The neighborhood wasn’t the best.  A few blocks back we’d passed a burned-out car on the side of the road.  There was no parking other than street parking.  Bottles littered the sidewalk.  Gabby gave me a worried glance.  I didn’t like it either but stepped forward anyway.  I wouldn’t leave until we at least met Peace.

Our low heels clicked in unison as we marched toward the club.  The red door set in the brick wall of the building marked the entrance.  There were no windows on the first level that I could see.  I had my fake ID all ready to get in, but the door was unmanned.  I began to wonder if the place was even licensed.

Luke made a small sound of disgust as he opened the door.  The reek of stale booze and smoke rolled out toward us.  Grey, the first one in the group, stepped in with a resigned look.  I appreciated that I did not have their heightened senses as I followed.  Luke held the door open for a moment longer than necessary trying to let in some fresh air then followed the rest of us in.

A band played at one end, a mix of emo and rock. A small crowd stood in front of them dancing.  The crowded bar stood opposite.  The man there kept asking who was next.

Directly across from the entrance a stage sat behind a floor-to-ceiling wall of chain-link fence.  Instead of band equipment, which would make sense, there were various fitness bags anchored to the ceiling off to the sides.  In the center of the stage, on a huge mat that spread across the floor, a tall redhead faced off with a mountain of a man.  The rest of the crowded room focused on the pair.  The man’s bald head glistened with sweat as they danced around each other. Both wore boxing gloves.  It looked as if the fight had been going on for a while.

“That’s her,” Gabby said unnecessarily.

I knew her at first sight.  Her rage boiled in her eyes. I was about to agree and suggest we wait at the bar, but Carlos was already pushing his way toward the fence, his skin rippling dangerously.  I didn’t care how drunk or high these people were, they were bound to notice.

I heard Grey swear and try to pull Carlos back.  Carlos shook him off like it was nothing.  That wasn’t supposed to happen with an Elder.

On the stage, Peace ducked under a punch and came back with an uppercut to the man’s jaw.  The crowd groaned, but it was a good-natured groan.  The man staggered back and shook his head.  Carlos had reached the cage by then and paced back and forth in front of it, barely containing the beast.

Peace caught the movement and glanced at Carlos.  Her opponent took that opportunity to swing.  It connected hard, snapping her head back with the blow.  This time the crowd booed, but I could barely hear it over Carlos’ rage filled howl.  He burst into his fur—in front of everyone—and crashed against the metal.

The wires bent inward, molding to the shape of his head and shoulder.  A few of the brackets mounting the fence to the floor gave way.  The fight on the stage stopped as the two stared at the huge beast attacking the fence.  Peace looked stunned, but her opponent just stood there placidly.

“Clay, Luke,” I gasped.  “What do we do?”  We needed to stop him. He was going to wreck everything.  We needed Peace to accept us.  We needed our first exposure to her and the world to be nice.  “Watch for people taking video or pictures,” I shouted.

Clay reached out an arm without moving, or taking his eyes off Carlos, and crushed a phone in someone’s hand.  Luke did the same but started working his way through the crowd, pulling me with him.  People barely noticed us weaving our way through them.  They were completely focused on the stage.  So was I.

With a roar, Carlos charged again.  Brackets popped free from the ceiling with a ping.  The fence barely held on.

Peace’s eyes rounded, and she took off through a side door behind the fence.  Carlos’ massive head swung in that direction.  He paused for a moment, listened, then he took off with so much force, his claws left trenches in the wood floor.

As if that were the signal, the crowd came alive with panic and fear. Everyone flooded toward the exit.  Luke wrapped his arms around me to protect me from being trampled.  Clay had Gabby pinned to the wall by the door.

When the bar emptied, and the four of us stood alone with the buzz of an overturned speaker to keep us company, I met Gabby’s eyes.

“What the hell was that?” I said in shock.

Author’s Note

As with all the other books, each of the girls’ stories overlap.  Book four, from Peace’s point of view will tie into the scene you just read.  At some point, I will also release Charlene’s story detailing how she found her way to Thomas and the amazing extent of her gift.  So, stay tuned.

Your continued support keeps me writing!  Please consider leaving a review or telling a friend about this series.

I welcome all feedback!  Feel free to contact me via email at Melissa@melissahaag.com, via Facebook at author.MelissaHaag, or via twitter @imagine2live.

Sneak peek of Isabelle’s story

Coming 2014

Jaw clenched, I shoved the key in the apartment building door.  My skin felt too tight from all the crap I had to deal with at the office.  I should have quit like Ethan said, I thought.  Who cares if I spend my whole life tending bar?  It would be easier, especially with the setup Ethan had.

Stopping to grab my mail from the entry, I gave a tight smile to my downstairs neighbor.  Waves of annoyance rolled off him and soaked into me.  My skin grew tighter.  I quickly grabbed my mail and moved on before he could pull me into a friendly conversation.

My neighbors all liked me.  They didn’t even know me, but that didn’t stop them from treating me like a close friend.  As a rule, I didn’t socialize with anyone in my building.  It just didn’t seem right.  After all, I robbed them of anything negative emotion they might have.  So, how could they not like me?

As a child, I’d always wanted friends.  When Ethan came along and seemed to understand me better than anyone else ever had, I gave up on having friends and settled for having a friend—singular.  And Ethan was enough.

I trudged up the stairs to the second floor, opened my apartment, and stepped inside with a sigh.  My eyes fell on my bag hanging from the special support the landlord had installed for me.  I wanted nothing more than to start hitting it, but knew once I started, I wouldn’t stop until I was drained.  First mail, then change, and then dinner.  After that, I could have at it.

Kicking off my flats, I sorted through the mail while walking to the kitchen.  I didn’t need to pay attention to where I was going.  My apartment wasn’t that big.  The living room and kitchen flowed together with a tiny island separating them.  The living room had my bag dangling from the ceiling and that was it.  My bedroom had a T.V., bed, and dresser.  I didn’t need much.

I stopped mid-sort and stared at an envelope with a hand written address.  No return address.  No postage.  Weird.  I threw the bills to the side and set the envelope on the counter.  The bills I’d write out later, the envelope I would open while I waited for food.  The freezer had a nice selection of dinners waiting for me.  I grabbed one at random and threw it into the microwave.  While I listened to the hum of my dinner cooking, I tore open the envelope and pulled out a hand written letter.