Rocked: A Chelsie Valdar Saga, 1

By Gina Marie Long

ROCKED: The Apocalypse is coming...in one week. Chelsie Valdar and her brother are modern-day Viking warrior teenagers. They must find a mystical sword belonging to their ancient ancestor and flee to safety at a secret shelter, if they hope to survive. As the clock ticks, several Bigfoot and an outcast werecat become invaluable friends helping with the search for the sword and offering supernatural protection. Misfortune haunts their every move. Conflicts delay their progress. Especially when a devious and deranged enemy is infatuated with Chelsie and hungers for the sword, desperate to escape to the shelter with Chelsie by his side. Time is running out.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gina Marie Long
• Release date: Feb 16, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301415038

Gina Marie Long

Gina Marie Long is an author of paranormal thrillers, urban fantasy, and young adult novels. She has written the Unknown Touch-Werewolf Series, Rocked: A Chelsie Valdar Saga, and The Reaper's Cat. Gina's fiction stories are inspired from her interest in the supernatural, science fiction and fantasy world. She enjoys reading, watching evening TV shows, movies and listening to music. Writing indulges her passion for the entertainment arts, giving her active mind a playground of possibilities to explore. She stays active on social media sites and blogging, making connections with others who share the same interests. She writes about werewolves, vampires, witches, werecats, Bigfoot, an occasional demon, psychics, Vikings, and riveting human characters. But not ALL in the same book! In addition, a light romance is included to spice things up (come on-every book, movie and TV show has some sort of a love story in it). The books do not fall under the romance category...just enough in the storyline to satisfy the girls. And the boys can breathe easy with the knowledge that they're not reading a romance novel but a paranormal thriller, instead. Depending on which series, the ages of the main characters are 16 through 30. Most are on the younger side. "It's exciting to create strong characters that the readers fall in love with...or want to strangle! Writing books about other beings, such as werewolves and vampires, allows rules to be broken concerning life and the world as we know it. The idea to have these supernatural species living and breathing among us is so wickedly intriguing. Having close contact with them, developing relationships, and dealing with the good vs. the evil - it sweeps you away into another reality – an escape from real life. You wonder and worry about what the characters will stumble upon next. Or, what horrific tragedy knocks them flat on their faces."~~Gina She lives in Highland, Illinois, with her husband and Jessie Cat. Keep track of Gina at: http://www.ginamarielong.com

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Day 1 - Early Afternoon

The ground trembles under my feet. I pause on the nature trail, forcing Gator to stop, too. I wonder if it's an earthquake but each tremor is short and separate from the next one. Not how a quake's rumbling feels. Maybe something heavy dropped on the ground or exploded nearby.

Or it could be something else…

I look at Gator for his opinion. Whatever caused the disturbance stopped. His head tilts from side to side as he makes eye contact then sneezes. I smile at his cuteness, shrug my shoulders and we take off walking fast and steady.

Staying in shape is a priority to me and even though it is the first day of summer vacation, I refuse to ease up on my workouts.

Besides, I need to burn off some restless energy and vent my anger from Dean breaking up with me yesterday. The last day of school is supposed to be fun and carefree. Especially now that I'll be a high school senior when school starts again in August. But no, Dean ruined that. At my locker, before first hour, he caught me and whispered he wanted to breakup. He claims I need an attitude adjustment and that I keep secrets from him. Well, maybe. Screw him. Whatever.

The temperature feels perfect for early June. Blue skies and a nice breeze. The nature trails at Milo McIver State Park are next to my hometown of Estacada, Oregon, close to where I live with my dad and brother. This place is peaceful but motivates me to walk my butt off.

Boom, boom, boom. I freeze again. The pounding echoes from all around and the shuddering of the earth travels through my feet and up my legs. Gator strains at the end of his leash, not moving, quiet, ears alert, and eyes searching for the invader.

A savage roar rises from within the dense woods. Birds screech and fly from the surrounding trees in fright. A young deer bolts over the trail, not even noticing us as it flees from the commotion.

From the tree line on my left, someone large hurtles through the tangled branches directly at Gator and me. The window of opportunity to move out of the way is gone. He slams into my body, blasting me backwards through the air almost ten feet before I hit the ground. Flat on my back, I try to breathe in but struggle as my lungs and stomach protest in pain, refusing to function yet.

I am embarrassed and annoyed with myself. Years of grueling training have prepared me to be on the lookout for this sort of situation. Plan A is to avoid trouble. Don't get involved. (I've never been good at following that advice.) If slipping away fails, try negotiating. Or conning my way out of a tight spot. If all else fails, I fight.

I did nothing. Except lose focus on my environment from dwelling on Dean's rejection, and become the victim. I lie out of breath in the dirt and wonder what my attacker plans to do next.

During the tackle, I lost my grip on Gator's leash. I never let him run loose and here he is – free as a bird. The rustling of leaves and his barking signal he is close. Why doesn't he run to my face, brush against my hand, or jump on my belly? I hope I can snatch the leash before he decides to dash into the woods and explore.

I rub my fingers across my eyes, trying to remove dirt from the corner of the left one. My ponytail presses into the back of my head, creating a painful ache. Sucking in a shallow breath of dusty air and blinking rapidly, I am aware I need to recover now and be on the defense.

My vision clears and I partially rise, propping my upper body on my elbows. I realize I have company standing spread-eagle over my legs. Shock and panic ricochet through me as I stare up into the daunting, coal-black eyes of a Bigfoot.

He is gigantic. I'm guessing nine feet tall or more and weighing hundreds of pounds. His heavy panting expands and contracts his chest in a disturbing tempo. The long hairy arms flex at his sides from the movement. A satchel hangs against his back with the strap over his head and one arm, barely noticeable amongst all the shaggy brown hair covering his body. The color is a perfect camouflage for a forest.

I attempt rolling away but he moves fast to straddle me, using his arms and knees to box me in under his body. I squirm to sit but he pushes one hand down on my right shoulder and with no effort holds me in place, back on the ground.

Our faces are inches apart and his features (and flaws) burn deep into my memory. By the looks of his nose, he's injured himself or someone punched him in a fight. Blood drips from the left side of his nose and I flinch, turning my head slightly as the blood splatters on my cheek. The drops roll back towards my ear. Disgusting.

He lowers his mouth to my ear and is about to whisper something. Instead, he sniffs my neck. He grasps a tendril of my hair and brings it to his bleeding nose attempting to inhale the scent. Releasing my hair, he places both hands on the sides of my head, his thumbs cradling my chin and curling up on my lips. Creepy.

He lifts up a little to get a better view of me, tilting his head to the side, and staring as he raises one ridged eyebrow. I'm not sure if he's confused or captivated but at least he isn't trying to kill me. He reminds me of Gator with his sideways expression.

Gator's barking interrupts the Bigfoot from further scrutinizing me. My dog is either brave or stupid as he decides to pounce on and bite the Bigfoot's leg. But his mere fifteen pounds are no match for this beast. The Bigfoot turns his head and gives a warning grumble to Gator. And what does Gator do? He bites him again, throwing all caution to the wind.

The Bigfoot kicks at little Gator with his huge foot and makes contact. This time, Gator flies through the air quite a distance and hits the forest floor with a sickening thump and a single, high-pitched yelp. Then nothing. No sounds of movement or rustling leaves or whimpering.

Gator! I scream, discovering my breathing and voice have returned. Adrenaline pumps through my body and I push and beat on the chest of the Bigfoot. Get off me!

A few feet away another Bigfoot emerges from the trees, appearing to be in hot pursuit of the one on top of me. What in the world is going on here? He sees me struggling to free myself and catches sight of Gator lying helpless. I look at him in disbelief and return my scowl to the one attacking me.

With an angry roar, the newest addition to the unplanned gathering leaps in our direction. Leave her alone, my rescuer threatens. His deep voice is loud but the words slur together due to his beastly form.

He grabs hold of my attacker by the shoulders and heaves him off me. They face one another, preparing to fight. I scramble to my feet and run to Gator.

I yell, Bo, do you know him?

Without glancing away from his opponent, Bo says, Yeah. Chelsie Valdar meet Alex Delway. From Portland. He's the one to blame for many of the Bigfoot sightings in the area. A troublemaker.

It dawns on me that only seconds, maybe a minute, have passed. Kneeling by Gator, I carefully run my hand over his side. He's alive and raises his head to look at me. But he's not getting up. I can't determine if anything is broken or if there are any injuries.

I'm not happy. Besides almost killing my dog, this Alex broke the rules. He shape shifted during the daylight hours in a public park. He exposed himself to a human in Bigfoot form. He made direct physical contact, colliding into a human. He didn't leave the location of his Bigfoot sighting, as is protocol. Instead, he taunts the human while he sits atop her. I am that human.

Alex and I are strangers. At least if we knew each other, some of the broken rules wouldn't be so serious. I've known Bo for five years. When he stepped from the woods as a Bigfoot, officially breaking a few rules, he recognized me and I suspected he'd been chasing Alex. Yes, I'm human, but I am also one of the few privileged who is aware of the existence of supernatural beings. What if Alex had tackled some other innocent, uninformed human? How stupid is he?

I whirl around to face him and my anger is obvious. I glare and pinch my mouth tight. My hands ball into fists. Alex. I can't say I'm pleased to meet you. What is your problem anyway?

Bo shape shifts to human form and Alex, hesitating, chooses to do the same. I turn my head to the right, avoiding their complete nakedness. I'm not sure if I'll ever get used to that. The actual transformation is beyond awesome, but the problem is seeing their human, incredibly fit, bare bodies standing in front of me and not to stare at certain areas.

I grind my teeth, give a slight shake of my head and say, Would you guys mind putting some clothes on?

Alex snickers and replies, Don't you like looking at us? And to answer your first question, I don't have a problem. I find you…interesting, Chelsie. He lingers on my name, making a snake's hissing on the s and drawing out the e.

Both carry satchels that contain their clothes and possibly a weapon. I keep my head turned away but can hear the satchels hit the ground, flaps opening and clothing tossed about. I tap my foot impatiently, although it won't take long. Their speed is astonishing. Whether in human or Bigfoot form, they are faster than any normal human. When they choose to accelerate their movements, a person can still see what they are doing. It doesn't become a blur of motion. Vampires and werewolves have that ability and some –

Hiss, meow, meow…

A large domestic cat loudly announces its presence, appearing on the far side of my dog. It acts more concerned about Gator rather than keeping a distance from him. Normal cats tend to steer clear from dogs, especially ones they're unfamiliar with. Its long tail swishes and twitches back and forth while creeping closer to Gator. He manages to sit up and whines at the cat. The fact he's moving is a good sign.

Bo and Alex announce in unison, That's a werecat.

Laughing in disbelief, I say, Uh, that's a housecat. Looks like a tortoiseshell to me. Since when does a werecat shift into a cute kitty cat? I thought they turned into large, predator cats like cougars?

No, Bo is firm as he corrects me, she is a werecat. I'm reading her mind, the best I can. Picking up fragments…she's an outcast, sixteen years old, ran away from home, told she's not worthy, and won't be saved.

I interrupt and ask the cat, What is your name?

Bo speaks for her, Jessie.

What do you mean you're 'not worthy'? Alex prods her. What won't you be saved from?

Silence, while Alex and Bo read her mind, something I cannot do. Alex grunts and Bo blinks rapidly and takes a glance at me. Confusion and alarm flash in his eyes.

Well? I'm waiting to hear Jessie's story, getting more annoyed by the second.

Bo explains, She has some disabilities. She can barely hold a cougar's form. A housecat is easier and her preferred choice. This disgraces her family. She is not a Chosen One and not found worthy enough by any to be offered a pass to be saved. Chosen Ones are selected from all species.

Saved from what? I shout. Am I missing a point here, guys?

The approaching Apocalypse, Alex mutters and crosses his arms. He's not convinced.

I wonder what kind of apocalypse Jessie is describing. There are many ways for the world as we know it to end. Her information is hard to digest and accept for the truth. Alex, reading my mind, nods in agreement.

He and Bo continue listening to Jessie's thoughts. Bo slowly reveals, The Yellowstone Caldera, some call it the Yellowstone Supervolcano, at the National Park in Wyoming is supposed to erupt in a major way. Like a massive catastrophe.

Can she shape shift so we can talk? And see her as a girl? I ask.

Bo says, She's afraid and her cat form makes her feel safer. And she has no clothes.

I bonk my hand on my forehead, understanding her predicament. Bo and Alex have gradually inched their way next to me. I'm sure their overbearing size and supernatural power make Jessie jittery and ready to run if threatened. She's abandoned. She has no one to help her. I know she's a werecat. Part human, part cat. But my mind and heart see a stray cat. Whether she ran away or was kicked out of her home, it reminds me of a cat that has been dumped, which sickens me.

Jessie meows. If I remember correctly about werecats, she should be able to read my mind. Jessie meows again.

Alex confirms, Yep, she can read you.

Jessie, how do you know about Yellowstone…this Apocalypse? I quiz.

Bo focuses on Jessie, interprets her thoughts and expertly relays to me, Her group of werecats was suspicious for many reasons. Their personal instincts sensed an unbalance in nature. The news media featured scientists forewarning about the instability of Yellowstone and the increase in earthquakes and volcanic activity. The gossip amongst the supernaturals and humans had skyrocketed about specific world-changing predictions. The werecats found a seer. A well-respected prophet. And they asked him if this was the Apocalypse, the big one. This seer admitted that it was true. In his visions, he saw Yellowstone explode, and death and devastation everywhere.

I reach for Bo's arm and make a suggestion. I've heard snippets about stuff like this but I was under the impression it wouldn't happen for many years. Maybe we better talk to my dad.

Bo immediately gives me the look to shut up. Alex homes in on me, suspicious, and I try to dissolve the ideas in my head. I'm not used to being around a stranger, one known to cause trouble, and who's capable of reading my mind. Too late.

Alex grins at me. I knew you were different, special somehow. You're the little Viking chick I've heard about. And you're worried about a sword, too.

The cat, Jessie, suddenly hisses and paces next to Gator. Perfect timing, actually.

Bo says, Jessie believes Gator's leg is broken. He needs help. We better get him to the vet.

Alex picks up his satchel and adds, Well, if this Yellowstone Apocalypse is real, and if I'm not a Chosen One selected for survival, don't worry your pretty little head off. I'll still find a way to be included in the private party. Sorry about your dog, Chelsie. I'll be seeing you.

Alex takes off. Finally.

Poor Jessie. I can't leave her. She really is all alone. I bend down and offer my hands out to her. She surprises me by padding over and I give her head a rub. She starts purring.

Jessie, you're coming with us. That is, if you want to. I look to Bo for her reply and he nods that she said yes.

I gently pick up Gator and we head to the parking area with Jessie following. I ask, Bigfoot are supposed to protect my family. What about Alex?

Bo grumbles, Don't trust him. He's looking out for himself and is dangerous.

Another important question: When is Yellowstone predicted to blow? I chew on my lower lip, fearing the answer.

One week from now.

CHAPTER 2

Day 1 – Mid Afternoon

We are ten minutes walking distance from our vehicles. Horrible images flash through my mind of what this impending Apocalypse, originating from the not-too-far-away Yellowstone, could do to our country…to the world. My insides tense and I try not to jump to conclusions. It might be a mistake or rumors getting out of control, I hope. Although Jessie's situation and explanation, telepathically translated by Bo and Alex for my benefit, make it sound like a very real possibility.

She trills at me. I've never owned a cat but I handle and care for them at the veterinarian's office where I work part-time. The trilling sounds like human speech. I often talk to the cats, ending my sentences with questions, which raises the pitch to my voice. Some respond by trilling and we'll take turns talking, appearing to have a conversation.

Although Jessie is a werecat and does understand everything I say. I'm so curious to see her in human form and be able to hear her words, and not have her thoughts delivered to me through Bo.

I ask Jessie, Will you stick around? Maybe stay at my house?

Bo conveys, She'll tag along for now.

I smile, understanding her need to feel safe. She has to know she can trust us.

The nature trail ends and I look to the parking area for my car. Bo suggests we take his Jeep so I can hold Gator while he drives. I hadn't noticed his vehicle when I arrived at Milo McIver Park. I study the many cars and trucks and spot his Jeep parked on the far end, blending in with the mass. A distance from us, a group of classmates from our school is partying by some of the picnic tables.

We stop at my car to grab my purse. I'm holding Gator and the door is locked. The key is in a small pocket sewed inside the front of my shorts. I almost drop Gator trying to get to it. Bo is there instantly, supporting Gator to keep him from falling out of my arms.

He pulls the front waistband forward about two inches, sees the pocket and proceeds to fish the key out. He meets my eyes and gives me a sly grin, waving the key past my nose.

I say, A little fair warning would've been nice before jumping in my shorts. I'm sure you wouldn't want Mira seeing this.

He stretches the waistband forward another inch, releases it from his fingers and it snaps hard against my stomach, stinging the skin.

Yow! I screech.

Mira is Bo's on again/off again girlfriend. I get along with her, for Bo's sake, but she's not at the top of my buddy list, and I'm positive I am not considered her close friend, either. And Bo is quite aware of this fact, which is why I enjoy harassing him about it.

He finds my purse and locks the car. I hate carrying a purse. It gets in the way. I find it inconvenient. Except when I need something important from within it. There's only so much I can stuff in my pockets, and I've experimented, before the bulkiness drives me nuts and I end up emptying the pockets and using a purse.

We climb into Bo's Jeep and drive to the vet's office. Gator tries to settle and curl up on my lap. He favors his back left leg, letting it flop out to the side. Jessie sits on the back seat, tail twitching nervously. Bo concentrates on driving – fast.

I turn the inside rearview mirror towards me to check how filthy I look. Bo teases, Yeah, go ahead. Make yourself right at home.

I’m low maintenance and rarely wear makeup. I swipe the sleeve of my t-shirt over my face to remove dirt smudges and any remaining blood that dripped on me from Alex's nose. I'd dusted off my shorts and shirt earlier. My ponytail is hanging lop-sided and is pulling uncomfortably on my reddish-blonde, curly hair. I take the ponytail down and re-do it, wishing I had a brush.

I stare in the mirror and think how my brother Ash and I look a lot alike. Same color and texture of hair, blue eyes, similar facial features, especially our noses, and physically fit. He's sixteen, a year younger than me, and just got his driver's license. Ash is a good-looking kid. I've been told I'm cute, even with my tomboyish looks and behavior.

Ash and I are different, too. Ash is a bit clumsy and dorky. He may grow out of that. I'm nimble and light on my feet. Except for today with Alex. And I'm not a geek, more the tough girl type. He has this calm control over his emotions that I envy at times. Plus he's incredibly smart and loyal to people and things he cares for. I'm loyal too and willing to fight for what I believe in. But my grades in school are nowhere close to Ash's A's in every subject, excluding his gym class.

I sigh. As soon as I get home, Ash and Dad will need updated on this Apocalypse stuff. I wouldn't be surprised if Ash goes silent on us after hearing the news. It's his way of coping, calming his psyche. It doesn't appear his brain shuts down during the quiet time. Usually the opposite. When he returns to speaking again, he's worked through a problem, come up with a great idea, or perhaps is at peace with something.

I return the rearview mirror to its original position. I peek at Bo who always manages to look great. Still, I razz him. Here you go, Bocephus. Need to check your hair?

He growls playfully at me because he hates it when I call him by his full, first name. Few people know it since he uses Bo in public. He decides to glance at the mirror though, doing a quick side-to-side inspection and nose check.

Bo is undeniably good-looking with his thick, wavy, dark brown hair and brown, gold-speckled eyes. His Bigfoot size is comparable to Alex – terrifying and gigantic. His human shape is also large, standing at about 6' 7". He told me last month he weighs 240 pounds. Huge, but not an ounce of fat, all solid muscle.

We're both seventeen and have gone to school together since I moved to Estacada from Augusta, Maine, five years ago. Our parents introduced us. Bo and his older brother Lucas, who is nineteen, were told early on to keep an eye on Ash and me. The few Bigfoot families in this area help keep us and our father safe.

Why were you chasing Alex? I ask. I think I can guess the reasons.

Bo says, "I originally came to the park for the party. After thirty minutes talking with some friends, I sensed another Bigfoot nearby. I zoomed in with my mind and sense of smell and realized it was Alex running through the woods as a Bigfoot. I felt obligated to find him and warn him that there are many humans in the park and he can't be seen as a Bigfoot. The idiot keeps getting spotted and then another Bigfoot sighting hits the news. My dad and I have dealt with him before. He's 18 and just graduated. You know, Dad has the authority to punish those who break rules or hurt the innocent. It's kind of