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Blood Legacy




  Blood Legacy

  BOOK 1 OF THE CONDUIT SERIES

  FAYE TRASK

  Other titles by Faye Trask

  The Conduit Series

  Breaking the Bond (Prequel)

  Keep up-to-date at

  www.fayetrask.com

  Copyright © 2021 Faye Trask.

  First published in the United States in 2021

  All rights reserved.

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-7367717-2-3

  Paperback ISBN: 978-1-7367717-0-9

  Hardback ISBN: 978-1-7367717-1-6

  Cover art by Damonza.com

  Proofread by Lori Parks

  www.fayetrask.com

  All work remains the property of the author and may be used by themselves or with their express permissions in any way that they deem appropriate with no limitations.

  No part of this publication may be produced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, not be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover or print other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  To my parents, thank you for always encouraging me to chase my dreams.

  — and —

  To Taylor, my first sounding board. If it wasn’t for you this would still be a random idea I had on the side of a mountain.

  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

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Author’s Notes

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  Other titles by Faye Trask

  Chapter One

  The clock's numbers burned like fire in the darkness: 4:05 a.m.

  Kelly Frost stared exhausted at the crimson lines, listening to the snores and faint barks of the large German shepherd lying by her feet. Sighing, she faced the ceiling.

  There was no chance of falling back to sleep; a dull pain in her temple pulsed. Trying to will the pain away, she rubbed at it, pushing harder than she should.

  No luck. Fucking bullshit.

  The constant throbbing had become a permanent companion, reminding her of what she used to be. She glanced at the picture next to the clock. Even with the almost non-existent light she could see it clearly. A man and woman frozen in time, laughter forever on their faces. The man's arm playfully wrapped around the woman’s neck. They could have been twins, both in their chocolate brown t-shirts bleached by the sun, covered by tan camouflage uniforms. Their hats covering her chestnut hair and his auburn crew cut, black sunglasses protecting their eyes from the blinding desert sun. The names sewn on their chests read “Frost” and “Wilson.”

  Kelly’s gaze lingered on the man's face. The memory played hauntingly in her mind, the ghostlike laughter and faded colors clawed at her chest.

  The picture had been taken on the morning of her accident. Ever since then the chronic headaches only seemed to worsen with time. All the doctors and specialists she was sent to were baffled, unable to give her a diagnosis or a solution to her pain.

  Kelly looked at the clock again: 4:10 a.m.

  She stared at the date: May 9.

  Her mouth went dry as a lump formed in her throat. Eric’s birthday. She took a shaky breath. “Happy birthday, bud. I miss you.”

  Eight months… Eight months it had been since she had answered the phone to a sobbing Mrs. Wilson. The words barely distinguishable. Her lungs had left her chest, the floor suddenly slamming against her knees. The only words that stuck…

  “Dead.”

  “Morgue.”

  The clack of her phone hitting the floor had come from miles away. She stared vacantly at the tiled floor as her mind fought against everything she was hearing. She had seen him the day before. She was supposed to be with him. They always ran together. He was strong, he was a fighter, a good person, he couldn't be dead. Eric’s mother had asked if Kelly would take her to the morgue to identify Eric’s body. She couldn't bear to go alone. A far-off voice asked if she was still there.

  She retrieved the phone from the floor. When she spoke, the words were hollow and strange, as if from someone else. “I’ll be right over.”

  The line went dead. Kelly collapsed into a ball, sobbing. Her eyes burned like acid, every tear worse than the last, every beat of her heart ripped at her chest as it broke, tearing her world down around her.

  Unable to cry anymore, she got to her feet. She splashed water on her face, doing her best to hide the hurt she felt. Everything happened as if she watched from above: arriving at Mrs. Wilson’s house, driving to the morgue, hearing her talk with the medical examiner, then being escorted to a large window where a body covered with a white sheet lay in wait. The examiner standing on the other side of the sheet looked at Mrs. Wilson for the sign that she was ready. He pulled the sheet away. She collapsed into tears again, clutching Kelly, sobbing into her shoulder. He looked to Kelly for confirmation. Clenching her jaw tightly, she nodded.

  Knives stabbed into her chest with unbearable weight. His model-like profile, familiar auburn hair, his tan skin. Lifeless.

  Though the examiner had positioned him to hide his wounds, the torn flesh and pink muscle tissue was still visible. It was Eric, His face at peace as if sleeping. Her eyes fell to the wound. Something scratched at the back of her mind. What kind of animal did this?

  She jerked her head again. The examiner pulled the sheet back over Eric’s face, though the image would never fade. It’s not how she wanted to remember her best friend, her brother—a lifeless corpse on a cold metal table.

  The pain in her temple worsened. Closing her eyes, she rubbed her face and let out a deep sigh. She threw off her covers and flicked on the small reading light. She sat up, scratched Thor behind the ears and climbed out of bed. The dog looked up for a moment, then laid his head back down. She changed into her running clothes; a pair of black men’s basketball shorts and an old gray tank top two sizes too big. Haphazardly pulling her hair into a ponytail she stared out the window, down the driveway and then up at the starless sky. Her ghostlike reflection was barely visible.

  Was this it? What was she supposed to do? Was this all there was going to be? A mundane monotonous life that would only end when she died?

  Her chest grew heavy, each breath becoming harder than the last. The emptiness and hopelessness washed over her, sent her thoughts spiraling. Glaring into the early morning darkness, she gritted her teeth. “Not today.”

  She headed downstairs, Thor at her heel. Jotting a note on a slip of paper, she put it next to the coffeepot and commanded Thor to the couch. Her parents would be up in another hour.

  The cool morning air wrapped around her. Her skin prickled. The thought of grabbing a sweatshirt crossed her mind but faded quickly—I won’t get sick, it’s not that cold—as she headed to the woods behind her house.

  Not far into the woods lay a honeycomb of nature trails used by anyone looking to escape from the world for a while. In the winter it was populated
by snowmobilers flying as fast as possible to their next destination. In the summer horseback riders and those on all-terrain vehicles would weave throughout its many sandy trails burning off the never-ending stress. But now, in the between months where the snow had melted and the ground was still too soft for riders, it was completely abandoned. It was her favorite place to not only run, but to escape.

  She paused at the tree line.

  The memory of Eric's voice echoed in her head the same way it had a hundred times before. The same tone in his voice, an older brother pitying his younger sister. She supposed, in a way, he was. You ready, trouble?

  But we’re the same age.

  The sky grew slowly brighter as she ran, the crisp morning air biting her skin. The only sounds were the soles of her shoes thumping the ground, the occasional crumple of a dead leaf, and her panting breath. The early spring air tore at her lungs and throat like shards of glass sparking images of blood seeping from the wounds. Kelly welcomed the pain, let her mind flood with everything that haunted her. The hollow thumps of her feet hitting the solid cold earth became a rhythmic drumming. Images of Eric, her parents and their destroyed home, a stack of bills stamped “Past Due” flowing in and out like ocean waves.

  Are you ok, honey? You look tired, her mother’s voice echoed.

  Then her father’s. Are you okay?

  She clenched her jaw. How many times did she have to say she was fine before people would let her be?

  I'm here if you need to talk, her mother’s voice came back again only to be drowned out by her father’s.

  Do you need some help? Maybe we could chat.

  The trees lining the trail began to change from large black masses of endless unknowing, to a mess of black spears shooting from the ground attempting to stab the sky. A new day was coming and yet it was the same as the hundred days before it. The constant weight on her shoulders. The overwhelming need to take care of everything, to make life easy for everyone else. Why did everyone have to shove their noses in where they didn't belong?

  Cresting a ridge, she paused for a moment taking in her surroundings. The still emptiness of the morning surrounded her, yet something about it seemed off, like someone was watching her just beyond the shadows of the forest.

  A chill ran down her spine. Nearby, a twig snapped.

  Kelly stared back the way she had come. She waited for the feeling to pass. It didn’t, but nothing showed itself.

  Kelly continued, mind foggy, forcing a memory of Eric to the forefront of her mind to try and drown out the anger and frustration that came with feeling so hollow, so empty. Questions repeated in her head: Why? Why did she feel so empty? Why couldn’t she find joy in anything? Why did she feel so lost? And why in the hell did she still have these headaches? Her feet pressed harder against the ground with every unanswered question, her body picking up speed.

  The black spear-like trees began to color the world with grays and browns. Dark green patches of pine needles filled the voids left by trees that turned the most vivid shades of yellows and red before hiding from the cold. Small patches of orange leaves that even after the harsh winter storms refused to fall. A layer of fog clung to the ground as she reached the base of the hill.

  Her flyaway hair caught small droplets of water as she passed through a patch of fog. The cold water mixed with her now warm skin prickling her flesh. She dug her feet harder into the ground trying to outrun the noise. Kelly’s muscles burned with exhaustion, begging for her to quit, her knees ready to fail. Gasping for breath, she slowed, dropped her head and closed her eyes. They burned against their lids, tears overwhelming her.

  Her breath recovered, she took in her surroundings. She didn’t recognize where she was at first. She had never been over that crest before. Glancing back, she registered how far she had gone, the trail still empty, the weight of something watching her growing stronger. Spotting a trail opening she turned down it. This trail was narrower. A small voice in the back of her mind shouted “Danger,” but she ignored it. Her chest ached, she didn’t care if she got lost or hurt, she didn’t care if her life ended that very moment and that scared her.

  Leaves rustled, followed by the loud crack of a branch snapping.

  Kelly stopped dead in her tracks.

  In the distance, a large figure blocked her path, the early morning darkness refusing to unveil the truth. It looked like a man… or was it a small bear?

  Senses suddenly heightened, something in the back of her mind screamed to run, but she stayed curious to see what stood before her. She squinted. It was facing her. Had it spotted her?

  Taking several steps closer to the side of the trail, she tucked herself behind a tree masking her silhouette and continued to watch. Forming a plan in her head, she looked down for the nearest sturdy stick.

  If it’s a bear I can attempt to fight it off. If it’s a person, I can land a blow to its head and get out of here.

  Kelly’s skin crawled, the hair on her neck painfully on end. She was well aware of how alone she was. The figure shuffled nearby, feet scuffling the leaves and dirt. The throbbing in her head returned causing her stomach to lurch in her chest. Time to go.

  Careful to make as little sound as possible, she moved from her partially hidden position in the tree line, taking several steps backward. Glancing over her shoulder, she made sure the trail behind her was clear.

  It was.

  The figure stood in place, unmoving. Kelly’s muscles tensed, ready to run at a moment's notice, the silence of the morning deafeningly loud as she listened for the slightest rustle of fabric or fur. What is that thing?

  Checking the distance to the trail head behind her, she decided it was close enough that she could risk turning her back to the figure. Another glance showed it still there in its spot. You're getting worked up over nothing. Stop it! Adrenaline flooded through her body, her heart hammering more violently than before.

  The itching need to know what this thing was up to was too strong. She chanced another look. It was still there like a statue. This isn't right. The lump in her throat became immovable, as her heart threatened to burst free from her chest. It had to be her imagination; nothing could remain so still for so long.

  Approaching the end, she took a final glance back.

  The figure was gone.

  Kelly’s heart skipped a beat, all the air vanishing from her lungs. Her muscles took over as she sprinted down the main trail turning hard onto the access trail.

  I’m not scared, I went for a run, I should run.

  Trying to calm her racing heart from the verge of exploding, her hair still on end making her skin painfully tight, she ran faster.

  Just ’til the road, then it will be okay.

  She turned over her shoulder. Aside from a fat gray squirrel that was ready to start its day, the trail was empty. Kelly slowed. Her stomach rolled, threatening to empty its contents. A car barreled past as the main road came into view. She relaxed.

  The occasional car passed as Kelly continued to jog toward the house. She didn’t stop again until she reached the end of the driveway.

  Her headache subsided to a dull throb.

  Chapter Two

  “Hi, honey, how was your run?”

  A small thick-bodied, kind-faced woman sat on the top step, her short ashen gray hair in its morning dishevelment. A black heavy metal sweatshirt covered her flowered nightgown, another dark sweatshirt draped over her lap. Next to her were two coffee mugs. Kelly always got a kick out of seeing her mother, Susan, in her old clothes.

  “Good” she puffed, climbing the stairs and plopping next to her. Kelly thought of telling her mother about what happened in the woods, then decided she wouldn’t. Whatever that thing had been, it was nothing she needed to worry about. If anything bad happened, it was Kelly's job to take care of it. At least since the devastating hurricane that had swept through the Southeast. In the month before she had come home, Kelly had pleaded with her parents to evacuate and not ride out the storm as they u
sually did. To her relief, after much arguing, they did. The hurricane finally hit, destroying their home along with many of their possessions. Kelly left immediately after Eric’s funeral and drove for three days with her truck to salvage what they could, bringing them back to live with her in Maine.

  Her mother handed her the sweatshirt draped across her lap, then the coffee mug next to her.

  “Thanks.” She pulled on the sweatshirt over her cold sweat-coated skin and took the mug. The blueberry fragrant coffee warmed her chest and soothed her raw throat. The sensation that flowed through her chest was odd. She hadn’t realized how cold she was until she had taken the drink. It felt like her body had died and the coffee restarted her heart, pumping warm blood to all her forgotten limbs.

  After a few moments of silence, Kelly asked, “Dad watching the news?”

  “Yes. Are you hungry? I was just waiting for you to get back to make breakfast.”

  “Sounds great,” Kelly replied with false sincerity as her mother stood.

  Kelly wasn't hungry—she rarely was anymore but she couldn't let her parents know. Then the questions would begin.

  She brushed back a few flyaway hairs that clung to the sweat on Kelly’s face and went inside. The screen door creaked and thudded closed.