Ethereal: An Illumine Series Novella (The Illumine Series)

ETHEREAL

| AN ILLUMINE SERIES NOVELLA |

ALIVIA ANDERS

Also by Alivia Anders

The Illumine Series

ILLUMINE

OBUMBRATE

RIVEN

ETHEREAL

Black Symphony ebook novellas

AN ICE PRINCESS HEART (2013)

AN ICE PRINCESS KISS (2013)

AN ICE PRINCESS SYMPHONY (2013)

AN ICE PRINCESS DREAM (2013)

The Black Symphony Saga

A SHARD OF ICE (APRIL 2014)

A BRUSH OF FIRE (JANAURY 2015)

A BREATH OF LIFE (DECEMBER 2015)

Stand Alone Novels

UNWANTED (JULY 2013)

PROJECT HALIELLE (2014)

BLACK CROWNS (2015)

Please respect the hard work of this author. If you have downloaded this from a third party or file sharing website, please delete it and purchase a licensed copy available at all major ebook outlets.

For the Illumine fans,

Thank you for the continued support!

CHAPTER ONE

PAPER HEARTS

“I hope you’re ready to dance, pretty girl, because I’d hate to have to cut off your face.”

As a child, Rinae learned the hard way of what happens when sharp silver blades met fresh, peachy flesh. Some times it was the skimming of a fingertip while chopping tomatoes for dinner. Other times, the cut was more sinister.

This time was no different; posed between two high-brick walls to a pair of neighboring brownstones, Rinae was backed into a corner. Literally. Rinae swore, light and high-pitched under her breath. Of course, the one time she decided to cut corners and take a shortcut to get home, not only did she get lost, but now she was held at knife point by a pack of teenage brats.

Groups of three,
Jake would repeat to her and the rest of the crew,
that’s the way to be. Take an alley alone, you’ll wish you owned a phone.

Dammit. Jake was going to kick her ass when she got home. Word traveled fast among the underground kids, especially when it came to a fight.

And right now it wasn’t looking good; Rinae was clearly outnumbered three to one. The skinniest of the bunch led the group, his pale skin clinging to his bones as if he hadn’t seen a cheeseburger except on billboards. Ragged, torn and faded clothing hung off his body in waves, a mixture of reds and blacks and browns piled in mis-matched layers. In all honesty, he looked like an emaciated, former anorexic model for some tragic French magazine featuring sad clowns and way too much Photoshop. The other two that lingered behind him blended into the background, both sharing equally bored expressions, as if picking some chick’s pocket wasn’t worth getting out of bed for.

Rinae barely paid attention to the two shmucks loafing in the back. The leader was the immediate threat; he was the only one showing a visible weapon, a switchblade with a chipped red handle, wear and tear dulling the finish where the kid’s hand gripped. As pathetic as it was, the knife was still a danger, and if she didn’t fast, she knew the end would be with the knife stuck in someone’s chest.

The boy flicked his wrist, twisting and flashing the blade. He was taunting her, maybe in some vague hope she’d give up any spare cash on her.

Licking her lips, Rinae juggled two options in her head. One, kick the crap out of all three of them, maybe snatch the blade and cut them up for a little life lesson. Or two, play pacifist and charm her way out. After all, those glittering green eyes of hers weren’t just there for show.

Flashing her fingerless, red gloved hands outward, she pulled a small and shy smile onto her face. “Come on now,” she baited in a light, breathless voice. “You wouldn’t hurt a little girl, would you?”

Hesitation, dark and confusing, flickered in his eyes as he blinked. It vanished as fast as it came, replaced by a deep burn of resentment that matched his brooding sneer. “I won’t ask again, sweetheart. You going to hand over the bills, or are we going to have to take a trip down memory lane?”

The tip of his knife pointed like a red laser to the faded scars that covered her sleeveless arms from wrist to shoulder. But instead of wincing at the stab to her past, Rinae caught herself laughing.

“You really think that’s how this is going to go?” She smirked, taunting her assailant with her calm and relaxed pose. She rocked on the back of her heels, dropping her shoulders by a fraction. Sure, the blade should have scared her, it was a knife after all. But where blades and fists intimidated other chicks in the city, Rinae thrived on the chance to kick the weapon wielder’s ass seven ways into next Wednesday.

Snapping her fingers, she pushed forward, biting back an audible laugh as the boy’s frame jerked. “Tell you what, I’m feeling on the generous end of things today, so I’ll give you a chance to witness an act of heavenly grace.” Her fingers combed through her hair recklessly. “You can pretend to be all macho for your little rat-pack back there, and I’ll break both your arm. Or, you can leave.”

The boy let out a small, cut-off nervous laugh. Glancing over his shoulder, both of his goonies stood there, dumbfounded. Finally one of them shrugged, unsure of what to do. “Not happening, princess,” he said, snapping his attention back to face Rinae. Blade out, he leapt for her, swishing the silver as if it were a metallic wand instead of a knife. Wizards everywhere would have been so disappointed.

She stepped aside and landed a kick to his ribs, swift and quick. His arms flung up into the air, blade slipping from his grasp as he smacked with a winded jolt into the brick wall. The blade sailed above their heads, landing with a muted
thud
on a pile of trash far behind both of them.

Making sure neither of his two companions dared make a move, Rinae straddled the thin, crumpled mess of a boy, grabbing one of his arms and giving it a twist. Higher she pulled it along his back, bending the limb until he cried out for mercy. It was almost too easy.

“What in the hell are you?” He screamed, writhing beneath her. Agony contorted his face, scrunching it like an abused lemon. “You’re some kind of freak! No normal person moves that fast!”

A flash of something dark crossed Rinae’s face, vanishing as quickly as it came. Only did the subtle, slight lock of her jaw give hint that his words cut her past the surface. Twisting the arm a little harder, she waited for the familiar
pop!
of his shoulder socket before answering. “I am none of your goddamned business. But next time, if you choose to see me, and think for a second you might actually win in a fight, I’d re-think things through.” Her lips brushed his sweat-drenched temples. Then, she twisted his arm harder, locking it behind his back in a way that screamed for an ER. Over his scream, she added, “Or, remember what this felt like.”

________________

New York City. Home of the stars, birthplace of endless careers, some fizzling before it could make a bang, others exploding before it could build enough fizz. It may have been known for all the glamour and glitz you could dream of, but like any shiny object, a thin film of grime coated the lower half obscured from view, patiently waiting for the right time to reappear.

From high priced handbags and Russians draped in hideous fur coats, to abandoned homes and garbage cans blazing with fire to keep the homeless warm, Rinae had seen it all. Living around every block tended to do that to you; you got a healthy dose of seeing stuck up rich kids whine over not owning the newest smartphone, when five blocks over two grown adults bickered over leftovers sitting on a bench for lunch. The city liked to pride itself on being
in-the-now
or whatever the hell that really meant.

What it wasn’t known for was the backwater crime, and the strife that came with it. Not since the days of mafias and classy gangsters in suits with cigars. Which, when Rinae thought about it, was a shame. Today’s day and age really could use a few classy villains to shake this city up. After all, the closest they had was her, and probably a couple dozen other kids that caused an inch of mayhem among the city’s streets and alleyways.

Case and point? Rinae’s almost-attack. Taking any street corner off the main roads were dangerous anymore, group or no group. Kids these days had some insane notion that if they owned a knife, they were the next big thug to rule the streets. Laughing to herself as she crossed a few narrow alleyways, Rinae subtly shook her head. Nine times out of ten, the boys who claimed to be super-punks were as wimpy as newborns.

Keeping her head down as she entered a less than savory spot of town, Rinae tugged the hood of her worn maroon hoodie up over her head. She made sure to tuck away her flaming, chest-length red hair that always seemed to garner more attention than she’d like. As if being a red-head painted some kind of bullseye on your back. Her arm lightly brushed a dumpster bruised with grime and gunk, Rinae swiftly turning a corner and hurrying down a thin ribbon of road before coming to a crumbling, exhausted pile of rock.

She flicked her head left and right before taking a moment to pause, like always, and drink in the sight before her. The house, or what was left of a house, probably had been something spectacular in its time. Judging by the clusters of mustard yellow brick and dusty red rose bands of steel, it had been some time since the building had last seen any real life. Drops of glass, scattered among the rubble, littered where windows once stood, tall and intimidating. The whole neighborhood around her was this way; forgotten, used and abused and left to rot in some distant memory. The thought alone was enough to twist her hands into fists.

A moment passed, and she slipped into the crumbling mass. Past splintered chunks of a door, around a swath of dingy blue fabric frayed beyond repair, Rinae pushed aside a small pile of trash and rock, revealing a small door in the floor. Round, and made of random metal parts welded into one, she nervously looked around before pounding twice, flipping the door open and descending inside, pulling it shut behind her.

Makeshift steps, what were really planks of wood jutting out of the ground, led Rinae down a short, tight spiral that opened to a large, theatre deep room. The theatre wasn’t so much a theatre as it was a messy heap of red fabric, loose plush chairs swiped from abandoned buildings, and rotting wooden floorboards to serve as a floor. It was old, ruined, and revolting. It was home, as close to a home Rinae had in over seven years.

Swinging her way into the room, she slipped the hood off her head and gave her hair a good shake. With each step into her home, she made it a point to unwind and shake off everything that had happened for the day.

“You’re some kind of freak! No normal person moves that fast!”

Starting with that punk’s stupid words. Grumbling, Rinae kicked at the ground, spinning around on her heels. Maybe if she went back and re-did the kid’s face, she’d feel better.

“Yo, Slayer, back so soon?”

Rinae froze for a second, cringing. Of course she was here, she never left the damn nest. Turning around slowly, Rinae made sure to put on her best smile to hide the boiling rage rolling under her skin.

Sitting in one of the moth-eaten recliners clustered to the left of the room, a bubblegum pink-haired teen waved. She was decorated in as many piercings as she had tattoos and ugly colored scars, bits of chain dangling from several studs linked in her ears and neck. One hand lingered on her swollen, pregnant stomach, gently moving up and down in soothing waves.

“Delphine,” Rinae said, nodding. She came closer, resting her arms on the head of a nearby recliner. It was then she noticed two other boys, far younger than the pink-haired teen, sitting with her. They tilted their heads up, grinning at the sight of Rinae. “Loyal and Carson? Don’t you two brats have school?”

At that, the boys both scowled. Loyal, sporting a mess of short and spiky black hair, glittering amber eyes, and dark olive skin, looked no more than twelve. In reality, he was older than Rinae, and had long since graduated from one of the local public schools by the skin of his teeth.

The second boy, Carson, was purely Loyal’s opposite. Shaggy, long sandy blonde hair, and dark brown eyes that swallowed the soul, he was every part a surfer boy, minus the actual surfing board. He claimed to Rinae once that he had, in fact, lived in California, right up until his mother blew her brains out in front of him with a revolver.

Carson blew away the bangs hiding most of his face, sneering. “Funny, last time I checked, aren’t you still somewhere around 14?”

“Still beats you, little 12-year-old.”

“Age is just a number.”

“Tell that to your 25-year-old cougar of a girlfriend.”

Carson rose to his feet, surging for Rinae. Delphine flung a hand out, wrapping her thin fingers around the boy’s wrist. “Carson Daniel, you will not fight in my house, understand?”

He stared at her hand, lips pulled back as if he dared speak out to her. After a second of silence, he shrugged off her grasp, stomping off for the exit and cussing under his breath. Rinae snickered in surprise.

“I don’t think so,” Delphine chastised, glaring at the wild red-head. “You need to lay off him, Rinae.”

Shrugging, she dropped into an offensive looking yellow recliner that had clearly missed its time of death in the 70‘s, seated next to the pregnant teen. Teasing Carson was probably the only socialization she’d had with her faux-brother for months now. Most of the group had blackballed him for his relationship with a local kindergarten teacher. Aside from Delphine, Rinae and Loyal were the only two who still tried to keep him in the loop. Part of her was afraid he’d leave, and make her the youngest of the bunch again. Part of her was afraid he’d have his heart broken by the older woman.

As soon as the beginning twinges of emotion tickled her throat, she shut it off. Pulling a small roll of bills, Rinae passed it over to Delphine. “For the jar,” was all she said.

Delphine and Loyal both stared at the wad, quickly counting up the amount. “Slayer, how’d you manage to work out a couple hundred dollars?”

Again, she shrugged. “I’ve been working a few oddball jobs here and there, figured it couldn’t hurt.”
That, and it gave me an excuse to blow off school for the library.

Handing back the bills, Delphine tipped her lips up in a small smile. “You didn’t have to, but thank you. You should put it in the jar. Make sure to tell Jake, too.”

Rinae started to shake her head, but Delphine made sure to stare her down until she nodded, taking the small roll and tucking it in her pocket. Rising, she nodded to both of them, getting only two steps from them when she heard a sharp cry.

Looking over her shoulder, she watched Delphine clutch her stomach, face contorted in a mix of agony and horror. Loyal was on his feet, standing over her and holding onto her shoulders as she gasped in pain. Tears ran down her face, running the finely smudged mascara lining her deep baby blues. For a moment, they all stood still, frozen in place by the sounds of her cries. She knew better by now to even try and suggest the hospital.

She turned back to face forward, weaving through the fine maze of candy wrappers and discarded soda cans. Behind her, the cries had dulled down to faint moans, but it did nothing to dim the shaking sensation in her chest, or the stinging in her eyes. She bit her lower lip, moving faster. A quick task list danced in her head; jar, cash, club.