Delayed Admission

  Delayed Admission

  Shadow Veil Academy, Book One

  Heather Renee

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Thank You

  Stay In Touch

  Also by Heather Renee

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Sneak Peek

  Delayed Admission © Copyright 2019 by Heather Renee

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, alive or dead, is purely coincidental.

  For more information on reproducing sections of this book or sales of this book, email heatherreneeauthor@yahoo.com.

  ISBN: 978-1074055646

  Editing: Jamie from Holmes Edits

  Cover: Covers by Juan

  Dedication

  You.

  Wherever you are.

  Smile. This is for you.

  Chapter 1

  Blue light emanated from my fingertips as my irritation increased. Whatever new freakish thing that was happening to me was going to get me locked away in a crazy house or worse, hidden away by the government. The most frustrating part was the more I fought the light, the stronger it became.

  Closing my eyes, I fisted my fingers and drowned out the sounds of the screaming children behind me on the bus. There were only two more stops until I arrived at my aunt’s work, but I wasn’t going to make it. Walking an extra half mile was more than worth it to calm my nerves before something worse happened than blue sparks from my hands.

  Standing up, I pulled the cord so the driver would stop and made my way to the exit. Looking back, the two siblings were still screaming at one another, and their mother was so immersed in her phone, she didn’t even realize the boy had his sister in a headlock.

  This was why I didn’t have a smartphone. They were as addicting as drugs. My trusty flip phone suited me just fine when I needed to make a call or text.

  Once my feet hit the pavement, relief flooded through me and I unfurled my fingers. The bright blue had turned to a teal and appeared like paint on my hands. Figuring that was good enough, I began my walk to meet my aunt. She had called earlier, asking me to come help her with something.

  Sometime soon, I would need to confide in her, but I had only known the woman eight short months. She had been absent before that, estranged from her sister, my mother. But when my parents were shot by a gang as they were walking to their car after a concert, Jules had shown up, saving me from being thrown into a group home when I suddenly became an orphan.

  I was seventeen, eighteen within a couple months. There would have been no adoption for me, only a living hell from what I had gleaned from the social worker. Her empathetic eyes still haunted my dreams from when she told me of my parents’ death with the policeman who had escorted her to my house.

  Agony gripped my chest as I remembered the night. My mom had purchased three tickets, and we were supposed to go see most of my favorite nineties’ bands all in one place, but I had gotten so sick. Like, locked-myself-in-the-bathroom-and-hugged-the-toilet-the-whole-evening sick.

  They volunteered to stay home, but I practically pushed them out the door with my words, knowing my mom would have been disappointed. We had been looking forward to the night for weeks and there was no point in everyone’s evening being ruined.

  After that night, I was left with more “what ifs” than I could handle.

  What if I hadn’t been sick?

  What if I hadn’t insisted they still go?

  What if they had taken a taxi like most locals did when they went to the Moda Center?

  Those questions still haunted me, but they came less frequently as more abnormalities kept happening to me, like the whole moving objects debacle I dealt with last week and my glowing fingers, which seemed to be getting harder to control.

  The most important question that had run through my mind recently was, What am I becoming?

  Finally, I made it to the studio and, before I entered, I checked my hands. Everything was back to normal, and I let out a sigh of relief. When I opened the door, the bell above my head jingled, announcing my arrival. Jules wasn’t up front, so I took my time, glancing around to see what new pieces had come in since I was there a few days earlier.

  My eyes landed on a skyscape painting of downtown Portland. Even though I’d lived in Oregon my whole life, the city showed me something new each time I explored it. It seemed to be never-ending and, until I lost my parents, I had been in love with my hometown.

  The first few months after they died, I didn’t venture out much, but Jules had been urging me to get out and prepare for college. Little did she know, I had no intention of continuing my education, especially with the oddities I seemed to be acquiring. My schooling had ended three months ago when I passed my GED instead of resuming my senior year after their deaths.

  “Help!” Jules called from the back.

  I ran to the storage area to find her about ready to be squished by an oversized sculpture she had no business carrying on her own.

  My fingers grasped the underside of the art piece, and Jules let out an audible sound of reprieve when the pressure lessened on her arms.

  “Thank you. I really thought I had it, but it’s heavier than it looks.”

  “Well, no shit. It’s made out of plaster.” I laughed.

  “Language, child,” she chastised, making me laugh even harder.

  “Right. Because you’re such an angel.”

  Focusing back on the task of moving the sculpture, we remained quiet until it was placed on its stand at the back of the art shop.

  My head cocked sideways. “What is it?” The piece looked like a faceless head with hair sticking out everywhere.

  “Uhhhh.” She grabbed a paper off the counter behind us. “It’s The Tree of Life by a local up-and-coming artist the owners found online.”

  “Alright, then.” Turning away from the unique piece, I hopped up on the counter. “What did you need my help with?”

  She rolled her eyes. “You really need a new phone. That thing is ancient. I left you a voicemail an hour ago saying you didn’t have to come in.”

  I didn’t bother checking my phone, because I knew she was probably right, but there was no way I was getting a new one. I loved my tiny dinosaur phone.

  Instead, I changed the subject. “What time are you out of here tonight? I could stay anyway, then we can grab dinner when you’re done.”

  “Not until late. It’s end-of-month processing day and I also need to do payroll to send to the owners for review.”

  I slid off the counter, so I could still face her as she took a seat behind the counter, crossing her short legs that barely reached the ground and flicking her strawberry-blonde hair back. Her ever-changing grey
eyes stared me down, seeming to see into my soul.

  Depending on her mood, they would change from light grey, almost blue, to dark and stormy. She was leaning toward stormy then, and I decided to behave myself by not hassling her for working too much. Her five-foot-one frame might have been little compared to my five-foot-eight, but she was mighty in all other ways.

  “I did want to talk to you, though. So, I’m glad you stopped by anyway.” Her fingers brushed along the edge of the desk. “You didn’t sleep very well last night.”

  She made it sound like a statement, but I knew she expected me to say something more. The majority of my nights were riddled with nightmares too real for my liking. My weird blue-teal fingers and slight telekinesis weren’t the only abnormalities I experienced. The dreams had only gotten worse as my freakish abilities continued to grow.

  When I didn’t speak up, she continued, “Why don’t you go visit with them? Take a walk, get some fresh air, and see if it helps.”

  I dropped my eyes from her, unable to keep her stare. “I can’t, Jules. It hurts worse when I visit, and…” I trailed off, wanting so bad to tell her what was happening to me, but the right words failed me. “When will it stop hurting so much?”

  She didn’t answer my rhetorical question. We’d had the conversation before. Instead, she came back around the desk, and her arms wrapped around me as her calming lavender scent infused my body.

  Pulling back, her fingers grasped my shoulders. “You have a purpose. You may not know what it is yet, but you’re destined for great things, Raegan Keyes. Just give it time.”

  I nodded, wanting to offer a smile, but couldn’t. “I’m trying. I really am.”

  “I know you are.” Her hands released me as she took a step back. “And it’s okay to lose your shit as often as you need. Grief never ends when you experience a loss like yours. You only learn how to channel it better as time passes. Remember, I’m here for you whenever you need to talk. You’re not alone in this.”

  For the first few weeks, Jules had me on what felt like suicide watch. She rarely left me by myself, constantly asked how I was, offered to take me shopping, to go on vacations, and more. Anything to get my mind off the loss. Though, the best thing she did was approve my decision to test out of school early.

  Guilt crept up on me as I thought about the apartments I had been looking at online that morning. As more strange things kept happening to me, I considered avoiding Jules as much as possible and not telling her what was happening. Even though we hadn’t known each other very long, the grief we went through together brought us closer than I thought possible when she first showed up.

  “Do you want me to close the shop today?” Jules asked. “We could go on a road trip, do whatever you want. The paperwork can wait an extra day.”

  As much as I wanted to say yes, I didn’t want to get her in trouble. She might pretty much run the place, but she wasn’t the owner. “I’ll be fine. I’ll take a walk and go visit my parents like you suggested.”

  Back to the joyful Jules I was used to as of late, she patted my shoulder as if I was a young child. “That sounds like a great idea. Nature can be your best friend, and I’m sure your parents would love the visit, but only if you’re up for it. I’ll pick you up if you need me, so don’t hesitate to call.”

  Nodding, I moved in to give her a hug. “Thank you, Jules… for everything these last eight months.”

  “Even though I wasn’t around before, there was absolutely no hesitation when I got the call. I will always be there for you, Rae.”

  When we pulled apart, I tucked my hands into my pockets in case my emotions made my fingers do the damn glowing thing again, but thankfully, I seemed to be keeping everything in check. As I walked out the door, I waved goodbye once more, then headed down the street.

  Pulling earbuds from my bag, I put them in my ears before plugging into my iPod. Music was the only way I tolerated being alone. If there was silence around me, then my mind ventured to dark places I tried to avoid.

  Taking in the quiet part of the city, I was grateful that Jules worked in a shop on the outside of Portland instead of downtown where most of the tourists were. When I arrived at the end of the street, I had the option to go left and head toward the city park, which was filled with acres of trees that called to me, or I could go right. That would take me to the cemetery I had avoided for the last month as more weird things kept happening to me.

  Realizing quickly that I needed to put my big girl pants on and see my parents, I turned in their direction. The walk there took about an hour, but I didn’t mind. Since I wasn’t in school and didn’t work much outside of helping Jules in the art studio on occasion, walking had saved me from going crazy in the house. There were too many memories for me to handle some days.

  The closer I got to their resting place, the quicker my feet moved. Once the decision had been made to quit avoiding them, I became anxious to feel their spirits wrapped around me. Suddenly, I craved it like I needed my next breath.

  After entering the cemetery, I started to run and continued until their gravesites came into view. I sat down in front of the headstones and ran my fingers over the engraved words, closing my eyes.

  January 5th, 2019.

  A day I would never forget no matter how much time passed.

  “Hi, Mom and Dad.”

  I always spoke out loud to them. Even if they couldn’t respond, a part of me needed to hear the words.

  “I miss you both so much. I have to admit, I almost didn’t come today, but between Jules and my subconscious, I knew I really had no choice. I’m sorry it’s been so long.”

  The wind picked up, wrapping around me. Even though it was August, the chill bit at my skin. It was a welcome sensation, one I told myself was my parents acknowledging my presence, not just the ever-changing weather of Oregon.

  “Something new happened since the last time I was here. Not that I’m excited to tell you about it, but you’re the only ones I can talk to without fear of being thrown in a psych ward. Pretty sure Aunt Jules wouldn’t do that, but you never know.”

  Glancing down at my hands, seeing how normal they looked like now, I partially wondered if it was all in my head. That would make more sense than what I thought was true. Maybe the trauma of losing my parents made me go crazy. I could understand that more than the thought of turning into some sort of witch like I’d only seen in the movies.

  “When I get upset, teal light glows from my fingers, and I’m pretty sure I moved a pen across the table with only thought the other day. I’m scared as shit and feeling like I’m losing control of reality, and I don’t know what to do.”

  Knowing they couldn’t answer, I began chatting about happier things once I was able to get a few things off my chest. I knew I needed to steer clear of subjects that would darken my mood, and they didn’t need my negativity. Before I knew it, the sun was beginning to set, and it was time to head back home.

  Since the shooting, I tried not to stay out in the city at night, but some days it was unavoidable, and I knew I also needed to face my fears. I couldn’t avoid the dark forever.

  A half-hour later, the sun was fully set, and the moon shone behind the clouds casting a soft glow along the path I took back to the main section of town, in hopes of grabbing a bus ride home or possibly to the shop to help Jules with the paperwork. I sent her a text offering but hadn’t heard back yet.

  Adjusting my earbud, I turned up my music since I was closer to town. I figured I was safer now that I was under the city lights and out of the trees, but I soon realized I was wrong.

  Shadows darted in front of me, but out of sight quicker than humanly possible. Without conscious thought, my hands lit up and moved in front of me defensively. Turning slowly, my eyes searched for the shadows, but instead I saw a man picking up speed, making his way toward me.

  My eyes remained on him, trying to make out his facial features, but the shadows appeared once more, distracting me. I glanced between the moving,
potentially not-real figures and the stranger, trying to decide just how crazy I had officially become.

  Lowering my hands, I silenced my music to focus on my surroundings and reached for my phone when both the shadows and the man slowed down. I took two steps backward and flipped open my phone, but before I could press the speed dial, I was engulfed in darkness.

  Something pricked at my skin and coldness seeped into me, but what scared me most were the hard hands that wrapped around my arms, yanking me from the shadows as they dissipated into the night.

  This isn’t real, I chanted in my head over and over again.

  My very cynical subconscious chose that moment to remind me that moving objects with my mind and glowing hands weren’t supposed to be real, either. My subconscious could be a bitch sometimes.

  Struggling against my attacker’s hold, I recalled all of the action films I’d seen and hoped they had been good for something.

  Stomping my heel down on his foot, I spun around, and raised my knee to his groin before backing up, but it did nothing to the stranger before me. He was barely fazed by my measly attack as his onyx eyes met mine.

  “Oh, Raegan. Why do you fight me?” the man’s voice cooed.

  The accent was one I’d never heard before, and it chilled me to the bone that he knew my name.

  “It’s time to come home,” he whispered, suddenly right in front of me even though he had been at least ten feet away just a second before.

  “Leave me alone,” I shouted as I shoved my palm into his nose.

  His responding snarl wasn’t a normal human sound and caused my body to freeze in fear.