Where can I run to escape the darkness inside me?
Three years after moving to this backcountry small town, I’m still “the new kid” – that freak with the strange hair, the attitude, and the dying mother. Which is unfair, really, because apart from a few unfortunate incidents, I’ve done my best to fit in. To be normal, nice, and unthreatening. An ordinary girl, just like everyone else.
But lately I’m losing snatches of time again, just like I did after my mom’s death. I’m dreaming again too: strange, blood-soaked nightmares filled with terror and suffering. Only the blood isn’t mine. Nor is the terror or the suffering.
And now my ultimate crush – a Viking-type sex god too hot to live – decides to tell me I have “magic powers” because I’m the “last descendant” of an “ancient bloodline” controlled by a “secret Order”, and that his family has been “keeping” mine safe for centuries.
For crying in a bucket.
This, I guess, is what they mean when they talk about life falling apart. At school, the Alphas (a group of rich, popular meatheads) are planning to publicly humiliate me. At home, everyone I trust is keeping some dark and ominous secret from me.
Sometimes I think no one around me is quite what they seem.
Least of all myself.