Dream Angel (The Angel Series Book 1) by Jo Wilde

Author:Jo Wilde [Wilde, Jo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sanguine - A Next Chapter Imprint
Published: 2020-05-05T05:00:00+00:00

Later that evening, a storm rolled in, bringing ominous clouds. Thunder rumbled with fury, shattering against the windowpane as lightning streaked across the bruised heavens. Then came sheets of rain pounding the house.

I never liked thunderstorms, and this one wasn’t any exception. I finally gave up and closed my math book. I wanted to kick myself for slacking. I was behind, and it kept growing. For some reason, I couldn’t remember some of the formulas for my math lessons. Holes, more holes in my brain. I rubbed my temples as if that was going to make my memories return.

I climbed out of bed and went downstairs. Coffee sounded good. I headed for the kitchen. I fixed a whole pot and poured myself a cup. Then I sat in solitude at the small table by the window watching the rain.

Coffee was probably the worst thing to have before bedtime, but with the crazy weather tonight, I imagined I wouldn’t be getting much sleep anyhow.

I stared out the window, wondering if I should take stock in Sally's claim. It didn’t matter any longer. I’d decided to cut ties with Bane. Somehow, I’d find a way to pay rent myself rather than accept his charity.

Then an idea struck. Bane might be deducting the rent and utilities from Sara’s paycheck. Maybe Sara wasn't lying; perhaps she was working for the Bane’s after all. No point worrying about it now, Sara was predictable to a fault. Meaning, when she tired of this place, we’d be shoving off to the next hellhole. I sighed, shaking my head. The only thing holding me up from leaving was Ms. Noel and Jen.

Since my accident, slipping on baby oil and busting my head, my mind hadn’t been the same. I had more daunting problems to brood about to last a lifetime. I decided to crawl back in bed with a good book, hoping that would relax me. Dressed in Bugs Bunny pajamas, I slipped in under the covers with one of my favorite books, To Kill a Mockingbird, a classic by Harper Lee.

I’d read only a few pages before I drifted off to sleep. It wasn’t a peaceful sleep, quite the opposite. The same haunting dream that had chased me since my dad died returned with a vengeance.

I smiled at the cute boy, and he smiled back, taking my hand. As usual, I could only see his smile. His facial features were blurred.

When I glimpsed away, my breath caught. Deep male voices hummed in my ears. The words were unclear, but it sounded like chanting. Their cadence rose and dropped in a congruous psalm. A constant drip echoed like water dripping.

The boy turned to me, tugging at my arm. His lips moved, but I couldn’t hear him. I strained to listen, still unable to make out his words.

Then he lashed out at me, his fingers bit deeply into the flesh of my arm, forcing me to follow. I cried out in pain, yelling at him to let go. Ignoring my cries, he dragged me down a dark corridor.

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