Awakening: Book One by Jacqueline Brown

Author:Jacqueline Brown [Brown, Jacqueline]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-06-30T05:00:00+00:00

Fourteen

The next day I awoke with clarity—clarity I had lacked the night before. I resolved to think nothing about any of the events of the previous two days. Yes, Luca passed out, and yes, that was weird, but people passed out all the time. That certainly did not prove he could sense evil. It meant he needed to be more aware of his blood sugar and possibly go to the doctor.

Gigi was an amazing grandmother, but she was a bit extreme in her thinking about many things, not simply about ghosts and goblins and whatever other strange creatures she believed in. And the light I’d glimpsed in the middle of the night was merely my exhausted mind playing tricks. Or, at most, a reflection of the full moon off one of the dust-covered windowpanes acting as a mirror. The inn was old and delipidated and physically dangerous, like Dad said. But it was not a spiritual threat. How could it be?

The day was bright and sunny, the wind had calmed down, and there was a fresh carpet of red, gold, and orange leaves covering the lawn. Today would be better, I told myself. I repeated this mantra every morning until Friday, when I woke up and didn’t have to remind myself the day would be better.

Gigi had stopped talking to me about demons. Luca hadn’t been around except at night. Though him staring at the stones of our house now felt normal, so even that didn’t bother me. Thomas and I texted back and forth a few times. He was nice, checking on Luca and apologizing for going toward the inn. It was nice to have someone to text with. It was, I realized, nice to have a friend. I was looking forward to seeing him the next day at the church’s fall festival.

Of course, the fall festival would only happen if people showed up, and they wouldn’t do that if they didn’t know it was happening or where to park. Which was why our kitchen and the hallway leading to my dad’s office were now overrun with neon-colored poster boards.

I was the designated sign maker at our church. It didn’t matter if I volunteered or not; everyone in the church automatically assumed I’d do it. I didn’t mind. I always enjoyed practicing lettering and there weren’t many opportunities to use those skills unless I was making signs or addressing wedding invitations, the other thing I was automatically volunteered for.

“These look great,” Dad said as he stepped over me on his way to his office.

“Thanks,” I said. “I’m trying to match the style of writing to the type of vendor.”

“Hmm, yes, I can see that,” he said, studying the sign I was working on.

I knew he couldn’t see it. He never thought about the way he formed letters or even the font he used when typing. He was odd in that way. Or perhaps I was the odd one. I often spent well over an hour picking out the perfect font for my reports.

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