Right now, all I want is to get the hell away from this store before any more craziness happens.
I shove the rope and harness into my satchel as fast as I can and head across the flat roof to the overhanging tree, hurrying to get down. When my feet kiss the ground, another hissing sound from the orb threads over my thoughts. It stops me in my tracks. Last time it did that was just before the dogs burst into the warehouse. Like it had been warning me.
And now... now I don’t want to find out what danger waits for me.
As I half-limp, half-run home through the dark, my skin crawls like I’m being watched.
Chapter Two
Aria
The sounds of dishes clanking and cabinet doors slamming wakes me. I sigh, aggravated, and roll over to find my cell on the nightstand. After a quick tap on the shattered screen, the time glares at me. Not even six in the morning yet.
“Not again,” I grumble and rub my eyes. I’d only gotten to bed three hours ago, and after the fiasco at the antique shop, exhaustion still clings to me. Murray really has to get his drinking and gambling under control. These early morning wake-up calls are getting ridiculous.
Remembering what day it is, hope flares in my chest, making me jut upright and scramble out of bed. The moment I stand, pain races up my calf and I wince, leaning back against the mattress. I’d bandaged my bite mark last night, but it still hurts like crazy. I’m lucky to have gotten away with minimal injuries after those two dogs attacked, even if I don’t feel that way right now. It could’ve ended a lot worse.
I sweep my gaze to the corner of the room where my satchel lies, the orb tucked safely inside. One dusty, old object is going to change things for me. These injuries will be worth it if the payout is huge.
I’m tired of having no money for school stuff, of the bare kitchen cabinets. Having to barter or scrounge for food will be a thing of the past, along with Murray’s addictions. I won’t have to worry about a lick of it after tonight. After selling the orb at Storm’s market and the clock hits 11:30—my exact time of birth—things are going to change for me. I just know it.
I glance at the stripped twin bed on the other side of the room where Joseline used to sleep. She’s one of the lucky ones. Like our other foster siblings, she’d gotten out of this hell hole on her eighteenth birthday and was now couch surfing at friends’ until we could meet up again.
Soon. Very soon.
The Orb of Chaos is our golden ticket to a new start. Maybe even an apartment, if I can find the right buyer and squeeze enough money out of them. And that means traveling into the secret part of Glenside, a magical subterranean the supernaturals call Storm, where most folk venture for all things mystical, powerful, and rare. Specialized crystals, fortunes told, or ways to chase off pesky spirits, Storm’s got it all.
While most of Storm is fine, the markets aren’t what you would call classy or glamourous by any means; they’re where the lowest of the low crawl and deal, a swap meet for those looking for anonymity. A quick buy or sell without the paper trail, if you know what I mean. Just follow the umbrellas and the sound of rain, and they’ll lead you to the market—hence the name.
My cell phone vibrating on the nightstand catches my attention. Peering over, I see a chat bubble pop on screen. It’s a message from Joseline.
“Today’s the day! Happy birthday!” it says.
If she knew what I did last night, she’d kill me.
That’s why I was taking the secret to the grave. Right along with my shadow. Right, Sayah?
She shifts lazily inside me, still half asleep herself. I roll my eyes.
The memory of my close call with the dogs has my heart racing again. And that hissing sound...
I shiver. Just another reason to get to Storm and sell this thing.
More crashes from down the hall and hurried whispers. A desperate shout.
Uneasiness wiggles up my spine. This doesn't sound like one of Murray's typical drunk endeavours. Something else is going on.
Pushing away from the bed, I quickly dress in skinny jeans and a black sweater, then step into plain sneakers. Believe it or not, Joseline’s need to hound me for my clothing choices is something I'm looking forward to again. Too dark, she’d always say, since pretty much everything I own is black. With my dark hair and eyes, it helps me blend in, which comes in handy when you’ve got a sketchy record and an unheard of, freakish gift. It suits me just fine.
I make sure to grab my satchel before heading out towards all the ruckus, not trusting it being left behind even for a second.
As expected, Murray is there in our small dining area, but to my surprise, he’s not alone. A stranger in a hooded cloak has him pinned against the wall. The stranger looms over him, growling menacingly. The kitchen table has been flipped over, and there’s a new hole in the wall near my foster father’s head.
Fear churns in my gut. When the stranger’s head whips my way, the first thing I see is his shockingly pale eyes.
“Beewwaarreee!” a scratchy voice hisses in my head, making goosebumps rise. I twist around, swearing someone has leaned in behind me.
“That’s—that's her,” Murray stammers and nods my way. His short gray hair is messed up, and a purple bruise paints the skin under his eye. “She’s the one I told you about.”
My gaze flicks between Murray and the man, and I clutch my satchel closer. Is he here because of the orb? Had I slipped up again last night and there’d been cameras?
Moving away from Murray, the man’s back straightens. He pulls his hood down to reveal long white hair and translucent skin. Obviously not human, but what kind of supe exactly, I’m not sure. His nostrils flare as he inhales deeply, as if taking in my scent, and I instantly remember my wounded calf from last night.
Shit.
On cue, his pupils dilate with hunger. My pulse thunders.
“Ssmmeeellllsss bbllooooodddd,” the voice whispers in my ears again.
The hell? I seem to be the only one who can hear the voice. No one else reacts to it.
The terrifying stranger stalks over to me, towering over me, his shoulders broad and every inch of him intimidating. But instead of seizing my satchel, he grabs me roughly by the arm. I try to yank myself free, but his hold is iron tight.
“Let go!” I shout, staring up at him. “Let me go!”
Ignoring me, he begins to tug me toward the door, his strength overpowering mine by a mile. I lock my knees to slow him down, but it does nothing. He’s a mountain, and I’m a pebble.
“You better hope the Lords approve of the trade, warlock, or I will be back for your soul,” the man calls over his shoulder at Murray.
By now, my heartbeat is a thundering echo in my ears. Lords? Trade? “What’s going on?”
Desperate, I look at Murray for help.
His gaze is full of regret, but fear locks him in place.
“M-Murray?” I stammer.
“Beettrraayyeed,” the terrifying gravelly voice scrapes across my mind.
Panicked, I do everything I can to loosen the stranger’s grip on me. I punch his arm and thrash with everything I have, but that only has him glaring at me with the promise of death.
“I’m so sorry, Aria,” Murray murmurs from behind me, his voice choking. “I didn’t have any other choice.”