King 03 - Restless
Printed in the United States of America
Copyright © 2012 Tawdra T. Kandle
ISBN-13: 978-1477619940
ISBN-10: 1477619941
All rights reserved.
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
To Mandie
Because you believe in me without fail…
Coerce me into learning new things…
And always, always tell me the truth…
Even when I might not want to hear it.
This book is dedicated to you
With much love and gratitude.
Like parents, authors are not supposed to have favorites when it comes to their books. But I will admit that
Restless
holds a very special place in my heart. It was birthed in a different way from the other books in this series, and thus the influences on its creation were also new.
Thanks to the people who have no idea how much they have inspired me: Joss Whedon, who created a supernatural world that never felt fake and showed me that it was possible to write realistic, well-rounded young adults without descending into clichés; Train, FM Radio, Lifehouse, Stars Go Dim, The Kin, Neon Trees, Mat Kearney, Brandi Carlisle and Ha-Ash who gave me the music that had a huge influence on this part of Tasmyn’s story. You make me laugh, cry and sing.
As always, I thank all the writers at A Writer’s Block for their encouragement and support.
I am grateful for the friendship, advice and… other wonderful things from the IC. It has been a true pleasure to be a part of this group. Thank you for your warm welcome and your humor. You all rock!
My Florida friends are my cheering section. For all of you who ask me about the books, who show up at signings and other fun stuff, who listen patiently while I rant—thank you. I am particularly grateful to Sonya, Lee, Sharon, Heather, Angela and Michelle.
My dear friend Stacey plans parties and signings without blinking, re-posts all of my PR stuff, always has the best ideas for creative prizes and decorations and generally keeps me sane. A million thank yous and a great big bottle of wine to you!
I am grateful beyond measure to everyone who made my recent tour successful and so much fun, especially Aunt Terry, Uncle John, Amanda, Matt, Jan, Chris, Gail, the staff at McCowan Memorial Library, the drama students at SNJAPA and my very own groupies, Kevin and Claire. I can’t wait to see you all on the next go round!
A humongous thank you to all the bloggers and reviewers who continue to support
The King Series
and me. You never fail to amaze me.
Another hug and universe-sized thanks to Elizabeth Sharp and Julie Titus, who make my books look good. I couldn’t do this without you. You are talented and patient, and I love you both!
Christine Powell Gomez and Stephanie Nelson, you came to my rescue and created the beautiful cover for this book on very short notice. My appreciation and gratitude know no bounds! I am deeply in your debt.
The release of this book coincides with my twenty-fifth wedding anniversary… which means that my wonderful husband Clint has put up with me for that long. I love you, up to the sky and far, far beyond. Thank you for the best quarter-century any girl could want—let’s shoot for another twenty-five.
To my children, Devyn, Greg, Haley, Catie, David… thank you for putting up with the craziness that is me. I love you dearly.
Robyn, Chris, Sean and Kaden, thanks for your love and support and for hosting us in May. Kelly and the family Kingett, thank you for entertaining family dinners and for your encouragement—and for living in the perfect spot for stopovers. I love you all!!
An extra-special thank you to my talented daughter Catie, who edits, provides feedback, takes author photos, picks up the slack in the house so that I can write and promote and gives me suggestions for new books to write! I love you so much, sweetie. I don’t have any earthly clue what I would do without you.
When I was eight years old, my parents took me to a magic show. I remember it very clearly, because it was so unusual for us to do something like that. I think it was a sort of bribe; we had just moved again, the third time in two years, and I was feeling very lonely. We were living in Virginia, in a suburb of Washington, D.C., and the show was at a local theater.
Within a few minutes, I was thoroughly bored. The magician was plodding and methodical, and he thought through each trick as he did it… which meant that I knew very easily how it was accomplished. I could hear him plan his moves, and I watched his hands, saw the cards slip deftly between his fingers.
About midway through the show, the magician announced that he needed a volunteer from the audience for his next trick. Immediately a ripple ran through the crowd, as people murmured in anticipation. The magician cast his eyes over all of us, and although I had dropped my gaze to the ground, I knew the moment he had decided to choose me.
Cute kid. The audience will eat her up.
Alarmed, I looked over at my smiling parents as the magician’s assistant appeared next to me and took me by the hand. I tried to protest, dragging my feet, but somehow I found myself on the stage, blinking in the bright lights.
“So, little lady.” The magician looked me up and down. I felt the sense of resignation and boredom beneath the thin veneer of jollity. He wasn’t having any more fun than I was. I managed a weak smile.
“Would you like to tell everyone your name?” The assistant held a microphone below my chin and suddenly I could hear my own breath, echoing around the theatre.
“Tasmyn,” I answered, and my voice sounded thin and high.
“That’s a very unique name. Are you a unique little girl?” He smirked at me.
You have no idea
, I thought.
“Okay, let’s do some magic, shall we?” The magician rubbed his hands together. “Can you guess what sort of prestidigitation we’re going to perform next?”
It was a rhetorical question, but I didn’t hear that. Instead I listened carefully to what he was thinking.
“Yes! You’re going to make me hold a bunch of little sponge ducks, and then they’ll jump from one hand to the other, and then they’ll all disappear.”
Surprise flickered across the magician’s face, but he covered it with a laugh. “Oh, so you’ve seen this show before, haven’t you? Hear that, folks? Seems like I have a real live groupie here, a big fan!”
I shook my head, but he ignored me. I could hear him running through his repertoire of volunteer-involving tricks, trying to decide which one he should use now.
In the end, he performed a simple sleight of hand card trick that I very nearly ruined by hearing each step before he did it.
After the show, as my wary parents tried to hustle me out of the theatre, the magician stopped us.
“That was quite a trick you performed up there, little lady. How many times have you seen this show?”
