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Archive for September, 2010

Welcome again to YAFF Muse: blog rounds. The ladies of YA Fiction Fanatics have come together for YAFF Muse. To have a little fun, explore different styles of writing and to give you some kick-butt shorts to read.  Enjoy!

Photo Credit:keithcr at MorgueFile.com

Chatter about the new guy had followed me all day long. But I’d yet to see him. According to my best friend Trinity he was tall, dark, and on the yummy scale of one to ten, he was off the charts.

I tapped my pencil on the table, waiting for the bio teacher to take attendance when he walked in. Shaggy dark hair hung to his chin, stormy gray eyes glancing around the room. His summer kissed skin, showed deep tan beneath a baby-blue polo shirt.

Trinity cleared her throat and gave me a “see, I told you so” kind of look. This guy was too hot for Merchant High. Hell, I half expected to see his books combust in his hand.

Reaching for my folder, I fanned my face. “Oh my god,” I said, leaning over to talk to Trinity. “You weren’t kidding about him.”

Once the teacher signed his papers, the boy sauntered down the aisle until he stood at my table.

“Anyone sitting here?” He smiled, showing off another perfect feature.

Heart leaping into my throat, I sat there. Shit, did I forget how to talk? “No, go ahead.”

He set his bag on the floor, and pulled out a notebook and pen. Then he turned to me, holding out his hand.

“Javier,” he said.

“Kya.”

His fingers brushed mine and for an instant all I heard was the sound of crashing waves. The scent of coconuts and saltwater clinging to the air around us. Strands of my blonde hair fluttered across my cheek as if a stiff breeze had picked up.

“You’re the first person who hasn’t runaway giggling from me,” he said with a wink.

I laughed. “Don’t tell me the jocks were blushing?”

“Okay, so maybe not everyone giggled. The dudes definitely looked ready to shove my ass in the dumpster.” He stretched his long legs under the table.

“Get used to it. Most of the student body is made up of idiots, drunks, and girls that are half plastic,” I said, focusing back on my notebook where I was in the midst of working on chords for a new song.

“Then I suppose you’ll have to show me the ropes,” Javier whispered as the teacher stood and went to the blackboard.

I quirked an eyebrow. “Hanging with me, might ruin your rep. Real body parts and all.”

Marcy Jenkins sashayed into the classroom, late as usual. Her cheerleading skirt swishing against her thighs. Her gaze flitted to the back of the classroom, fixating on Javier. Her cherry colored lips, puckered into a naughty smile and she wiggled her ass to the table in front of us.

“Trust me,” she said, “you don’t want to be seen with Kya, well unless you need help with homework.”

My cheeks warmed. “Shhh…what’s that sound?” I held my hand to my ears. “I think your boob sprung a leak.”

She glared at me, bending over her table enough to give us a good look at her butt before sitting down. Marcy twirled a strand of her long, dark, curly hair around her finger.

“There are a bunch of us going to Merchant Beach tonight,” she said. “You should come—get acquainted.”

My chest constricted and I shot a glance at Trinity. She mouthed the word “no”. But he was new and didn’t know any better. No one went to Merchant Beach after dark, not even me, and I lived there.

Grandma and I saw what lurked in the surf, the dark forms that took over the sandy shores. I watched Javier’s lips curve into a smile. Not that I blamed him, no guy ever turned Marcy down.

I opened my mouth to tell him not to go, but Marcy lifted her arm, the familiar crescent moon tattoo catching my eye. She gave me a knowing look and I shifted my gaze to the similar marking on my own wrist. People from Merchant Beach stuck together. No matter what.

“What time should I be there?” Javier asked, his leg brushing mine beneath the table.

I stiffened. This couldn’t be happening. I’d felt his touch. There was no coldness, no dark sensation. Just him.

“After sunset,” Marcy said.

Our teacher ordered eyes ahead, no talking. But I knew I had to find a way to keep Javier from going, tonight.

“What’s gotten into you?” Trinity asked, during last hour.

“I need to find Javier. He can’t go tonight.”

Trinity frowned. “So you’re going to challenge her tonight?”

“I should’ve done it a long time ago,” I said, clinging tight to her arm. “If I do, will you support me?”

“You know I will. Better tell your grandma. You’ll need every spell you can conjure if the others don’t side with you.”

By the time school ended, I hadn’t seen Javier again. It was like he’d disappeared.

“Will I see you tonight?” Marcy asked. “You haven’t been to circle since summer solstice.

I narrowed my eyes. “Maybe.”

“Don’t forget, he’s mine. I lay claim to him.” Marcy tapped her foot and the ground beneath us shook. A threat.

“We’ll see,” I said. And we parted ways.

Grandma wasn’t home when I arrived, so I positioned myself in front of the window, watching the sun sink lower in the sky. Soon, I’d have to go out there. And face down my coven. Trinity, Sage, Max, and Brandon would for sure side with me, but the others weren’t predictable. Still there was no way I’d let her sacrifice Javier. He was my soul mate. I’d sensed it in that brief flicker of a moment.

Changing into a blue shift, I grabbed my candle and headed into the night. In the distance, I made out the shapes of the coven, standing against the backdrop of the flame colored sky, shadows squirming at the edges.

As I drew closer, dusk settled in and the beach was empty. Where had they gone? The lapping of the water called to me, and I turned to watch Javier materialize from its depths. The God of the Western Tower. Water.

I dropped to my knees. No wonder I felt his touch. He was the lord of my element.

“Stand, Kya,” he said, reaching down to pull me to my feet.

“Where are the others?” I asked, glancing down the beach.

“I sent them away. They were not worthy of me.”

“And I am?” I said.

He smiled, touching my face. “Always.” His lips brushed mine, sending warmth singing in my blood.

He was mine, and I his, or so the waves sang.

Thanks for coming by. Please be sure to drop by my fellow YAFFers blogs and don’t forget to leave a comment.

R.M.Gilbert

Traci Kenworth

Vanessa Barger

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Welcome again to YAFF Muse: blog rounds. The ladies of YA Fiction Fanatics have come together for YAFF Muse. To have a little fun, explore different styles of writing and to give you some kick-butt shorts to read.  Enjoy!

The Room By:trublueboy

My eyes adjusted to the darkness, strobe lights pulsing like an erratic heartbeat. As I rounded the corner decapitated body sprung at me, holding its head in its hands.

“Ah!” I screeched, covering my face.

Geneva Watkins turned around with a sneer. “What’s wrong, Celeste?” she asked. “Too much like looking in a mirror.”

I narrowed my eyes. God, I hated her. Why the hell had Tony, who was supposedly my best friend, insist on asking her out. All she’d done since we got to the haunted house was say stupid shit to me.

Warm lips touched my neck and I leaned back, letting my boyfriend Jake, hold me. “Ignore her. She’s just jealous,” he said. “Besides, people like that, always get what’s coming to them.”

I craned my neck just enough so I could kiss him. “Explain to me why you agreed to let her in free too?”

He chuckled. “A favor for a friend.”

“As much as I’m enjoying your love fest, can we move forward?” My friend Tara giggled behind us.

My cheeks warmed, but I started to walk again. Macabre images filled each room we entered, massacre scenes with dismembered bodies, zombies jumping out of the woodwork, werewolves devouring campers. Everything gruesome. And each time something leapt from the darkness, I practically choked on my heart.

“Hold up a second,” Jake said, lifting his cell to his ear. He talked to someone on the other end, then hung up. “Listen, my dad needs me to check the animatronics. You and Tara finish up here and I’ll catch you at the end.” He kissed my forehead, and then disappeared through an “employee only” exit.

“Come on.” Tara looped her arm through mine.

“I wonder where Tony and Geneva went?” I said, ducking as a fake bat swooped toward my head.

“Who cares, Tony can handle himself. Besides, that girl’s a bitch.” Tara led me into what looked like a large bedroom.

My eyes fell on a huge bed, with sheets twisted around a pair of legs and a torso. A silver ankle bracelet caught my gaze. Oh God. There on the floor was a bloody head, mouth open as if it had been caught mid scream. Familiar blonde tresses, dripped crimson.

“Geneva,” I screamed, reaching for Tara. Shit, this wasn’t happening. “Run!”

Tara gripped tight to my arm as we raced through the haunted house. At last, we burst into the cool night air. People stared at us like we’d lost our minds, but I didn’t care.

“Di—did you see that in there?” I asked.

Tara started laughing. “We’ve got overactive imaginations.” She pointed at the back door where Geneva was stumbling out, Jake and Tony right behind her.

“Son of bitch.” Great, Tony had set me up.

“I’m going to get the car.” Tony chuckled.

“Yeah, I’m gonna head home.” Tara gave me a quick hug. “See you at school.”

Geneva hurried toward the parking lot. Her shoe fell off, but she kept walking. As much as I hated her, I rushed over to pick it up. My hand stopped mid-air. Inside the shoe, was a plastic mannequin foot. For a moment, all I could do was stare. Fingers trembling, I picked it up and ran after her.

“Geneva, you lost your shoe,” I said. God, this wasn’t real. I was losing my mind.

In a jerky motion, she turned and smiled. But she looked fake. Her eyes too wide, her nose too perfect. She held out her hand to take the shoe from me, and my fingers brushed against cool plastic.

“Thank you,” she said.

Backing away from her, I ran to find Tony. We needed to get the hell out of here. My thoughts turned to Jake, and how he must’ve done something to her.

“Tony!” I waved him down.

He stopped the car in front of me and opened the door.

“Don’t stop driving,” I said as I slid inside. “Just go until we can’t go any further.”

“What are you talking about?” Tony quirked an eyebrow.

“Geneva’s dead,” I said. “She’s a fricken piece of plastic now. I think Jake—”

“I know.” Tony touched my hand. “But we did it to keep you safe, Celeste. Jake and I won’t ever let anyone hurt you again.”

“Tony?”

He smiled. “We’ve been watching out for you. You see, Jake’s my cousin and they needed new props for the haunted house anyway.”

Bile burned the back of my throat. “But you killed people.”

“They deserved it. They hurt you.”

A few minutes later, Tony dropped me off at my house. I wanted to call the cops, but what in the hell would I tell them? Hey, there’s some girl that got killed and now a mannequin is walking around in her place. Yeah, they’d have me shipped off to a nuthouse.

And I didn’t know what they’d do to me if I said anything. Besides, it wasn’t like Geneva didn’t deserve what she got. Shit. I sounded psychotic. Maybe this was just a nightmare. And in the morning, I’d wake up and have a laugh.

***

The next day I hurried toward my locker and shoved my duffel bag inside.

“Morning beautiful,” Jake said, wrapping his arms around me. He planted a kiss on my forehead.

“Morning.” I hugged him. Last night had to have been a dream. There was no way that my boyfriend would kill someone.

We walked into first hour history, with my least favorite teacher Mr. Isaac. I sat down right as the bell rang and the teacher turned to look at the class. Oh God. It was real. Mr. Isaac glanced at us with the same glassy eyes as the mannequin Geneva.

Tony plopped down in the seat in front of me, then turned around. He touched my cheek, while Jake held my hand.

“See, I promised we’d never let anyone hurt you again,” he said.

As I stared around the class, I realized that they were all plastic. “You—you guys did this for me?”

“I love you,” Jake said. “And Tony loves you. You’re ours to protect.”

And in some sick way, I suppose it made sense. But now, looking around the room, I realized that no one would every bother me again. In fact, I could live the life I wanted and never have to worry again. Because no matter where I went, Jake and Tony would protect me.

Thanks for coming by. Please be sure to drop by my fellow YAFFers blogs and don’t forget to leave a comment.

Jennifer Fischetto

Mindy Buchanan

R.M.Gilbert

Traci Kenworth

Vanessa Barger

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Welcome again to YAFF Muse: blog rounds. The ladies of YA Fiction Fanatics have come together for YAFF Muse. To have a little fun, explore different styles of writing and to give you some kick-butt shorts to read.  Enjoy!

Photo by: phypet

The ground shook as a train zoomed by on the tracks. My hands grew slimy with sweat and I wiped them on my jeans.

Shit! Why did I tell them I’d do it?

“Hey, Bailey,” Carson Lewiston said, coming up beside me.

His smile made my stomach drop. Those trusting mocha colored eyes, shaggy blonde hair. A completely nice guy.

“Are you sure you want to come to Chicago with me?” I asked, my suede boot connecting with a stone.

“Yes.” He laughed, reaching for my hand. “You know how long I’ve waited to go out with you?”

I chewed my lip. They always wanted to date me. And they got hurt. Today, I didn’t want to have another bad thing on my conscience. Not Carson.

“Trust me, I’m not that great of a person,” I said.

From within the shadows, they watched and listened. Waiting for me to hand him over like I had the rest.

“You’re perfect.” Carson’s fingers entwined with mine. “And nice.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and held tight to him. A homeless man came up to us, holding out a cup.

“Spare some change for the train?” he asked. Coins clinked together, the scent of alcohol clinging to the man like fabric softener sheets.

No one would miss him.

“How about I buy you a ticket.” I dug into my purse for some cash.

Carson caught my arm. “That might not be a good idea.”

“It’ll be fine. He can sit back by us.” I smiled, handing the attendant enough cash for both mine and the homeless man’s ticket. “Two please.”

Once Carson paid we headed down the platform. In one hand, I held tight to him, and with the other, I dragged the homeless man behind.

Carson picked a seat and I slid in next to him, gesturing for the other man to sit in front of us.
Moments later the doors shut and the train slowly crawled forward, picking up speed the further down the track we went.

The tunnel was getting close. I could feel it. The shadows, the dampness—everything cold, dark, and lurking.

Scooting closer to Carson, I touched his cheek, then his lips. “Whatever you do, keep your eyes closed when we go in the tunnel.”

His gaze met mine. “Why?”

“I want to keep you safe.”

“From what?”

I pulled his head toward me, lips parted. My lips captured his, pleading he’d listen. Then he was kissing me back, his hands tangling in my long hair. I slipped my arms around his neck, drawing him closer.

Then came the screams from the seat in front of us. The homeless man hadn’t shut his eyes. I knew he wouldn’t.

Carson shifted, but I held him tight, deepening our kiss. After a moment, the yells stopped and I pulled back, tears spilling from my eyes.

Daylight spilled in the windows, the tunnel nothing but a black dot behind us.

Carson stood and glanced into the seat in front of us. His face drained of color. I didn’t need to look to know what he saw. There would be blood. There always was. Claw marks, missing body, and a pile of shredded clothes.

“You knew this would happen?” he said, voice even.

“It was either him or you,” I whispered. “And I didn’t want them to have you.”

“Them?”

“Beings you don’t want to meet.” My gaze shifted to the windows. I wondered if they’d punish me? My parents didn’t understand my desire to be amongst humans.

“Is that why you invited me along?” His eyes were intense.

“They told me to,” I said. “Thing is, I don’t always listen.”

“So they make you do this? Drag people onto the train?” He touched my face, making me look at him.
I pulled away. “Yes. And I’m not proud of that.”

“Why did you save me?”

“Because I love you.”

“Will you be punished?”

My head drooped on his shoulder. “Yes.”

“Then let me help you bring people for them,” he said in a rush.

“You’d do that for me?”

“Yes. Anything you want.” His lips covered mine.

Yessss…they hissed.

“No.” I backed away. “You’re just like them. I have enough darkness in my life.” My eyes welled up. He was supposed to be different.

Another tunnel loomed ahead. I closed my eyes. And this time he didn’t. Screams of pain echoed in the blackness. But it was better to let him go. To let the shadows have him. Dark thoughts, meant dark deeds, and dark deeds led to bloodshed.

When I got to Chicago, I hurried from the train and headed for the nearest building with lights. Everything would be okay, as long as I stayed out of the shadows.

~~~~~~

Thanks for coming by. Please be sure to drop by my fellow YAFFers blogs and don’t forget to leave a comment.

Cambria Dillon

Mindy Buchanan

R.M.Gilbert

Vanessa Barger

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Today my friend and fellow YAFF member has an adult paranormal book coming out! It’s entitled Blood Moon.  So if you get a chance, pop over to her blog for a chance to win a copy. Or you can go to the Decadent Publishing webiste and order yourself a copy!

Huge CONGRATS on the book!

http://ellenkeener.wordpress.com/

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Welcome again to YAFF Muse: blog rounds. The ladies of YA Fiction Fanatics have come together for YAFF Muse. To have a little fun, explore different styles of writing and to give you some kick-butt shorts to read.  Enjoy!

Mexican Souveniers By: haak78

“Happy Birthday, dear Cassidy, happy birthday to you!” Everyone sang.

With a smile, I bent down and blew out sixteen leaping flames. My family and friends cheered. Okay, so the birthday party was a little lame, but I wasn’t exactly popular. At least my family showed up.

“Time to open presents,” Mom said, tugging me toward the table where the gifts were stacked up.

Mom’s first.

“Oh my god! You got me an iPod Touch. I can’t believe it.” I managed to give her a rib-cracking hug before moving to the next gifts.

I opened packages with clothes, jewelry, gift cards, and posters for my room, when I spotted one last present. A large box, decorated in green and red tissue paper.

Aunt Marge shook her head, encouraging me to open it. She watched my every move, as I slid my finger between the paper and the tape. Then came the cardboard box. I removed the stuffing, and found several wooden, Mexican dolls, sitting there.

Okay, not quite what I expected. In fact they were ugly as hell, but no way would I hurt her feelings.

“Thank you Aunt Marge.” I fake smiled.

A sigh escaped her lips. “I’m glad you like them. I’ve had them since I was your age. I needed to make sure they went to someone who’d take care of them.”

“Why don’t you bring your things upstairs, while I cut cake,” Mom said.

Once in my room, I set the gifts on my bed. Except Aunt Marge’s Mexican dolls, which I placed on top of my bookshelf. Out of sight, out of mind.

***

The next day, I pretended to stare at my science book, a diversion from Brittney’s feet kicking the back of my desk. God, I hated her.

“I hope you didn’t pay for those highlights, Cassidy. They look like someone took a piss in your hair,” she said, leaning forward to whisper in my ear.

Shyloh and Trina giggled. Shit. Why did they have to sit behind me today?

“I brought a sack lunch and saved the bag. If want you can use it to cover your head.” Brittney tugged on my hair and I shrank lower in my seat.

I wish someone would kick her ass. Or better yet, tear her up into little pieces and mail her back to her family. Then maybe school wouldn’t suck so much.

When the bell rang for last period, I raced from the room and headed for the bus. 

Mom met me at the door. “So, how was it?”

“Same crap, different day.” I frowned. “Why can’t you home school me?”

Mom touched my cheek. “Because, I need to work. But if you want, I can call the school and complain…”

Yeah, that’d help. Instead of getting picked on, I’d get my ass kicked instead. “Just forget it.”

***

“Damn it,” I said when I crawled from bed the next morning. Tiny splotches of red stained my carpet and trailed to my bookcase. And I knew that color. Candy Apple Cocktail, my fingernail polish. Which meant my sister ,Sarah, had been in my room.

Grabbing my fingernail polish remover from my dresser, I doused a cotton ball and scrubbed the carpet.

“Mom, tell Sarah to stay out of my stuff!” I hollered down the stairs.

Once dressed, I grabbed a bagel then headed for school.

***

The halls were crowded with the usual people. Jocks standing against lockers, cheerleaders trying to impress them. Quiet people like me, hurrying past hoping to go unnoticed.

When I got to my locker, I entered my combination, grabbing my books for first hour.

“Hey Cassidy,” Spencer Tylen said, leaning against the wall.

I glanced back to see where his “jock flock” was at. But they were gone. “Um-hey.” The earth must’ve ended because Spencer did not talk to girls like me.

“Listen, I wondered if you had a date for homecoming yet?”

God, was he serious? Okay, he wasn’t smiling or laughing. My heart thumped around in my chest like bumper cars at an amusement park.

He touched my arm. “So what do you say?”

“Yes,” I answered, trying to keep from screeching and jumping up and down.

Then he grinned. “Psych! You’re the third girl I’ve done this to today.” He hurried down the hall laughing. His friends came around the corner, giving him high-fives.

Tears burned my eyes. Guys like him deserved to be mauled by wild dogs. With no dignity left, I trudged to first hour.

***

By the time I got home from school, my mood worsened. I tossed my book bag on a chair and sat down by Mom to watch the news.

“Don’t you go to school with that girl?” Mom pointed to the TV screen where a picture of Brittney Forester was on the screen.

“Yeah.”

“She was murdered last night. They said that whoever did it mailed pieces of her back to her family.” Mom’s face looked disgusted. “Sick people.”

My skin broke out in chills. “I’m going to get my homework done.” I hurried upstairs, wondering what in the hell happened. It was too much of a coincidence. 

My gaze fell on wads of fur littering my floor, and tiny red marks across the carpet. I followed the trail to the bookcase where the Mexican dolls sat. No way. I sat on my bed, flipped on the TV and watched as the screen shifted to breaking news. On the screen was a picture of Spencer.

“High school senior, Spencer Tylen was killed this afternoon on his way home. Police are saying that he was attacked by wild-dogs. A search is already underway for these animals. If you see them please call…”

Just then the phone rang. “Cassidy, it’s Aunt Marge,” Mom called.

Picking up the phone, I said, “Hello.”

“I see you’re getting some use out of my gift.”

A smile formed on my lips. “Yes.” My gaze fell to the dolls. “They’re the best present I could’ve asked for.”

Thanks for coming by. Please drop by my fellow YAFFers blogs and don’t forget to leave a comment.

R.M.Gilbert

Traci Kenworth

Vanessa Barger

Read Full Post »

Welcome again to YAFF Muse: blog rounds. The ladies of YA Fiction Fanatics have come together for YAFF Muse. To have a little fun, explore different styles of writing and to give you some kick-butt shorts to read.  Enjoy!

Photo by: trublueboy

Mom glanced at me as she grabbed her coat, heels clicking on the hardwood floor. “Samantha, you’re not wearing that out tonight. Go change.”

I stared down at my holey jeans, vintage rock t-shirt, and Dad’s old camouflage jacket. God, she’d forgotten what day it was. Too busy worrying about her new husband and his dinner party.

Snatching the bouquet of flowers from the chair, I glared. “I take it you’re too busy to go this year.” The red roses waved in the air as I gestured.

Her face paled. “Oh, Sam, I’m sorry. I forgot.”

Forgot? How the hell did someone forget the day their husband died? Three years without my dad.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t.”

“Sam…”

“I’ll go myself. Don’t wait up for me.” I jerked the door open, stepping into the misty rain. Tears streamed down my cheeks. It’d been a shitty week. Moving into my step-dad’s house, starting a new school, my best friend (or maybe I should say ex-best friend), stealing my boyfriend. And now this.

Thunder rumbled, joining in my chorus of misery. I settled into my car, tossed the flowers on the passenger seat, and headed for the cemetery.

Dad’s headstone was easy enough to find, even in the dark. I unwrapped the flowers and scattered them over the ground, apologizing for Mom’s absence. I told him I loved him then managed to hum a few verses from one of his songs before leaving.

Windshield wipers, thwacked against the window as I pulled into Hot Brew, the local coffee shop. Chilled, I hurried inside and slipped into one of the booths, the heavy scent of coffee and vanilla blanketing the air.

“Thought you’d be in tonight,” Glory, the gray haired waitress said. “The usual?”

I smiled. “Yeah. Extra whipped cream.” Dad’s favorite order. Cocoa. If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine him sitting across from me. My fingers traced the dents in the coated wooden table.

A moment later, Glory came back with a steaming cup of hot chocolate and set it down in front of me. “You won’t be able to stay long. Tonight is open mic,” she whispered.

My eyes widened, heart crashing into my ribs. “Who’s playing?”

She pointed to a table in the corner. A guy maybe nineteen, sat, holding his guitar, baseball cap tipped forward. He looked sad. But when he glanced at me, I saw the same haunted eyes my father always had. The eyes of a Musician.

“His name’s Caleb,” she said, with a shiver. “Stronger than your father was too. Just you wait until you see the crowds coming in to hear him.”

Oh God. Not again. I stood, grabbing my cup of cocoa. Father had told me to stay away from here. But even knowing what I knew, I couldn’t. This was my last connection to him. It wasn’t his fault that they made him do it.

Caleb raised his hooded eyes at my approach, then glanced back to a beautiful man who stood near the stage talking with a woman in a cloak.

“Hey, mind if I join you?” I asked, gesturing to the chair across from him.

“Sure.”

“You know, you don’t have to play tonight,” I said.

His wild eyes glowed in the dimness. “Yes, I do. It’s all I can think about. The sound of the chords, the music…”

“Then play for me,” I whisper.

He glacial eyes searched my face, then he reached across the table, catching my hand in his. A jolt went up my arm and through my body. He gasped and pulled his fingers back, allowing me to see the cuff around his wrist.

“If I could take away your pain, I would,” he said. “But you need to leave, before they realize you’re his daughter. They’ll imprison you, like they have me.”

“Play for me,” I said again.

“No. I won’t hurt you.” Caleb leaned forward, grasping my face in his hands and kissing me.

“You’ve found a friend. How nice,” the beautiful man said, standing over us. “Is she staying for your concert?” He pointed toward the door where people were frantically trying to get in.

“No, she was just leaving.” Caleb stood, still holding his guitar and ushered me out.

My fingers gripped hold of his shirt. “Caleb. Please, come with me. You don’t have to do this,” I whispered. The same thing I told my dad.

“Wait for me in the lot,” he said. “And lock your door.”

With that, people streamed around me into the café. Glory ushered them in, stepped out beside me, then locked the door. “Get in your car and go child. Don’t you dare look back.”

I hurried to my vehicle and just before I climbed in, I heard the undeniable sound of screams. Lights flickered out and I covered my ears. It was my fate to end this, again. But that only meant they’d find someone else. Another Musician.

Long minutes later, the door opened and Caleb stepped out, his guitar strings dripping blood. His face was calm, eyes wild. He’d just played a killer riff.

“End this,” he said. Already, the beautiful man moved toward us. He’d take Caleb back to his land and hold him hostage until next Samhain. Then it’d start all over again. Collecting souls.

“You can’t have him,” I said, throwing open my door for Caleb to climb in.

“You think you can stop me?”

A smile formed on my lips and I hummed one of my father’s songs. The man doubled over, holding his ears, blood dripping from between his fingers.

“I’m my father’s daughter. A Musician.”

His eyes widened and he crawled back. But it was too late. I’d already begun another song. My dad had been right. There was power in a song.

Caleb kissed me when I slid into the car next to him. “They’ll come looking for us,” he said, pulling away.

“Let them.”

Thanks for coming by. Please be sure to drop by my fellow YAFFers blogs and don’t forget to leave a comment.

Mindy Buchanan

R.M.Gilbert

Vanessa Barger

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