Fading Amber

Book 3: Cambion Chronicles

by Jaime Reed

Genres: YA Paranormal; YA Romance

Synopsis

Finding your soul mate is the ultimate dream come true. But for Samara Marshall, it's a matter of life and death. . . After falling for a Cambion and then turning into one herself, Samara never thought her senior year could get more complicated. The gaps in her memory, the mysterious deaths, and the constant danger that threaten her once quiet town have a common thread: Tobias, a demon with a lot of enemies. He's also Samara's other soul mate and he's suddenly disappeared. Samara knows the key to finding Tobias lies with her inner demon, who has her own agenda and threatens to take over completely. But Samara isn't the only one who wants to find Tobias. His enemies are getting closer, and their plans for retribution could mean deadly consequences for Samara and her true soul mate, Caleb. . .. "Jaime Reed's books are irresistible." --Ann Aguirre, author of Enclave Praise for The Cambion Chronicles "Sexy and snarky! I dare you not to laugh while reading this fantastic debut."--Kody Keplinger, author of Shut Out "With a sassy, kick-ass heroine, Jaime Reed's Living Violet will keep readers turning pages late into the night." --Eileen Cook, author of Unraveling Isobel "Jaime Reed's books are irresistible. They couldn't be more delicious if they were made of cake and frosted in chocolate." --Ann Aguirre, author of Enclave

Release date: December 24, 2012

Publisher: Kensington -Teen/Dafina

Print pages: 320

Sample

In regards to bad spirits, it’s best to keep your mouth shut.

This is a handy rule of thumb, but secrets are unstable and require way too much maintenance. Every lie has to be reinforced by two more, and on it goes until eventually the secret implodes, and then everyone’s day is ruined. It’s a fitting punishment for dishonesty, just as long as you aren’t both the liar and the person being deceived. That’s when shit gets confusing.

So for the sake of honesty, I had to admit that these blackouts I kept having were getting worse. Much, much worse. They weren’t daydreams anymore, or some momentary trance, but a complete displacement of time and space. Some sloppy editor had cut and pasted two separate scenes, hoping the audience wouldn’t notice the lack in continuity. But there were some clues that gave away this manipulation.

The locale, for example, had changed. Instead of the child sweatshop known as James City High School, I was now at home, in my room, lying on my back on the ceiling. Yes, the ceiling. It wasn’t the first time that I’d experienced the phenomenon of levitation, and my heart rate hadn’t appreciated it then either. In fact, it was more alarming now since I had no memory of getting here.

I probably would still be asleep if it weren’t for the sound of knocking on my front door. It could’ve been a neighbor, the UPS guy, or a Jehovah’s Witness for all I cared. I needed a rescue, STAT. The knocking stopped and I soon heard a car start and back out of my driveway. I went into panic mode, desperately scrambling for control and some sense of reality.

My arms and feet dangled in the air, but my torso was trapped in some invisible harness. I rolled from one end to another and tried to use the corner wall to walk toward the floor, but my efforts were wasted. I had no power up here and I was just as afraid of floating as I was of falling. My entire body shook, my tears dropped on the floor below, and all my cries for help had gone unanswered.

Even if the person at the door had heard me, how would they get in? Even if they called the cops and they rammed their way inside, how would I explain why I was stuck on the ceiling? I could barely understand it myself, and I owned a higher knowledge of weird than the average person. Seeing as I wasn’t going anywhere any time soon, I took in the aerial view of my room.

Four poster covered walls, two small windows, and the overflowing closet had never looked so alien, and the green color scheme added to the extraterrestrial feel. My computer desk and dresser sat on the opposite wall under an avalanche of books, soda cans, dirty laundry, and beauty products. I wouldn’t have been surprised if something was living in my room making a nest for the winter, but I could sense no life energy in the house apart from my own.

In addition to my defiance of gravity, I was in pajamas and smelled of body wash. My hair hung around my face in wet, tangled clumps to where my fingers caught on the tight curls. It too had been cleaned, but managed by someone who had no skill in how to handle its texture. Since this was no doubt Lilith’s fault, I didn’t expect her to reveal full details of her deeds. My “internal roommate” went through a lot of effort to cover her tracks, but it was still a rush job, evidence that had to be removed quickly.

There lies the penalty of possession, what Cambions like me feared most. The sentient being living inside us was shady on a good day and could turn on its host if the wind blew wrong. I’d been told numerous times to be careful, to never lower my guard and never underestimate her power, but did I listen?

In my defense, I figured I’d have more time to adjust, to learn more about the Cambion world and the peculiar diet that came with it. After all, I wasn’t born with this parasite like the rest of my kind, but got it as a crummy inheritance from a dearly departed friend. Her untimely death dropped a succubus on my doorstep along with a butt-load of responsibility.

Only my death could evict this evil tenant from her new abode, and I wasn’t the suicidal type, no matter how bad my poetry got. It just wasn’t how I handled problems; not how I rolled. Plus, my mom would kill me. But Lilith’s recent stunt was enough to make me reconsider.

“How did I get here?” I asked her in a stern yet calm voice, not expecting an in depth answer. Lilith was a “Yes” or “No” kind of being, a ghostly Magic Eight Ball with limited responses. When she did respond, it would come in fragments of memories or a sharp zing up my spinal cord. But she remained still, tucked in her little corner at the base of my skull.

I struggled for composure, then continued. “Lilith, you need to stop doing this. I mean it! I’m sorry you got a raw deal in all of this, but you gotta let it go. This is my body, my rules, my choice.”

Still no motion, which meant “No.”

I rolled on my stomach and tried to do push-ups, belly flops, anything to demagnetize myself from the ceiling. No dice.

“Lilith! Let me down now!”

Before I could complete the command, gravity kicked in and my stomach jerked at the sensation of falling. The drop lasted longer than it should and the terror of weightlessness seized my heart. I could only manage a gasp as I drew further away from the ceiling, and the soft mattress broke my fall. Catching my breath, I pushed my hair from my face and noticed an important prop was missing from the set. My bracelet. It was gone.

It wasn’t some arbitrary trinket, more like a handcuff with no key that required a band saw to remove. Its tracking system would’ve reported my whereabouts to my mom’s laptop, and that security measure had now been breached.

I climbed out of bed and combed the floor in vain hope that I might have dropped it nearby. Pacing the floor, I recapped the last few moments I could remember, which consisted of a whole lot of nothing. What happened between 1:09 P.M. and 3:34 P.M. was a span that had no frame of reference. Only one person could fill in the blanks.

“What did you do?” I asked Lilith again.

That got her attention and she perked up. An image appeared behind my eyelids, a memory of me holding a jar of Caleb’s “I love you” quarters that sat on top of my dresser. I remembered dancing and shaking the jar next to my ear like a maraca, one of the many embarrassing things I did in private while thinking about my boyfriend. Cake Boy and I were weird about the L word, so he allowed the accumulation of pocket change to speak for him. The image just popped in my head and I knew the vision was a clue from her.

I went to the dresser and checked the coin jar for anything out of the ordinary. Lying underneath was a note addressed to me on a white index card. At first I didn’t recognize the handwriting—it was too sloppy. It reminded me of the way writing looks when you’re learning cursive as a kid and using the lines on the page as a guide. At least I didn’t have to worry about her forging my signature, although the bubble-like swoop of the Ys, Qs and Gs was spot on. Lilith had been living inside me for nearly six months with access to all my memories, so she was bound to pick up on a few things. I shouldn’t have been shocked at her intelligence, her knowledge of the world around her, but I was. Even more so when I read the message on the card.

Was she for real? She really expected me to sweep this under the rug after reading a creepy haiku on a flash card? What was she trying to hide? Was it so bad that it was worth blocking out an entire afternoon of my life? Lilith made it clear that she wasn’t going to budge on her decision, so I would have to do my own detective work.

But first, I needed to find that damn bracelet.

I checked the hall bathroom and found my clothes in the hamper along with my house key in my jean pocket, but no bracelet. In a frenzy, I searched Mom’s room then went downstairs to check the kitchen and dining room. Unsuccessful, I crossed the foyer to the living room. My feet worked on their own accord as the rest of my body tried to drag out the inevitable. There was no getting around it now—it was the only place I hadn’t checked.

I felt like that character in Pulp Fiction who had to get his father’s watch back by any means necessary. My bracelet held a similar personal value, but without the really gross back story. Instead of a crime boss, I had a ghost to confront, a phantom by the name of Nadine Petrovsky, Lilith’s former host.

I had no delusions that this part of the house was haunted, either by an actual substance or by a product of my neurosis. Seeing a close friend die in your living room will do that to you. Either way, bad times were to be had if I so much as stood in the entryway.

In a moment of courage, I rushed to the center of the room, looked for anything shiny, then jumped at the sharp chirp that broke the silence. Slowly, I turned to see the house phone sitting on the end table; the numbers of the incoming call glowing in the tiny display.

It rang again, and I could almost feel Mom’s impatience on the other end of the phone. Just like the woman herself, the ring had a nagging persistence, demanding an answer whether I liked it or not.

I reached out as far as I could and snatched the phone off the charger, not moving any closer to the couch than necessary, and avoiding eye contact with the beautiful blonde sprawled on the floor. From this angle, I could see the length of her golden hair, the extended white arm, and the delicate wrist.

If I tried hard enough I could pretend that she was just taking a nap, the Sleeping Beauty after pricking her finger on the spindle. But Lilith knew better, I knew better, and a part of me hated Nadine for leaving me with this burden. Maybe this was her punishment, trapped in the plane of the living, forever beautiful, eternally young, and irrevocably dead.

Focusing on one mental meltdown at a time, I took a deep breath and put the phone to my ear. “Mom?”

“Hi, sweetie. I’m glad I caught you before you went to work. Your father just called my office and he said he’s picking you up tomorrow to get your new car.”

My car? It took a few seconds to decipher her meaning. “Oh! Yeah, right, thanks,” I said when it finally dawned on me. “Wait, I have to work today?” I looked at the clock on top of the fireplace, which began to stretch and twist like saltwater taffy. The wall pictures and love seat joined the distortion, which was my cue to get the hell out of this room. I moved to the foyer while Mom ran off details about warranties and prices in my ear.

“Samara? Are you listening to me?” Mom asked.

“Yeah, cars are great. They go ‘vroom,’ ” I replied, still trapped in my own thoughts. “This may sound like a weird question, but did you pick me up from school today?”

A long pause dragged through the line. “Uh, no. You called about an hour ago and said that you caught a ride from Caleb so you didn’t need me to pick you up.”

And she was cool with that? Ms. Julie it’s-dangerous-for-the-two-of-you-to-be-alone-together Marshall allowed my boyfriend to take me home?

“Caleb?” I repeated.

“Yes, Samara. Caleb: tall, skinny, in desperate need of a shave, the boy you can’t seem to live without,” Mom said carefully as one would to a kid with special needs. “I figured since you both have to work today he can give you a ride. I’m a bit swamped here at the office. A lot of work piled up from the holiday and I need to play catch up.”

I was still stuck on the ‘Caleb taking me home’ part. And the grim fact that I had to work today. Was he really at my house? Maybe he could give me some answers.

I raced to the door, and stopped at the security alarm. It was activated, which required a four-digit security code whenever the door was opened. I wondered what else Lilith had memorized. My locker combination? My Social Security number? My . . . real dress size? I shuddered at the thought.

I opened the door and flinched at the cold gust of air, a rude introduction to the winter season. The foliage was now brown, and most of it littered the lawn along with shattered glass and debris from the supernatural storm on Thanksgiving night. My next door neighbor untied a pine tree from the roof of his minivan. A woman in a pink velour jumpsuit jogged across the street with her enormous German shepherd. A group of kids strolled from the corner bus stop, hauling book bags and lunch boxes. On the surface, my quiet town seemed normal, yet everything was far from it. One only had to look hard enough.

To my disappointment, there was no sign of Caleb or his black Jeep, but I found what I was looking for. There, hanging on the doorknob, was my bracelet. I examined it for any damage, noting Lilith’s name engraved on the gold plate. The chain was wet and dirty, and the link had been broken by something sharp, leaving a clean, even cut.

“Are you feeling all right, honey?” Mom asked when I didn’t reply.

“Huh? What—no, I’m fine. I’m just a little out of it. I gotta go. I’ll see you later.”

I hung up and stared into space, feeling more confused than when I woke up. Lilith was right; there was a peace that came with not knowing, but there was also that gnawing, ferocious ache called “What the hell is going on?”

This wasn’t fair! I had every right to know what happened to my body. Anything could’ve happened. I could’ve robbed a bank, murdered a bus full of nuns, or flashed the entire football team. For all I knew, somebody might have videotaped it, and the footage was now getting hits on the Internet. I couldn’t, wouldn’t let this go.

I slammed the door, no doubt scaring my neighbors in the process, and got ready for work and what I knew to be the beginning of another unpleasant holiday.

After a quick change, half a bottle of leave-in conditioner, and a smelly cab ride, I made it to work ten minutes late.

The Buncha Books sign glowed in the low afternoon light, the neon letters drawing the unsuspecting into its snare. I followed its beacon and trekked through the crowded prison yard of torture and overpriced retail.

The outlet center sprang to life this time of year and the bookstore was no exception. Everyone and their mother was taking advantage of the holiday sales. The company tech nerd stood behind his booth by the door, demonstrating the latest apps on electronic reading tablets. Children broke free from their parents’ leashes and ran around the store.

The aesthetics appeared to have changed overnight at the J-O-B. Jazzy Christmas music blared through the PA system, red bows and wreaths decorated the floor displays, pillars, and bookshelves. A group of historical actors in their Colonial garb sat at a folding table, gift-wrapping presents for customers. The aroma of coffee grounds, pumpkin spice, and peppermint made the air so thick I could almost chew it.

I raced through the center aisle to the customer service desk with the hope of avoiding my superiors. Luck wasn’t on my side today, because Linda, the store manager, stood behind the desk helping an elderly customer. While she was distracted, I slipped past her and clocked in on the opposite computer. Just when I was about to make my great escape, she spoke.

“Sam, you do realize your shift started at four, right?”

I paused mid step. I was so close. “Yes, I’m sorry. Something came up.”

When the customer left the counter, Linda turned to me. “A lot of things tend to come up with you these days. The Christmas run is beginning and I need reliable people to handle the crowds. If that’s a problem for you, then I’m afraid—”

“Her car got wrecked in a storm, Linda. Come on, you never had car trouble before? Cut her a little slack.” A low voice said behind us, and I didn’t need to see who it was. I felt his presence as soon as I entered the store, the second the cab pulled into the shopping center.

I turned around and saw Caleb leaning against the desk, with a bear claw doughnut in one hand and twirling his name tag necklace with the other. He wore his standard uniform: tan khakis, white polo shirt, and a cocky smirk. The five o’clock shadow around his jaw looked more like twelve-thirty. The light brown strands of his hair fell over his eyes, bending at the jaw.

Yep, Caleb Baker, king of extreme bed hair, was on the mend and back in action. Having influence over the opposite sex was one of the few perks of being a Cambion. He could look like fresh road kill, yet Linda’s clouded vision only saw the man of her dreams.

“Oh sure, Caleb, naturally you would take her side.” Smoothing her dreadlocks in place, she leaned closer to him in playful flirtation.

“Of course, but ten minutes never hurt anyone, has it?” He grinned, biting his lip.

Caleb never had much shame when it came to flirting, and waking up from a coma only three days prior hadn’t weakened his game. However, that talent was getting me out of the hot seat right now, so I kept quiet.

With a blink, Linda looked at me as if surprised I was still there. “Well, go on, Sam. Don’t be later than you need to be.”

I slid by Caleb while our eyes locked for an eternal second. “Thanks,” I whispered.

“No problem,” he replied, and our fingertips connected for the briefest touch.

Though I saw Caleb yesterday, it felt like much longer, maybe due to all that had happened during the turkey day of doom. Things were tense between us now because of obligations and secrets we had to keep, and being this close to each other was nothing short of sweet torture.

Our empathic link had turned us into a pair of conjoined twins, moving in sync to a beat the beings inside us orchestrated. We were even beginning to dress alike, or maybe that was due to the employee dress code at our job.

By the time I reached the café, I was past the respectable limit of tardy, and Alicia Holloway, fellow serving wench and classmate, had no qualms about telling me about it. She had every reason to be stressed out. Our very pregnant café manager only showed up to work every lunar eclipse, leaving us baristas to man the battle stations on our own.

Angry as Alicia was, it was hard to take a person seriously who looked like a brown Precious Moments doll. Not that I had room to talk, but I just wanted to pinch her cheeks and play with her twisty braids.

I’d been acting suspect to everyone and I needed to make amends somehow, so I might as well start with her. She recently got her learner’s permit and I used that fact to my advantage. Promising her driving lessons smoothed back some of her ruffled feathers, and we were able to work in civil harmony.

“You know Malik Davis ran away from home,” she prompted, pulling gingerbread cookies out of the oven.

“I heard,” I grumbled.

“I saw the police come by the school, but no one’s seen him,” she added.

In actuality, no one had seen the real Malik Davis in over three months, but that was something only Caleb, Tobias, and I knew about. I doubted anyone would find Malik’s body—Tobias was good at making things disappear, including himself.

Thinking of Tobias made me thankful for the memory loss. Just for a few glorious minutes, I could forget the Big Bad who hid in the shadows, namely a shape-shifting incubus with a score to settle. I hadn’t seen Tobias in hours, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t around. He could be anywhere, become anyone, what with being the ultimate master of disguise and manipulation and all. If he could go so far as to disguise himself as my dead classmate and live with his family, then nothing was off limits.

“I’m sure he’ll show up eventually,” I assured as I chugged down a shot of espresso.

“How are you holding up?” she asked. “I mean, I know you and Malik were close and all that.”

I almost spat out my drink. “What? No we weren’t. Malik was always pushing up on me, not the other way around. If you haven’t noticed, I already have a boyfriend.” I pointed in the direction of the music department.

“I’ve noticed, but have you?” she asked, and I didn’t ignore the venom in her tone. It threw me off guard to have this usually happy little cherub catch an attitude, so I called her on it.

“Don’t tell me you have a crush on Malik, do you?”

“No!” she said a little too quickly.

I gasped. “Omigod, you do!”

“Shut up. I do not.” Her face bunched in an adorable pout as she continued wiping down the work area.

Oh, Tobias was gonna pay for this. Not only had he been masquerading as one of the biggest man-whores on campus, he managed to enchant every female in school, including the trusting sophomore who was now giving me the side-eye. At least I knew the root of the problem wasn’t entirely my fault, so I could work with a clear conscience.

After we shut down, the employees piled up at the entrance while Linda did the last minute sweep of the store.

We huddled in the vestibule, watching the lights in each department go out one by one. My eyes stayed glued to Caleb who spoke to me in code without moving his lips. I understood every word; I could feel the energy, the unexpressed emotion rushing off his body in waves, and being in cramped quarters with a dozen other people made the vibe that much more naughty.

His hands rested at his sides, clenching and unclenching in a strange rhythm. Color drenched his eyes, the sentient being behind them adding his two cents in our nonverbal conversation. Caleb was having a time making Capone behave, if the constant fidgeting was anything to go by. My own sentient being was eager as well, and if Lilith had her way, Caleb and I would be mated officially by now instead of this song and dance we had going on.

When Linda returned, we all filed out into the cold night. The crew scattered to their cars as I stood under the awning, waiting for the blue Chrysler that wasn’t there. Julie Marshall was a bona fide soccer mom, but her chauffeuring duties were getting rusty these days.

Soft flurries fell at a slant across my vision and the world blurred into patches of gray. It wasn’t cold enough for the snow to really stick, but a thin overlay of white covered the empty parking lot.

Alicia’s dad waited in his SUV by the curb and the engine revved to life when he spotted her.

“Remember, driving lessons!” Alicia yelled, or rather threatened, as she climbed into the passenger’s side. The van pulled away and more cars fled the premises before I could ask for a ride.

As I was on the brink of losing all feeling in my toes, Caleb drifted next to me. Flurries speckled his hair and his ears and cheeks were glowing bright red. Tall and lanky as he was, Caleb was a cutie, although a few minutes inside a tanning bed wouldn’t kill him. If I squinted, I’d lose him in the snow.

“You coming or what?” he asked.

“I’m waiting for my mom,” I answered.

“She’s not coming.”

I flinched, and not from the cold. “What?”

“I called her an hour ago and told her I was taking you home.”

“Did you now? And she agreed?” That didn’t sound like Mom at all.

“Yep. She trusts me with you. She knows I won’t do anything reckless. Plus, she’s got us clocked.” He pulled up his coat sleeve and checked his watch. “We have fifteen—no, thirteen minutes before she’s coming after me with a pair of hedge clippers and a can of kerosene. ‘Homemade birth control,’ she says.”

N. . .