Ripping Solace Book Two: Beating of a Dead Heart

By Gabriela Aguilar

RIPPING SOLACE
BOOK TWO Beating of a Dead Heart...

Momo rises up from the ashes, and V's world completely burns away... literally.

With their communication severed, their bond threatens to break as set out on different paths.
V sets her sight on a far off shore while Momo returns home with revenge on his mind.
The girl and the soldier must overcome the new threats that shadow their every step as they race towards the same goal, the same destiny.

Together, they will discover what it means to hear a dead heart pulse!

• Language: English
• Publisher: CUSTOM BOOK PUBLICATIONS
• Release date: Mar 6, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310092107

Gabriela Aguilar

Born in Guatemala, the high crime and corruption in her beloved country drove her to find solace within the pages of every book she could get her hands on. Her family circumstances allowed her to live in different countries and . develop a deep curiosity for foreign languages and diverse cultures. As a young adult, she was encouraged by a friend to take a different journey. A journey filled with words. Ripping Solace is her first published work. When she is not busy bulling Momo or sticking her thumb up to hitchhike an interstellar ride, she studies English literature in an effort to earn a degree. You can momentarily catch her in Florida where she arduously trains to survive a zombie apocalypse. She has no cat.

Book preview

RIPPING SOLACE

BOOK TWO Beating of a Dead Heart...

Momo rises up from the ashes, and V's world completely burns away... literally.

With their communication severed, their bond threatens to break as set out on different paths.

V sets her sight on a far off shore while Momo returns home with revenge on his mind. The girl and the soldier must overcome the new threats that shadow their every step as they race towards the same goal, the same destiny.

Together, they will discover what it means to hear a dead heart pulse!

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

RIPPING SOLACE

BOOK ONE Four Worlds in Conflict

I stand on a glass surface looking down at four worlds turning in a small pool of water. They are so different from each other, yet they are all connected by red strings, like veins, keeping them from drifting apart.

The inhuman eyes glow with a malice that freezes the blood in my veins.

The sickening yellow dots approach… a hand shoots from the darkness locking itself around my neck.

Its claws dig into my skin, squeezing my throat… blocking my building scream.

The shadow, of what used to be a man, steps forward baring sharp dagger teeth that cut into its bottom lip. It opens its mouth as if to let out a roar, but not a sound comes out.

I desperately try to yank myself free as I watch oil black blood drip from the monster's wide open mouth.

I can feel its blood running down my neck.

'I want to die…' it breathes.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Born in Guatemala, the high crime and corruption in her beloved country drove her to find solace within the pages of every book she could get her hands on. Her family circumstances allowed her to live in different countries and develop a deep curiosity for foreign languages and diverse cultures. As a young adult, she was encouraged by a friend to take a different journey. A journey filled with words. Ripping Solace is her first published work. When she is not busy bulling Momo or sticking her thumb up to hitchhike an interstellar ride, she studies English Literature in an effort to earn a degree. You can momentarily catch her in Florida where she arduously trains to survive a zombie apocalypse. She has no cat.

Copyright © 2016 Gabriela Aguilar

Published by

Digital Edition

For my brother and my taco eating sister,

they know how to put up a good fight 

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Thank you Evelyn for sticking with me through fire and… well… you know.   

Thanks to my brother, sisters and dad for their kindness and patience.

And a special thanks to Dianne, Paul, Gabe, Sarah, and Maggie. Seriously guys, thanks!

All the characters are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental

RIPPING 

by

Gabriela Aguilar

BOOK TWO

Beat of a Dead Heart

'Life is basically like a soap bubble. It rides on the wind, flying here and there… and before you realize it, pop! It's gone.'

Hideaki Sorachi (Gintama)

Part I

Nothing... Zip... Nada...

ONE

There is this girl. Not just any girl, she is the girl. You grow up together, so it is a given you would fall for her. And she likes you too, or at least you think she does. She spends all of her time with you, she smiles and cries in front of you. She tells you things no one knows. You see her, see her happiness, her pain. She makes your heart race with one look.

But there is a slight problem. She is a shining star, and you are nothing but the dirt on the belly of a worm.

Her father basically runs The South. Your father runs a nursery. Her mother came from wealthy family with a heavy name and rooted past. Your mom comes from a small farming town in The North. Yeah, you have your work cut out for you. You work hard to reach her, you become the best at everything you do and you begin to stand out. Other girls notice you, but you're taken. She has you. Her eyes follow you.

She loses important pieces of her heart. But she is strong, and she has you.

She shrinks. You can pick her up like a doll. She punches you when you do.

Time passes, you grow even closer together.

One more year left of school, and you have the best scholarship. She waits patiently for you. Only a matter of time until you reach her. You relax a little.

Out of nowhere, she starts to talk about this guy. She smiles for him like she does for you. Fear begins to grow, but you ignore it. He is a solider. No need to panic. No way they are ever meeting. Still, it bothers you. She starts to change, she becomes more active, and people notice her. You wish you could hide her, keep her to yourself. You can't. She shines more brightly than any other star. You're fascinated by her light, so you let her shine. And, still, she only looks at you.

She asks you to do something you never dreamed of. Your instinct tells you not to. You do it anyway because you would do anything for her. She has you in the palm of her hand.

You leave because she has you.

…but do you really have her?

*****

'Go', she said. 'I promise', she said. 'V, you rotten liar!' I rush down the hill to the disaster I let happen.

Strings of dark smoke wrap themselves around the black walls like cobras poised for attack. You should have stayed. You should have stayed. You are the stupidest person in the world, Ezra. You should have stayed. I repeat as I run to V's house, or what remains of it. Half of it is scorched. She did this. I know she did. I feel shame and guilt. I knew she was not herself when I left, but I still left. My stomach twists. What the hell, V. Why?

I thought I had done the best thing by giving her the space she wanted. I didn't have much of a choice anyway because whatever she wants from me she gets. She cast that spell on me the first day we met.

I stop at the wide-open front gate where everything is in chaos. The Fire Control Unit is scattered all over, tending to the house and some women I don't know. Guards, like the ones from yesterday, stand here and there. There are tens of people here, but none of them have the color I'm looking for.

Ever since I can remember, I've been able to pick out V from any crowd almost instantly. She stands out mostly because of that odd shade of autumn leaves her hair has. Even without her hair, I am certain I could find her anywhere. So I'm one hundred percent sure she is not among anyone here. She isn't out here. My stomach turns cold and my scalp itches.

My feet are mechanically heading to the door when someone pulls my shoulder back. I jerk the hand off and make a run for it, but a man the size of a gorilla blocks my way.

'My friend is inside.' I try to shout but my panting cuts my breath short.

'No,' answers the gorilla man, 'all the survivors are here.'

I can feel the grass under my feet being pulled like a carpet. The guard half extends his hand and I step back from it. Okay. Okay. Okay. Cool it, Ezra.

'Where is V, I mean, Miss Sirius? I'm her friend.'

'Boy,' the guard rubs the back of his neck with his hand and looks side to side uncomfortably.

'I don't have time for this.' I duck out of his grasp and run. Has the front garden always been this long? This feels like one of those nightmares where you run down an endless hall. I shove my way through. I thought V was joking when she said running as fast as you can makes you want to poop. It does feel like that.

I pass the threshold and stop. Is this really the same foyer where I have stood hundreds of times? The stairs are half gone and so is half of the roof. The black walls are in no better shape. My eyes sting and my stomach feels heavy. I force my feet to stump on the squishy damp carpets towards the half crumbled stairs. They shake and creek under my feet.

'Hey! Kid!' someone shouts behind me. 'You can't go up there. It isn't safe.' Right on cue with his warning, my foot goes through a step. I fall, banging my left knee. I am pulled up and out of both the hole and the house.

'Let go!' I yell at the men holding me. 'I have to find my friend.' I jerk away and stand shakily on my throbbing legs.

'There is no one else inside.'

'Then where is she?'

The men look at each other and then at me, 'That is what we are trying to find out. We need you to come with us to answer a few questions.'

I look back at V's home and turn to the guards. These guys are the same ones that were here yesterday taking the household away. I am fairly tall, but these imported guards from The North are bigger.

'Come with us, kid,' says one of them, putting a hand on my shoulder. 'It won't take long.' His voice sounds muffled.

I follow silently because it is the only thing I can do. To think V, that little thing, dived head on against them is crazy. What is more insane is I did nothing at all.

I'm a stupid coward for leaving her. I feel sick.

I am led to the back of the house where a little camp has been set up with a square tent and guards in the middle. I hear something that kicks me out of my zombie state. Pickey's desperate barks pierce the air. He is locked away in the shed, and he is scared. Blood rushes to my brain and awakens me. I shake off the hand again and head for the shed.

'Kid,' says the gorilla, exasperated, 'stop running around.'

'I need to get him out,' I say with frustration of my own.

'Kid, get back here.'

Alright, Ezra, don't back down now. What would V do? I turn to the big guy who is right on my heels and look at him the way V looks at someone who opposes her, with all the authority of a queen.

'I will not speak to anyone until I have the dog with me.' Stand your ground, Ezra.

The guard is taken by surprise and stops. I run to free Pickey. He jumps up and down, trying to lick my face. 'Easy, boy,' I tell him, 'calm down.' I pet his soft head until he sits. 'It's going to be fine,' he answers with a whine. I walk to the tent, feeling more confident now that I have some support from my hairy friend.

The curtains of the tent open and unveil something that sends chills down spines and sets fire to my head.

Holy crap, V, what have you done?

I don't know how, but I know she did this.

Mixed with my fear and anger, there is admiration. I shut my eyes for a quick second and picture her sitting on the stairs' end where I left her yesterday. She looked so fragile, so tiny, yet her eyes were burning, like she had made her decision. I guess it is time I make one of my own. I'm sorry, V. I will never leave you again. I open my eyes to face her mortal enemy, a man with no scruples, a man who is willing to send boys my age to die in The West without blinking an eye.

'Rough night?' I ask casually.

'I'm allergic to bees,' he says.

'It must have been one hell of a V.'

'Take a seat, Mr. Dantes,' hisses V's 'godfather', William the nobleman of The South, 'and the animal stays outside.'

He does not look so noble now. His left eye is a big blueberry, his mouth is a giant sausage that was on the frying pan a little too long. I swallow back the urge to laugh. She really did a number on him. Hard to believe V is a full-fledged Southerner – Southerners who are known for their peacefulness and calm demeanor.

I turn to the guard, 'I'm sorry, sir, but he says you're gonna have to wait outside, oh, and take Pickey with you.' I signal Pickey to go outside. They both leave. I have to fight to keep a straight face.

The noble's face is hard to read given its blueberry state, but I'm guessing he is not in a good mood.

'I'm surrounded by idiots,' he complains.

'Tell me about it,' I say, taking a seat across from him. The table between us is covered with maps.

'Mr. Dantes,' the noble begins. His perfect pronunciation makes me wonder how he can speak clearly in spite of his face. 'I imagine you have put the pieces together, so I will ask you once.' His one good eye is locked on me. 'Where is Valentina Sirius?'

A wave of relief washes over me. He doesn't have her, good girl, V.

'Like Siriusly?' I spit out, 'I wouldn't be here if I knew. Look, the last time I saw her was yesterday after you barged into her house, accused and arrested her household slash friends for murdering her father just hours after his funeral.' My chest rises and falls fast. Alright, I need to stop channeling her.

He doesn't react. He stares at me with one eye, but one eye is enough.

'I take it you care for her a considerable amount,' he says calmly, so calm it is eerie. I don't answer, so he continues, 'I thought I would have some use of you. However, I now see the slight regard she holds for you.'

I want to deny it. I want to tell him how wrong he is, but his sharp words cut my air. For the first time in my life, I lose my voice from fear. Now I know what made her dread him.

'Evaluate where you stand, Mr. Dantes, and remember her affection for you is the same she has for the dog she left without a care.'

I can hear my heart beating in my ears. He is too much. I need to get away. A normal looking man enters and interrupts us, giving me a chance to catch my breath.

'My lord,' he says. 'We found something.' He glances down at me and hesitates.

'My patience is short today,' says the noble. 'Tell me you have found her.'

'We found… traces, my lord.' His face turns pale, and my heart stops.

'Of what?'

'Of the girl,' the man continues awkwardly.

'Then, why are you still here? Go. And. Fetch. Her.'

'We can't, my lord, we found them in the library where we believe the fire started.'

No! no, no, no… I don't want to hear this.

'We believe she never left the house.'

*****

I'm propped against a tree, coughing and hurling out my breakfast. Tears run down my nose and fall from the tip as I squeeze my eyes shut. Deep down I knew this was going to happen. Why? Why? Why? I should have never left her… I shouldn't have let go of her small hand. I bend down and put my head between my knees. Why did I leave?

Besides me, Pickey whimpers. 'Shh, it's fine, boy,' I whisper with my eyes still closed. 'She's alive, I know it.'

V is not some crazy pyromaniac. Well, she might be a little rash and stubborn and hot headed and unpredictable, but she is not a psycho. My argument begins to falter when my mind gives me the image of the noble's bruised face. Damn it, V, you are not helping my case. The air is getting thinner.

C'mon Ezra, don't panic and think. She is smart when she want to, so there is frequently a mighty motive behind every stupid thing she does. My mind is running wild with assumptions. She isn't dead. She isn't dead.

Pickey's warm, scratchy tongue passes over my cheek. I sit back on the damp grass and scratch his ear.

'She's alright, boy,' I tell him again. 'If she wasn't I would feel it here,' I say, pressing my free hand against my chest.

'Um, kid?' I look up at one of the guards, 'We're clearing out.' I can't tell if he is the one from before. They all look the same.

'Wait,' I say, 'what's going to happen to the house?'

'It's going to be sealed and guarded around the clock.' He rubs the back of his neck and sighs, 'Look, now I know you were close to the family, so I'll let you go inside to say your goodbyes.'

I am on my feet and heading for the house before he is done talking.

'But you can't take long.'

'I won't,' I say over my shoulder. 'Thank you, sir,'

My shoes stomp and squish on the damp carpet. Pickey lifts and shakes his paws uncomfortably.

'Let's try the stairs one more time,' I tell him. 'You stay here.'

This time I go up on the outside part of the stairs and hold on to the railing. They creak and wobble, but they don't collapse. The same goes for my aching knee. I swing myself over the railing when I reach a steady looking part.

'You're gonna have to wait for me,' I call down to Pickey. I walk up the good stairs to find Pickey sitting on the floor, wagging his tail and waiting for me. 'When? How?' I look at him and at the messed up steps. 'Never mind, let's go.'

We both walk into V's room. Time feels motionless here. It is like the room, in a different era unlike the rest of the house. It is almost in the same condition as I left it yesterday. A few things have been moved. Someone must have searched it, but they don't know her like I do. If someone combed here for clues, they wouldn't go through the trouble of taking her favorite things. Diaries and such? Sure, but clothes and shoes? I know what to look for, and I know where to search.

I know where she hides things she doesn't want anyone else to see, I know where she keeps the clothes she doesn't like, and I even know where she stashes those annoying letters she gets from the soldier in The West. I know because I do the same. You see, when you spend as much time with a person as I have spent with her, you start to notice their weird little habits, and through time, you begin to make them your own.

I know V would never leave behind some things. They might be unnoticeable to some, but I know her. It is the only advantage I have over the people who were here. I go through the closet, under the mattress and bed, behind mirrors, in holes on the wall, dummy books and air vents.

Nothing. Zip. Nada.

I can't find a trace of the stack of letters she received from the soldier she calls Momo, or her favorite boots and clothes and things. That Momo guy gets on my nerves. She has been obsessing over him ever since she was forced, by one of