Awakening (The Equinox Pact Book 1) by Leigh Walker
English | 2020 | Children/Young Adult | ePUB | 3.4 MB
HE’S VOWED TO PROTECT HER…EVEN FROM HIMSELF.
ALL SHE WANTED WAS TO SURVIVE SENIOR YEAR.
The island of Dawnhaven has a population of 100 and it’s in the middle of nowhere, i.e., off the coast of Northern Maine. If Taylor can just make it through senior year and survive living with her wicked stepmother, she’ll be free, once and for all…
BUT THEN SHE MEETS THIS GUY.
James Champlain is tall and strapping, with a square jaw. Taylor’s thrilled to discover that in addition to his looks, James is charming, funny and kind. She’s increasingly drawn to him, but…
WHAT’S WITH ALL THE RUMORS?
People say strange things about James—that he takes his boat out on secretive missions at all hours of the night, that the steady stream of visitors to his estate are disciples of some sort of pagan “institute.” Although Taylor doesn’t believe it, James does claim he can read peoples’ auras. But does that make him a cult leader? And does he want to date her, or just recruit her?
AND WHAT’S THAT THING IN THE WOODS?
There’s something dark in the island woods, something dangerous. When Taylor encounters it, she learns that not only James is not what he appears, nothing is.
Becky drove us to Pine Harbor. From there we’d take a water taxi to the small island of Dawnhaven, where Becky, Amelia and my dad lived. It had a year-round population of about a hundred, mostly commercial lobstermen and their families. In the summer, tourists and locals alike flocked to Dawnhaven to have dinner at the restaurant and explore the art galleries, gravel paths, rose bushes and rocky beaches.
The ferry parking lot was packed, and the dock was crowded with tourists when we pulled in. They waited for public transportation, the mail boat, which delivered the mail and other goods to Dawnhaven several times a day. The Hales never took the mail boat. If my father couldn’t pick her up, Becky hired a private water taxi. My stepmother didn’t suffer much. She’d never rub shoulders with tourists and their faux-leather fanny packs and cheap “Maine-Vacationland” T-shirts.
Becky parked her enormous Mercedes SUV in one of the reserved spots and we climbed out. I immediately felt eyes on us. I know what it looks like. Some of the tourists stared, probably wondering if Becky was famous or just really rich. With the rap-star-grade SUV, along with the huge designer bag, perfect looks and air of detached superiority, strangers often did a double-take when they saw her.
I was wearing capri leggings, an oversized Worcester Polytechnic Institute T-shirt, and five-dollar flip flops from Old Navy. Maybe people thought I was her assistant.
“Grab your bag,” she said. “Bud doesn’t wait for anyone.” She didn’t look at me as she spoke. I took my duffel from the trunk, then nodded toward the case of wine and groceries from Main Street Market. “I’ll come back for that.”
“The crew will get it.” She frowned. “Let’s go. We have a couple of things to discuss.” I followed her down the steep ramp to the dock. There were dozens of boats parked nearby, running the gamut from yachts, to mid-sized sailboats to dinghies. The blue-green water shone in the early afternoon sunlight. Even with all the boats, the water was clean. Freezing, to be sure, but pristine.
Becky swung a long leg over the side of the water taxi, the Breathless, and easily climbed on board. Once she’d settled in, she pulled her aviators down on her nose, all the better to narrow her eyes at me. “First of all, you have to get a job. Today. You can’t just be hanging around, texting your friends all summer.”
“O-Okay.” But finding a position could be tricky. Dawnhaven was tiny, with one run-down store and one restaurant. The local kids usually lined up their jobs a year in advance. “I’ll see if they still need anyone at the Portside.”
“They’ll hire you if they want my business this summer,” she sniffed. “Next thing: you have a curfew. I expect you in our house by ten every night, no exceptions unless you’re working.”