The Relic Keeper, Tome 1 : Dark Summoner

Chapter one

TEN LONG YEARS

There was no doubt about it.

The man across the bar wanted to have sex with me.

At least that’s the impression I got from his not-so-subtle tongue wiggling. I imagined this was his disgusting and unsuccessful attempt at seduction. My revulsion must have been obvious because the tongue wiggler’s overconfident smirk turned into a sour frown. He mouthed “Fuck you,” grabbed his beer, and disappeared through the crowd.

I raised my glass to his dwindling form and took another sip of my cranberry and vodka. The scent of cigarettes and alcohol filled the club as sweaty bodies ground against each other to the music. A couple, who stood way too close, started making out voraciously. Their little tryst didn’t bother me until their fondling bumped my arm and caused me to almost spill my drink.

“Sorry.” The guy slurred the word.

He gripped his date’s ass and guided her back toward the bathroom to continue their activities. I scowled and swore under my breath.

I hated clubs. They were always too loud and too crowded, but it was Reagan’s birthday-month, which meant she chose the venue. While most people celebrated their birthday on one day of the year, Reagan considered the entire month of October her month. For anyone else, I would never have considered participating in a nonstop self-celebration, but Reagan was different. She was like a sister to me and the only person I considered family.

We’d been here for over three hours, and I’d had my fill of frisky hands and booming music. She’d promised we’d leave as soon as she said a quick hello to a friend but that was over fifteen minutes ago and I hadn’t seen her since. Where the hell was she?

I slipped the heels off my aching feet and pressed my arches onto the cool metal barstool. I cast another hopeful glance around the club in search of my best friend when my attention was drawn to the VIP area. Out of nowhere, the hairs on my arms rose and my entire body froze. A memory I cast away long ago resurfaced as clear as day.

“What do you see Abigail?” he asks.

“Nothing,” I reply through shaky words, holding my doll, afraid to admit the truth. They didn’t want the truth anymore; they wanted the lie. So did I. Just to make the torture stop.

“Don’t you lie to me.” His mouth twists in anger, but he appears to enjoy it.

“I’m not.” I know my voice isn’t convincing. I squeeze my eyes shut and beg for the visions to go away.

“You know what happens when you lie, Abigail. Little girls who lie get punished.”

“Please. Don’t.” Tears stream down my cheeks. The dread of what is to come, of what he’s about to do to me, makes me wish for death.

Ten years.

Ten long years of forgetting . . . hiding . . . burying.