Seconds Before Sunrise (The Timely Death Trilogy) Read online

  “Would it matter?”

  I glared. “Are they, Jonathon?”

  “No.”

  “Good,” I said. “I’d have to kill him twice if that were the case.”

  Jonathon sighed. “Jessica warned you this might happen,” he said, attempting to be the angel on my shoulder. “You can’t expect a seventeen-year-old girl to be single for long.”

  “Thanks for that,” I snarled, swinging my bag over my shoulder. “I’m going home,” I said, snapping my headphones on before he could speak again. I brushed past him, but his voice telepathically pushed through the tunes.

  Take some of that anger out in training, he said. You only have four months.

  I didn’t respond. Instead, I waved my hand over my shoulder and shut our telepathic line. He couldn’t continue the conversation even if he wanted to. I was done, and I wanted everyone else to be, too.

  …

  The doorbell rang, and I knew it was Camille before I heard her voice.

  “Hello, sir,” Teresa − my guard, Camille, in her human form − said, and my father’s grumble drowned her out. She’d started using the front door ever since I hadn’t bothered to hide my strange comings and goings. I’d be in my room one minute, and then I’d transform to leave. I never used the front door, and my stepfamily was starting to notice.

  “They aren’t here,” my father dismissed Teresa’s concerns. “But they’ll be back soon.”

  “Is Eric—”

  “In his room,” he answered.

  Teresa tapped her foot against the wood floor. “He’s not taking this very well.” She didn’t bother dropping her voice since she knew I was listening.

  “Did you bring him home?”

  “He drove.”

  I turned over, staring at my car keys on my desk. I hadn’t bothered hanging them up. I hadn’t bothered doing much. My room was a mess, and two of the light bulbs were broken. My room, aside from the nightlight beneath my desk, was dark, and I liked it that way.

  “I should’ve figured,” my father sighed. “He hasn’t left his bedroom since he got home.”

  “He saw Jessica today,” she said. The house creaked, and the couch squeaked as someone fell into it. I could practically see what they were doing.

  “I shouldn’t have told him about Jess, Camille,” he said, using her Dark name. Apparently, the confusion with double identities was genetic. My father couldn’t stand using human names any more than I could. “We should’ve kept it from both of them.”

  I knew what he was talking about. My life was destined for a successful battle by killing another, and Jessica was my only weakness. I was in love with her, and she was in love with me, but our relationship − our identities − would kill us both if the Light figured out whom she was and used her against me. She could be absorbed, whatever that meant, and my battle’s outcome would flip. I would lose, and everyone in the Dark would lose their powers. I couldn’t see her, and I hadn’t since Independence Day. Not until I saw her at school.

  “With all due respect, sir,” Camille began, quiet enough that even I, with my heightened hearing, could barely listen. “They found out on their own.”

  “Not about the destiny.”

  “Yet it happened,” she said, and her nails tapped against the stairwell. “Do you know how Jess is?”

  His jacket rustled, signaling a shrug. “I followed her around yesterday with her guard-to-be. She seemed normal enough.”

  I sat up. Jessica getting a guard was news to me.

  “I’m going to speak with him,” Camille said, but my father didn’t respond.

  I listened as Camille walked upstairs. She passed the kitchen, turning into the hallway, and soon her hand was on my doorknob. It twisted, clinking against the lock, and she breathed against the wood.

  “I know you heard me,” she said, but I didn’t move. I listened to the metal lock release, and she opened the door. Her eyes were black, a sign of her power, and then they flickered back to blue.

  “Why didn’t I know about the guard?” I asked.

  She stepped inside, supporting herself against the doorframe. Her pixie cut had grown to her shoulders. “Maybe if you talked to someone, you would’ve been told.”

  I flinched. “I don’t feel like it.”

  “Quit the bullshit, Shoman.” She threw her hands into the air. “It’s incredibly frustrating, and it isn’t helping anyone.”

  “I wasn’t trying to help anyone,” I said, standing up from my bed. I wasn’t trying to be bitter. I was only trying to stay away. I knew my duties, and I didn’t need everyone in my face about it. I’d get it done, especially if it meant Jessica’s life.

  “So, what now?” Camille asked quietly, rocking from foot to foot. I knew what she was thinking. I only had four months before it was done. Darthon or I would be dead, and talking about it didn’t change the circumstances.

  “I train,” I said, but she shook her head. Apparently, I didn’t know what she was talking about. I was too caught up my own worries to think straight.

  “Let’s go out,” she said. “Go for a flight—”

  “No.”

  Air seethed through her teeth. “Why not?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “Eric.” Her rant came without a breath. “Do you know how much your stress is affecting everyone? They think you’re worried. They think you won’t succeed—”

  I was in her face before she knew it. I was a shade, transformed by anger, and I’d transported inches away from her. “Do you think this is easy, Camille? Is that it?” I was glaring, and my body was heated with darkness. “Because it isn’t. And it was never meant to be.”

  The nightlight beneath my desk exploded, and Camille stepped back, paling. I had never raised my voice to her.

  “What’s going on?” my father asked, rushing upstairs.

  I gripped the doorway to keep myself from yelling at him, too. “Just losing my shit again,” I grumbled.

  Camille bit her lip, reminding me of Jessica. She always did that. I closed my eyes.

  “It’s entirely possible that you’re reacting to Jessica’s absence,” my father said.

  I forced myself to face him. “Meaning?”

  He cleared his throat, pulling at the ends of his suit jacket. He was surely meeting the elders later. “Meaning, your energies already mixed,” he said, refusing to say the truth. Just by kissing, we’d already been physically attached. My Dark side − Shoman − was adjusted to her existence. “Without her ability to transform, her energy doesn’t exist,” he continued. “It could cause a haywire in your control.”

  This was why she was my weakness. She affected me, even when she was absent. My hands threaded through my hair as I started to sizzle back into my human form. I could feel my hair curling. “That’s good news,” I murmured, but no one responded, and I kicked off the wall. “I’m going to the shelter.”

  “You should relax,” my father called after me. “Urte is planning a rigorous day for you tomorrow.”

  “I don’t have time to relax,” I said, disappearing before they tempted me to forget my responsibilities for a single night.

  Eric

  “You have to handle the pain,” Urte said, knotting the straps around my wrists and feet. My blood circulation was halted.

  “This is ridiculous,” I said, skimming the machine I was attached to. My father wasn’t joking when he said Urte had rigorous training in mind. Urte was testing my pain resistance with a machine designed for shade torture. Whenever Urte pressed the On button, floods of Light energy would enter my body, and I would be left to deal with it.

  “You need to be able to withstand all kinds of pain,” he said as I squirmed against his touch like a child at the dentist. “You need to be able to handle torture.”

  “When the hell am I going to be tortured, Urte?” My question strained against my throat straps. A needle would pierce my jugular vein directly.

  “You never know, Shoman.”

 
“Actually, I do,” I argued. “The prophecy states a battle, not a torture frenzy.”

  “And your wit isn’t going to solve either one.”

  “You aren’t the one being put into a torture machine,” I pointed out, remaining still. The last thing I wanted was to start the pain early.

  Urte couldn’t meet my eyes. “I’m the teacher, you’re the student.”

  “Like that’s a reasonable explanation for your actions.”

  He tightened the last strap on my knee. “You don’t have a choice.”

  I glared at his back as he fiddled with dials. At any moment, the pain would begin. “What if I were Pierce?” I asked.

  Urte’s wrinkles contorted around his frown. “Don’t play that card, Shoman.”

  “I’ll play any card I can to get out of this,” I reacted, fumbling. I wasn’t getting out of this one. “I’m Brenthan and Pierce at the same time.”

  Urte slouched onto the machine’s controls, careful not to push any of them. “This is part of the lesson plan the elders created,” he said, ignoring the mention of his sons.

  I gritted my teeth. “I can guarantee which elder offered this.”

  “We all did,” he said.

  My lip curled. “Luthicer did, right?”

  Urte refused to meet my eyes, and I fumed. Luthicer, the only half-breed elder, always pushed my limits. “I hate him,” I growled.

  Urte placed his fingers on the lever that I assumed would begin everything. “He saved your life,” he reminded me of the spells Luthicer had singlehandedly removed from my blood. “Twice.”

  “And now he’s trying to kill me.”

  “Torture isn’t killing, Shoman.”

  “You’re right,” I grumbled. “Killing is more humane.”

  Urte shook his head from side to side. “Are you ready?” he asked.

  I stared at his calloused fingertips. “No.”

  “Are you ready?” he repeated.

  I clenched my teeth, preparing myself for every amount of pain I could fathom. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I managed, and Urte pulled the lever down.

  …

  I winced when my bedroom door opened, and my father appeared. I would’ve used my powers to keep him out if I had any energy left to do so.

  “How was training?” My father’s thick voice broke through my ringing ears.

  “What do you think?” I compressed my injured elbow with a wrap. I had strained it against the restraints along with every other part of my body. I was burning from the inside out.

  My father cringed at my tone. “George told me.”

  “You mean, Urte, right?” I asked loudly, hoping Mindy or Noah would hear.

  “Don’t start that.” My father’s eyes turned to slits. “You know they’re home.”

  “I’m sorry.” My sarcasm defeated the fake apology. “My mind isn’t exactly on them. It’s on the fact that the elders − including you − agreed to torture me.”

  “It’s for your own good.”

  “You get in that machine before you tell me it’s for my own good,” I wheezed. “I can barely move.”

  “You’ll be healed by morning, Eric,” he said.

  I knew it was true. Once I got the strength to transform again, my body would entirely heal. But I wasn’t strong enough yet, and it felt as if I would never be.

  It was rare for injuries from my shade identity to linger in my human body, but it was happening due to the extremities. Generally, our identities were separate. As a human, I could be out of shape, but my shade self would be fit. My faces were different, and I knew my bone structure in both. As a human, I had green eyes, brown hair, and soft cheeks. I looked young and vulnerable − an average teenager − but everything was different when I transformed. My shoulders were broad, and my jawline was structured. I was muscular, fit, and capable in all respects. It was almost painful to be different. That was the only reason I couldn’t fathom Jonathon as Pierce. His identities were stark opposites, but he accepted them better than I could ever accept my own.

  “I still can’t believe this,” I said, wondering whether I was referring to training or Jessica.

  “I’m sorry, son, but we need to take as many precautions as possible,” he said it as if he were simply grounding me, with a monotone suggesting a lack of concern.

  “I’ll make sure to thank you once Darthon captures me and sticks me in a torture machine for information.”

  My father exhaled noisily, moving back into the hall. He no longer wanted to discuss my fate. “Get some rest, Eric,” he said, turning my light off as he shut my door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  My bedroom wasn’t enveloped in darkness as I had expected it to be. A warm, red light spread across the carpet, and I traced the light to the source. A new nightlight replaced the one I broke the night before. Twelve years had passed since my mother committed suicide, and it had also been twelve years since my father involved himself with the symbolic light. But he’d replaced it without a word, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. For once, it seemed I wasn’t the only one wanting her to return home.

  Jessica

  The wind was beneath my feet, and the town was miles below. Lights twinkled through the mist of Hayworth, and purple sparkles clung to the atmosphere, shining against the moon’s dim light. I could barely breathe, but I was alive, and I couldn’t deny the reality of flight. It was too real to be a dream. Only expression through art could subdue my confusion.

  My art class was an arrangement of seniors, chatting quietly as I sketched a loop of wires. I’d paint the sparkles across the sky once I began, but I couldn’t continue yet. My depiction of the dream I’d had the night before wasn’t even close. The sketch was too innocent and held no emotion. The dream wasn’t a nightmare, but it remained as if it were worse than the one about the forest. The comfort was peculiarly chilling.

  “Nice painting.”

  I jumped in my seat and turned around to meet a classmate’s eyes. While one was fogged over, the other was clear, but both appeared focused on my work.

  “I haven’t even started painting yet,” I said, recognizing the boy. Jonathon Stone was the best painter in the school, but I hadn’t talked to him before now. I couldn’t recall seeing him talk to anyone but teachers.

  His fingers hovered over the loops I had lightly drawn. “This direction will draw the viewer in perfectly,” he said. “You can normally tell by the sketch if the painting will be good.”

  I tore my eyes away from his blind eye. “Thanks,” I murmured, fighting a guilty blush.

  “Where’d you get the idea from?” he asked, pulling a pencil from his shirt pocket. He twiddled it through his thin fingers.

  “It was a dream,” I managed, but he didn’t reply. “The sketch isn’t finished yet,” I stated the obvious. “I don’t know what’s missing, but I’ll figure it out.”

  In seconds, he pulled up a stool and sat down. He traced his finger along the swirl. “Feels like you’re flying,” he said.

  I almost leapt up. “That’s what I was going for.”

  His shoulders rose. “You said this was a dream?”

  His questions were beginning to feel like an interrogation, full of judgment. I opened my mouth to defend the fantasy, but the bell rang.

  “Nice work,” he said as he stood. “Keep it up.”

  He walked away as quickly as he had appeared, and I was left to my thoughts. Strangely enough, I wanted the boy to stay. I liked my friends, but I only had two − Robb and Crystal − and I wanted others to talk to.

  I pushed my feelings aside as I collected my things. Jonathon moved right past me as if we hadn’t spoken moments before, and I turned back to watch him return to my canvas. I was looking at him as I left the classroom, and I collided with someone.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled as I shot down, picking up the two books I had dropped.

  “It’s okay, Jess,” he said, and I looked up at the person I stumbled into. Robb offered his hand, and I gr
abbed it. He lifted me up.

  “I wasn’t paying attention.”

  He looked over my shoulder. “What were you looking at?”

  “Nothing,” I dismissed the topic. “What are you doing here?” Robb didn’t take art classes − unless girls were involved.

  “Thought I’d walk you to homeroom,” he answered, referring to the one class we shared until graduation.

  “That’s nice,” I said, knowing he had other intentions. He’d been trying to talk to me about Zac all week, and I’d avoided the conversation successfully until now.

  “Are you and Zac planning another date anytime soon?” he asked.

  I rolled my eyes. “We haven’t even been on one, Robb,” I said. “We’re just friends.”

  “Zac doesn’t seem to think so.”

  “Why does that matter?” I bit back, surprised by my harsh tone. Apparently, my conversation with Jonathon was still bothering me.

  “Zac’s my friend,” Robb continued, oblivious to my thoughts.

  “And I’m your friend, too,” I pointed out, and Robb paused. I turned on my heel, realizing I had glared at him, and I rubbed my eyes. “Sorry,” I muttered. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”

  “What’s going on?” he asked, but I didn’t answer. He leaned over and tapped my arm. “Come on, Jess.”

  I started walking, trying to prevent myself from speaking, but I couldn’t stop myself for long. “I’ve been having nightmares.”

  A frown consumed his smile. “I knew we shouldn’t have taken you to that forest.”

  “It wasn’t the forest—”

  “Wasn’t it?” he asked, and I didn’t respond because he was right. He exhaled, placing a hand on the nape of his neck. “Just ignore them, Jess. It’s not a big deal.”

  I wanted to argue, to tell him how surreal they were, how much they had been affecting me, but he didn’t understand. Clearly.

  When we entered homeroom, Robb took his seat next to Crystal. My assigned seat was across the room, which was probably a good thing considering I would spend the entire hour talking if I could.

  I fell into my seat, and the period bell rang as my partner walked in. He kept his headphones on until he made it to his seat, and he hung them loosely on his neck when he took them off. I had known Eric Welborn for eight months now, but we didn’t talk. Instead, we stayed to our sides of the table, and I often fought the urge to look at him.