End of Days: The Complete Trilogy (Books 1-3) by Meg Collett

Author:Meg Collett [Collett, Meg]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi, epub
Publisher: Meg Collett
Published: 2014-08-09T04:00:00+00:00

24

Clark’s room was freezing. He sat in front of his bedroom’s fireplace, staring at its lack of warm flames. For all his trying, he couldn’t get a fire started. He sighed and pulled the quilt tighter around his shoulders.

His body ached. Exhaustion crawled through him like an army of termites devouring his insides. After a tense dinner of beans and cornbread, he’d sat with his father. Isaac had barely moved. His breaths seemed weak. His father’s body was working to fight off the infection, but Isaac looked spent. So Clark had sat there, worrying and chewing on his lip until it was bloody.

He would’ve stayed all night with his father if Ophaniel hadn’t come. She’d sat beside the bed and picked up Isaac’s hand. She promised Clark she’d stay all night. Her sweet voice and smiling eyes commanded him to go get some sleep.

Now all he wanted was to be warm and go to sleep after hauling dead animal bodies around for hours. He rested his chin in his hand, wishing he had a match.

The Nephilim didn’t need matches to light fires. They had magic. Clark’s bitter feelings surfaced. He heard Sophia’s voice in his head again. Half-breed.

He straightened, the quilt slipping slightly off his shoulders.

Sophia was right. He was a half-breed. As in half Nephil.

Even before the words had printed themselves on his arms, he was powerful. In the cave the night he’d found Michaela, he’d stopped his fall with a thought alone. His mother’s magic was the strongest the Nephilim had seen in years. Her blood was in his veins. Now he had the Watchers’ secrets inked on his arms. He’d already proved he understood the magic on his arms when he sizzled the Seraphim with only two words. He wasn’t just any half-breed. He was a new kind of breed.

“Dude.”

He narrowed his eyes at the fireplace and strained.

Abra cadabra, he thought. Boredom sank in after a minute or two of nothing happening. Clark groaned, frustrated. How had he done this last time?

He dropped the blanket and scooted closer to the fireplace, his knees brushing the stone edge. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes. Before all the madness, he used to mediate a lot at the Descendants’ compound. His breathing slowed as he focused on following the beat of his heart.

Soon, he felt the singular beats like an echo in his mind. He tracked them, listening and waiting. Slowly, he sensed a tingle in his arms. The words from the Watchers surfaced, but stayed beyond reach in the recesses of his mind. He waited, biding his time as he continued to listen to his heartbeat.

Nothing happened, but he didn’t surface from the meditation. The coldness from the room set in. It seeped into his skin, permeating his insides, gathering in the marrow of his bones. Frost draped around his organs. It crept into his brain, slowing his thoughts even more until he tracked the rise and fall of the words.

There was a significant pause between each beat where Clark was suspended in time.

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