Hell Yeah!: Until There Was You (Kindle Worlds Novella) Read online

  Ciana Stone

  Until There Was You

  A book in Sable Hunter’s

  Hell Yeah Kindle World’s Series

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  Dedication

  For my honey, who always stands by me,

  encouraging me to live my dreams.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  About the Author

  More Books in the Hell Yeah World by these amazing authors

  Chapter One

  Lola’s eyes were glued to the image on her computer screen, her fingers stroking faster and faster at the approach of a climax. In her mind, it was not her hands that urged her toward release, but those of the man on the screen.

  Come for me, baby, he crooned. Show me how much you want me. Come for me. Now.

  With a shudder that wracked her whole body, she did, cupping her sex.

  She fell back into her chair, letting the sensations subside. No sooner had it waned than familiar loathing took hold. Masturbating to an image on a computer, she thought scornfully.

  Kind of the story of her life. No real passion. She was not yet thirty and already her love life had gone the way of the dinosaur. Extinct. The only physical satisfaction she achieved these days was whatever she could give herself, and that was getting old.

  Not only was her love life a desert of massive proportions, it was starting to affect her work. She’d landed a nice account, developing ads for a start-up cosmetic company, and for the last three days had deleted every attempt she’d made on the new campaign.

  Maybe a fresh pot of coffee would jump start her creativity. She rose and walked out of her office.

  And into another world.

  In the space of a breath, her heart was beating like a jackhammer. She’d broken out in a cold sweat and her eyes darted around in fear as she took in her surroundings.

  This can’t be real.

  Through an opened doorway of stone, she could see a wide parapet. Beyond laid a land from a dream. Dissipating fingers of fog snaked over the landscape as rays from the sun broke through the clouds, sending shafts of brilliant light to illuminate the rolling waves of the dark sea and the lush landscape that met its rocky shore.

  Fear claimed control, grew like a sponge filling with water and consumed her. What surrounded her was an image from a dream, a place she’d painted many times over, a place that had originated in her imagination. It could not be real.

  Which left only one alternative.

  “Oh god, oh god,” she whimpered. “I’m dead.”

  “Hardly,” a female voice answered from within the room behind her.

  Lola whirled around and gasped. The face of the woman seated on the divan was almost as familiar to her as her own. She’d been painting and drawing it for years. Black hair that gleamed with highlights of blue like a raven’s wing cascaded in a tumble of curls across her graceful shoulders, haloing a face that would have done far more than launch a thousand ships. It was the face of true beauty, housing eyes that were not a defined color, but seemed to change depending upon the surroundings and the light. Her skin was the color of dark honey, giving evidence to her mixed race.

  “Oh shit, I’ve gone over the edge, haven’t I?”

  The woman laughed—a husky yet musical sound that seemed to hang in the air like dancing notes from a plucked string. “Hardly, my dear,” she said as she stood and moved across the room to Lola, appearing more to glide than walk.

  That was the only way Lola could describe the woman’s movements. Smooth and sensual, her body seemed to float forward, her unusual eyes holding Lola pinned in place like a bug on a specimen board.

  “Have no fear, Lola.” The woman took Lola’s hand. “You are perfectly safe. And yes, this is all quite real. Come, let us sit.”

  Lola let the woman lead her to the old-fashioned divan. “How did I get here? Who are you?”

  “Why, I brought you here, dear. And I am Eulalia Fanchon.”

  “Who?” Lola still wasn’t convinced it was real. “Yoo-LAY-lee-uh Fahn-shon? What kind of name is that? How did I get here?” People didn’t just spontaneously vanish from their homes and appear somewhere else. “And just exactly where is this place, anyway?”

  “This”—the woman gestured with one graceful hand—“is my home. It lies on the other side of the veil.”

  Lola gaped like a fish out of water, her mouth opening and closing but no words emerging. It was…incomprehensible.

  “Yes, it can be a bit much to assimilate in the first moments,” Eulalia agreed and patted Lola’s hand. “Whilst you gather yourself, let me explain.

  “There was a time when humanity was in its childhood. It was a time of innocence, when man and beast lived as one with the earth. It was the time of my people, the Ancient Folk. It was a time of peace and plenty.

  “But time saw change to our world. The one god came to drive out the many false gods. It was a tumultuous time for man. To assist and guide man’s evolution, there was created a secret society, la communauté des femmes de la lumière intérieure, the Community of the Sisterhood of the Inner Light. This society of women acted as hunters and protectors, finding people destined to play pivotal roles in history who were in peril and ensuring they did not fall to the dangers that threatened them.

  “These women dedicated and risked their lives to assist me in a quest to guide mankind’s destiny, preserving life that would have a positive and vast effect upon humanity.

  “My people were endowed with abilities that humans of your time would consider supernatural. Such as my ability to sense someone in great peril. Someone who is destined to change this world for the better.

  “It is that ability I used for centuries, with the help of what became known as my beloved Sisterhood.”

  “Hold on,” Lola said. “Excuse me if this sounds…rude, but do you seriously expect me to believe that you’re some…some magical creature thousands of years old and that this…this fairytale you’re reciting is real? Look, I know I’m not a rocket scientist or anything, and yes, I do tend to live in a fantasy world at times and yes, I was raised by practitioners of magic, but even so, why should I believe you?”

  Eulalia smiled and patted her hand again. “Good, girl, very good. I would have little respect for you if you did not question.”

  “Well, thank you,” Lola replied. “And by the way…Sisterhood? Not exactly catchy.”

  Eulalia chuckled. “Scoff if you will. My Sisters were women of honor. Women who wore the title proudly as they undertook their missions to protect those put in their charge.”

  Lola nodded. “Look, I’m really not making fun of you but…well…it all sounds fabulous. Like some fairytale come to life. The problem is I kind of lost my belief in fairytales a while ago. So what’s the real scoop?”

  Eulalia clasped Lola’s hand in both of hers. “Look into my eyes and see for yourself.”

  Lola did, and suddenly she was sucked into a vortex of spinning images and sounds. She saw history play out before her
eyes, moving steadily backward. Her mind swam with the enormity of it. It was too much to comprehend. She struggled to take it all in, but was overwhelmed and blackness claimed her.

  When she woke, she was reclining on the divan, Eulalia still holding her hand. She blinked several times and pushed herself into a sitting position. Her mind was still in a whirl from all she’d seen. But inside her was a certainty that what she’d witnessed was real.

  “Oh!” She looked at Eulalia in awe and a bit of fear. “Oh my.”

  Eulalia laughed that musical sound again and it was like a balm, soothing Lola’s fears. “Yes, it is rather overwhelming. You will soon assimilate it and it will be as if it was always a part of you, which indeed it always has been. Humans have simply lost the ability to tap into their genetic memory.”

  “But…I still don’t understand. If you’ve been awakened to rebuild your—army, then why am I here? I’m no hunter. I can’t even find my car keys most of the time, much less someone in need of saving. And when it comes to battling dark forces or danger…well, I have to tell you, I’m a bit of a chicken. Heck, I’m still a little scared of bugs.”

  “Oh my dear child.” Eulalia laughed. “You have abilities far beyond what you imagine. Lie to yourself if you must, but please, not to me. You know you are far beyond ordinary, despite your current social and professional status. The ability you possess is maturing. I will help you to understand it. And more importantly, to not fear it but embrace it and discover the importance of it in your life. And while you do so, you will help to save someone who will prove to be quite important to the world.”

  Lola shook her head. “It’s not that I don’t want to help. I just… Well, it’s… See, my life is—”

  “A mess?” Eulalia asked.

  “To put it mildly,” Lola answered. “I’m not very good at the dating game, and the only power I seem to have is to create marginally good images that pay my rent. And then there’s my—”

  “Do not say it,” Eulalia interrupted. “Your ability is not an affliction. It is a gift.”

  Lola laughed scornfully. “Some gift. So far the only thing it’s netted me is trouble.”

  “My dear, that is so far from the truth, it is laughable,” Eulalia replied. “And I can show you. All I need is for you to agree. Join with me. Become one of my Sisters. Release the power within and together we will help to ensure that man is not denied his potential destiny.”

  Lola got up, crossing her arms tightly over her chest and walked to the opened door leading out onto the parapet. She went to the stone rail and stood there a long time, watching the waves pound the shore, birds dart and swoop over its surface. As the minutes ticked by, something grew inside her. A need. To belong. To have her life count for something. To understand what had caused her gift.

  She realized that what Eulalia offered was like a dream. To be handed the chance to make a real difference, to live a life of purpose.

  Suddenly she turned and reentered the castle. “Yes.” She felt her chest swell with new conviction. “I’ll join you. What do I have to do?”

  Eulalia smiled and extended her hand. “Come, then. We have much to do.”

  Chapter Two

  My father was a man of his word. He promised that my twelfth birthday would change my life.

  It did.

  That was the day my father died.

  Morgan pushed back from the keyboard, staring at the words he’d just written. Where had that come from? Then his eyes fell on the desk calendar. Today was his father’s birthday. Birthdays of any kind were bittersweet in his world, but his father’s birthday always served to remind Morgan of his own. He’d never figured out why.

  A feeling of oppressiveness pervaded the room, pressing on him with a near tangible force. He grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and hurried outside.

  Cold autumn air ruffled his dark hair and crept into the open neck of his shirt, prompting him to pull his fleece jacket tighter around him. Trees that were bare of all but a few stubborn leaves rustled in the wind, the less tenacious losing their battle and riding the air in a spinning ballet. Overhead, the sky was the color of steel, the heavy dark clouds threatening rain.

  Morgan’s eyes moved over the scenery but his mind was blind to his surroundings. Pulled back in time, he was once again twelve years old.

  “Where are we going?” Morgan scrambled around the rear of the pickup to the passenger door. “How come Mom’s not coming?”

  “You’ll see.” His father smiled over the bed of the truck as he pulled open the door.

  “Dad, come on!” The three words drew out long enough to occupy space enough for several more.

  Morgan’s father, Tom, laughed and climbed into the truck. He put the key into the ignition but paused to slap Morgan’s knee, the affectionate gesture obvious by the additional pat and slight squeeze.

  “All I can tell you is that today your life will change forever.”

  Morgan couldn’t imagine what his father had planned. What would change his life forever? Tickets to the Super Bowl? A seat on a NASA mission? With each new question, a scenario played out in his mind. He saw himself as a famous photographer, a rock star, an astronaut, an actor, an athlete, and a rodeo cowboy. Morgan was so caught up on his fantasies that he was unprepared for the sudden deceleration of the pickup.

  Tom’s leg straightened out in a rigid line, the brake pedal pressed against the floorboard. He threw his right arm out in front of Morgan to prevent him from slamming intothe dashboard.

  Tires screamed and churned noxious smoke, brakes squealed in protest, adding their own burned vapors to the charged air.

  Morgan was snatched back from his daydreams and turned his eyes to the road ahead. Without warning, time altered. Like a slow-motion film sequence, the sights swam at him. His mind had trouble reconciling what he saw as reality.

  A small recreational vehicle lay on its side in the curve of the road, nearly cut in half by the tractor trailer that straddled it like a trick rodeo rider, its weight steadily crushing the lighter vehicle.

  And it was getting closer with each second. Morgan jammed his hands against the dashboard as Tom fought to stop the pickup. Despite his best attempts at manhood, Morgan let loose a yell.

  Tom was out the door the moment the truck came to a stop, shouting to Morgan as he raced toward the crushed camper. “Check the truck driver!”

  Morgan didn’t think to question. At the moment, he wasn’t really capable of independent thought. It took a bit of climbing to reach the door of the semi. When Morgan peered over into the window, his breakfast demanded an immediate release. With tears streaming down his face and stomach heaving from what he’d seen, he scrambled from the wreckage and fell to his knees on the pavement, retching.

  Through the sound of his own heaves, he heard his father calling. Morgan swiped his arm over his dripping mouth and clamored unsteadily to his feet. Tom was trying to pull a lovely blonde woman from the wrecked camper. Blood stained one side of her head, the red a stark contrast to the wheat tresses.

  The woman cried and fought against him. “No, please—my child. I have to—”

  “Please, ma’am, just let me get you out and I’ll get your child. Morgan! Help me.”

  Morgan moved to do as he was told. Together, they got the woman free and moved her to one side of the road, behind Tom’s pickup.

  “Stay here.” Tom directed Morgan to cradle the woman in his arms.

  “My daughter!” The woman struggled to rise.

  Morgan didn’t know what to do except hold her tighter, not let her move. It seemed to hurt her, for she cried out. “I have to get my daughter.”

  “My dad will get her. Don’t worry.” Morgan hoped he sounded confident. At the moment he didn’t feel it. All he really felt was a sick fear.

  The words had barely passed his lips when an explosion blinded him. He had time only to register the sudden lurch of his heart before everything went black.

  When Morgan woke
, he was lying across the injured woman. He lifted his head and saw the blood-soaked material of her blouse. It wasn’t until blood ran into his right eye that he realized the blood was as much his as hers.

  She blinked and fumbled for his hand, unable to sit. “My daughter…my—”

  Unprepared for coherent thought, Morgan didn’t hear her at first, but somehow her weak, desperate voice filtered into the chaos, offering an invitation—a lifeline to grasp so he could be pulled from the panic and confusion that held him paralyzed and helpless.

  Morgan reached for it. He would have reached for any lifeline. But there was a price. He couldn’t deny it when he turned fear-filled eyes to the blazing wreckage.

  “My daughter?” The woman’s fingers tugged weakly at his hand. “Please.”

  Morgan turned his eyes from the inferno. The woman’s blue eyes were awash with fear, tears and blood. Incredibly, Morgan suddenly felt responsible for her pain and loss.

  “I’m sorry.”

  One frail cry escaped her lips. Her eyes closed. Morgan squeezed her hand, shaking it gently. “Ma’am? Ma’am, please, don’t—”

  Somehow he couldn’t force the word “die” from his lips, even though some hidden source of knowledge inside told him that was exactly what was going to happen. The gash in her head was deep and blood poured from it like water from a tap. Her blouse was getting wetter by the moment with fresh blood and there was blood pooling beneath her legs as well.

  “My baby.” Her whisper was barely audible.

  Morgan didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m sorry.”

  She seemed to see him for the first time and gave him a sad smile. “What’s your name?”

  “Morgan. Morgan Sands.”

  Her hand tightened in his for a moment. “My name is Hope. Thank you for trying to save us, Morgan Sands.”

  Morgan nodded, unsure how to respond. Her smile vanished to be replaced with a grimace of pain. Without thinking about her injuries or his, Morgan pulled on her hand, desperate for contact with someone in the midst of all the horror.