Beautifully Broken by Sherry Soule Read Free Book Online

and ran across the room, shooting like a comet toward the windows. Electricity crackled around me. Heat warmed my scarred forearm. A strange force sparked within me— magick, fire, power —flowing in my veins and drumming in my head. The magick begged for release, tingling in my fingers and blazing in my eyes. Electric sparks flew from my fingertips and raised the blinds before I grasped the pulley.
    Sunlight burst into the room, dancing across my olive skin. I glanced toward the rear of the classroom, keeping my mental fingers crossed that the wraith and the shadows had been vaporized.

     

CHAPTER FIVE

     

     

     
    The classroom fell silent. Each pair of curious eyes was a tear to my soul.
    Crap, another social blunder to talk about. Shiloh, the epic weirdo.

    The sun shone through the window, but in my soul it was still night.
    Mr. Hall exhaled through disapproving lips. “Miss Ravenwolf, why are you disrupting my classroom?”
    My cheeks caught fire. “Uh, well…children need sunshine to grow. I’m on the, um, committee to improve, the…” Think. Think! “The social economics of sunlight in, uh, classrooms, Mr. Hall. So if, you don’t mind, please keep the blinds open in the future.”
    I took my seat. All traces of my shadowed horror were gone.
    Giggles erupted. My classmates snickered, then turned away. Apparently, weird, stuttering girls weren’t worth more than a moment of curiosity. Ashley and the Trendies snickered.
    Mr. Hall’s mouth fell open. He blinked and faced the chalkboard. “As I was saying class…”
    “You are so bizarre,” Ashley whispered. “Such a mental case.”
    My bottom lip trembled. I pulled my hoodie over my head, taking detailed notes and snubbing her. Tears cascaded on my cheeks, but I didn’t dare sniffle or swipe them.
    All the girls sitting near me whispered the word, “Weirdo. Weirdo. Weirdo.”
    “Oh…shut up.” I grabbed my iPod and stuffed my earbuds in, listening to an alternative band.
    I hate them. Hate their perfectly coiffed hair. Their matching outfits. And I especially hate that they’re right…I am weird.

    The first time I saw the shadows I told my dad. Big mistake. We’d been driving home from a camping trip and evening had crept to the edge of the forest on either side of the highway. The sun dipped her crimson face below the horizon. Shadows wobbled, lengthened, covering the pavement.
    “The shadows have spooky shapes. Bloody eyes. What do they want, Dad?”
    His face blanched and he almost veered off the road. “ What ?”
    Somehow I knew what I’d said had been wrong. Not what he’d wanted to hear.  
    “Nothing. We have more chips?”
    He relaxed, and I knew then certain secrets were better kept to myself.
    That’s right folks, Shiloh Ravenwolf can see the recently departed and paranormals. Yeah, I know—throw me in a padded cell.

    From the grimoires, I’d learned to create psychic defenses, like visualizing a golden barrier that kept paranormals from harming me. Once erected, the barrier wrapped itself over my body like a warm cashmere blanket on a cold winter’s night, protecting me from invisible but tangible forces. The best part was if used correctly, the extrasensory block also concealed fear, which fed dark energy. Shadows loved to nosh on terror. They survived off powerful emotions. Not flesh, but rage. Sorrow and pain were their favorite snack. Little leeches.
    From what I found on the Internet and at the library (with help from the cool librarian), the shadows were actually nocturnal creatures named Shades. Small, discernible beings that shapeshifted into amorphous masses. Shades feared sunlight, the same way vampires did. By day, the living shadows were supposedly timorous. I often wondered if the light actually hurt them or just scared them off. By night, they unfurled from the darkness, coalescing into small dark figures. And in a foggy coastal town, like Whispering Pines, days shrouded in fog meant the shades came out to