and without you I think I might have caved months ago, or at the least hid in a tub of Ben & Jerry's for four months too many. And thanks to Tim, my loving man, who will probably never read this and know that while he contributed to some of my potholes, he helped fix them too.

But the biggest thanks continues to go to every person who picked up ILLUMINE, who posted the reviews and mentions and praises, who shared copies with their friends and co-workers on their Kindles or Nooks or paperbacks. You are the reason I continue to write Essallie's story, you are the reason I smile. Without you, none of this would continue. So, thank you.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Alivia Anders is the author of
Illumine
and
Obumbrate,
the first two books in The Illumine Series. She began writing at
thirteen, discovering the world of internet fan-fiction and RPG-forum sites that gave her a 'back-door' entry to the writing realm. Four years and many hours spent glued to a computer screen later, she found her true calling in writing.

Alivia currently lives with her family in her hometown of Coopersburg, PA. She frequently admits that if she wasn't so intolerant to dairy she'd live at her local ice cream shop called The Inside Scoop. 

Visit her online!

Blog: aliviaanders.blogspot.com

Twitter: @aliviaanders

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/aliviaanders

Learn more about The Illumine Series at theillumineseries.com.

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