Exotic Stranger: Hallowed Blues 1

By Isaiah Fields

HE IS SAVED FROM THE SEA, BUT NOT WITH ANY MEMORY OF HIS PAST
BEHOLD, AN EXOTIC STRANGER

Camila is a beautiful Mexican American young woman disillusioned by her family's transfer to Mexico and she longs to go back to the States. Her monotonous and uneventful life is disrupted by the appearance of a young man, washed out from the sea, who wakes up in her arms without his memory.

They named him Javier and his parents allowed him to stay in their house to help in the upkeep of their simple Bed & Breakfast. Camila and Javier soon becomes close, and though he cannot tell him more than what he knows, she feels that there is something more to him than a missing memory. Innocent and earnest, Javier awakens her compassion. Handsome and mysterious, he awakens her passion. But in her happiness, Sofia pushes to the side what worries her about him.

Something has been disturbed in the quiet seaside dwelling since Javier's arrival. Camila couldn't believe it is supernatural so she pushes it away. But until when?

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EXCERPT
“Are you okay?” Camila finally asked.

He cocked his head, but didn’t answer. She tried again in Spanish, and finally in (bad) Yucatec. At last he recognized the words. She could see that through the changing expressions in his eyes. He was unlike the other locals who pretended not to understand her. He also smiled and nodded gratefully.

“My name is Camila,” she said. “What’s your name?”

“I am....” And then he turned so pale she was afraid he was going to die, after all.

"Yes? What is wrong?" she asked.

He looked at her, his green eyes piercing and afraid. “I don’t remember.”

Camila let out a breath she didn’t realize that she’d been holding. He might have bumped his head somewhere, which wouldn't be very surprising considering the marks of bruises he had on his body. “Well, then, what do you remember?” she asked.

He frowned with the effort, but his eyes began to well up with tears of fright. He reached for her hand and she took it, worried at how violently it was shaking.

“Nothing,” he said, finally. “I remember nothing.”

“Nothing?” Sofia said. “How did you get hurt—”

“I remember nothing,” he said quietly.

But underneath the calm she could hear the edge of desperation, sharp and cold, as it threatened to cut through his demeanor and turn him into a quivering wreck.

Next in the Series:

2. Opaque Memories

3. The Rising

4. The Wild's God

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Sandra Ross
• Release date: Sep 19, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311199331

Book preview

Exotic Stranger

By Isaiah Fields

Published by Publications Circulations LLC.

SmashWords Edition

All contents copyright (C) 2014 by Publications Circulations LLC. All rights reserved. No part of this document or the related files may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, by any means (electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, companies and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.

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Chapter One

IT'S A GOOD THING the tourist season begins after the school year, said Camila's mother, Martina, as she barged into Camila's room with a full laundry basket balanced on her hip.

Camila opened her eyes, keeping her expression neutral. The clock on the wall said it was six in the morning but the halo around the curtains meant that the sun was high and hot already.

These need to be ironed and folded, Martina said, dropping the basket next to Camila's bed. The sheets inside sighed softly, as though relieved. Martina Fuentes, standing an even five feet tall and weighing barely more than a hundred pounds after a full meal, was not someone to be argued with. Remember, we have guests tonight.

Yeah, Camila said. Poor suckers, she added silently. The bed-and-breakfast the Fuenteses ran would have been pretty cool had they been anywhere near a decent town. But it was halfway between Tulum, which few people had heard of, and Cancun, which nobody ever left. Their visitors came expecting a deserted beach, not realizing that along with a deserted beach was a semi-deserted, dying village which couldn't even be bothered to give itself a name. Ten fishing families, a plantain farmer, and a restaurant didn't even warrant a dot on the maps of the region.

Camila made no move to get out of bed -- a small rebellion against the tyranny of having to wake up at all. Yesterday was her last day of school (she took intro-level online courses at the Universidad Quintana Roo, since there were no schools here) and that warranted some kind of break. Thankfully, Martina left with only a small humph of disapproval and did not launch into yet another tirade about how hard they were working and why couldn't her daughter bring herself to work a little rather than daydream about boys? These arguments had been going on between them over the two years since they'd moved to Mexico. The Yucatan, more specifically, some of the people here were a bit touchy about being called Mexicans.

Camila counted to ten before she threw the blanket off herself and swung her feet from the bed to touch the cool stone floor with her toes.

Theirs was a large house, even by American standards. It was once the small manor home of a local official, the realtor had told them, and then launched into a long spiel detailing the history of the place and the artful mosaics that had been laid into the floor. Not that she paid any attention to those details. Two years ago, she was just too angry -- at her grandparents for being so ill, at her parents for dropping everything in the US and not giving a damn about her, at the economies of both Mexico and the US that made it more worthwhile to stay, at the crazy language the locals spoke that made it impossible to make friends -- not that there were people her age to befriend. The people here were old and bitter, and their children had more sense than her father did because they left and never returned.

She was still angry but, during the winter, her father had at least installed air conditioning in the bedrooms, so now it was merely a resentful simmer instead of a full-on rage.

The house was a sprawling single-floor structure, built in the shape of a rectangle around an open courtyard. It was once beautiful, even Camila had to admit that. But size and beauty didn't matter so much when they discovered that the roof leaked in a thousand places and the house had to be rewired in order to handle the