Torn

Kudos for
TORN

Torn
is a paranormal YA thriller that also nudges at the romantic suspense genre. It’s a good vs. evil with touches of forbidden young love. Our heroine, Samantha, thinks she is a normal human teenage girl—not that any teenage girl can really be called “normal.” But Sam has no reason to suspect that she is anything other than human. Her life revolves around school, her best friend and foster brother, Lucas, and her secret crush on her other foster brother, Ethan. Then her father dies and Sam discovers she is much more than she thought she was. She is supposed to fight for the light against the dark, but the dark side is so very tempting...the book is well-written, the storyline unique, and the plot strong. So whatever age you are, grab a nice cup of tea, a comfy spot on the couch, and enjoy. –
Taylor, reviewer

The storyline in
Torn
is unusual and refreshing. While it’s about the fight between good and evil—a common enough plot—the heroine is born of the dark but determined to fight for the light. She is also confused. She knows she wants to fight for good, but she is very tempted by the darkness within her. As she struggles to make her choice, the plot shifts on us and gives us more than one surprise. I was very impressed by Hughes. Her writing is quite good, her characters refreshing, and the storyline much more sophisticated than is normal for YA. I found myself riveted from the very first page. –
Regan, reviewer

TORN

Christine Hughes

A BLACK OPAL BOOKS PUBLICATION

Copyright 2012 by Christine Hughes

Cover Art by Jay Sabo

Copyright 2012 All Rights Reserved

eBook
ISBN: 978-1-937329-50-1

EXCERPT

I knew it was dangerous, but the voice was so tempting...

Samannnnnnthaaaa...

Unable to speak, I wiped the beads of sweat from my forehead and looked around. I swung my head toward the window and peered outside, searching for the source of the taunting voice. Where was he?
The sky had darkened significantly and just beyond the trees I saw a swirling shadow that seemed to pulse. The vegetation surrounding it had withered, becoming gray and lifeless as though the shadow had sucked up all of the energy. A faint hum filled the air, growing louder as the shadow pulsed faster.

Samannnnnnthaaaa...It’s time. Join us.

“Where are you?” I could barely get the words out. “What do you want from me?” This voice had plagued me for months and I wanted to know for sure it was Sebastian, yet the thought of finally knowing, finally seeing him, scared me more than the uncertainty.

The voice chuckled.
Join us and I will show you everything.

“Never,” I whispered.
“Never.
My father died protecting me. I will never come to you.”

Again, a high-pitched and foul laugh rang in my head, making it spin. Dark clouds rolled ominously overhead, the wind picked up and the dull humming became inescapable white noise.
Silly girl.
You will come to us. You will make the choice. It is your destiny.

Despite my protest, I stepped toward the window then, leaning over the sink, I reached up to unlock it. My reflection was unrecognizable in the glass. My hair was wild and my eyes were huge and black as shadows emanated from within me. Whatever was out there was reaching for me with ghostly fingers, and as I opened the window, a dark mist snaked toward the house. I closed my eyes in giddy anticipation of the unknown.

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to my amazing husband, James Hughes.
You are all my dreams..
.

PROLOGUE

March, Buenos Aires, Argentina
:

James English stepped out onto the sidewalk. A chilly, fall wind stung his lungs and rattled his tired bones. Pulling his coat tighter and tucking the box under his arm, he kept to the shadows of the poorly lit street. Although he knew that wouldn’t be enough to hide from those he could feel were still watching him. Those who wanted what he had.
Those who would kill to get it.
Those who
had
killed trying to get it.

He’d devoted his life to protecting it, guarding it, and just as those who had tried in the past, the newcomer would test his limits. Without someone to keep it from falling into their hands, everything would end. The balance would shift, and everything would tumble into chaos.

Walking the blurred lines between good and evil wasn’t an easy task. The thought shook him to his core. He hiked the box deeper into his grip and quickened his pace. A little farther and he would have time to think. He needed to think. And he couldn’t do it out here.
Exposed.

Suddenly, he stopped walking and cocked his ear to the night. He heard nothing but the whistling breeze rustling the leaves that still clung to the trees overhead. But he could have sworn he’d heard something else.
Something indistinguishable.
Something ominous.

He found me.

He began to run. But his feet couldn’t carry him fast enough. Not fast enough to get away from the one who had betrayed him.

The harsh flap of wings drew closer. This time he wouldn’t make it. He knew that, had come to terms with it the moment he discovered he’d been betrayed. His was a mission that could only end in death.
His death.
That decision was made long ago. But now it was all happening too soon.

There were so many things he had yet to do. He needed more time. More time to prepare, to train, to lay out the truth. He’d never taken the time to explain any of it to her. He feared without his guidance, she would not understand. She would not choose the path he had wanted to groom her for. It had been a hard choice for him to make and knew his headstrong daughter wouldn’t embrace such a burden so easily.

But there was nothing he could do about it now. He just hoped the plan that he had laid in place would be enough.
That
they
would be strong enough, good enough to protect her, to help her.
He had known she was special the moment he laid eyes on her seventeen years ago. And now he would never get to watch her grow and develop the strength that lay dormant inside her. He would never be able to help her escape her demons—the demons he knew would come for her, as they came for him and those that had come before.

Breathless, he veered into an alley and, dropping to his knees, slipped the box behind the nearest dumpster. He quickly muttered words that only he was privy to, words that had been passed down the line from the ones who came before him, words he had hoped to pass on to her.

But he wasn’t quick enough.

He felt another presence disturb the darkness behind him and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Despite his overcoat, a disguise meant to harbor his identity as well as block the
chill,
goose bumps now covered his body as he heard the intruder’s footfalls echo around him.

A small chuckle floated towards him.

He needed to protect the box, to hide it away from the one who was after it.

Unintelligible words frantically spewed from his lips. His whole being shook with the power he was invoking. With a flash of light, he threw his arms to the sky. Chanting the last words of his prayer, he was struck from behind with a force that no mortal could survive. He reeled forward, barely catching himself before slamming into the cold, hard pavement. His wings, broken and bloody, crumpled beside him.

Gasping, on his hands and knees, he slowly turned his head to look behind him. A glittering black sword protruded from his back. He could feel the blade pressing painfully against his heart. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his assailant finally come into view.

“Sebastian,” he whispered.

“James,” Sebastian smirked.

James should have known. Once they knew the exact location of the box, retrieving it was a task that Sebastian would handle himself.

“You had to know I would find you, James,” Sebastian said softly.

James quickly uttered a prayer for his daughter. A petition, asking,
begging,
that she would be the balance promised so many years before. He hoped it would be enough. As the sword slowly pierced his heart, James sadly realized that his incantation to send the box away may not have been successful.

The last thing James saw as the glimmer of life dimmed from his eyes was Sebastian shoving the dumpster across the alley with a mere wave of his hand. As he retrieved the box, a sadistic smile played on his face and victory sparked in his pale green eyes. James knew he had failed and that the first half of Sebastian’s mission was complete.

CHAPTER 1

September, a cabin in the woods, outside Floral City, Florida
:

Run, Sam. Don’t look back. Just run.

I repeated this mantra over and over again as I sprinted through the trees. Focused, like my life depended on it, and knowing that one day it would, I ran. Through the damp woods, past brambles that tore at my skin, hurdling over fallen logs, I ran. My breath mingled with the crisp fall air but I didn’t feel the cold. I felt nothing but the pure and relentless adrenaline that pumped through my veins. As the sun rose and cast its broken beams through the tree branches, I ran. With only a single thought—
I have to get there.

I knew he was following me. He was close. So close. But I couldn’t let him catch me.

My legs carried me over slick moss and rotting bark. I flew over downed trees, grabbing for branches to help me balance. I was fast.
Faster than before.
Faster than yesterday.
My focus was singular. The task at hand was all I could think about.
Get through, Sam.
Faster, Sam.
Jump, Sam.

I swore I could navigate those woods with my eyes closed. I could see the next obstacle that lay ahead of me, yards before it came into view. And when I concentrated hard enough, those obstacles began to disappear.

I burst into the clearing and could faintly make out his barely labored breathing behind me. He was so close I could smell him. I dug in and pumped my legs faster.
Always faster.
I knew I was going to beat him this time. I had to. I closed in on my destination. All I had to do was jump. I had to make it over the water.
Over the creek on the other side of the clearing.

Samannnnnnthaaaa...

The intrusive voice pulsed through me and drowned out the mantra in my head, breaking my rhythm, and I stumbled over a rock I was sure hadn’t been there yesterday.

Damn it
! The eerily familiar voice that had settled comfortably in my head like a squatter had the worst timing. It teased like a schoolyard bully, and I wanted to scream. But I couldn’t. I had to run. I was almost there.
Come on, Sam.
Fifty feet.
Forty feet.
Thirty feet.
Almost there.
As I braced my body for the jump over the swollen creek, he caught my ankles in mid-air and dropped me onto the muddy bank with a bone jarring tackle.

“Son of a bitch,” I growled.

I fought back, jumping up the way I was taught, fists at the ready. I caught him off guard, for the first time, with a jab to the chin and a roundhouse to the stomach. Then I did a back spring, landing well out of his reach.

I quickly regrouped. The grin on his face as he rubbed his chin told me I surprised him with that one. And now I was in trouble.

“Lucky shot, Sam. Nice kick. Too bad this one’s on me.”