• Prologue

    “It’s not everyday you get an opportunity to change the way you live your life.”
    He hit my weak spot with those words. The Mallory household was so boring, so monotonous. I had been dying for a change ever since I was five years old.
    Tristan stood there, his eyes staring so hard at me that I thought he must be trying to bore a hole in my skull. I was terrified by the intensity of his eyes- especially now that I knew the reason for them. This boy wasn’t human. This boy wasn’t- or at the least, he shouldn’t be- real. But I couldn’t tell myself it was a dream. If it was a dream, my neck wouldn’t be throbbing in anticipation.
    Closing my eyes, I made a plan. It wasn’t too late, as long as I chose to ignore it I would not become part of his… what was it? A cult? A family? Or… a coven?
    My voice was hasty, and I stumbled over the word I had spent the last minute picking. “N…no.”
    Tristan frowned, lightly frustrated. Even in my fear, his beauty was apparent, radiant. He swept a strand of hair behind his ear. “Shoshanna, are you sure? It’s not natural.”
    “You’re not natural.”
    My eyes flickered closed again. Concentrate, Shanna, I thought. Distract the pretty boy. Get away.
    But my curiosity overrode any instinct I had to keep living. I stood there, in the grey, empty classroom, not daring to scream.
    I didn’t see him coming, but I did feel two soft hands on my neck before I fainted.


    Chapter One

    I was born with luck of some sort. It may be good luck, it may be bad luck- but the one thing’s for sure, there is no grey area with me. I either seem to get the worst possible problems a girl can have, or my days, weeks, or months at a time are smooth sailing. And I don’t even know how to drive a boat.
    My sister, Nettie, is the one who takes my luck the most seriously. Whenever she has a major assignment due, she has me write my lucky number- 17 - all over the paper. The one time I complained, she pulled out the worst card an younger sister can pull- the aptly titled you-hate-me strategy. “Now, Nettie,” I consoled. “You’ll only get points off for messiness. Then you’ll blame me.”
    “Yeah right!” she cried. “I wouldn’t be getting any points in the first place if it wasn’t for you! What are you smoking, Shoshanna?”
    Eye-roll.
    I never actually believed anything about this luck, no matter what people said, and no matter how much Nettie loved me for it afterwards. I may be dramatic, I may be a bit wild- but I am certainly not superstitious. But I kept winning and winning, and losing and losing, and people kept going on about “the luckiest girl in the world.”
    Maybe, just maybe, that’s all it ever came down to. Luck.
    ______________________________________________________________
    The morning was cold and rainy- ominous. Like something was going to happen, something bad. That only served to make the horrible case of nerves I was suffering worse.
    My hand slammed down on my snooze button and I closed my eyes. A soft moan escaped my lips, and I got up, creeping softly out of my room.
    “Nettie?” my mother called from the kitchen. “Is that you?”
    “I’m Shanna.” I walked towards the room, yawning.
    She looked at me, with my hair tied back and my flannel pajamas a bit lopsided and smiled. “You’re up early. Usually Nettie’s the only one up to keep me company.”
    “I’ve got a meet today.”
    Her eyebrows knit together. “But that’s not until eleven, right?”
    “Tristan’s coming.”
    That was all I needed to say. She smiled knowingly. “Ah. Tristan.”
    Tristan Anders was going to be there. All week I had reveled in that fact, had danced to it, had sang it, had told Kay about it.
    He may not be single, but damn, he was hot.
    “Coffee?” My mother gestured to the machine, then frowned. “But you were trying to get off that stuff, weren’t you?”
    “I’ve grown enough,” I said, pouring myself a mug and spooning some French Vanilla creamer into it. I stirred three times clockwise, gently, before taking a sip- I was a little OCD when it came to my caffeinated drinks. The liquid coming into my mouth was still hot, and I wondered exactly what time it was.
    “So, what are you planning to wear?”
    My mom probably thought she was being cool, asking me that, but I really didn’t want to think about it. “Ugh. I have no idea. He’s so awesome, and I’m just… me.”
    “If he’s all that cool why is he single?”
    I looked at her incredulously. “He isn‘t.”
    She blushed. “Oh.”
    “He’s actually going out with Laura Holiday.”
    “What?” My mother exclaimed, crudely and quite out of her normal style. “That b***h?” Coffee flew out of her mouth.
    “Yeah, her,” I said. “They’ve been together for, like, a year. They are the couple. I can’t believe you didn’t know that.”
    “Maybe if you’d tell me more…”
    I sighed. “I tell you more than my friends tell their moms as is. I just kind of assume I have some privacy.”
    She smiled grimly as I walked back to my bedroom. I could hear her muttering incoherently. She always hated any reminder that I had a life that she wasn’t involved in.
    The neon numbers on the clock flashed 8:05, and I was suddenly tired again. Why oh why did I feel like I had to impress him? Why couldn’t I just be myself? If he liked me, he’d accept me, so why was I so eager to change?
    Because he was Tristan. Duh.
    Morning preparations were quick- my dark blond hair was thin and wispy, and took no time at all to wash and blow-dry. By ten, I was in the car, ready for the meet.
    The Writing Club was a new thing Creswell High was trying out, and I was ecstatic to be part of it- especially since Tristan was, too. Unfortunately, Laura was attached at his hip- and maybe in some other places I don’t want to know about- and so I had to deal with Her Highness as well. Meets were held every other Saturday, and we had two practices a week, which I always gladly attended- even though I never paid any attention to the teacher.
    The team was waiting outside of Creswell High- Mr. Jameson, Kay Collins, Mei Hanson, and three others I couldn’t name off the top of my head. Kay and I were about as close as Tristan and Laura- not romantically, friendly. We balanced each other out somehow, her calm attitude against my crazy, her dark hair against my light, her yin to my yang. We had been best friends since elementary school. Practically forever.
    “Have the angel and the daemon arrived yet?” I asked.
    “No, but honestly, he’s not an angel, he’s a daemon as well. If you only knew him a little better, you‘d see that,” Kay sighed.
    I rolled my eyes. “It’s not like you know him any better than me. In fact, he’s talked to me five whole times. How many times has he spoke to you?”
    “Never.”
    “That’s what I thought.”
    A car squealed up haphazardly to the door, and Laura stepped out precariously. “Thank you for the ride, Mama,” she said softly. Her eyes were prominent- she had applied way too much eyeliner that morning. It clashed horribly with her short red pixie cut.
    I leaned over to Kay. “Doesn’t she normally ride with Tristan?”
    “Maybe he’s sick,” she whispered hopefully.
    Our question was answered when we got on the bus immediately after Laura handed Mr. Jameson a folded piece of paper. “Damn you, Kay, you’re like psychic or something,” I joked. She solemnly looked at me, so I tacked on, “Just kidding,” as an after thought.
    The bus clanked down the street loudly; did they create mass transportation to be this annoying? I plugged a pair of earbuds into my iPod, and shoved those into my ears. I wasn’t in the mood for music, but at least it would drown out any and all sound.
    After a few songs, a hand waved in front of my face just before my earbuds were yanked out. “Yo, Shanna. We’re here,” Kay said.
    “That was quick,” I mumbled. “Wasn’t the meet in Bradford?”
    “No, Bedford.”
    “Oh.” I scrambled out of my seat and gathered my things. A few seconds later, and we were flying to the cafeteria of Bedford High, where the meet would take place. The room was warm and stuffed with folding chairs- they had obviously tried to convert it into an auditorium, with minimal success. At least it would get good acoustics.
    Kay excused herself to go to the restroom, and I sat there, not sure what do while she was gone. We both knew I could get into trouble on my own; I probably should have gone with her. But by now, she would be long gone, and I would likely get lost trying to find her.
    A voice cut through my silent musing. “Hey, Shoshanna!”
    Who called me Shoshanna anymore? To my friends, family, and teachers I was Shoshy or Shanna. Never, ever Shoshanna.
    I turned to face the voice, and my blond strands whipped across the face of Laura Holiday. “Laura! I… I’m so sorry, a-a-are you alright?” My intimidation made me stutter- Laura scared me for some inexplicable reason.
    “Yeah,” she said, rubbing her nose. “I’m good. What’s up, you nervous?”
    I made an attempt to sound friendly. “Of course I am. I can’t do this writing stuff under a lot of pressure. I didn’t really mean to get drawn into it…” I trailed off before I could finish my thought. But I did, because your boyfriend was involved in it.
    She smiled at me- I’m sure she meant it to be friendly, but it looked scary, like she was about to give me the death sentence. “I’m sure you’ll do fine, Shoshanna.”
    “Call me Shanna. Everyone has since, like, sixth grade. You’re the only person I know who doesn’t.”
    She paused, so I added a thought. “What about you?” I demanded. “Are you nervous?”
    “No,” she said confidently. Then her look of confidence faltered. She grabbed her throat like she was thirsty, and stood hastily. “I’ll see you around Shanna. Good luck.”
    “You too. Break a leg.”
    Her back was towards me then, but I saw her stiffen, then relax a moment later. Had she taken what I said literally? God; the last thing I needed was to be on the bad side of that b***h.
    All was quiet for a brief second, until Kay returned from the restroom. “Were you talking to Laura?” she asked incredulously, her hands on her hips.
    I was sheepish. “Just a bit.”
    “Why?”
    “She asked me how I was, and I didn’t want to seem rude,” I replied, my defense up. “Besides, she’s not that bad outside of her little clique.”
    “But when she gets back into that ‘little clique,’ they’ll gossip about you. They’ll make a scandal out of it. You know them better than that, Shoshy!”
    I bit my lip. Kay was right, as always. But I was the stubborn one. “I think it’ll turn out alright.”
    Her violet eyes rolled. “You are so blind to the obvious!”
    “Do I need glasses?” I asked sarcastically.
    Kay groaned and plopped down in the chair beside me. “Your puns suck.”
    “I know.”
    We were quiet after that, whether because of the sorta-kinda fight or because of nerves, I don’t know. They weren’t stating for ten minutes, and Kay pulled out a large book. I glanced at the cover, and it seemed to shimmer. I drew back, surprised.
    Kay looked at me over the top of her wire-rims. “What?” she asked, annoyed.
    I mouthed the word, “Nothing,” and shook my head.
    In fact, it didn’t seem to shimmer; it did. I was sure of it. But I wasn’t going to admit that to my down-to-earth friend. She had enough to worry about without my being potentially insane.
    The waiting continued, longer, tedious. It seemed like it took centuries, and not seconds, for the woman to cross the makeshift stage. She smiled at all of us, the fake smile given to toddlers by people who don’t like children. “We will start in a minute,” she promised us. “Until then, relax.” I noticed she had large, dark eyes that were outlined with way too much makeup.
    When the woman climbed down from the stage, Laura glanced over her shoulder at me. I quickly looked away; I didn’t see why Laura was so obsessed with me today. Maybe she’s just lonely, I thought. Her boyfriend was supposed to be here- and none of her friends are. But something told me it was another reason, and that I should stay away. I ignored the sense, knowing it was my overactive imagination that was causing the sudden paranoia.
    A man slowly ascended the steps to the platform and loudly cleared his throat. I glanced up. He was tall, with grey hair and a matching beard. His eyes held a grandfatherly twinkle. I liked him immediately.
    He smiled as he addressed us in a hoarse, gentle voice. “Students of writing! We have gathered here to test our skills, to learn new tricks, and to make new friends. I am Doctor Jack Halley, head judge for this afternoon, and on behalf of all, I would like to welcome each and every one to the Pennsylvania Writing Championship.”
    As he smiled and continued the speech, I gasped. Championship? I had no idea, why was I here?
    Stupid, sexy, absent Tristan Anders.
    Kay stifled a giggle beside me, and I glared at her. It wasn’t funny. I couldn’t write for beans.
    “Thank you for coming, and happy writing!” I heard Dr. Halley conclude.
    The cafeteria shifted as people got up, and I shot a disbelieving look at my best friend. “Championship?”
    “Yeah,” Kay smirked. “I always told you to pay more attention to the teacher, and less to Tris…”
    “Don’t say his name!” I hissed, interrupting her.
    She giggled, but complied. “You’re way too nervous about Laura. She wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. She’s too afraid of me.”
    The way she said this, in an assured tone that I had never heard her use before, sent a thrill through my body. It was almost a threat.
    Kay didn’t see my fear, though I felt it should have been obvious on my face. “Let’s go, Shanna. We’re both in room 126 for round one- that’s poetry.” She grabbed my arm and dragged me towards the main hall.
    It was there that I saw him.