Whispers in Autumn (35 page)

Authors: Trisha Leigh

Lucas struggles to get hold of Deshi or escape. This time I wouldn’t feel bad about burning someone but there’s no clear shot. Lucas’s stare holds mine, full of emotion and strength. One last, desperate idea comes to me in an instant. If it doesn’t work, we’re toast.

We’re toast either way, eventually.

I stare at my friend, my kindred, and beg him with my eyes to understand. He struggles to comprehend before realization arrives and he gives a small nod.

My mind performs a frantic search of its contents, trying to find anything that could make it work. We have to use the cold, the heat…or the place it comes from.

After tonight, finding the place inside me that generates the heat is easier than I ever expected. Now it swells, and every bad feeling, every happy emotion provided by the past few weeks mixes together in my core. I feel it surge, and try to focus the energy on traveling. If we don’t succeed, our lives are over. If we do, we may not be together when we wake up.

You have to touch him.

Stay away from me, Fire
, I growl in response.

Ice crystals bead on Lucas’s forehead as sweat pours down my face. At the last second I trust my mother and lunge forward, crashing into him. Deshi has his hands, so I press as much of me against him as I can in that split second.

I hear Lucas’s voice, already far away. “I’ll find you.”

The next instant, the world goes dark.

EPILOGUE

My eyes crack, adjusting to the dark room. I’m inside, that much is obvious. That feeling of disappearing, the one that scares me more than anything, presses down, suffocating me. A scream gathers at the back of my throat as I struggle to convince myself I exist.

It works in the nick of time, like always.

I’m in bed. Alone.

The comforter is thick and deep blue. It reminds me of Cadi’s eyes when she’d get upset. Without moving, my ears pick up the howling wind rattling the window in its frame.

Sliding my feet into the slippers waiting beside the bed, I make my way over to the window. I collapse onto the cushioned seat and press my forehead to the frosty glass. My breath blows white patterns as the snow swirls outside. It clings to the spindly tree branches and sticks to the ground, deep drifts piling up against the curb. Tears slide down my cheeks.

It’s winter. I’m in Iowa. It means, among other things, that Lucas is gone.

He can’t come here. I don’t even know if he’s gotten out of autumn alive. The loneliness, kept at bay by his presence the past several weeks, nips at me like a hungry beast. It will eat me alive before long. There is nothing left to combat it.

I’ve gone against what I believe and used violence to save us. The Others know who we are, what we look like. They may not know where I am this instant, but it won’t take them long to find out.

My locket vibrates against my chest, not as violently as the day Ko popped out but hard enough to make me jump. Nothing appears this time, so with a trembling hand I pull it over my head and open it up. My note is lodged inside, as I expect. I pull it out like always, unfold it with care. The sight of the altered words catches my breath in my throat:

Althea—

Lucas is safe. We will help in any way we can. You need to run.

—Cadi
.

Acknowledgements

I’ve been incredibly lucky to be surrounded with a team of people far more insightful and detail-oriented than myself, and who helped make this book better than I ever could have on my own. Huge thanks to my editor, Danielle Poeisz, for all of your hard work. You went above and beyond the call of duty, and without your creativity and questions this story would not have blossomed into something better. Thank you for taking it on and for being excited. Also thanks to my sharp-eyed copy editor Lauren Hougen and Nathalia Suellen, who designed and crafted this beautiful cover.

I’d like to thank Wes Samson for being the first non-family member to read my writing and not laugh out loud, even though the piece you read deserved more than one derisive snort. If you
had
deemed my aspirations ridiculous, this book may never have come to fruition. Thank you for that, and for the reminder that no matter how brief a time a person spends in your life, they can still make a difference.

Thank you to my entire family—all of the Martins, Ziegenhorns, Heinrichs, Ingstads, Tylers, Wearns, and Dickinsons (and everyone else, too)—without a family like you holding a net of support and love, I’d never have had the courage to try. The possibility of failing didn’t scare me because I’ll always have you, and not everyone is so lucky.

To my fellow writers who critiqued for me on this, especially Eisley, Trieb, Ali, Bill, and Beth. Your feedback and encouragement (and yes, Trieb, even your acid tongue) were an invaluable contribution to this story. Rachel, Lissa, and Mom, your proofreading skills are magical and the perfect way to make sure I look as smart as possible.

All of the love to Denise Grover Swank, esteemed author, critique partner, paver of roads, cheerleader, wine connoisseur, and friend—not only would this book not be published without you, I would be rocking in the corner of a padded room shrieking nonsense. You’ve helped me improve my writing, understand this business, and retain my sanity. I cannot thank you enough.

I owe a great debt to the real Althea, who loaned my character not only her awesome name but her indomitable spirit. And to my teenage beta readers, Julia, Kerstin, and Anthony, for reading, for being so excited, and for attempting to keep me young and in touch.

Sumer, Alison, Brooke, and Karen—non-writer friends who laugh with me, push me out into the world, and stay friends with me even though I’m weird. I wouldn’t be the girl who wrote this story without each of you in my life.

Andrea, my best friend for over twenty years. We’ve laughed, and cried, and seen each other at our ugliest, most vulnerable, and possibly insane moments. I take our friendship for granted sometimes, but I don’t even want to think about the last twenty years, or the next fifty, without you in my life.

My Twitter friends, who have taught me, supported me, laughed with me, and encouraged me through this entire process—I never would have made it without you. In particular, thanks to Dan Krokos, Sean Ferrell, Bill Cameron, Gary Corby, Steve Ulfelder, and Jeff Somers, who have talked me down off ledges, lent humor when the situation called for it (and also when it didn’t) and were some of the first people to make me realize that other writers were rooting for my success.

Not to be outdone, the unstoppable ladies Harley May, Elisabeth Black, Ali Trotta, Jen the Amazing, Linda Grimes, Patty Blount, and a host of others too numerous to count who interact with me, get excited with me, and push me forward on a daily basis. I hope you know I’m waiting anxiously for the chance to return the favor.

Last but certainly not least, to my parents and sister, who have grown many gray hairs watching me make the wrong decisions, start down wrong paths, too many times to count. I appreciate your love, your support, and your willingness to let me figure out life on my own terms more than I can ever say. I think we’re finally on the right track.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Raised by a family of ex-farmers and/or almost rocks stars from Southeastern Iowa, Trisha Leigh has a film degree from Texas Christian University. She currently lives in Kansas City, MO.
Whispers in Autumn
is her first novel, and she’s hard at work on the remainder of the series. Her spare time is spent reviewing television and movies, relaxing with her loud, loving family, reading any book that falls into her hands, and being dragged into the fresh air by her dogs Yoda and Jilly.

To learn more about Trisha Leigh, please visit her at
trishaleigh.com
.

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