Becca Fox & Martha Agundez
Copyright © 2021 By Becca Fox
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
All characters appearing in this work are fictious. Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
This book is published by KDP.
© 2021 Cover Art by Cora Graphics
© Depositphotos.com
Edited by Lucy Felthouse
Other titles by Becca Fox:
I Dare You to Love Me (The Dare Trilogy: Book One)
I Dare You to Stay With Me (The Dare Trilogy: Book Two)
In the Dark
Asta and the Barbarians
The Andromeda’s Ghost (Andromeda Chronicles: Book One)
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Thanks for reading!
For the two girls who spent countless hours
brainstorming, collaborating, and creating.
May the stories abound.
April 11th, 1718
What is time? Is it friend or foe?
I have dwelt on this question of late. I once believed time to be a friend who reminds us of all we have accomplished and all we have yet to do and enjoy. Now, however, I am not certain.
I have lived longer than I look. I was born when time was recorded differently. Long has it been since I visited my homeland.
My home no longer exists, for our people died out centuries ago. We are all that survived our culture; my Dymeka and myself. Segil and Izz still live as well, but they have all but forgotten our roots. They bear new aliases to hide their heritage, amalgamating with the passing time. Nij and Fadele only laugh at the mention of home. They have chosen to forget how truly wondrous it was and how foolishly we discarded it.
I record my thoughts now because I no longer feel safe confiding in my comrades. Dymeka understands, for he has always understood me. They all used to share my intimate opinions, but in this last decade or so, I’ve noticed a change. My friends are no longer who they used to be. When looking at them now, analyzing their speech, I find no trace of my beloved brethren anywhere. It frightens me beyond measure to think we may not last together in company another decade. In company, we chose this life. We all made the pact, swore an oath to be together for eternity. But eternity has taken a toll on all of us and I fear it will be our doom.
And so I return to the question: What is time?
Will it be the knife that cuts us all in pieces, exposing our most vulnerable parts to destruction? Our greatest desire, greatest triumph, could be our undoing. How did it come to this? After unnumbered years of wandering for pleasure, could a separation be in order? Have we truly sunken so low as to come to this?
Chapter 1
Esmeralda
I threw the door open to the men’s restroom, skidded to a halt just inside, and fell back against the closed door. Straining my ears to hear over the pounding of my heart, I bit back a smile.
“Dammit!” Randi hissed.
“Let’s just go in and get her,” Karen snapped.
“We are not getting caught in the guys’ bathroom! Let the bitch get a bad rep with Security. We’ll hang back and teach her a lesson when no one’s looking. Just keep an eye on the door for now.”
Mumbles and grunts betrayed the rest of the gang’s disappointment.
“Sorry, bitches. Not today.” I glanced at the guy standing at the urinal, giving me an incredulous look over his shoulder. “Hey. How’s it going?”
“Well, I was trying to take a piss before some girl decided to come barreling in.”
“I ain’t some girl,” I said, crossing my arms. “I’m Esmer.”
The guy scoffed. “What kind of name is that?”
“The name a couple of gypsies thought would be wicked pissah,” I said with barely suppressed annoyance.
“Wicked...what?”
“Pissah,” I repeated with a raised eyebrow. “Cool? Grand? Don’t you west coasters have a word for that?”
“Yeah. It’s cool or grand. Where are you from?” he asked, like he was pretty sure I’d been raised by wolves.
“Boston.”
The stranger sighed heavily and zipped up his pants, apparently giving up. “I guess that explains why you don’t pronounce your ‘r’s.”
I hiked up my skirt and whipped out my switchblade from its hiding place in my boot. I gestured with it as I spoke. “Listen, skater boy, I didn’t come in here and risk seeing some shit I ain’t never gonna recover from so you could tell me all the things that’re wrong with me. So how’s about we keep our opinions to ourselves until it’s safe for me to go back outside, a’ight? Maybe then I won’t give you a little scar to remember me by.”
He flushed the urinal and turned, seemingly unintimidated by my speech. “My name isn’t skater boy. It’s Charlie.”
He was shorter than I was but not by much. Despite his dark brown eyes, he was pale as those pussy vampires that were so popular years ago. He had a skateboard strapped onto his backpack (hence the nickname) and dark skater hair curling out from under his backwards ball cap. Lean, subtle muscles were outlined by a plain, V neck, long sleeved tee and skinny jeans.
Damn. It’d be a shame to carve up that pretty face...
I rolled my eyes and put my knife away. “Congrats on your perfectly average name.”
Charlie gave me the once over with a quizzical look.
“What?” I demanded.
“Nothing. Just wondering if your shirt really needs a vest.”
“Oh, so Charlie boy thinks he knows about fashion?” I scoffed. “‘Cause you know your look hasn’t been in since the early two thousands.”
He shrugged and went over to the sink to wash his hands. “I’m just trying to figure out how the ensemble works in your
