Awakened: Prequel GL Series

Chapter 1

1. THE VOICES

 

 

Lil?

I stepped out of the shower and glanced across the kitchenette and the plaid sofas to my grandfather’s bedroom door. It was ajar, part of his bed visible. My hands tightened on the towel I’d wrapped around me.

“Grampa?”

I’m not your grandfather. We need to talk.

My heart skipped a beat as the eerie words echoed inside my head. A spirit? Panic shot through me. I reached for the six-sided star amulet I wore around my neck, the green stone at the core cool and reassuring against my palm. I swallowed, closed my eyes tight, and held my breath. If I ignored him, he’d go away. They always did.

I know you can hear me, Lil. Say something.

My eyes snapped open. How did he know my name? Goose bumps spread across my skin and my chest hurt from holding my breath for too long. I sucked in air, my eyes darting around the trailer and my grip tightening around the amulet. Grandma had given it to me for protection against bad spirits, mulòs, as my people called them. It hadn’t failed me yet.

I don’t want to hurt you, Lil.

He read my thoughts, too? The fear streaming through me intensified. My breathing grew choppy, my heart threatening to jump from my chest. Of course he couldn’t have read my thoughts. Or could he? It didn’t matter. I refused to lose it. I had to do something, speak up for myself, but my vocals had seized up and my legs shook so hard I’d crumble on the trailer floor if I dared to move them. Why was this happening to me now? Most of the time, the voices were whispery, creepy, and the words jumbled up. And they always went away. Always.This one was so clear and persistent.

Lil?

“Go away!” I ducked inside my room, slammed the door, and pressed my back against it. I was shaking, and fear made me woozy. I shook my head to clear it.

I need your help.

“How could I possibly help you?” I yelled again.

Meet me at the raven tree and I’ll explain.

Meet with him? Was he nuts? I squeezed my eyes tight and blew my cheeks out as I exhaled. If only I’d talked to Grampa about hearing spirits.

He might have explained the rules, whether I could meet with one or not. Until two weeks ago, when I turned sixteen, I never believed in spirits or that Grampa could communicate with them. He’d told me about this ability so many times, a gift from his gypsy ancestors. I’d humored him and mumbled, “Cool.” But this wasn’t a gift or cool. Now that I could hear the voices, a curse couldn’t begin to describe it.

I soaked in the familiar things in my room and willed my heart to slow down to a normal rhythm. My gaze clung to pictures on my walls of people I’d met over the years and places I’d lived in or visited. Some of me and Grampa, laughing. I wanted to go back to those times. Things were normal then, and I wasn’t a freak. When was Grampa coming back? I needed him. Only he would go job hunting on a Sunday.

My eyes fell on the picture of my mother, framed and placed on its special spot on the computer desk by my bed. I took tentative steps away from the door, snatched the photograph up, and sat on the edge of my bed. I touched the cold glass surface with fingers that still shook. Mom’s dark hair tumbled down to her shoulders, her porcelain skin unblemished, and her green eyes twinkling with merriment.

“Did you hear voices, too?” Her smile indicated she couldn’t have. How I wished she was here now. Sadness wrapped around my throat, and each breath I took hurt. “I won’t cry. I won’t…I won’t…”