Eternal Echoes, Emblem of Eternity Trilogy Book 2 Read online

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Titlepage

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Praise for Eternal Starling

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Eternal Echoes (Emblem of Eternity Trilogy, Book Two)

  Copyright © 2013 by Angela Corbett

  Cover photography by Lani Woodland

  Cover design by Alma Tait

  Internal design by Novel Ninjutsu

  Author Photo by Heather Zahn Gardner

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States of America by Midnight Sands Publishing, Utah

  For Colten and Natasha,

  who taught me the power of hope.

  I’m honored to be your sister.

  A portion of the proceeds from this book will be donated to the John A. Moran Eye Center. The John A. Moran Eye Center is committed to the goal that no person with a blinding condition, eye disease, or visual impairment should be without hope, understanding, and treatment.

  “An amazing debut featuring a strong heroine YA readers are yearning for, as well as two love interests you will swoon over.”

  ~ Jennifer Murgia, author of Angel Star and Lemniscate

  “Eternal Starling is a beautiful love story. Its pages are filled with a unique mythology, breathtaking romance, and two drool-worthy men. I'm glad I'm not Evie because I wouldn't be able to pick between them!”

  ~ Lani Woodland, author of Intrinsical and Indelible

  "Angela Corbett creates a special, different and exciting world. The story of soul mates is impeccable, flawless and feels extremely real.”

  ~ Cristina Scutaru, Walking on Letters

  “With a protagonist who can stand up for herself and two men that both have ultimate potential, I found myself eating up every second of Eternal Starling.”

  ~ Heather Gardner, Fire and Ice

  “This YA book is truly breathtaking! The soul-mate plot is exceptionally different from many others, and it was so difficult to decide between Alex and Emil.”

  ~ Jean Vallesteros, Jeanbooknerd

  “I loved, loved, loved Eternal Starling. The book is full of love, romance, surprise, intrigue, mystery and two hot boys! What more could you want???”

  ~ Jennifer Howell, Latebloomeronline.com

  “A unique, intriguing and amazing read! I highly recommend it!”

  ~ Jenny, OnceUponATwilight.com

  “Angela's writing style is addicting, intriguing and flawless.”

  ~ Katie B. MundieMoms

  “Evie is just the kind of strong female lead that I’d been looking for, and it is a love triangle that is done right, with the ‘winner’ never being obvious.”

  ~ Rywn, Book Brats

  “This take on eternal love will leave you wanting more.”

  ~ Yara Santos, Once Upon a Twilight

  I pushed a chair under the door handle and scrambled to the corner. My eyes swiftly searched the room for weapons or an escape. My gaze fell on the cloudy window to my right. I wondered if I had time to flee—and how far I could get. It was a brief thought. I knew I would not leave without him. Could not. I cared for him too much.

  A bang on the door vibrated the entire cottage as the ocean waves crashed violently against the cliff below. Another crushing thump followed, breaking the chair I had used as a brace. The door swung open and hit the wall, framing the fierce mob. There were even more of them now. And they had him. My breath caught in terror as they threw him toward me. He met my eyes, angry and determined.

  They circled around us slowly.

  This time, I couldn’t run.

  I glanced at him for direction. It was a mistake. Those few seconds were all it took for the attack. Before I knew it, a sharp pain hit my stomach. My eyes widened in agony and shock. The blade burned as it cut through me. I gasped. This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t supposed to happen. My breath hitched as I met his eyes and reached for the person I’d loved, more than I ever thought possible.

  And the knife twisted.

  Being surrounded by people who wanted to kick the living crap out of me wasn’t a new feeling. In fact, I’d been surrounded by people who wanted to kick the living crap out of me, kill me, and take my soul a few months ago. I just thought I’d moved past that stage of my life. Apparently, I was wrong. The punch wasn’t unexpected, but I didn’t think it would actually knock me off my feet. Given my lack of defense, my central nervous system was pretty surprised by the maneuver. I moved gingerly, testing my pain level. My stomach clenched at the spot I’d been hit, but I wasn’t dead. Yet.

  I stood, brushing wisps of hair out of my eyes as I prepared to defend myself from the next series of kicks—but at the same time, a familiar heat started pulsing from my back. I teetered, and the dizzy feeling overtook me. As my mind started to spiral, I had the fleeting thought that this was a seriously bad time to be thrown into the past.

  “Aaaaa!” I yelled, falling to the ground. I glanced at my dress, gingerly lifting the fabric that had been slashed open.

  Emil rushed to my side, his brows pulled down in a worried frown. “Are you hurt?”

  I looked at my shoulder, taking inventory. “No, the plastron protected me. I was only startled.”

  Emil’s eyes softened as his lips lifted in a loving smile. “You’re fencing, my love. Not flying kites.” The flax colored strands in his wavy shoulder length hair were highlighted in the sunlight. We were alone in the middle of a large field.

  “This task would be far less vexing if I could wear breeches instead of a dress.”

  His eyebrows rose and his lips twitched slightly. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you in breeches.”

  I smiled, heat rising in my cheeks. “Yes, well it would be enough of a scandal if anyone found out the Duke of Blackwood was teaching his Duchess to fight. There’s no need to add breeches to the story, regardless of their practicality.”

  His lips curved into a half smile. “I must admit, when you asked for my help, I wondered if you were planning to challenge someone to a duel.”

  I smiled mischievously. “That would be quite an adventure.”

  He grinned. “You’ve always broken the mold, m
y beautiful Cass. I could control the seas more easily than tell you what to do.”

  I pushed my brows together in thought. “I wonder if you regret not marrying someone more biddable.”

  He lifted his hand to my cheek and slowly stroked the smooth skin. “I convinced the most intelligent, beautiful woman in the world to be my wife. That makes me a very lucky man. I found my true love, my other half, in you. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Cass. I will never regret a moment.”

  I looked at him with soft eyes. Emil loved me, and I loved him with all my heart. I smiled, brushing grass off my dress as I stood. “Well then, I will take advantage of your good mood, and ask you another favor. I should also like you to teach me how to defend myself with my hands.”

  He stared at me, suspicion in his gaze. “Are you planning a crime spree?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then I must ask why a Duchess would find herself in need of learning such a skill. You have servants—and me—to keep you safe.”

  I set my lips in a firm line, my stubbornness apparent.

  He raised a hand in the air to stop my protest. “I’m not saying no, my love. I’m simply curious.”

  I took a deep breath. “I am not fond of being defenseless, Emil. I think every woman should learn. Perhaps one day I’ll need to take advantage of the skills. And if so, I should like to be prepared.”

  I came out of the flashback just in time to have my legs kicked out from under me. I fell to the ground, immediately rolling out of my opponent’s grasp and onto my knees. He started to circle me as I stood up, bent over slightly with my arms out in front of me in a defensive position. I watched him closely, trying to anticipate his next move.

  It would have been nice if my mind hadn’t decided to take a little break in the middle of the fight. I was surprised to be standing at all.

  I jumped as he ran at me, kicking my leg out and spinning. But I kicked too soon and the defensive maneuver put me off-balance enough that I wasn’t able to brace for his return kick. He hit my shin hard. I’d definitely have a bruise by tomorrow morning. Lately, I was going through Icy Hot like it was caramel flavored coffee.

  I fell to the black mat pulling in deep breaths as I tried to recover. I gave a slight shake of my head and rubbed my leg. I just got my butt handed to me by a flashback and a ninety-pound thirteen-year old. And I had a psych test in the morning. Fantastic. I couldn’t wait to find out what the rest of the night would hold.

  Pieces of chestnut colored hair fell out of my ponytail in messy, sweat soaked waves. I looked through the strands, my eyes downcast. “You okay?” Derrick, my instructor, asked. I saw his bare feet padding over to me. I rolled up, sitting back on my legs. I took in the rest of the class. Most were still working on drills with their partners, but a few had stopped to rubberneck at my crash to the floor. Ha ha. The college girl was taken down by a kid in junior high. He wouldn’t have been nearly as successful if it wasn’t for that flashback.

  “Yeah, are you okay?” asked a worried voice hovering on the edge of puberty.

  I pushed up onto the balls of my feet and stood slowly, forcing a smile. “I’m fine.”

  Derrick’s concern was evident by the tightening of his black belt and his lips pulled into a line. My sparring partner, Jessie, looked like he’d roundhouse kicked his mom.

  “I was just distracted,” I said, smoothing my jacket. It had been twisted during the exercise.

  “You sure?” Jessie asked with wide eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Ms. Starling.”

  Ms.? What the…? I wasn’t old enough to be a Ms.! And we’d been in this class together for a few months now, he knew my name. “You know you can call me Evie, Jessie. And don’t worry about it. I’m not hurt.”

  Derrick looked me up and down, assessing me for injuries through my clothes. Unless he had superpowers I didn’t know about, I was pretty sure he wasn’t going to get any information I hadn’t already told him. Then I frowned and wrapped my arms over my chest, thinking about the people in my life who really did have superpowers. Four months ago, I’d scoffed at their paranormal revelations. That had been a mistake. Yes, I thought, nodding my head slightly and slitting my eyes. It was best to err on the side of caution when it came to possible X-ray vision.

  Derrick decided I was fine and turned back to the rest of the class, clapping his hands. “Great job, everyone! Next week, we’ll work on disarming an attacker.” I gathered my things, stuffing them in my dark purple workout bag. I pulled my heavy, black North Face coat off the rack built into the karate studio wall, and zipped it tightly. I looked up as I grabbed my keys from the pocket of my bag. Jessie gave me an apologetic smile, waving as he walked out the door. I waved back and followed him.

  When I was young, I wanted to be a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle. Donatello was my favorite. I took one look at his purple bandana and affection for pizza, and fell in love. He became my idol, and for a brief period of time, I forgot about my hatred for rats—and sewers.

  During this phase, I decided I needed to know ninja moves if I was going to be Donatello’s sidekick—which, at eight-years-old, sounded like a pretty awesome life-plan. After my parents found me trying to attack a tree with my grandma’s cane that I’d used as a makeshift bo staff, they realized this wasn’t a passing fancy, and I needed someone with experience to direct my ninja training. I interpreted their compliance as an affirmation that Ninja Turtles were real, living in sewers defending us all, and I could be one. They saw it as a way to protect their foliage.

  In high school, I’d taken a self-defense class, but I didn’t remember much from my eight-year-old ninja adventures. Then, three months ago, after being attacked by a Daevos Resistance Clan that was more evil than any cartoon villain I could remember, I’d decided it wouldn’t be a bad idea to brush up on my ninja skills. Unfortunately, there aren’t a lot of martial arts classes in Gunnison, Colorado. My childhood ninja obsession had only lasted a few months, so the only class available with people of similar skill level to mine included a bunch of ten to sixteen-year olds. I had a secret assumption that they, too, had been lured by Ninja Turtle magic.

  I had signed up for the class as a precaution. Though there hadn’t been a Daevos threat since I helped Alex and Emil take the souls of Caleb’s Clan almost four months ago, there were still too many questions up in the air. I now knew I was a Tracker and had some pretty cool powers of my own, but I wasn’t going to count on mystical powers I didn’t understand and couldn’t really control to keep me alive. Being prepared was important. Last time, I’d put all my faith in Alex and Emil being able to protect me. I was abducted instead. I learned my lesson. Next time, I wouldn’t trust that someone would always be there to save me. I’d save myself.

  The snow crunched loudly under my feet as I walked to my dark purple, 1966 GT Mustang. The breeze was sweet with the crisp freshness of pine trees and unpolluted mountain air. January in the Colorado mountains is beautiful, but very cold. I shivered as I got in my Mustang—which wasn’t much warmer than the air outside.

  Classic cars aren’t known for their ability to start—and continue running—in cold weather. I didn’t want the car to die at the first stop sign I came to, so I sat for a few minutes, letting it warm up, and thinking of the flashback I’d had. So, the Cassandra incarnation of me was a duchess. A fencing, fighting duchess. I’d read enough historic romance novels to know that would have caused quite a scandal. Ladies didn’t fence, and they certainly didn’t fight. I would have been completely ostracized by society if anyone had found out. Emil must have helped me keep the secret, which meant he’d embraced my independent side even then. I wondered if Alex had known about Emil and Cassandra’s training sessions. Somehow I doubted it. He would have been eighty shades of angry if he had.

  Alex Night is my Amaranthine Society soul Protector. Emil Stone is masquerading as the Daevos Resistance Clan member hunting my soul, but really, he’s protecting me, too. I chose between them two hundred and fifty y
ears ago in another life that I only remember in fragmented flashbacks, and it’s only a matter of time before I’ll have to choose again. My life is complicated.

  This wasn’t the first time I’d had a flashback to a previous life, and it wouldn’t be the last. Lately, they were becoming more frequent—a fact I hadn’t shared with anyone. I knew Alex and Emil would probably be upset about that, but in this strange world of Alex and Emil knowing everything about me and my past and me being almost completely in the dark, the flashbacks were my own. They were memories. My memories from another life. And they were private.

  However, it would be nice if the memories came with some warning. It would also be nice if I could regulate them somehow. So far, the flashbacks were sporadic and I couldn’t trigger specific memories. Tonight was a perfect example of how I also couldn’t control when the flashbacks decided to pop in. I flipped the car heater on, testing the temperature—it was finally warm—and wondered if there was any way to fix my flashback Tourette’s.

  I revved the engine once to regulate the carburetor. It immediately stopped its high-pitched screaming. The noise settled down into the deep Detroit rumble I was accustomed to, letting me know the car was warm enough to move. I switched the heater to defrost, then shifted into gear and drove down the slippery streets to my house.

  As I turned onto a side street about three blocks from home, I hit a patch of ice. Before I could do anything to stop it, I was sliding. The rear of the car angled right, the weight of the heavy classic pushing the momentum. I yanked the steering wheel to the right to turn into the skid. The maneuver kept the car from doing a full three-sixty, but I only had so much road to work with. I couldn’t correct it before I came to a jerking stop in a five-foot tall snow bank. They’re like Gunnison’s version of bowling alley gutter bumpers. The banks keep cars from spinning into houses. I leaned forward to look at the large maple tree, heavy with snow, hanging over my car. The tree had also been protected by the snow bank bumper and didn’t look like it wanted to fall on me.