Eternal Ember

By K. C. Pineda

Beautiful, quiet, and strongthese words hardly begin to describe Emma Ward. Orphaned at only twelve, she grew up with a deadly secret and learned to hide it. Now twenty-four years old and possessing the title of special agent, she is more determined to learn the truth than she realizes. Her world is about to change, and her partner, Liam Fuller, is the only person she can rely on. But when her emotions begin to create problems, she must choose between love and lifeespecially because the life in question is not her own.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jun 29, 2015
• ISBN: 9781504916912

K. C. Pineda

Kayla Pineda is twenty-four years old, a wife, and the mother of two small children. She is a full-time student in a community college, studying for a degree in digital forensics. She is due to graduate in the fall of 2015. She is planning on continuing her education at a four-year college, also in digital forensics. She has a passion for science, knowledge, and of course, law. It was in college that she discovered she actually enjoyed writing science fiction. She has used the things she’s learned over the course of her life to not only make the book authentic but her characters relatable and real. Kayla is dedicated in everything she does and aspires for, making her a prime new author.

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ETERNAL

EMBER

K. C. PINEDA

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AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2015 K. C. Pineda. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 06/25/2015

ISBN: 978-1-5049-1690-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-1691-2 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

To my angels, this is for you.

Amariah Pineda & Anthony Pineda

CHAPTER 1

The day began as it usually did: the alarm woke me up, and I peeled myself out of bed. My tiny apartment was my keepsake. The walls were bright canary yellow, and it was very welcoming. It was the last thing I saw each morning before the horror began. Don’t get me wrong; I loved my job. I’d fought hard to get where I was: earning a degree in forensic psychology, training at Quantico, and being a female special agent. I still got dirty looks from some of the guys, even though they said they believed in equal opportunity; the ratios were a little different in the bureau.

I brushed my fingers through my long, damp, brown hair. I needed a trim; it was almost down to my waist. Dark shadows were visible beneath my light-blue eyes. Last night had been rougher than most; the nightmares had wakened me again, but that was a usual occurrence. I put on makeup to hide the shadows and touched up the sleepless look of my skin. I finished my makeup quickly and got dressed, picking out the typical pant suit. My bell rang before I could finish putting my shoes on. I ran for the buzzer and pressed it; I didn’t even have to ask who it was. My partner, Liam Fuller, was never late, at least not anymore. I unlocked the door and walked back into the other room. I heard the door open and then close. I was fastening my holster for my gun when he peeked around the door while knocking on the frame.

Hey, you ready? We got a call. I looked up at him. He was as handsome as usual, but he looked tired.

His dark-brown hair was always perfectly tailored in a military-like cut. His big brown eyes sparkled, as did his teeth, as he looked at me and smiled. I never expected less from him. His charm radiated throughout the room.

Yeah, just about. I looked up briefly as I tucked my gun into its place.

I’m going to grab a soda—you want one? I shook my head, and he disappeared into the kitchen. I grabbed my badge and my wallet and tucked them away. I took one last look at myself and then walked into the kitchen/living room/dining area. It was so small and kind of mish-mashed together, but for downtown Boston it was dirt cheap. Liam was making a sandwich. He really had grown comfortable with me. He knew I wasn’t very talkative. When we were assigned together, I had been mortified because he talked about his personal life so much. After a few weeks of my ignoring him, I think he’d finally realized I wasn’t interested in getting to know him.

At Quantico they described a partner as a relationship more important than a husband or wife. I believed that was true; despite how cruel I was, Liam found a way to adapt to me. He stopped trying to talk to me, we focused on work, we caught bad guys, and we took down killers. Somewhere along the road, he found a way in. I considered him a friend now. He was reliable, but I was careful. I prepared myself every day for the time when he might be gone or I might have to leave. I was extra careful around him; I knew never to let him see my weakness. My guilt was always a factor, because I keep a secret—a deadly secret—but he wasn’t the only one I hid it from. No one knew but me, and that’s how I liked it. It frightened me, and that’s why I kept my distance. My emotions were my biggest enemy; they turned my weakness into an uncontrollable disaster.

Fear wasn’t so much my problem as anger—anger made me boil inside as if my flesh would drop off my muscles from the heat.

Hey, you in there? asked Liam, taking a bite of the sandwich he’d just made.

Yeah, let’s go. I looked around my apartment and then shut and locked the door. We walked down the hallway toward the stairs. I hated the elevator in my building. It was only five flights, but Liam would complain at some point. He always did. Today we got down to the second level before, of course, he groaned.

I hate stairs, he complained.

I just shook my head and laughed. That’s because you have never been stuck in the elevator for five hours, I told him sarcastically.

True, but I did stay and talk to you the whole time, didn’t I? We finally reached the bottom stairs, and Liam breathed a sigh of relief. We exited by the side door where he’d parked the SUV. I walked to the passenger side, and he unlocked it. I heard what sounded like someone calling my name but from a distance away. I turned and looked down the alley. There were people walking by on the busy street, but none of them were looking my way. I climbed in, shut the door, and fastened my seat belt. Liam took off down the abandoned side street. At the intersection, he stomped on the brake, which would have sent me flying had the seatbelt not restrained me effectively.

Good to know those work, I told him. You know, one of these days your brakes aren’t going to work, and this truck isn’t going to stop. He laughed and pulled out at the first sign of a break. We headed toward the office, cutting through morning traffic and weaving around the ridiculous Boston drivers. I was thankful that driving made me anxious, especially here; the people around here drove like maniacs. Liam made short work of what would have taken me a lot longer.

I just need to grab the info, and I’ll be right down. Are you going to come up? he asked. I shook my head, and he left the keys in the ignition. I started scanning all of the stations until I found something I liked. A female was singing, but I didn’t recognize who she was. I leaned my head back and enjoyed the song playing; it was beautiful. When it ended, I heard the sound of someone screaming. I sat up immediately, looking around to see where it had come from, but it wasn’t there anymore. I looked around, but everything seemed fine and calm. I shut the window and leaned my head back again. Another song came on, and I hummed to the tune, trying to distract myself. That’s when I heard a whisper in my ear. I jerked upright and looked around the SUV. There was nobody there. It was not the first time this had happened, but the last time I had figured it was a warning because someone had died. Suddenly the door opened, and I just about jumped out of my skin. Liam climbed in, he glanced at me, and his face fell slightly.

Are you feeling all right? I can take you home and take care of this on my own. He started the SUV and began to back up.

No, I’m fine. I just couldn’t sleep, that’s all. He looked at me for a moment, deciding something, and then he turned and pulled out. He handed me a piece of paper with an address on it: 40 Behen Street, Chelsea, MA. I knew where it was; there were only large factories, scrap metal places, and other commercial properties on that street.

What exactly are we checking out? I asked Liam, who was humming to a song on the radio.

Honestly, I have no clue, he said. Then he pulled out his phone and played back a message.

Agent Fuller, my name is Taylor. Please come get me. I sent you the address; it’s in your mail on your desk. Please, Agent Fuller, you have to save— The message cut out, and there was nothing more. My brain processed the voice; it was male and very young, childlike.

It’s a ghost number; supposedly it doesn’t exist and never did, and voice recognition couldn’t pull anything off of it. I ran it all night. I even sent the local PD to go check it out, but they said they didn’t find anything. I took a second glance at him and realized why he looked exhausted; he had been up all night.

And I’m worried someone may have been forcing that little boy to say what he was saying, he stated, and I gave him a look that said I agreed. We finally arrived at the address, only there was nothing marked with that number—just buildings and workers all around us.

We should go look around, Liam said. I could tell he was mildly frustrated. We walked around toward the back road, where it became quieter. There was a large white container, and we headed toward it. We both saw something that appeared strange, and we exchanged glances. Hanging from the ladder was something wrapped in what looked like a blanket. We both ran up to it, and the smell was dead on. As we got closer, we saw what looked like rotting flesh, and my stomach turned as I imagined a little boy’s body being under that blanket. Liam walked closer and I followed him forward. He used a pen and gently shifted the blanket to see what was inside. I was relieved to see it was not human—it was a dog.

I heard someone whisper my name again, and I whipped around. There was no one except for the workers in the distance. Liam looked at me with a speculating glare.

What’s wrong? he asked. I just shook my head at him.

Nothing. I looked back to the dead dog. It looked as if the dog’s heart had been cut out. Tears welled in my eyes. Hurting animals was like hurting children to me, though I couldn’t say I wasn’t relieved that this wasn’t a child. I focused on wondering what type of person could do something like this and what it had to do with the little boy. I took a deep breath and put gloves on to check it. It looked as if something had been placed in the empty cavity where the dog’s heart was meant to be. I peeked inside to see a pile of maggots crawling around. I stepped back, and Liam looked inside. He pulled out his cell phone.

Why don’t we go back to the SUV? I’ll call in the locals. I nodded and started walking back toward the SUV. Emma, Liam yelled from behind me and then tossed me the keys. I was continuing toward the SUV when I heard a blood-curdling scream. It was not just any scream, it was the scream of a child. I ran toward the loud sound. As I ran, I heard an ear-piercing screeching begin. It was one of the most horrifying sounds I had ever heard.

EMMA, STOP! I heard from behind me. I looked over my shoulder and saw Liam a little ways away, running toward me. The screaming stopped, or maybe the screech was just blocking it out. I stopped so I could figure out where it was coming from. The screeching noise was getting louder, and I clapped my hands over my ears. I turned to Liam, who was waving his arms and yelling. Then I felt heat from behind me from an explosion that was close enough to launch me ten feet forward.

My ears rang with an ear-splitting force. I couldn’t hear or see anything but billows of smoke and debris around me. I choked on the dusty clouds as I struggled for air. The ringing was so strong that it incapacitated all of my senses. I searched through the smoke for Liam, who was nowhere in sight. I knew we had been looking at each other when the bomb went off. I tried to remember what had happened, but I couldn’t get my thoughts together. My brain was scrambled and the ringing painful. I felt Liam before I saw him as he reached down and pulled me up. I stumbled forward and realized my ankle was twisted. He looked down at it and then up at me; he was yelling, only I couldn’t hear him. I could see his lips moving and his hands motioning to the car. My left arm dangled lifelessly, and he saw it, but I felt it. He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled my right arm around his neck. As we walked, every step sent razor blades of pain up and down my back and shoulder. I felt as if I were screaming, but I couldn’t hear myself. We walked slowly to the car, and he barely let me go while he opened the back door. I could hear faintly now; the ringing was fading, and I was beginning to hear bits of sound.

Hey, Emma can you hear me? He appeared to be shouting, but it sounded like a distant cry. I nodded, and he put his hands on either side of my face.

You need to lie on your stomach. This time he was slightly closer. He helped me into the backseat, where I lay on my stomach and rested my head on my good arm. He shut the door and I lay helplessly in the back. I could feel the car moving; with every bump my flesh sizzled with pain and my head thrummed. My arm lay dead, and my back felt as if razors were slicing through it. I shivered, not sure whether it was from cold or pain. The car ride was bumpy; as it went by, the ringing in my head faded, and I started to hear the car. Liam glanced back at me.

Don’t worry, we will be there soon, he called from the front. He sounded panicked. I assumed we were heading for a hospital. The tires skidded to a stop. I felt weak and tired as he opened the door, and I used my good foot to slide off the seat. He again put my arm around his neck, and I leaned on him. We were in a backstreet alley in the city. I looked at him questioningly. Why aren’t we at a hospital? We headed for a giant steel door. He opened a panel in the metal, and a screen was revealed. He put his hand against the screen, which scanned his hand and then beeped. When the door slid open, he pulled me through the dark corridor. The door slid closed behind us, and the lights flickered on. In front of us I saw another door. I looked around the small corridor. I had never been here before; it must be a safe house. Liam tapped a square on the side of the door, and an automated voice sounded through a speaker.

Please state your name and security access code. He looked at me, his eyes wide. Something wasn’t right. I could feel it in the pit of my stomach, but pain was overwhelming any inner senses I had.

Liam Fuller, access code 9876243.

Access granted the computerized voice announced, and the door slid open. Liam pulled me forward again, and the door shut behind us. He let me go and turned toward the shut door and typed something into the monitor.

Lockdown initiated, the mechanical voice announced loudly. Locks clicked on every edge of the door. When he returned to me, neither one of us said anything. The lights came up and revealed a large room with immaculate white furniture, all very sleek and modern. I was in too much pain to ask questions. He led me straight to a room with a large padded table and surrounding cabinets that were marked for medical supplies. He walked me to the table and laid me on my stomach again. The pain was severe; I couldn’t stop the small scream that escaped my gritted teeth. He walked in front of me and kneeled down so he was face to face with me.

How much pain are you in? he asked me. I honestly didn’t know how to answer. I would have screamed more, but I knew it would do no good. My arm was the most painful thing. It hid some of the burning in my back and the throbbing in my ankle.

My shoulder, it … it’s bad. I barely got the words out, it hurt so much to speak, to move, to breathe. He nodded, stood, and touched my shoulder gently; the pain shot to my back and side. I winced at the touch, sending pain throughout my entire body as I tensed. He kneeled again and looked worried.

Your shoulder is dislocated. You also have shrapnel in your back and a twisted ankle. I need to put your shoulder back now. Then I will clean up your back. I don’t have anything to give you except two hydrocodone. You want to take it now or wait till I’m done? He looked at me expectantly. This was a different Liam, someone I didn’t recognize.

Later, I said, without smiling. He gently put his hand on my shoulder.

Don’t worry, I’ll get you fixed up. I trusted him as my partner but an inexplicable fear ran through me.

He stood up straight and put one hand on my elbow and the other on my shoulder. I’m going to count to five. He paused and then started to count. One … two … My arm cracked into place.

A scream escaped my throat, but then the pain started to ebb away. The agony in my back quickly became the center of most severe pain. He walked toward a cabinet in the corner and pulled out tweezers, scissors, a bowl, and alcohol. He put them on a little movable table and rolled it over.

Em, I need you to sit leaning forward with your feet dangling over the table … I’ll help you.

I bent the hurt arm; it was still very sore but usable. He helped me get into the position; as I arched my back, everything pulled, and I felt as if acid were being poured down my back. I gripped the edge of the table. He started to cut my shirt up the sides. It took me a moment to realize what he was doing. Of course, if he tried to pull it over my head it would be excruciating. He worked quickly, cutting each side until the front fell off. The back lay on my skin. My bra was colorful, a bright pink with green straps, but he didn’t even look. It was unnerving to see him like this. He was always joking and talking, but now, with optimal joke opportunity, he was silent. I wondered whether I should ask him what had happened. He went behind me and peeled the shirt off my back. I winced at each sting. I imagined this was what lying in a bed of jagged glass would feel like. He started pulling shrapnel out, piece by piece. I could hear them clinking into the bowl. As I felt the larger pieces coming out, I cringed and tried to just squeeze the table. I knew this wasn’t the worst part. The wounds would still need to be cleaned. I could feel my heart beating—I knew something terrible happened when I was upset. I needed to calm down; I couldn’t lose control here, not with him around. I shivered as I fought back the growing fire inside of me. With each sear of pain, I tightened my fingers into my hands, digging my fingernails into my palms. The harder it pushed, the harder I squeezed. Liam put his hands on my shoulders. I tensed up, and he squeezed gently until my shoulder ached. He let go and walked around in front of me. He saw my hands, which now were bloody from me squeezing so hard. He pulled my hands open, put a cloth in each palm, and pressed lightly.

Emma, you need to calm yourself. Slow your heart rate. I looked at him questioningly. He gripped my wrists, testing my pulse. I stared down at my bloody hands.

Look at me, he barked, and my eyes shot up to him. Deep breaths, he instructed. I started to inhale and exhale; it helped take the edge off, but it didn’t help the pain. The fire backed down, but it was still there, ever present inside of me. He mimicked my breaths. After a few minutes of just breathing, he let me go but didn’t move to continue working on my back. He stepped back a few feet away from me.

Emma, do you trust me? His question made my head spin. Yes, of course. I did. I was too afraid to speak in case the feeling started to come back. I nodded, and Liam stood there with his hands behind his back. His whole body was tense. I recognized it immediately; it was familiar from when we were in tight situations. He peered down and then up at me, looking me directly in the eye.

I’m not FBI—well I am, but I didn’t go through training, like you did. He didn’t look away. His voice was steady and there was no humor in his voice.

What do you mean? I asked, my voice sounding shaky and uncertain.

I mean I was put into the FBI so that I could monitor someone. As soon as the words were out, I knew who he meant. Of course I had to be watched, being what I was. Why was he telling me? Two things come to mind: either he knows and I’m going to be killed, or I’m insane and this is something completely different. Either way, I could feel the fire brewing again. Would he be the one to kill me?

Emma, I know about your gift. What you can do—and no, I’m not going to hurt you. How could you even think that? I jumped up as he answered my unspoken question. The pain radiated throughout my body as I tried to get away from him. He grabbed me gently, I pulled away from him, and his face looked grief-stricken. I could feel my body building to the thing I wanted to avoid; I could feel it coming into my hands. I felt a slight sting in my neck. Liam had just stuck me with something. The building began to fade, as did I. My knees grew weak, and I collapsed to the floor, but Liam caught me before I hit it too hard. His hand wiped the tear that had fallen onto my cheek. Then blackness descended upon my vision, and I slipped into