Eternal Beloved
Bella Abbott
Copyright ©2020 Bella Abbott
All rights reserved
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Prologue
Pain shot up my arms as the rope that encircled my wrists bit into my skin. I struggled against the bindings, straining with all my energy, but it was no good. I blinked away tears of frustration and fear. Terror threatened to choke me. My gaze settled on the moon, blood red in the midnight sky, barely visible through dark clouds. I tried to twist my head to the side to get a glimpse of where I was, but I couldn’t seem to move it.
I was utterly helpless and alone. What was this place, and how had I gotten here? I tried to calm my racing thoughts. Concentrate. What can you feel? I was lying on a hard surface. Stone, it had to be. But why would I be lashed to…a table? Some kind of altar? And what was I wearing? A long gown of some sort…white satin…a wedding dress?
Thunder rumbled in the distance. A cold wind stirred my hair, and I gritted my teeth and tried again to work my hands free of the tethers. My right wrist loosened just a hair, not much, but enough to give me hope. I redoubled my efforts, and then stopped when I heard the shuffle of feet nearby.
A shadow fell across my face, and I squinted into the gloom at a dark silhouette. The figure regarded me with smoldering eyes, glowing embers that froze the breath in my throat. I tried to speak, to demand answers to the questions that flooded my mind, but all I managed was a hoarse rasp.
The figure moved away and a ghostly white hand emerged from its robe, clutching something. I strained to make it out. A small cry escaped my throat when I saw the glint of an obsidian blade, both sides chipped to a razor edge, the point an evil spike that seemed to glow from within with a dark energy.
I tried again to speak, to beg, to demand something, anything; but then the blade slowly rose over my chest. I closed my eyes, tears streaming down my cheeks. I didn’t need to hear the hiss of the figure’s voice to understand the message.
“Tonight you die.”
Chapter 1
I jolted awake. My body was covered in sweat, and my black concert T-shirt was clinging to me like a second skin. My hand automatically flew to the birthmark on my neck that always burned following the dream. I looked around, disoriented, and the nightmare’s intensity faded as I took in my surroundings. Rows of seats stretched forward along a narrow aisle, and the floor was vibrating beneath my feet. I blinked away my grogginess as I remembered that I was on a bus to Maine – and the boarding school I’d be attending as the first step in I hoped would be a new life.
I groaned and shifted in my seat. Nightmares had been a regular ordeal for as long as I could remember. This was a persistent one that had taken on a kind of familiarity with time. It rarely varied. Sometimes I got more or less detail, and it didn’t always end in the same place, but it always resulted in me waking with my guts in a knot.
The bus bounced again and I looked through the window at the landscape rushing by. Very much like Pennsylvania and the small town where I’d grown up – verdant, green, lush, the colors so vivid they seemed painted.
I sighed. It had been a minor miracle I’d finally broken free of the place, and I again silently thanked my stepmom for first putting the brochure into my hand. Ridley Academy’s acceptance of me with a full academic scholarship had been a gift from heaven, and I planned to make the most of it and never look back.
My eyes drifted to my scuffed Doc Martens then up my stovepipe black jeans before settling on my purse. I removed a brush and pulled it through my auburn hair, careful to ensure the left side covered my birthmark – not exactly my best feature, but I’d gotten pretty good at concealing it with careful styling. I inspected my reflection on my cell phone screen and checked the time. The final leg of a five-hundred-mile bus trip that had begun that morning would have me at the school campus in a little less than two more hours.
I was dreading one part of my arrival. Meeting a host of new people and having to socialize, at least enough so nobody thought I was too weird, was going to be stressful. Sure, I could hide a blotch on my neck behind some hair, and nobody could tell by looking at me that I felt uncomfortable in crowds, but I sucked at small talk. You can’t win, with small talk – if you say the wrong thing, people judge you; but then if you say nothing at all, they judge you for that. As for saying the right thing? It obviously came easy to some people, but I wasn’t one of them. The thought of trying to fit in with a group I’d have nothing in common with made my stomach churn. Classes I figured I could handle just fine. Roommates? Ugh.
Lavender and cobalt streaked the darkening sky by the time the bus arrived at Ridley. It rolled to a stop at the station, which was barely larger than a convenience store. I shouldered my backpack and hopped down the stairs and watched as an ancient baggage handler
