Lost in Thought

Lost in Thought

First Book of the Sententia

Cara Bertrand

Copyright © 2014 Cara Bertrand All rights reserved.

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any man-ner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

www.carabertrand.com

Hardcover ISBN: 978-1-935462-93-4

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-935462-94-1

Front Cover Design by BookBaby Images courtesy PhotoXpress.com Back Cover Design by Kristine Farrell

LUMINIS BOOKS

Meaningful Books That Entertain
This one is for Tim, for helping me rewrite my definition of possible every day.

I love you.

Advance Praise for
Lost in Thought
Amazon/Penguin Breakthrough Novel Award Finalist

“Compelling and solid, this paranormal thriller has it all: love, murder, intrigue, mind games, and a bit of mystery.” –
Publishers Weekly

“…my pick for the winner, a fantastic novel trying to break free…The boarding school setting is a lot of fun, and the chemistry with Carter snaps…Lainey and Carter begin exploring the provenance of Lainey’s Legacy, the true extent of her powers, and just how those powers might be manipulated, the book starts to pick up momentum, leading to an action-packed ending with a twist that will leave readers clamor-ing for the next installment.” – Gayle Forman,
New York Times
Bestselling Author of
If I Stay

“…the novel is full of characters teen readers will enjoy spending time with, especially Lainey’s vivacious roommate, Amy, and Carter, the mysterious and swoon-worthy love interest…a nice dose of romance, mystery, and supernatural thrills keeps the pages turning.” – Jennifer Besser, Vice President and Publisher of G.P. Putnam’s Sons Books for Young Readers

“X-Men meets teen romance…Fans of paranormal romance will find a lot to like in
Lost in Thought
; this vividly written tale sets the stage for an exciting series to come.” – Jill Baguchinsky, author of
Spookygirl

“The tale of Lainey Young’s journey from being a seemingly normal girl with a secret to an extraordinary girl with many secrets will draw readers in and leave them wanting more! Cara Bertrand’s sharp writing makes the unbelievable utterly believable, and the well-drawn characters likeable and equally despicable and, in Carter’s case, irresistible.

Tinged with mystery from page one,
Lost in Thought
keeps readers guessing from beginning to end, and will appeal to paranormal romance fans of all ages.” – Amy Ackley, author of
Sign Language

Lost in Thought First Book of the Sententia

Cara Bertrand

t started innocently, but isn’t that always how things start? My Aunt Tessa and I were shopping at a local antique store, pretty much my favorite way to spend free time. I picked up a heavy I candlestick that looked classic, expensive, and at least a hundred years old. As I turned it over to check, I felt dizzy. I set it down, so I wouldn’t drop it, and sat on an antique bench I probably shouldn’t have. The dizziness passed, as quickly as it came, and I reached for the candlestick again.

This time I did drop it. When my fingers touched the tarnished silver, I had the oddest vision. In my mind, I saw a crying woman in an old-fashioned dress, complete with petticoats and a corset, looking down at a man in a similarly old-fashioned suit lying on the floor.

And bleeding from his temple.

I knew instantly that the man was dead and the woman, with the help of this candlestick, had killed him. I blinked and found myself right where I’d been, on the bench I shouldn’t have sat on, with the murdering candlestick dented on the floor. We bought the candlestick, and its match, and I told my aunt that I got dizzy and needed to have some lunch. By the time I’d finished my sandwich, I believed it too.

But that wasn’t the truth.

The truth was far stranger.

his really isn’t creepy at all!” I said. “It’s actually…beautiful.

And only kind of in the middle of nowhere.”

I’d seen the pictures in the brochure, of course, but T

didn’t believe it could be as nice as the glossy images made it appear. The brochures were
supposed
to make us want to come here, right? But I’d been mistaken; the reality of this place was way better in person.

It didn’t mean I’d like it, but at least it was nice to look at.

Aunt Tessa laughed. “Not all boarding schools are misty, remote places with dreary hallways and dark secrets, Lainey. You’re right though; it
is
beautiful. And right in the center of town too. There’s even a coffee shop across the street…” She trailed off as we slowed and turned through the heavy wrought iron gates of Northbrook Academy, my new home.

The campus was enormous, full of rolling green lawns dotted by clusters of trees and crisscrossed by several roads and smaller walking paths. A mixture of buildings, varied in age and size but all beautiful, interspersed the equally beautiful grounds. There were two ponds at the front of the property, to the left of the giant set of gates we’d just passed through. The main drive sloped gently up to where I could see

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athletic fields in the distance, tennis courts far to the side, and dense woods lining the many hilly acres between.

We pulled into guest parking outside the Admissions building, a small but handsome carriage-style house painted a cheerful yellow. In fact, I thought it was possible the building had
been
the carriage house in the early days of the Academy. I opened my door and was greeted with fresh, early autumn air tinged with pine and wood smoke. I stretched and turned in a circle, taking in the scenery and relaxing the tiniest fraction more. Only the most sullen teenager could fail to appreciate this place, and I was not sullen. It was a Tuesday, already several weeks into the fall semester. From the way the friendly woman at the reception desk fluttered about us, I got the impression my arrival was the most exciting thing that would happen all week.

Aunt Tessa and I were ushered into a waiting office. The reception-ist offered us tea, which we both accepted gratefully. She returned nearly instantly with a tray bearing a tea pot, two elegant porcelain mugs, silver spoons, lemon wedges, a pot of honey, and actual cubes of sugar. Wow. There was even a buttery-looking cookie on my saucer.

I stirred a drizzle of honey into my steaming mug and sipped. It was delicious and strong, just how I liked it.

Maybe I can get used to this place,
I thought. I looked around the room while we waited. It was a first floor parlor-turned-office, with wide windows, bottle-green velvet drapes, and liberally dotted with antiques of a fine quality, at least to my somewhat experienced eye. I was speculating on the age of the well-worn but polished desk—it had to be even older than the school, which opened in the 1870s—when I became aware of the discreet sniffling coming from my left.

“Oh, Auntie,” I sighed, but it was a loving sigh. My aunt, the pretty, overly-sensitive artist. This was the third time she’d cried since we left Maryland nearly ten hours ago. I wouldn’t tell her this, because I

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was always the solid one, but I understood. I’d shed my tears in the shower that morning so she wouldn’t notice.

“It’s just, I’m going to miss you Lainey, and…” She sniffled a little harder for a moment. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help but be worried about you too.”

“Not to worry, Ms. Espinosa, we intend to take very good care of your niece,” replied a new voice from behind us. A rounded, jovial-looking man with thinning hair and glasses strode into the room. I was pretty sure he would make an excellent Santa Claus at Christmas time.

“George Callahan, pleased to meet you.” He extended his hand first to Aunt Tessa and then to me, along with a momentary glance of be-musement he couldn’t quite hide. “I’ll be Miss Young’s advisor for her two years here at Northbrook, and am advisor to all of the Legacy students.”

He settled behind his desk, pulling a thick folder off the top of a neat pile. “Miss Young, we’re extremely pleased that you’ve chosen to join us and especially thrilled to have another Legacy student. I will say, confidentially of course, that even though anonymous, your Legacy is one of our most generous. We’d wondered for the longest time if it would ever be claimed, and here you are. Now, I’m sure you’d like to get settled into your room, so we’ll get through the admissions process quickly.”

Dr. Callahan opened the folder and shuffled the paper-clipped bundles, handing a stack each to my aunt and me. “Here’s the schedule we discussed on the phone, for you to review, Miss Young. Ms. Espinosa, if you’ll help me through the rest of the paperwork…”

I tuned out at that point, while Aunt Tessa completed the stack of forms that would officially enroll me in the Academy and add me to the “prestigious ranks” of Legacy students, and thought about how I went from a traveling gypsy-scholar to a remote New England boarding school student in only three days’ time. See, my aunt was an artist,

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kind of a famous one, if you’re into installation art and sculpture. She was also not really my aunt and the only mother I could remember.

She was actually my godmother.

She couldn’t have known what she was getting into when she signed up for that particular honor, and I loved her infinitely for never making me feel like anything less than her own daughter. We were used to the confused glances like the one even the good Dr. Callahan couldn’t contain when we first met people, since we looked absolutely nothing alike. I was tall and pale, with a slender build and big hazel eyes, where she was petite and tan-skinned, with dark, mysterious eyes and lush Latin curves. There was little chance we’d ever be mistaken for directly related. The only feature we had in common was a similar shade of dark brown hair, though mine was pin straight and hers beautifully wavy.

Aunt Tessa had been my mother’s best friend, like her sister really, since my mother wasn’t close to the few distant aunts, uncles, and cousins that remained of her family. My father had no family at all.

When I was little, Aunt Tessa would tell me the romantic story about how they were destined to be together, two virtually family-less kids who made one together. And I guess we were a happy family, Mom, Dad, me, and Aunt Tessa, until my parents were killed, along with ten other people, in a horrific highway accident when I was five years old.

I was already at Aunt Tessa’s when it happened, and I never left.

Both of our lives changed forever that day. Aunt Tessa went instantly from a happy but poor graduate student to a single mother of a five year old with a huge trust fund to support her. My father was, for his relatively young age especially, shockingly wealthy. Millions and millions wealthy. My aunt always told me he was just a stockbroker, and I guessed he was an incredible one. After my parents’ accident, I inherited almost everything, but for the million dollars they left personally to Aunt Tessa along with me. That brief period after my

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parents died while she finished her degree was the only time we lived in one place for longer than nine months.