Product Description
Fleeing from both her dark heritage and the magical council she attempted to steal from, Farran's greatest fear is to be sent back to the father she has utterly betrayed. Yet when a demon attempts to capture her, Farran knows she cannot stay hidden. She must find help.
Kel Andrews is a magical troubleshooter with troubles of his own. Recovering from being kidnapped and tortured by darksiders, Kel has been removed from active duty by the magical council. When the mysterious Farran collapses on his doorstep, begging for help, Kel feels compelled to assist her in any way possible.
As danger--both demonic and human--closes in on them from every side, Kel and Farran must learn to trust each other as they battle the monsters that are determined to keep them apart.
About the Author
Born with a need to see everything, PATTI O'SHEA has traveled to far off and exotic places like Papua New Guinea, Fanning Island, and the Yukon Territory in Canada. She currently lives in Minnesota, where she works in the airline industry.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
CHAPTER 1
Farran put the last bottle of shampoo on the shelf, broke down the box, and pushed her cart over the grayish linoleum to the toothpaste aisle. One of the wheels emitted a sharp squeak that grated on her nerves, but she grit her teeth and ignored it. There were three different brands to stock here and that should keep her busy until break time, which was-- she glanced at her watch-- in exactly nineteen minutes.
She opened the box of Crest gel and began .lling the empty spot on the shelf. Until she'd started working here, she'd never owned a watch. The Tàireil were in tune with the Earth, even when it wasn't their dimension, and she'd always had a good idea of what time it was. If she needed to be more precise, there'd always been the clock on her cell phone, but all that had changed. Farran couldn't afford a phone now-- not that she had anyone to call-- and this discount chain was obsessive about punctuality. The watch had an ugly yellow plastic strap and looked as cheap as it was, but it kept her from getting .red and that was all that mattered.
To her chagrin, she needed this lousy job. It barely paid above minimum wage and didn't offer health insurance, but no one else would hire her. Not after they got a look at her face.
Reaching up with one hand, she touched her right cheek and traced two .ngers across the skin. It was smooth, but thick and uneven, and it stood out in stark contrast to the softness of the rest of her face. The scar was hideous-- Farran knew it-- but she couldn't .x it. She wanted to--oh, how she wanted to-- but her magic wasn't strong enough for the task and it wasn't as if she could ask someone to heal it for her.
Finished with the gel, she moved down the row to the next brand of toothpaste and began putting the Colgate on the shelf. The .uorescent lights made the scar even more noticeable, but she couldn't avoid them.
A crash from a couple of rows over made her jerk and Farran drew a deep breath before reaching for more packages and placing them in their spot. What ever had been knocked over had an orange scent to it and it grew stronger the longer she stood there. She moved faster, wanting to get out of the area before the smell made her gag.
"But, Mom," came a whiney voice in the next aisle, "I'm supposed to text Veronica in .fteen minutes. We have to go home now."
"We'll leave when I have everything on our list."
"I don't know why I had to come anyway or why you wouldn't let me bring my phone. Other kids get to carry their phones with them all the time." The voice became less audible, sounding as if the pair had moved into the main aisle and away from Farran.
This was what her life had come to-- listening to complaining teenagers and smelling some putrid orange cleaning product while she stocked shelves for a pittance. It was pathetic.
Farran checked her watch again. Eleven minutes until break. Dragging her feet, she wheeled the cart to the end of the aisle. She felt exposed here, on display, and dipped her head forward, trying to use her hair to hide her cheek. It was longer than she used to wear it, but not long enough to offer the concealment she so desperately wanted.
She focused on her task, doing her best to ignore the shoppers wheeling their gray- plastic carts past where she stood, trying to pretend that she didn't see them look over a second time and stare until they were out of view. Farran wanted to .nish this last box now and .nd somewhere less visible to work.
Her hands shook and she inhaled deeply in an attempt to relax. Anxiety strummed through her and she tried to bring that under control, too. Despite her efforts, her breath shuddered out and she moved faster, trying to keep her focus on the job. How likely was it that most people cared about her? It was her imagination, her self-consciousness that made her feel as if she were standing in a spotlight, but that wasn't reality.
The laughter made her muscles go rigid. It wasn't jovial, we're- having- a-good- time laughter. No, this was the nasty kind of laugh she'd heard too often over the last seven months. It was mean- spirited and cruel-- like the people who thought that just because she didn't look like them, she was fair game. After all, a freak with a scar on her face couldn't have feelings, right?
She picked the group up in her peripheral vision-- two men, three women, all around college age. The blonde was the ringleader, the sneer on her face contemptuous. Farran fumbled with the packages of toothpaste, sending them tumbling to the .oor. There was more laughter as she picked them up.
Go away. Please go away.
Her entire body began to shake and she tried to still it, not wanting them to know they had the power to decimate her. There was a gaping wound deep inside her, as if they'd sliced a cavernous gash into her soul and Far-ran could barely comprehend the casual viciousness.
It was hard, but she made eye contact with them, hoping it would humanize her and they'd leave, but that wasn't what happened. The blonde raised her cell phone and took a picture of Farran's scarred face.
That froze her, and for an instant, she couldn't react, couldn't think. Then it dawned on her. That girl was going to post the picture on the Web-- Facebook, MySpace, or maybe some other site-- letting other malicious people laugh at her dis.gurement. It sucked the breath from her, the physical ache matching the one in her soul.
What did she do? How did she stop this? Did they think she wanted to look like this? That she didn't wish with her whole heart that her appearance was normal? Did they think that she was undeserving of being treated with the smallest modicum of kindness because she was different? Or did they believe she had no right to be out in public, repulsing the world with her face?
If Farran had a choice, she would hide. She hated thinking about every place she went, wondering who would be there, how many people would see her or how they'd--
Miss Cold- Cruel- and- Shallow walked away, her entourage following in her wake. Oh, God! That picture. That picture!
Farran wanted to run after them, grab the cell phone, and erase the image, but her feet wouldn't move. She wanted to scream stop and threaten the woman with a lawsuit if the picture was used anywhere without permission, but her voice wouldn't work. She wanted to be powerful enough magically that she could successfully use her powers on electronic items, but she wasn't.
The urge to vomit swamped her, and she half hoped she would. Maybe that would relieve the sick, shaky feeling that had settled in her belly, but all her stomach did was roil. The worst thing was the realization that there was nothing she could do to prevent her photo from being plastered wherever that girl chose to put it. Nothing. Her stomach heaved again.
Tears welled, and biting her bottom lip, Farran blinked them back. She wasn't letting some girl make her cry. She wasn't!
Her exhale hitched and Farran swallowed hard. The group was still laughing and before they turned the corner, the blonde looked back over her shoulder and gave a toss of her hair. Then they were gone.
Numbness kept the totality of her devastation at bay, but Farran felt her daze fading with each second that ticked by.
Choking back a sob, she blinked harder. God, she wished she could go back in time. If she could do it over, she'd work slower and stay away from the aisle until after that heartless woman and her friends were gone. Closing her eyes, she balled her hands into .sts and whispered, "Just a couple of minutes-- that's all I need, please."
Idiot, she berated herself, dropping her chin to her chest. Not even the strong Tàireil had control of time, and her magical power was so weak that she was limited to ordinary spells. And even some of those were tough for her. Farran forced her .ngers to relax.
There was nothing she could do-- not a damn thing. She was on until closing; she had to get over this and survive the rest of the night. Had to. Farran gathered her courage, her resolve; she needed to return to work before her boss saw her standing idle and .red her.
With one last deep breath, she opened her eyes. And frowned. She was in the middle of the toothpaste row, not on the end by the main aisle. Had she walked backward without being aware of it?
Shaking her head, Farran turned to move the cart back up the aisle to .nish stocking, but went still. She'd already shelved all the Colgate, but the box was full. Looking to her left, she expected to see the shelf .lled, but it wasn't. She stared at the empty spot and then back at the toothpaste.
A crash a couple of rows over made her jerk and suck in a sharp breath. She detected the slightest hint of orange in the air and that's when it dawned on her-- the overpowering scent had been missing. Her hands shook harder and she wrapped them around the handle of the cart.
"But, Mom," came a whiney voice in the next aisle, "I'm supposed to text Veronica in .fteen minutes. We have to go home now."
"We'll leave when I have everything on our list."
"I don't know why I had to come anyway or why you wouldn't let me bring my phone. Other kids get to carry their phones with them all the time."
Farran's eyes went wide. This didn't make sense-- nothing made sense. If she didn't know better she'd think she was replaying--
Stupid. She was being stupid. But she looked at her watch anyway. Twelve minutes to her break time.
Twelve minutes!
Her knees buckled and Farran locked them to keep from hitting the .oor. This wasn't possible.
Staggering to the back of the store, she pushed through the doors into the employees- only area and leaned against the wall. It wasn't possible. This didn't happen. No one traveled through time. N...
Farran put the last bottle of shampoo on the shelf, broke down the box, and pushed her cart over the grayish linoleum to the toothpaste aisle. One of the wheels emitted a sharp squeak that grated on her nerves, but she grit her teeth and ignored it. There were three different brands to stock here and that should keep her busy until break time, which was-- she glanced at her watch-- in exactly nineteen minutes.
She opened the box of Crest gel and began .lling the empty spot on the shelf. Until she'd started working here, she'd never owned a watch. The Tàireil were in tune with the Earth, even when it wasn't their dimension, and she'd always had a good idea of what time it was. If she needed to be more precise, there'd always been the clock on her cell phone, but all that had changed. Farran couldn't afford a phone now-- not that she had anyone to call-- and this discount chain was obsessive about punctuality. The watch had an ugly yellow plastic strap and looked as cheap as it was, but it kept her from getting .red and that was all that mattered.
To her chagrin, she needed this lousy job. It barely paid above minimum wage and didn't offer health insurance, but no one else would hire her. Not after they got a look at her face.
Reaching up with one hand, she touched her right cheek and traced two .ngers across the skin. It was smooth, but thick and uneven, and it stood out in stark contrast to the softness of the rest of her face. The scar was hideous-- Farran knew it-- but she couldn't .x it. She wanted to--oh, how she wanted to-- but her magic wasn't strong enough for the task and it wasn't as if she could ask someone to heal it for her.
Finished with the gel, she moved down the row to the next brand of toothpaste and began putting the Colgate on the shelf. The .uorescent lights made the scar even more noticeable, but she couldn't avoid them.
A crash from a couple of rows over made her jerk and Farran drew a deep breath before reaching for more packages and placing them in their spot. What ever had been knocked over had an orange scent to it and it grew stronger the longer she stood there. She moved faster, wanting to get out of the area before the smell made her gag.
"But, Mom," came a whiney voice in the next aisle, "I'm supposed to text Veronica in .fteen minutes. We have to go home now."
"We'll leave when I have everything on our list."
"I don't know why I had to come anyway or why you wouldn't let me bring my phone. Other kids get to carry their phones with them all the time." The voice became less audible, sounding as if the pair had moved into the main aisle and away from Farran.
This was what her life had come to-- listening to complaining teenagers and smelling some putrid orange cleaning product while she stocked shelves for a pittance. It was pathetic.
Farran checked her watch again. Eleven minutes until break. Dragging her feet, she wheeled the cart to the end of the aisle. She felt exposed here, on display, and dipped her head forward, trying to use her hair to hide her cheek. It was longer than she used to wear it, but not long enough to offer the concealment she so desperately wanted.
She focused on her task, doing her best to ignore the shoppers wheeling their gray- plastic carts past where she stood, trying to pretend that she didn't see them look over a second time and stare until they were out of view. Farran wanted to .nish this last box now and .nd somewhere less visible to work.
Her hands shook and she inhaled deeply in an attempt to relax. Anxiety strummed through her and she tried to bring that under control, too. Despite her efforts, her breath shuddered out and she moved faster, trying to keep her focus on the job. How likely was it that most people cared about her? It was her imagination, her self-consciousness that made her feel as if she were standing in a spotlight, but that wasn't reality.
The laughter made her muscles go rigid. It wasn't jovial, we're- having- a-good- time laughter. No, this was the nasty kind of laugh she'd heard too often over the last seven months. It was mean- spirited and cruel-- like the people who thought that just because she didn't look like them, she was fair game. After all, a freak with a scar on her face couldn't have feelings, right?
She picked the group up in her peripheral vision-- two men, three women, all around college age. The blonde was the ringleader, the sneer on her face contemptuous. Farran fumbled with the packages of toothpaste, sending them tumbling to the .oor. There was more laughter as she picked them up.
Go away. Please go away.
Her entire body began to shake and she tried to still it, not wanting them to know they had the power to decimate her. There was a gaping wound deep inside her, as if they'd sliced a cavernous gash into her soul and Far-ran could barely comprehend the casual viciousness.
It was hard, but she made eye contact with them, hoping it would humanize her and they'd leave, but that wasn't what happened. The blonde raised her cell phone and took a picture of Farran's scarred face.
That froze her, and for an instant, she couldn't react, couldn't think. Then it dawned on her. That girl was going to post the picture on the Web-- Facebook, MySpace, or maybe some other site-- letting other malicious people laugh at her dis.gurement. It sucked the breath from her, the physical ache matching the one in her soul.
What did she do? How did she stop this? Did they think she wanted to look like this? That she didn't wish with her whole heart that her appearance was normal? Did they think that she was undeserving of being treated with the smallest modicum of kindness because she was different? Or did they believe she had no right to be out in public, repulsing the world with her face?
If Farran had a choice, she would hide. She hated thinking about every place she went, wondering who would be there, how many people would see her or how they'd--
Miss Cold- Cruel- and- Shallow walked away, her entourage following in her wake. Oh, God! That picture. That picture!
Farran wanted to run after them, grab the cell phone, and erase the image, but her feet wouldn't move. She wanted to scream stop and threaten the woman with a lawsuit if the picture was used anywhere without permission, but her voice wouldn't work. She wanted to be powerful enough magically that she could successfully use her powers on electronic items, but she wasn't.
The urge to vomit swamped her, and she half hoped she would. Maybe that would relieve the sick, shaky feeling that had settled in her belly, but all her stomach did was roil. The worst thing was the realization that there was nothing she could do to prevent her photo from being plastered wherever that girl chose to put it. Nothing. Her stomach heaved again.
Tears welled, and biting her bottom lip, Farran blinked them back. She wasn't letting some girl make her cry. She wasn't!
Her exhale hitched and Farran swallowed hard. The group was still laughing and before they turned the corner, the blonde looked back over her shoulder and gave a toss of her hair. Then they were gone.
Numbness kept the totality of her devastation at bay, but Farran felt her daze fading with each second that ticked by.
Choking back a sob, she blinked harder. God, she wished she could go back in time. If she could do it over, she'd work slower and stay away from the aisle until after that heartless woman and her friends were gone. Closing her eyes, she balled her hands into .sts and whispered, "Just a couple of minutes-- that's all I need, please."
Idiot, she berated herself, dropping her chin to her chest. Not even the strong Tàireil had control of time, and her magical power was so weak that she was limited to ordinary spells. And even some of those were tough for her. Farran forced her .ngers to relax.
There was nothing she could do-- not a damn thing. She was on until closing; she had to get over this and survive the rest of the night. Had to. Farran gathered her courage, her resolve; she needed to return to work before her boss saw her standing idle and .red her.
With one last deep breath, she opened her eyes. And frowned. She was in the middle of the toothpaste row, not on the end by the main aisle. Had she walked backward without being aware of it?
Shaking her head, Farran turned to move the cart back up the aisle to .nish stocking, but went still. She'd already shelved all the Colgate, but the box was full. Looking to her left, she expected to see the shelf .lled, but it wasn't. She stared at the empty spot and then back at the toothpaste.
A crash a couple of rows over made her jerk and suck in a sharp breath. She detected the slightest hint of orange in the air and that's when it dawned on her-- the overpowering scent had been missing. Her hands shook harder and she wrapped them around the handle of the cart.
"But, Mom," came a whiney voice in the next aisle, "I'm supposed to text Veronica in .fteen minutes. We have to go home now."
"We'll leave when I have everything on our list."
"I don't know why I had to come anyway or why you wouldn't let me bring my phone. Other kids get to carry their phones with them all the time."
Farran's eyes went wide. This didn't make sense-- nothing made sense. If she didn't know better she'd think she was replaying--
Stupid. She was being stupid. But she looked at her watch anyway. Twelve minutes to her break time.
Twelve minutes!
Her knees buckled and Farran locked them to keep from hitting the .oor. This wasn't possible.
Staggering to the back of the store, she pushed through the doors into the employees- only area and leaned against the wall. It wasn't possible. This didn't happen. No one traveled through time. N...
