Awaken (Book 1 of the Awakener Series)

By R.E.S. Tidmore

Dr. Lily McMaster buries her face in her hands. I’ve got to keep my shit together.
Her best friend is in the psyche unit. Dr. Lily tries to make sense of Rachel’s hallucinations; a light, the Hound, the Awakener . . . the poor girl is now in restraints.
Lily searches the Web for anything matching Rachel’s delusions. An old article appears. Burning cabin, dead forest, circle of bloodstone boulders . . . four people dead. The little girl in the picture has a smudge of freckles under one of her pale-blue eyes—just like Lily’s. But that little girl is dead.
Lily arrives in the small town in the article and is inexplicably drawn to the beast of a man who will be her guide on the two-day trek to the site. Over six feet tall, all muscle and covered with deep scars, Gavin seems to resent her very presence. After Lily’s past trauma of abusive foster homes, she decides she’s better off trying to find the cabin on her own.
Out of nowhere, lightning splinters across the sky, followed by a powerful rumble that shakes the ground. The Council knows the Awakener is close to the bloodstone circle.

• Language: English
• Publisher: R.E.S. Tidmore
• Release date: Dec 9, 2013
• ISBN: 9780989524322

R.E.S. Tidmore

R.E.S. Tidmore is a defective writer who writes. She has a BA and MFA in creative writing. Being dyslexic, she never thought she could make a living from writing. Writing isn’t only about dotting your i’s and crossing your t’s. It’s about storytelling, and doing it in all the best ways. She loves Jane Austen, tattoos, sarcasm, quick wit, gardening, all things Harry Potter, being a writing coach, and a happy ever after.Check out my other adult romance series: The Awakener series and the Managing Mayhem series.

Book preview

Prologue

The Hound’s laugh was nauseating, laced with unleashed danger. Rachel’s insides curled in on themselves and acid coated the back of her throat. He stepped forward, black, cropped hair, undecipherable tattoos concealing his throat and powerful arms. Wide shoulders filled the doorframe and his black eyes dotted red studied her.

When will you learn that you can’t run? I’ll always find you and your family. You will always die. Again, and again. The Hound walked through the roaring flames that licked the walls of the cabin, unfazed by the heat and smoke filling the space between them. The popping and cracking of the wood floor under his weight told Rachel it would be over soon. She would die.

She pressed her back against the wall and peered out the window, past the large, humming bloodstones forming the sacred circle that once protected their home and toward the forest, where flames climbed the branches of the trees. A knot stilled in her throat. They were there, her babies. Darron held Leora’s little hand in his, tears glittering in the moonlight running down both of their faces. She wanted to go to them, to tell them everything would be okay, but she knew it wouldn’t. She would die and they would be alone, and the Hound would find them.

Just then a small, third figure stepped out of the tree line and stood beside Leora, taking her other hand. The fear Rachel felt vanished, replaced by a mother’s determination and resolve to give them a chance.

Stay away from us. Rachel tightened her bundle of blankets, praying he didn’t lunge for her and discover the Awakener wasn’t in her arms. He had to believe they would die this day. It was the only way to give Leora and Darron a chance to get away safely.

I won’t let you have her. Not again, she said. The heat of the fire warmed her skin, flushed her cheeks, and a wave of dizziness swept over her.

The Hound cast a wicked grin and took a step closer.

Just then, the floor opened up between them. Rachel let out a strangled breath, thanking the Creator he couldn’t get to her.

Why do you let the Council of Souls use you? They don’t care about you! You’re an Advisor! You’re part of the High Council! Your place is with us! Not them! Rachel shouted, desperate to distract him.

The smoke stole the oxygen around her and she sank to the floor, clutching the blankets close. She thought about Leora and Darron and how she would see them again. Her vision blinked in and out, head falling to the side. Her voice was like gravel. I may not be able to save the Awakener from you this time, but I can give her time. It’s all she really needs to one day beat you—and the Council.

The dots of red in the Hound’s eyes glittered brighter. The heat was too much, too engulfing. Flames leaped onto the blankets and Rachel frantically swatted away the flames with her hands, her eyes and lungs burning from the smoke that filled the room.

Chapter One

Hit by the sterile stench of hopelessness, Lily McMaster flashed her staff badge at the security guard, feeling unsure if she could handle the smell of disinfectant sprinkled with despair for another day. The bleakness of the psychiatric hospital never reached as deeply inside as it did today.

Hey, Dr. McMaster. What’s the hurry? Max said, pushing up from his chair behind the check-in counter.

Head down, body tense, Lily made a mad dash to her office, knowing that if she uttered a word, Max would engage in a one-sided conversation, usually about sports and the weather.

I’m late, she said quickly, and she scurried past him.

She headed down a long, white corridor and then two quick rights that left her sliding across the gray linoleum floor. Lily tucked herself inside her small office. A large window revealed a dreary, overcast day. She groaned and tossed her leather work bag onto the boring, brown sofa the hospital provided to all the psychologists. Several of the books resting at the end of the sofa she’d been reading fell onto the floor. She frowned at the ceiling. Off to another glorious day in the Lavington Psychiatric Hospital.

Exhausted from lack of sleep, Lily leaned against the door, her heart drumming against her ribs, her stomach rolling with unease as she peered down at the books. Three weeks ago, Rachel Perry, her closest friend and roommate, had admitted herself to the hospital under extreme emotional and mental distress. According to the nurses, she had stumbled in barefoot and in her pajamas. In a calm demeanor, she had signed the paperwork to be admitted, saying she was hallucinating.

Lily felt like a failure. She hadn’t even noticed anything was wrong with Rachel in the weeks leading up to her breakdown. What kind of psychologist didn’t recognize the troubling signs of someone they were close to? Not only was Rachel her roommate, but she was also Lily’s personal assistant. They were together all the time.

She raked shaky fingers through her red hair. Breathe, just breathe. I’ve got this. I’ll find a way to help Rachel.

Lily didn’t have a lot of time before the department director, Dr. Altice, came poking around. She rummaged through the new paperwork sitting on her desk. She flipped open Rachel’s file and scanned the blood tests that came in after Lily went home yesterday. They were clean, all of them. Even the MRI was clean of any kind of mass. She dropped into her chair and bit at the flaking, black nail polish on her thumb. Rachel’s hallucinations had become so frequent, trying to reach her was becoming increasingly difficult. No one would believe that Rachel had been in the ward for almost three weeks and was now a shell of who she had been. Lily had never seen such a rapid decline before with no known previous trauma.

She racked her brain for an easy explanation. She was a doctor, had twelve years of college under her belt as a psychology major, and thirty years of personal traumatic life experience to help guide her, but nothing was coming to the surface. If she didn’t have some sort of breakthrough, Dr. Altice would start medicating Rachel so heavily there would be no way to reach her if Lily didn’t make shit happen soon.

An image of Rachel’s heart-shaped face tight with agony blotted her mind. Tears squeezed out from the corners of Lily’s eyelids. For the love of God. No more crying. She wiped her face.

Lily grimaced when she caught a shadowy reflection of herself in the glass covering her Doctor of Psychology diploma mounted behind her desk. It mocked her, all shiny, hanging there doing nothing. She’d powered through undergraduate in three years taking sixteen to seventeen credit units a semester and summer school, graduate school in two years, and her doctorate in three years. She’d never been more determined to take hold of her life during her time in college. To stop feeling helpless and small.

After being abandoned at two years old at a local hospital and thrown into foster care, she wasn’t going to let shit just happen to her ever again. She wrinkled her nose at the diploma. All that time working to understand the human mind, and here she was at a complete loss with how to help Rachel. She couldn’t stop the cold, snaking sensation of helplessness in her veins. It was too much of a reminder of the girl she once was, and it pissed her off. She was thirty years old. Her childish fears needed to take a back seat. They could be seen but she’d be damned if she was going to listen to their lies.

Black rings shadowed her light-blue eyes and blotchy, red spots dotted the skin on her neck and chest. Her high cheekbones were more pronounced with the hollowing of her face because of the stress of Rachel’s decline. Snatching her bag from the sofa, she pulled out her concealer and blotted coverup under her left eye, hiding the thick patch of freckles that looked more like a smear of dirt than freckles she’d had since she was a child. Many kids teased that it looked like a fading black eye in her youth. She was a hot mess, from her poor skin to her wrinkled, cream-colored blouse to her outrageous, volumized hair. She forced her disobedient curls into a tight ponytail, then grabbed keys to the patient rooms and a small tape recorder.

Opening the door, she glanced down the hallway. There was no sign of the beak-nosed bastard, Dr. Altice. One more lecture about how working with Rachel was a conflict of interest and she would start digging his grave. Boss or not. He could shove his conflict of interest where the sun never shined. He saw her and Rachel’s friendship as a professional weakness. Jerk. She might be a grim, doom-and-gloom kind of girl where making time for a friendship ranked lowest on her priority list, but Rachel had become her one spot of color in this gray world she lived in. Rachel was the only person in this entire place Lily had opened up to and shared her story with.

Lily liked people, had a few friends from college and the hospital, but her studies and work had taken precedence over everything else over the years, and she was a bit of a loner. Rachel meant a lot to Lily. Dr. Altice had no right to cast his cynical opinion her way, as she was the best psychologist he had on staff.

Seeing that the hallway was clear, Lily ran a hand over her black slacks and then made it down the hall with long, purposeful strides, and she was at Rachel’s room in no time. Rising to her tippy toes, Lily cast a concerned glance through the small porthole window in the door and her stomach dropped. Where is she? Fumbling with the lock, she hurried into the room and closed the door behind her. Shit.

Rachel was in the fetal position on the floor near the corner closest to the door. Blowing out a choked breath, Lily lowered to her knees beside her friend. Rachel’s delicate body jerked with small spasms. Her cheeks were dug out, and her bloodshot eyes looked vacant as she stared at the wall.

Each day Rachel spent in the ward, she slipped further beyond Lily’s grasp. What would she do without Rachel’s overly bright smile greeting her every day? Her wild, airy, pixie laughter filling Lily’s office as they talked about the interesting part of their day. What would she do without all the late-night Starbucks runs after work together before they went home, the Saturday hikes up Iron Mountain on mornings when Rachel dragged Lily out of bed, their weekly game-movie night, and the one-sided conversations Rachel had with herself that made Lily laugh.

She lovingly brushed a blonde strand of hair from Rachel’s face, her muscles going rigid. She gently shook Rachel’s shoulder, her brows pulled tightly together as if in great pain.

Rachel, Lily said softly.

Rachel curled tighter in on herself—knees to her chin, her knuckles white as she clenched her legs. A scream tore past her lips. The piercing sound caused Lily to flinch and cover her ears.

What is it?

As quickly as the blood-curdling scream erupted from Rachel’s frail body, it slipped away. Lily saw a swirling, white fog coat Rachel’s chocolate-brown eyes. What the hell?

Lily muscled Rachel’s stiff body to sit up with her back against the wall. She knelt in front of Rachel and shined her keychain light into her eyes, watching as white painted her irises, giving her a ghostly appearance. What did the white fog of her eyes mean? Her intuition said nothing good; of that she was sure. A heavy sense of dread pushed down on Lily.

Suddenly, Rachel grabbed Lily’s blouse collar and yanked her forward, slamming her chest against Rachel’s knees. Lily tried to pry Rachel’s fingers loose but was having no luck. When Rachel’s voice, a choked whisper, rose, Lily went still. There was a warning in that voice. A voice aged beyond Rachel’s years.

Flames dance. I have nowhere to go. I press to the wall of the bedroom. Splinters from the cabin’s logs bite into my hands. How did he make it past the blood debt? The ancient circle of bloodstones shouldn’t have allowed him to pass the boundary. They protect us. I don’t understand how he found us or how he got through the boundary. There’s sick laughter from the hall. I’m not afraid. I see the Hound coming into the room. The fire grows hotter, so hot I can barely stand it, but I must. The smoke thickens and billows from the window to my right. I gasp for clean air. A beam from the floor crashes and a gap opens between us. I hear a window shatter in the next room.

A chill crawled down Lily’s spine like a spider waiting for its prey. The hallucination was the same over and over. Every day. Rachel was trapped in a cabin and unable to escape the flames. The Hound, as she’d called him—a shadow of Rachel’s subconscious, Lily supposed. Or was she seeing the birth of a repressed memory? But the fog in the eyes was something Lily had never seen before, and it was disturbing and unexplainable. Her doctor mind tried to get a hold on it, but she had no answers. She had treated patients suffering from schizophrenia, and all of them always had a faraway look in their eyes. But this was baffling. Never before had the irises seemed to just . . . disappear.

Rachel’s voice rose an octave and her face changed. There was determination in the hard-set lines that formed and she gave Lily a shake.

"He’s come for the Light. I must give her time. I quickly gather up a bundle of blankets and swaddle them like I’m holding my little girl. He stands just beyond the flames now. Rachel released her grip. He must believe—has to believe—or all is lost again for another lifetime."

Rachel sat unmoving, unblinking, lost inside herself. Lily leaned away, mind racing to comprehend what had happened. The white fog sucked out of her, yet there was no recognition in those dark eyes.

Rachel touched Lily’s cheek, cupping it. The Light has come to save me, she whispered, a smile breaking across her face.

Lily blinked back tears, placing a hand over Rachel’s. What is she talking about? Lily settled in beside Rachel on the floor, holding her hand, afraid to let go. Rachel leaned against her and rested her head on Lily’s shoulder.

Tears glided down her cheeks. Lily didn’t want Rachel to stay here. She wanted to steal her away from this place and take her home to their shared condo. Rachel was Lily’s ride-or-die best friend. In that quiet room, a memory took shape and she held her breath for the pain it would bring.

What do you do for fun? Rachel had probed for the nine thousandth time, not expecting an answer. Her voice deepened and pretended to be Lily. I’m a workaholic; there’s no time for fun.

They were sitting in Lily’s office. Rachel was a grad student and her assistant, someone to help with the workload.

Don’t you have friends you hang out with from time to time? Rachel continued playing out her one-sided conversation.

At the time, Lily was closed off. She didn’t want to get to know Rachel. She wanted to do her work and go home and the only way that was going to happen was to shut Rachel up.

You don’t have friends working in a place like this. Not with a director like Dr. Altice breathing down your neck for results. Like the human mind was some child’s paper maze game where the finish line is clearly seen before you start, Lily had said.

Rachel’s jaw dropped. She speaks. We should go do something together. Everyone needs friends.

Not me, Lily said. I have enough friends.

What’s your deal? I’ve worked with you for almost a year and I know nothing about you.

That’s the way I want it.

What about me? I want to be your friend. I bust my ass in this place for you. I’m your friend and you don’t even see it . . . and I’m tired of it. You either be my friend back or . . . I quit.

Lily’s face softened. Why do you want to know me?

Why wouldn’t I? Isn’t that what we’re here for, to find connections in life? To make friends, to find our tribe?

Lily pulled in a choked breath, surprised by the honest tone in Rachel’s voice. Connections. Tribe.

Yes, connections. I mean, that’s why you’re such a good psychologist. You connect with all your patients in a way I don’t understand but want to desperately.

Lily had felt ashamed because she’d judged Rachel by her perky, pink exterior and hadn’t bothered to look under all those shades of pink outfits. She had placed a label on Rachel like so many had done to her. With all her doom and gloom. She had been called Eeyore on many occasions by the nurses.

I was placed in foster care when I was two. For fifteen years I bounced around until I ran away at seventeen. I see things differently because of the experiences I’ve had. I’ve always been able to feel when there’s a disconnect from the world, Lily had said. It was the first time in her life that she opened up to anyone about her past. And from that moment on, she and Rachel became inseparable.

Rachel, Lily cooed, stroking her tangled hair. I’m scared. What if I can’t help you? What if all of this—she waved a hand around the room—years of school, training . . . what if none of it can help?

Rachel embraced her. Help me. Before it’s too late, she croaked into Lily’s ear. The Council is watching. I can feel them. They’ll come when my power grows stronger.

Lily squeezed her tighter, wet tears smearing. Lily worked to pull herself together and leaned back to study Rachel’s face. Rachel was aware now, but not of who Lily was. Lily’s lip quivered. She had to reach Rachel somehow, make her understand what would happen if she didn’t find her way back soon. I don’t know how to help you, Lily said. The cut of defeat clung to her. I don’t understand what the fire means to you. The medicine isn’t working to suppress the hallucinations. She brushed hair from Rachel’s face. I have taken your file to Dr. Baxter, one of my former professors, for a second opinion on what to do. He thinks it’s schizophrenia. But it doesn’t feel right . . .

Rachel smiled with a confidence Lily didn’t understand. I know you’ll save me. You’re the Light. It’s what you do . . . awaken!

Sorrow tore Lily to pieces. What is she talking about? What is the Light, the Council?

I don’t understand, Lily said. Help me to understand.

You will, Rachel said. When you find him. He’s always waiting for you. Find the Leecher.

What or who is a Leecher?

And just like that, all of Rachel’s awareness dissolved and she stared catatonically at the wall.

Lily wanted to scream at everyone. Every night for the last few weeks she pored over notes, trying to understand what the Light meant, who or what the Hound was or represented, and now a Leecher. That damn fire Rachel continued to hallucinate about . . . what did it mean? Why did she keep seeing it? Was it real or was it merely a delusion she manifested? And what the hell was going on with her eyes? Lily shivered. Bizarre. All the hair on her arm stood up. She brushed it down.

A bang on the door made Lily’s heart jump into her throat. The door opened and Nurse Regina walked in with a tray of food, her large hips swaying. Lily shot to her feet. Regina stared hard at her, then frowned.

I was talking with Miss Perry, Lily stammered.

You know you’re not supposed to be in here alone. You could get hurt or something.

I had to see her.

The nurse placed a fist on her hip. Hm . . . this is the conflict of interest Dr. Altice was talking about.

Lily’s jaw clenched. How do you know about that?

The staff, we got ears, you know.

Dr. Altice hasn’t been the most discreet person about the situation, Lily ground out.

An assistant cracking under the pressure of this place doesn’t happen every day, honey. You better do your rounds before he gets here so he has nothing to complain about before your monthly meeting.

You’re not going to tell him about me being in here alone, are you? Lily asked.

About what, honey? He’s not my boss. I got food to hand out, people to feed. He may be the head of this department, but he doesn’t run the entire hospital.

A weak smile pulled at the corner of Lily’s mouth. You’re the best.

I know. Now get to work.

Reluctantly, Lily left Rachel’s room to make her rounds and check on her eight on-track program patients and her ten long-term patients who were on level three. The hospital was five stories in the shape of a U. A garden area with a courtyard rested in the mouth of the building. A place to sit and reflect for some patients. For others, a reminder of what they could never have again. The hospital ward held, on average, seventy patients and had a staff of ten psychologists. There were all sorts of patients, some with eating disorders, self-harmers, suicidal, sex addicts, meth addicts . . . the list went on and on. She was able to avoid most of the staff for the day.

After lunch, she holed herself up in her office, looking over files of patients who suffered from hallucinations, trying to find some shred of commonality. All of Rachel’s bloodwork was clean. No signs of an imbalance of any kind. It was a relief to a degree, but she didn’t know what the cause could be for a healthy twenty-seven-year-old with no prior health issues to suddenly start hallucinating, and to such a violent degree. Not that Rachel hadn’t had her share of trauma in her life. She was the only surviving member of her family. The pain of losing her mother to breast cancer at age twelve had done little to stop her optimism throughout her life. But the death of her father a few years