Fear Me Not (The EVE Chronicles) Read online

  “Did she mention anything? Anything at all? Maybe something that was troubling her? Or something she complained about?”

  I smile. “You must not know her very well, detective. Victoria was a very private, closed-off person. It was rare to hear about her troubles, and even rarer for her to share them with me. Dakota was more of the person she felt closer to.”

  “But you were friends,” The officer insists.

  “We were…acquaintances. She was one of the few humans who was very understanding of me. She was blunt, yes, and swore too much. But underneath that prickly layer, she understood the universal hardships of existing very well.”

  The officer knits his brows and shakes his head.

  “Okay, alright. So you knew her. And she didn’t seem bothered before she vanished.”

  “Oh, no,” I correct quickly. “She seemed progressively more and more bothered by something. It was clearly eating away at her. She was irritable. She snapped at Dakota several times, and I had to remind her gently to stop being so quick to anger. Something was surely bothering her, but she never spoke of it.”

  “When did you notice the change?”

  I tap my chin. “Sometime before the Winter Ball, I believe. Mid-December.”

  “Did you notice any odd behaviors before she went missing?”

  I smile again. “She was quite the odd one in general. I didn’t notice anything odd. But I did find it odd she was spending so much time with Shadus. She spent time with all three sotho, and they all seemed to like her very much.”

  I recall how Taj looked at her when they were dancing the night of the Winter Ball, but I put it out of my mind. Jealousy is better suited for humans. And my chance with him had long come and gone. I clear my throat.

  “But it became clear that month that she and Shadus were…something more. Have you spoke with him? He may know more.”

  The officers shoot each other a look that I know very well, a look that’s infamous around the Gutter circles. They’ve already spoken to him. And they’ve found him less-than-agreeable.

  “If that’s all, officers, my client needs to return to packing her things,” My lawyer interrupts. The fat officer sighs.

  “Yeah, right. Let us know if you think of anything more, later.”

  “I will.” I smile. “Thank you.”

  My lawyer stays while I leave, since they are calling in yet another Gutter for questioning. She represents most of us in the inefficient and undoubtedly corrupt human court of law. The FBI – supposedly one of the human’s best forces - haven’t solved the murder of Halsi. If it was the Adjudicator tori they would’ve solved it within the week.

  Taj and I pass each other. He’s the one they’re calling in, then. He stops and nods at me.

  “Ulsi.”

  “Sotho,” I make a small bow. “I wish you strength for the questioning.”

  He scoffs. “I won’t need it. They are exceptionally weak and ineffectual.”

  My chest wells up with a strange lightness, but I keep my face neutral.

  “I agree.”

  Taj looks very weary, and worn. He’s been extremely snappish since Victoria disappeared. Raine and Shadus have, as well, with Shadus exhibiting the worst of it. But Taj is quietly tortured by her missing status, and everyone can see it.

  “I hope they find her soon,” I try. Taj flinches, golden eyes sore.

  “If I – if I upheld the laws, she wouldn’t be gone in the first place. It is my fault.”

  His voice is so splintered, I can feel the pain in it as clearly as if it were my own. He cares about her. He cares about her very, very much, and I am both saddened and joyful of it.

  “Certainly not, sotho. It is the fault of whoever took her. Do not blame yourself. Down the path of self-hate lies untruth,” I say the last part in Rahm, a quote from the Ki’eth.

  Taj inhales, then exhales it, and tries a weak smile. “Yes. You’re right. I will try to keep that in mind more often. Thank you.”

  I watch him go into the room with renewed, straighter posture. It’s not much, and it may not last, but for a second he looks less troubled, and that is all I could have hoped for.

  As I walk to my room, I observe the lawn of the school. The protestors are by the hundreds, now, and the media cameras constantly flash as they take pictures and video. Two explosions, one murder, and a missing persons case – it took far more than it should have to close the school. But the human government, ever stubborn and slow to catch on, finally relented and ordered the complete evacuation the day after Victoria disappeared.

  Green Hills High School is finished.

  The day after Victoria disappeared, her father came to the campus. Her father begged the principal to find her. He broke into tears and had to be helped to his car by the CIA.

  The security presence is dwindling, but very slowly. The mharata are returning to the reservation one by one, and the police leave only the bare minimum of patrolling squadrons. There are rumors the killer got Victoria, and they body just hasn’t been found yet. And there are stranger rumors still – a Gutter swore she saw Osha on campus the day Victoria vanished.

  But that is impossible. Osha, unlike Jerai or Kyz, rarely leaves the reservation. He’s done it once – and that was to attend a banquet thrown by the United States President. But that was it. In my memory, he has not left since, preferring the company of his command office in the Executioner tower.

  I don’t know what to believe, anymore. But something deep within me is unsettled. Some inexorable feeling of danger creeps through my body with greater weight as each day passes.

  Something is about to happen. I do not know what, but it is something important, dark, and unstoppable.

  So I pray to Asara from the Ki’eth, my hand clasped over my heart and my eyes fixated on the stars just beginning to peak through the twilight. My Rahm words filter through the empty hall, echoing eerily

  “In this moment I am small, and alone, and afraid, Great Mother. In this moment I am far from you, and from everything I know. Find me in the darkness, Great Mother, and lead me into the light, so that I may dance free of my chains, and dance free in your honor.”

  15. The World

  Alisa bounces in the passenger seat of the truck, blonde ponytail coming undone as she points eagerly out the window.

  “Look! That’s the house we wanted at first, but they sold it. That’s the pool, it belongs to the community, so we can go whenever. There’s a convenience store just by it, and if you - Vic! Are you listening to me?”

  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