Blackbirch: The Beginning

By K.M. Allan

Welcome to Blackbirch. It's a place no one forgets. Except for Josh Taylor. 

The fatal car crash took more than 17-year-old Josh's parents. It stole his memories and returned him to his birthplace, Blackbirch, a tourist town steeped in a history of witchcraft. 

Amongst friends he's forgotten and a life he d

• Language: English
• Publisher: K.M. Allan
• Release date: Feb 17, 2020
• ISBN: 9780648773016

K.M. Allan

K.M. Allan is an identical twin, but not the evil one. She started her career penning beauty articles for a hairstyling website and now powers herself with chocolate and green tea while she writes novels and blogs about writing. When she's not creating YA stories full of hidden secrets, nightmares, and powerful magic, she likes to read, binge-watch too much TV, spend time with family, and take more photos than she will ever humanly need. Visit her website, www.kmallan.com, to discover the mysteries of the universe. Or at the very least, some good writing tips.

Book preview

ONE

Josh Taylor opened his eyes and blinked away the white glare. History class was a risky place to catch up on sleep, but his body hadn’t listened when he slipped into his chair and rested his head against the desk. Just close your eyes for five minutes, he’d told himself.

Josh told himself a lot of things. He wasn’t tired. He wasn’t alone. He wasn’t a liar.

When his eyes adjusted and everything came into focus, he waited for the noise of the classroom to invade his eardrums, but there was nothing. Why is everyone so quiet?

He blinked, the hazy shape of a single empty chair opposite him taking form. Did the whole class leave and not tell him? The chair’s plastic seat sat on legs of steel, the same cold material as the bed he was tucked into. Just as uncomfortable as his school desk, it made him feel as rested as all sleep did, which wasn’t rested at all.

Where am I? The history classroom, he knew. This hospital room, he didn’t.

Sliding out of bed, his bare feet chilled against the linoleum floor. The shiver it sent reached his arms as he hugged himself to keep warm. His T-shirt was as thin as his matching white pajama pants. Yeah, I’m not in class. Not dressed like this, with the shoulder of his shirt stained red and stiff with blood.

What happened to the blue jeans and black crew neck shirt he’d put on this morning? He could picture pulling them out of the closet in his bedroom and glanced around the hospital room again. There was no wardrobe. Just the steel bed and the chair. I was in my bedroom this morning, wasn’t I?

Out in the hallway, he found blue-gray walls and little else. His gooseflesh returned, but not because of the cold. He rubbed his arms. Was something watching him?

Stop being paranoid. There was no one around. Even the nurses’ station was empty. Muted, static screens peppered the station, the bulbs lit up like Christmas lights, each blinking a furious red. He expected an alarm to sound along with them, but there was no blare. Just silence so heavy it had become its own entity.

Hello?

No answer. Just the echo of his wavering voice. He reached for the nurses’ station, his hand bumping against its cool surface before he pulled it away. It felt real. Could you touch things in dreams?

Looking around, his options were a hall tapering into dark shadows or a lit open door next to a vending machine. I’ll take what’s behind door number two, thanks.

Crossing the threshold, he entered a room with a window so large it covered most of the far wall. Through the glass, he spied a forest of tall, dark tree trunks and thick, green foliage merged into a picturesque scene that demanded a closer look.

Dodging more steel chairs lined up facing the window, he leaned against the glass. The birds were hard to miss, flying pops of color among the sea of green. A smile tugged the corners of his mouth at the sight, and he raised his fingers to his mouth. It’d been so long since he’d grinned it felt foreign.

Each bird flew closer to the window, showing off a different hue. What kind of birds are these? He marveled as a red bird flew past, followed by a bright blue one. A white bird zoomed along next, with an orange giving chase, before a purple bird swooped into the orange-colored clouds.

Josh’s gaze followed a green bird skirting closer to the window than the others. It caught his attention as it flew into a darker section of the forest. He didn’t like the darkness. Neither did the bird. It darted up, circling erratically as it tried to find another route. But it couldn’t escape the path it was on and the shadow swallowed it whole.

He gripped his stomach, riding out the wave of nausea, as he spun away from the glass. That’s when he saw her. Where did she come from?

Pretty, no older than seventeen, with long wavy hair the same chocolate brown shade as his. She sat behind Josh in a gray chair.

Are you okay? he asked. The white T-shirt she had on was stained too, only it was black ash spoiling her appearance. This place must have a policy against clean clothes.

She shifted her attention to his face. I could ask you the same thing. She tilted her chin at his shirt.

It’s not my blood.

The girl’s gaze drifted back to his shoulder. Are you sure?

He wasn’t. I’m sick.

You’re not sick.

I’m not? Why was he here then? In that bed, in that room? What kind of hospital was this?

She stood, smoothing her hands over her ash smudged fitted blue jeans, and found a place beside him. At least a head shorter than Josh, her petite figure was toned. An athlete, maybe? He looked to her feet, expecting runners, not the black boots she had on. Then it dawned on him. His assumption wasn’t because of her clothes. He eyed the way she held herself, taut like rope strung too tight. Her black boots shuffled on the floor as her feet twitched and her eyes scanned the forest through the window. She wanted to run.

A rogue wave of hair fell across her cheek and he raised his hand to brush it away, before catching himself and the look in her brown eyes. Staring at the dark spot in the forest, she looked just as afraid of it as the green bird.

Do you know what’s in the trees? he asked. What’s making that shadow?

Her head shook, dislodging the wavy strand, and she pressed her hands to the window. They quivered against the glass, a discolored substance coating her olive skin.

What happened to your hands? he asked. She withdrew them from the pane and hid them away, but he’d seen the blood. Are you hurt?

She shook her head again. Not me.

He caught her glance back to the chairs. They were in a waiting room. Someone she knows must be injured. Is there anything I can do?

The girl faced him, her eyes meeting his from underneath long, dark lashes. Pink color swirled through her cheeks, brightening her rose flushed lips. Was the blush because of him? The same way the butterflies twisted in his stomach when he looked at her. Who is she?

Why do you think there’s something in there? She gestured back to the forest.

He took a few seconds to realize she was referring to his earlier question. I don’t know. Just a feeling, I guess. And the green bird. He reached for his stomach again.

She nodded. Feelings like that are important. They’ll help you fight it.

Fight it? He wasn’t here to fight anything; he was here to get better. Why else would I be in a hospital?

That’s why you’re here.

In the hospital? Did she know what he was thinking?

The hospital doesn’t matter. The place does.

Where was this place? What was this place?

The girl didn’t register his confusion, turning her full attention back to the window. Do you believe in monsters?

Josh laughed. What else could he do? He was ready to wake up now. This place was too strange, and she was too perfect. I don’t think a monster lives there.

The girl’s eyes narrowed at the shadows. I’m not so sure.

He followed her gaze. The darkness deepened and spread, the black tainting the green surrounding it and changing the beauty of the trees. Deep, jagged cracks opened along the smooth bark as it melted and twisted into rough chunks. The shape of the trunks deformed. Leaves blackened and curled at the edges while the branches wilted under their weight.

The base of Josh’s neck prickled, the hair standing on end as a chill crept up his spine. Every dark fear in his adolescent mind crystallized into shapes within the blackened shadows, threatening to strike out and swallow him next. The transformation was as breathtaking as it was horrifying. Maybe she was right, and a monster lurked in the shadows?

He stepped back from the window. We should leave.

The girl ignored him, hypnotized by the view. What personal nightmare held her there? He reached out to lead her away as the sky outside turned black. With the color change, the waiting room slipped further into darkness, blotting out the double doorway. How can we run without seeing the exit?

Finally, she backed away from the window, but didn’t turn from the decaying forest. A high-pitched whistle punctuated the air, and his hands flew to cover his ears. It didn’t muffle the sound or the clink that followed. Was it inside his head or outside? His eyes confirmed the truth, a large crack splintering the glass as the inky black sky beyond it flashed white and turned dark gray.

He reached for the girl. What do we do now?

Her gaze traced the fracture as it snaked its way along the full-length pane, and her features hardened. Protect yourself from the shadow.

It wasn’t the answer he expected, but her confidence made it a hard suggestion to ignore. How do I do that? I don’t have any weapons.

She raised her blood-stained hands and a film of light washed over her fingertips, radiating a blue glow. You are the weapon.

What? His skin reacted, heat flushing every inch, drawing him to the light. How did you do that?

She pushed her palms together and held them in front of her chest. The blue deepened and burned brighter, allowing them to once again see. I called on my power. She fixed her stare straight ahead.

Her words sparked something in him, electricity that pulsed through every muscle. The heat brought power with it and a confidence he’d long forgotten.

He raised his hands too, and a red-colored glow pulsated across his skin and wrapped itself around his long, slender fingers. He didn’t know where it came from, only that it’d been hidden in his veins for too long.

Tell me what to do.

Don’t let it in.

The rupture reached the top of the window. Large shards broke away, shattering against the floor and forcing Josh and the girl back. A gaping hole opened in the pane; a tear big enough for the shadow to slip inside.

The dying overhead lights gave a final whimper, one small flash of yellow before plunging them into near darkness. The shadow slipped into the room, hurtling through the crack. It stole the air and snuffed out the girl’s blue glow. With its loss, Josh’s red glow faltered.

Surrounded again by the black, he lost her, and the ache it created didn’t slow the racing beat of his heart. He sucked in a series of breaths to calm his panic, and every single one felt like fire in his lungs. Swinging his hands, feeling for her, Josh found nothing.

Locating her by sight was impossible. He stopped the ragged gasps escaping his own lips and listened for hers. At first, he met silence. That silence was then tainted.

The new sound was subtle but grew in volume as it approached the broken window. Coming from the dark depths of the forest, it reverberated off the remains of the glass and burst into the waiting room. Josh froze, his whole body stricken by the shrill pitch. His brain tried to catch up with his ears, but whatever was making the noise was otherworldly.

Something not human.

Josh, wake up.

He registered Sarah Randall’s soft voice, chased by the booming voice of their history teacher.

Mr. Taylor!

Josh’s head snapped down as his arm slipped from the desk and the pain ricocheted across his forehead. Laughter followed the thud but was cut short when Mr. Chester called his name again.

Guidance counselor now, Mr. Taylor.

For falling asleep? Was he serious?

Please don’t argue with him, Sarah whispered from the next seat. Her hand covered her mouth, her fingers tangled with strands of her long blonde hair. It made her sound as muffled as when she asked him to wake. Maybe if she’d been louder, his nap wouldn’t have caught the attention of the whole class.

Thanks for that super helpful warning, he murmured, snatching up his backpack. His arms struggled to lift the small load and his back creaked in protest. Only his left shoulder had no problem with the weight. It was easy to take when the joint was so numb it couldn’t feel anything at all.

Max Ryan, sitting at the desk in front, turned when he shuffled past. His profile caught Josh’s eye, but Max’s encouraging smile only made it to Sarah; the place where most of his grins were aimed—and stayed—unrequited. Get a room already.

He approached Mr. Chester at the whiteboard, eyeing the slip of paper in his hand and the unimpressed scowl on his pursed lips. Not a fan of nappers. Got it.

North end of the building. Mr. Chester’s long bony arm pointed out the door.

His direction was a big help when Josh hit the dim hallway of Blackbirch High and there wasn’t enough natural light to read the scribbled note properly. The identical, numbered doorways at the rear of the hall were just as frustrating. Is that a two or a seven?

When the left door swung open, it spilled some much-needed brightness and a girl out of the doorway.

She shoved past him, thumping a dark satchel and a sharp elbow to his side. His shoulder might be numb, but the rest of his body wasn’t. He groaned and clutched his ribs, stepping into her when his sneakers caught on the end of her long black dress.

Do you want to watch where you’re going? She glared from behind a mane of shoulder-skimming black hair.

Josh brushed his own mid-length strands from his face and moved off her hem. Is this the guidance counselor’s office?

Maybe.

Maybe it is, or don’t you know?

I know more than you.

He narrowed his eyes at her. Great, a riddle-talker. This is going to be fun. Well, unless you’re new too, that’s pretty much a given.

"You’ve been here a while now, Josh. How do you not know your way around? It’s not like this is a big school or town, or even a new place for you."

He crushed the piece of paper in his hand and shoved it into his jean pocket. How did she know anything about him? He tried to glance at her features, but her hair and the darkened hallway kept them hidden. Do I know her? She pushed the door back open, gesturing that he had the right place.

You must be new here, he said, sliding past her. I’ve never seen you before.

"The way you look through people, you haven’t seen anyone else for a long time."

Josh scowled, the frown deepening as the weight of the door fell into his back. The girl let it go and walked away, robbing him of the chance to argue against what she’d said.

Josh Taylor?

He flinched, turning into the small room. The man sitting at the far end of a worn desk motioned for Josh to come closer. The empty chair he was directed to looked about as comfortable as the one he’d just left. Great.

Mr. Flynn? Josh recalled the name on the paper balled up in his pocket.

Please, call me Arden. The counselor smiled, showing off a row of white teeth that dazzled in contrast to the deep tone of his dark brown skin.

Josh dropped his bag on the floor and sank into the plastic seat. It felt as small as the room.

As Arden stared at him from the comfort of a padded leather chair, Josh eyed the film of dust covering the surface of the desk between them. Is there no janitor at this school?

The only place the dust was disturbed was in the middle where two glossy white folders sat stacked together. His name was printed across the right one in blue ink. Thomas was written on the other folder, but he didn’t see if it was a first name or a surname before Arden slid the thicker folder away.

Apologies for missing your start here at school. I’ve been out of town and have only now returned to Blackbirch myself. He pointed around the office as if his absence was the only reason it was dusty and bare.

I don’t know why anyone would come back, Josh said.

You did.

Not by choice.

Well, it was mine and I’m glad I made it. Arden thumbed through Josh’s file. Your teachers tell me you’ve settled into your senior year, and your grades have improved since the transfer.

Josh shifted in his seat. Above Arden’s head hung a wall clock that was ten minutes too slow. Why are you glad? When he looked down, Arden was studying him over the top edge of the papers in his hands.

Why am I glad to be back in Blackbirch?

Josh nodded.

Well, otherwise, we wouldn’t have met. Arden lowered the papers, revealing the rest of his face and another blinding, white-toothed smile. Do you like your new home? Your new family? You’re staying with Grace Randall and her daughter, Sarah, correct?

It’s not my home, and they’re not my family. My home is still waiting for me, and my family is dead.

Arden dropped the papers onto the table faster than the toothy smile fell from his lips.

Yep, that’s right. Poor me.

You wish you were still in the city. Arden observed.

Every damn day. Heading back there as soon as I’m eighteen.

That doesn’t seem fair to the Randall’s after they took you in.

I didn’t ask them to.

You don’t get along with them? Sarah’s your age, isn’t she? She’s in your classes here at school.

Does that mean we’re supposed to get along?

No, but your file says before you moved, the two of you were good friends. You and Sarah, and Max Ryan.

You’ve got a pretty detailed file there.

Arden beamed. I like being thorough.

Josh glanced to the thicker second folder. Either he didn’t have as many problems as that kid, or Arden wasn’t as methodical as he boasted. "Max and Sarah are still friends, at least she thinks they are. I don’t think she’s realized he’s in love with her."

But you have.

"It’s hard not to notice the way he looks at her. Well, for everyone but her."

You’re not jealous are you, Mr. Taylor?

"Of Sarah and