Bring Me to Life (Hellions Book 1) Read online

  Bring Me to Life

  Also by Nicole Thorn

  (The Lost Ones series)

  A Lament for the Lost

  A Requiem for the Found

  An Elegy for the Unfaithful

  A Hope for the Broken

  A Blessing for the Damned (Coming Soon)

  A Dream for the Weary (Coming Soon)

  Happier Without You

  (The Paperdolls Series)

  The Dollhouse

  The Dreamhouse

  The Funhouse (Coming Soon)

  By Nicole Thorn & Sarah Michelle Hall

  (Seers & Demigods series)

  We Will Gain Our Fury

  We Will Change Our Stars

  We Will Heal These Wounds (Coming Soon)

  (Way Down Below series)

  Way Down Below

  Follow Me Down

  We All Fall Down

  Down We Go

  Double Down/Down & Out

  Down in Flames (Coming Soon)

  Bitter Dreams

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by

  any means without written permission of the author.

  This Book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are

  either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Editing: Nightshade Author Services

  Cover Artist: Nightshade Author Services

  Bring Me to Life

  Copyright © 2017 Nicole Thorn

  Dedication: To Sarah: Without you, I would be missing such a big part of myself, and I wouldn’t even have a clue.

  Prologue: Oblivion

  Anastasia

  “Annie!” one of my best friends, Benjamin Oswald, screamed at me from across the library.

  The librarian slammed her hand down on the counter so hard that the reverberation caused her glasses to fall off, landing on the book in her hands. I couldn’t blame her for her anger. Oswald had yelled three other times already. We’d been in the library a lot since our high school graduation two months before, so the librarian was far past done with us.

  “Sorry!” Oswald screamed to the librarian as he approached me—book in hand. “Look,” he whispered loudly as he shoved the book to my chest.

  I examined the leather-bound tome that looked older than time. The cover didn’t have any words on it. Only a pentagram embroidered in the center of the book. The cliché gave me a stomach ache.

  “This is it.” He tapped on the cover with two fingers. “I’m sure of it. Elisa said it would be here.”

  “Great,” I tried to sound enthusiastic. “Let’s find Poppy.” I started walking back to the occult section I had become far too familiar with.

  I traveled up and down the two long rows with Oswald on my heel, but saw no sign of our friend. I stopped dead and turned around.

  My crystal blue eyes met Oswald’s dark blues as we both said, “Biographies.”

  Since that girl could read, she’d been obsessed with other people’s stories.

  “There she is.” I pointed when I found her nose deep in a book with Nikola Tesla on the cover.

  Oswald brushed past me and yanked the book from Poppy, so he could hold it over her head. Cruel, but he meant no harm.

  “Hand. That. Over!” Poppy grunted as she jumped up, her arms reaching but being stuck at five foot two inches, she was no match for our six-one friend.

  “What’ll ya give me for it?” he grinned.

  Poppy raised an eyebrow before arching herself up on her tiptoes and digging her fingers into his dark blonde hair, yanking his lips down to hers. He crumbled instantly.

  While Oz tried to breathe though their upsettingly graphic kiss, Poppy took the book from him and gently shoved him away.

  “Oh.” He smiled. “You shady little leprechaun.”

  She flicked his ear. “Bite me, Ossy,” she dramatically snapped at her boyfriend.

  Poppy could be a little sensitive to the Irish jokes. Though you’d never be able to tell, she came from a long, long line of pure Irish blood. On her father’s side. Her mother was Native American, and Poppy took after her. All but her bright green eyes. Her skin was dark tan, and she had wavy black hair that fell a few inches past her shoulders.

  We met because we had all been troublemakers. The first day of kindergarten had been hard on the three of us. Our teachers sent us all to the corner for time out. Oswald ate two of his desk mate’s crayons, Poppy kept taking her shoes off, and I called the teacher a Nazi. I didn’t know what it meant, but I heard it on TV and decided that I needed to work in into my vocabulary.

  So, once we had all been in the corner we started talking to each other. And so, a bond stronger than dried barbeque sauce on a glass plate had formed. Elisa didn’t come in until later.

  “We got the book,” Oswald told Poppy.

  “Yay!” She clapped, and jumped up and down in between the stacks. “Let’s go. Elisa’s gotta be ready by now.”

  I seemed to be the only one scared of what we had planned.

  When Elisa moved to Arizona in the eighth grade, she brought along a fascination with witchcraft. When we became friends, it caught on. Just a little spell here and there. Nothing that ever worked. We hadn’t so much as made a pencil move. I would have given up trying a long time ago if Elisa hadn’t been so sure it would work. She said we just needed to try harder.

  Hence the book I held. She said that one of the spells inside would increase all of our power.

  The rational side of me said there was no way it would do a thing. But the paranoid side said OH MY GOD OH MY GOD WHAT IF IT WORKS WHAT IF IT FREAKING WORKS!? I DON’T WANNA BE A WITCH! WHAT IF I ACCIDENTALLY KILL A BUNNY WITH MY BRAIN OR SOMETHING?!

  Then I take an Advil PM and have a nap.

  We checked out the two books and hopped in Oswald’s black Escalade and drove to Elisa’s house. We arrived just after the sun fell over the horizon.

  We parked in the driveway to the mini mansion since her parents had gone off on their latest mid-life crisis kick. This time, they visited Africa and built huts. I’d be happier about their efforts if I believed for a second they did it for the people there and not themselves. They liked to try and stave off the guilt that sometimes came with being loaded, by throwing money at problems. And their children.

  Poppy banged the massive doorknocker against the oak, and thirty seconds later, Elisa materialized.

  “Oh, you got it!” she said when she spotted the book in my hand. She yanked it from me without even a hello.

  She looked like the epitome of perfection. A walking Barbie doll—though I was the blond. I was happy with what the Lord gave me, but Elisa got the angelic face. Not that she woke up like that. I’d been there for her morning rituals. An hour curling her long, light brown hair. Another hour on makeup. Half hour on clothes—more often than not, she hardly wore anything. She used the Arizona heat as an excuse, but I knew that even if we lived in Antarctica she’d dress like that.

  She was short—a couple inches shorter than Poppy. I almost towered over her at five-eight. She tried a few times to doll me up, saying that she could make me so hot that my dad would need to invest in a shot gun.
I declined. The most I did was brush out my hair and let it fall as it would. It tended to get a little wavy as it dried, landing a few inches above my waist. I’d kept it at that length for a decade.

  The three of us walked into the house and followed Elisa down to her bedroom.

  The room was massive—bigger than even my parents’ room. And she decorated it as dramatically as I expected her to. The lights had been dimmed to near blackness. Candles adorned every inch of the space. Wax melted into the carpet and dripped off of her dresser.

  The lights flickered against the walls, casting shadows that gave me shivers.

  This had been a bad idea.

  A path of candles led out of the backdoor attached to her bedroom. The double doors stood wide open, and I could see the weak wind trying to blow out the fire on the large circle of candles laid out in the grass.

  “Let’s do this,” Elisa squealed in delight again.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t,” my mouth said without permission.

  Her eyebrow went up curiously. “Why?”

  “Because we’re messing with something that we shouldn’t be. If this works—”

  “When,” Elisa said firmly.

  “—then we’ll have power that maybe a person shouldn’t have. Maybe no one should.”

  Elisa looked outright pissed off. “But the power is just there. Waiting for someone to take it. It should be us.” Her face softened, and she put on her beauty pageant smile. “Come on, Annie. Don’t you want to be powerful?” She took a slow step closer to me. “You can do whatever you want. Never have to rely on anyone ever again. You see something you want, and you can reach out and take it.”

  I shut my eyes for a long second before I opened them again. “Fine. Let’s do this,” I repeated her words, and she didn’t see the terror under them. Or maybe she did, and just didn’t care.

  We gathered around the circle, and Elisa opened her book. She flipped to the page she said the spell would be on and a Cheshire cat grin painted her red lips.

  “Get ready guys. Life starts tonight.”

  Elisa instructed us to stand inside the circle and hold hands. She started reading from the book, and my blood ran cold. If this worked…I didn’t know what I’d do.

  A sharp wind blew at us, but not a single candle went out. I didn’t know how that was possible, but Elisa grinned at the sight. Like she believed it had been her doing.

  Her brown eyes flickered to me and our friends. “Now we need to present our offering to the earth.” She pulled a pocketknife from her boot and flicked it open. “We need pure blood to pour into the dirt.”

  All eyes went to me.

  “What?” I shrunk down and started getting cold again.

  “Pure,” Elisa repeated. “As in virgin blood. Sorry, but you’re the only one here who can give us that.”

  Dammit.

  I guess that had been my own fault for dating a boy who wanted to be a youth pastor when he was older. In the two years we dated, we never got past first base. Unless you count him accidentally brushing his hand against my chest when he reached for the ketchup. Even that sent him running. He’d dumped me when he found out about my affinity for the occult.

  “Hold out your hand, Annie,” Elisa ordered me.

  I obeyed.

  She sliced open my palm, and instantly, blood poured over my fingers and dripped into the grass. The wind blew again, and Elisa went back to reading.

  My stomach started hurting. The nervousness, I thought. But the pain didn’t stop. It only got worse. I doubled over, and held back vomit. Elisa glanced up at me, but she didn’t stop chanting. If she did, it would disrupt the spell and we’d need to wait another month. I just wanted this to be over.

  Elisa instructed us to chant with her. I struggled through it, but kept going.

  I felt something moving inside of me, going through my whole body. It burned. I dropped Poppy’s hand, and cried out.

  “Keep going!” Elisa shouted over the wind.

  “She’s in pain,” Oswald said. “We should—”

  Elisa didn’t stop, and I tried the best to keep up. Maybe I felt the power that Elisa promised us. I just didn’t know why it only hurt me.

  I managed to stand up straight as we continued on. I didn’t even know what I chanted, I just felt like I needed to keep saying it.

  Almost over. I could feel it. Something inside of me started changing.

  Elisa started chanting something the rest of us hadn’t been prepared for. I couldn’t fully understand her, and didn’t think Poppy or Oswald did either. She begged something—someone—for power and trust. Her eyes went to mine and for the first time, they looked worried.

  The pain in my stomach got worse, and I dropped to my knees.

  “Anastasia,” Poppy gasped and dropped with me.

  I screamed as the pain got to be too much. I started coughing, and it felt like it ripped up my insides, like I was being scrambled. Poppy rubbed my back, and I could see her tears dripping into the grass.

  “What’s happening to me?” I coughed out into my hand. I saw the blood splattering my pale skin. I coughed again, and I saw the blood fly, covering Elisa, the wall behind her, and the book in her hands. Then my vision went black.

  “Annie…” Poppy cried into my ear when I fell to the ground. I felt another hand on me. Oswald, I guessed, since Elisa still chanted.

  I coughed again. It sounded wet as I felt warm and sticky liquid splatter my hand again. I collapsed onto my back and started shaking. Hands tried holding me steady, but it didn’t stop.

  “Annie, you’re gonna be okay,” Oswald told me. “Just hold on. Please.”

  I couldn’t. The pain took over my senses. I couldn’t even speak.

  Poppy pulled my head onto her lap, and she held me as I slipped into oblivion.

  Chapter One: There and Back Again

  Anastasia

  I opened my eyes, and I could see again. I saw a bus stop. I could feel the dry air, and for a second, I thought I was home. Then memories flashed in my head of what just happened.

  I died.

  I’m dead.

  I can feel it.

  I looked around more, taking in the scene. Massive gates waited on either side of me, leading I didn’t know where. It looked like a desert wasteland.

  I sat on the bench, and tried to think.

  My body felt wrong. Not solid enough. I could touch things, but I couldn’t feel anything.

  When another person popped into thin air in front of me, I almost yelped. Then another person. Every minute or so until the area became full.

  The crowd murmured, asking each other the same thing that I asked myself. Where are we?

  When I turned my head, I saw a man that hadn’t been there before. He looked homeless, dressed in rags and old clothes. He looked at me for a second or two before crossing his legs and staring straight ahead.

  I heard a horn honking, and every head but one turned.

  A large bus pulled up and parked in front of the stop. The doors swung open, and people started shuffling on. I didn’t move.

  Just me and the homeless man remained. He stayed, so I thought I could.

  The homeless guy nudged my shoulder with his. “Better hop on. You don’t want to miss this bus. I promise you that the next one won’t take you to a place you want to be.” He sounded indifferent. I stood and stepped onto the bus.

  I saw a girl behind the wheel. She looked young. Younger than me, but not by much. Her hair was long and strawberry blond, and her eyes almost matched mine.

  “Where am I?” I asked her.

  She offered a sad smile and tapped on a sign that hung under a kitten on her dashboard. It read, ‘Do not speak to bus driver’.

  “Sorry,” I said.

  “S’okay. Take a seat and all will be explained soon. I just get tired of the speech.”

  The kitten stretched out, and I looked at her pattern. She was a calico and every inch of her looked splattered with a different color.r />
  “Quinlinn,” the girl told me.

  I pet the kitten’s head, and took the seat just behind the girl.

  I could see fear in everyone’s eyes as they tried to make sense of this. I just looked out the window as the girl drove us off.

  When we reached one of the gates, it opened wide, and I couldn’t believe what I saw. More of the desert, and massive castles. They looked beautiful and terrifying. Older than I could fathom.

  The bus stopped on the cobblestone road, and the girl stood, grabbing a clipboard from the dash.

  “Listen up, dearies,” she roared. “I call your name and point you where you need to go.”

  “Where are we?” a crying woman called out.

  The girl looked up from her clipboard. “Hell. You’re in Hell. You died today, and you’ve found yourself in an in-between state. Don’t worry.” She waved her hand. “This area is where you’re going to work off your sentence.”

  “Sentence?” I asked, trying not to panic.

  “Yes.” She nodded at me. “Ever hear of purgatory? Well, The Big Guy—” She pointed up. “—didn’t want it in Heaven. He didn’t wanna muddle up His perfection. So it’s in Hell. It’s not so much a place as a state of being. You get a sentence for whatever you did that is keeping your soul out of Heaven. Something bad enough that you didn’t get in the first time around, but not so bad that it’s out of reach. Work off your sentence, and you get eternal paradise. Yay.” She waved her hands around while her voice dripped with fake enthusiasm.

  I stopped breathing. Maybe because I was dead, or maybe the panic did it. The girl started reading names and giving people a run down of their sentences. They just sounded like jobs. Some got laundry duty; a few were sent to do repairs on the buses. I guess they had a lot. One got a job baking cake… I could have done that one…