Thomas / Heneks Time to Wake

1. Auflage 2021
ISBN: 978-1-0983-5541-8
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: PC/MAC/eReader/Tablet/DL/kein Kopierschutz

E-Book, Englisch, 304 Seiten

Time to Wake is the award-winning first book in the Time to Wake Series. Senlis is your typical artist. Empath, hater of mornings, and the bearer of a strange name passed down from her grandmother. With a penchant for caffeine and a pet ghost, she's just trying to live her best life. Did she mention she also happens to devour souls? No? Well, it's a bit of a conversation killer... no pun intended. When new neighbors move in across the street, Senlis strikes up an unexpected friendship with the equally quirky Katie. The two get mixed up in a party circuit that leaves a string of missing girls- and a trail back to Senlis' less than human origins. At the center of it all is Hunter: a guy not smart enough to keep his distance. He's arrogant, frustrating, and terribly distracting... Just, please don't tell anyone she admitted that last part. Is Hunter involved in the mysterious murders? Or is he just in the wrong place at the right time?

Autoren/Hrsg.

Thomas, K.

Heneks, Grace

Leseproben

CHAPTER 2 The next day greeted me with bright summer sunshine. I sat up in bed, begrudgingly, and wiped the sleep from my eyes. I would have loved nothing more than to pull the blanket back over my head, but I had deadlines to meet. Staring in the mirror while I tied my hair up, I smirked, remembering Katie’s response to Benny last night. It was no wonder she was so interested in my scandalous relationship. In my pajamas and no make-up, I could easily pass as a teenager. Not that I was nearing retirement age or anything. I was old enough to legally live on my own though, despite my appearance implying otherwise. Oh right, Katie. I had given her an open invitation to visit today. Crinkling my nose up at my reflection, I decided to pull my hair back down, and attempted to use my fingers to smooth it out. It had an annoying natural wave. The kind that couldn’t decide between being straight or curly, and always looked like I’d just crawled out of bed. Which, to be fair, was exactly what I had just done, so maybe I was expecting too much from it. Wearing it up was much less work than trying to actually style it. Unfortunately, I had a birthmark the size of a dime on my neck, just behind my ear. Two thin, dark lines curved down the center. Otherwise it was a perfect circle. When I went out, I usually kept my hair down to hide it. Most people mistook it as a burn scar because of the shape and coloring, and I really didn’t like having to engage in conversation about it. I thought about changing into something more presentable, since my shorts and slouchy t-shirt were barely a step-up from pajamas. I settled on applying eyeliner instead. Nothing fancy, just a quick black outline to bring out the dark rim of my gray eyes and give the impression I actually saw myself in a mirror this morning. After feeling reasonably satisfied that I looked old enough to drive a car, I went to make tea and get to work. Creative endeavors usually yield the best results when you let inspiration take you. It’s important to get ideas on paper immediately, so they aren’t lost in the shuffle of your daily thoughts. Too bad I’m a procrastinator. So much of my work lately had been rushed from me running out of time. As a result, I had ended up on a storyline for my comic I didn’t really love, and I was struggling to figure out how to get myself out of it. I had recently given the main character a love interest, which started out strong. Unfortunately, my own natural tendencies to avoid relationships had interfered with my writing. That, combined with waiting until the last minute, had caused the characters to get into an epic argument during the last strip. It’s not what I wanted to happen, but my mind couldn’t find a way back to my original idea. When the doorbell rang, I jumped. I looked down at my incomplete panel with disappointment. It was just as well, those damn purple plates infested all of my sketches and I was no closer to resolving the conflict than I had been last night. I slowly made my way to the door with a tablet in one hand, and my stylus between my teeth. I opened the front door without looking up and was greeted with a rude and unfamiliar voice. “Nice socks.” Instinctively, I looked down at my feet, then back up. What kind of person doesn’t like fuzzy socks? The expression on my face was confused and, I hoped, very unfriendly. It was even more unfriendly when my eyes landed on the person the voice belonged to. The blond girl standing in front of me had perfect skin, pouting lips, and a tiny nose sporting a small diamond stud. All of which would have been appealing, if she wasn’t looking at me like she’d just scraped me off the bottom of her shoe. I took the stylus out of my mouth, flicking it between my fingers. “Who the hell are you?” Katie stepped out from behind the girl. “She’s my friend. The one I was telling you about last night.” “Right.” Probably while I was dealing with Benny. I looked the other girl up and down with mild interest, biting my tongue to keep from making any sarcastic comments. “Well, come in, then.” Katie smiled and nearly tripped skipping into the house. Her friend walked past me with a smirk, swaying her hips. She then stretched out on my sofa, attempting to appear like she was lounging. Instead, she was obviously stiff and uncomfortable in her skimpy dress. She gave me a similar appraisal that I’d already given her, one that started with my toes and ended in annoyance at my face. This interaction was reminding me why I avoided people. Especially teenagers. In contrast to her friend, Katie looked extra sweet with her hair pinned up in two buns on either side of her head, the bangs tucked behind her ears. In the daylight her hair was closer to a dark blond than brown, and she had a faint spattering of freckles across her skin. The excitement on her face was so pure it was nearly blinding. She plopped comfortably onto the sofa, tucking her feet under her. “This is Jessie.” She gestured toward the other girl with her hands. “Jessie this is…Oh.” Katie blushed several dark shades of red. “I never asked your name.” I smiled. “Don’t feel bad. It was late, and I didn’t give it.” I chose to sit on the arm of the sofa, keeping a safe distance from them both. I was still thrumming with Katie’s energy from last night. Jessie’s soul was barely noticeable in comparison, but the angst coming off her was enough to ward me away. I didn’t need any help feeling sarcastic and anti-social. I did that well enough on my own. Katie smiled brightly again. “Are you planning on giving it any time soon?” Jessie retorted. I didn’t bother looking at Jessie as I answered, “Senlis.” “Saw-lees?” both girls repeated my name, butchering the inflection. “Yeah.” In French, traditionally the en is a nasal sound, but no one had pronounced it correctly since my grandfather, and I had long since given up trying to teach people. Before she passed away, someone had allowed my grandmother to name me after the place she and my grandfather had met. It seems like a sweet notion, until you have to live with it. “That’s an odd name,” Jessie said. Katie shushed her friend “I think it’s pretty. Does it mean anything?” “It’s just a family name.” “It would have to be,” Jessie snorted. “You can call me Sen, it’s easier,” I offered to Katie. “Sin, like, s-i-n?” Jessie scrunched her nose in distaste. “Oh my god, yes! Sin, I love it!” Katie squealed. “No, that’s not…” I started to protest. “Oh! What are you drawing?” Katie snatched the tablet from my hand. Her ability to bounce between topics left me almost breathless. Plus, she was still leaking her aura all over the place, just like last night. Benny was going to have a heyday later. “Hey, I’ve seen this before.” She leaned into Jessie, who looked over with mild interest. “This is a character from the Coffee Shop Medleys comic.” Jessie reviewed my sketches, blinking her blue eyes in a sign of boredom, and shrugged. “That’s a bad attempt at drawing her. I wouldn’t quit my day job if I were you.” Raising my eyebrow in response, I replied, “Barely old enough to drive and you’re an art critic. Impressive.” Jessie’s response was to flutter and roll her eyes at me. Katie laughed at the other girl. Then a spark of realization lit up her face. “Jessie, this is her day job. She’s S. Helleu!” Jessie looked up at me sharply. She opened her mouth, shut it, then opened it again. “I thought you were a guy.” “Most people do.” I watched her face flush at my steady smirk. Katie’s giggling made us both turn to look at her. She looked up from the screen. “I love the plates!” I gave her a small smile and shrugged. “Sorry. I was dreaming about them all night. Couldn’t get it out of my head.” “I think it’s great! You should keep them.” “Yeah?” I leaned over her shoulder to look at the comic layout. Jessie just looked back and forth between the two of us with a perplexed look on her face. “Plates?” “It’s a private joke.” Katie grinned at me and beamed over the little purple doodles. “This is just a sketch, of course. I have to line and color it,” I offered to Katie. “Amazing,” she said, pouring over the images. Jessie was already bored and had pulled out her phone. “Katie, do you or Jessie want something to eat or drink? I haven’t had breakfast yet.” I started to wander off to the kitchen. “Sure! What do you have in mind?” She jumped up from the sofa to follow me. “It’s past lunch time.” Jessie snorted. “I’m a night owl.” “Makes sense,” Katie said. “You’re an artist, they’re...