Broken: A YA Paranormal Romance Novel (Volume 1 of the Reflections Books)

Sometimes love finds you when you aren't looking for it.

  The accident that forced Adri and her mother to move to a new high school also cost Adri her dad and sister. Adri just wants to blend in and buy herself time to grieve, but two of the most popular, gorgeous guys in school are about to take an inexplicable interest in her.

  Adri will be forced into a world where the players aren't all human. She will be forced to choose between Brandon and Alec, and this time the wrong choice could get her killed.

  Broken

  by Dean Murray

  Copyright 2011 by Dean Murray

  Also by Dean Murray:

  The Reflections Series

  Broken (free)

  Torn (free if you sign up for Dean's Mailing List)

  Splintered

  Intrusion

  Trapped

  Forsaken

  Riven

  Driven

  Lost

  Marked

  The Greater Darkness (Writing as Eldon Murphy)

  A Darkness Mirrored (Writing as Eldon Murphy)

  The Dark Reflections Series

  Bound

  Hunted

  Ambushed

  Shattered

  The Guadel Chronicles

  Frozen Prospects (free)

  Thawed Fortunes (free if you sign up for Dean's Mailing List)

  Brittle Bonds

  Shattered Ties

  If you love Broken, you can get a free copy of the next book, Torn, by signing up for the author's mailing list.

  Chapter 1

  Stepping back out into the relentless desert sun, I once again wished we were still back in Minnesota, or at least that we were done moving. Then again I might as well have been wishing that Mom had decided on somewhere other than Utah, or that we'd had some long-lost relative die and leave us a small fortune, or even better that Dad and Cindi...

  The thought was much too dangerous to complete. My breathing had already sped up, and my balance degenerated so quickly it was a small miracle I made it over to the U-Haul before I keeled over. I'd hated the battered vehicle that had spent the last two days carrying us west across I-80. It was hard to keep up the feeling though when it was the only thing protecting me from a concussion.

  Half of the horizon was green and beautiful, not land-of-ten-thousand-lakes beautiful, but still not bad. I, of course, ended up on the wrong side of the truck; barren dirt and rocks, only occasionally relieved by scrubby plant life, as far as the eye could see.

  I still didn't buy into my mom's oft-repeated claim. I'd told her before that Utah would be a lousy place to try and make her way as a photographer. Only very sick, masochistic people buy calendars with this kind of crap on it. Sane people take pictures of furry little animals romping around green landscapes and sell those.

  That helped a little, my breathing was starting to slow back down, but that was too related to the other reasons we'd moved. I wasn't mentally back in safe territory still. I sought refuge in something even more mundane. Namely the fact that tomorrow I would have to go enroll in school and try to blend in with a bunch of small-town juniors who'd all probably known each other since they could walk.

  Going to a new school after missing the first month of classes was a prospect likely to generate anxiety in the most outgoing of teenagers, and I was far from that, but it was a different kind of worry. As I mapped out all of the things that could, and probably would, go wrong, I could feel my heart slowly settle back down out of my throat.

  If I were pretty or athletic I'd probably manage to fit right in. It always seemed like the kids who moved in partway through the year usually had some kind of instant in with the cool crowd, but that probably wouldn't happen for me. It wasn't that I didn't want to make friends; I just wasn't very good at it.

  My equilibrium seemed to have returned, so I took a few unsteady steps around to the back of the truck. If I didn't return with a box soon Mom would rush out expecting the worst. Unless she got caught up visualizing some new project, in which case it would be hours before she thought to come check on me.

  We'd moved the beds and most of the other heavy items in earlier, which helped explain my exhaustion, but that didn't make the pile of remaining items in the back of the truck any less foreboding. I decided to take the easy way out, and picked up a couple of blanket-wrapped mirrors.

  I didn't unwrap either of them. That was dangerous too. The face that'd look back out of the glass would look almost more like hers than mine. Shoulder-length blond hair and blue eyes still seemed to be all the rage, but mine were ruined by pale skin that burned instead of tanning, and a build that had retained its baby fat long after most of the other girls had started slimming down.

  Those extra inches had evaporated recently, but of course it couldn't be a cause for celebration. When Mom surfaced enough to notice how much weight I'd lost, she worried I was developing an eating disorder. She couldn't seem to understand that I hated the new me more than she did. Cindi was the skinny one. I'd tried to make myself eat enough to fill back out, but I'd had a hard time remembering meals lately. It was easier to just cinch my pants up a little and avoid mirrors. Even when I did remember, the calories in didn't seem quite able to keep up with the calories my body routinely burned up. I guess panic attacks are harder on your system than most people realize.

  My body had already started spiraling down to an attack again, but before I could get too wobbly, I made it inside the house. Mom met me at the bottom of the creaking stairs with a big smile on her tired face. "The view from the rooms as the sun starts to set is even better than I thought it would be. Coming here was the best idea we've ever had."

  Normally Mom's enthusiasm was fairly catching. You expect that kind of energy in a child; when it comes from an adult it's hard not to react in kind. It didn't manage to infect me this time, but it did help focus me on the here and now. I figured I owed her for that, so I tried to suppress my generally ungracious nature. I even let her lead me up the creaky stairs to show me the 'amazing view' for the third time.

  Mom pulled the mirrors out of my hands as soon as I reached the larger bedroom, and nudged me towards the window. "Admit it, Adri, we didn't get sunsets like this very often in Minnesota."

  "Adriana," I corrected automatically, trying to avoid thinking about where my nickname had come from. The sunset was beautiful, just starting to turn the sky pink as a prelude to the glorious oranges that would no doubt follow. It was the kind of thing that Mom was always trying to capture with her camera, but which never seemed to turn out quite as good as the real thing.

  The sunset wasn't what captured my interest though, it was the greenery. Mom's room looked out to the west, the gorgeous side that reminded me of the place and people that would always be home. Mom carting me off to the middle of nowhere wasn't going to change that.

  There was a huge tree on the far edge of the yard. It was a species I didn't recognize, but it still called to me. For a second I could almost hear a familiar voice whispering in my ear. "Come on, Adri. Cindi's already climbed up to the second set of branches. You can do it, but you don't have to do it all by yourself, let me help you." My vision was growing blurry. I tried to wrench my thoughts back to safe territory, but it was too late, Dad's face was already filling up my vision.

  Cindi and I looked nothing like Mom. She was all dark, wavy hair, olive skin and at five-three hadn't been able to kiss Dad unless he bent down. Dad was the one who gave us the blond hair and a shot at maybe hitting an average height. I could see his handsome face smiling at me now, trying to coax me up into
the tree with Cindi. The vision lasted only as long as it took me to hit the floor.

  I could always judge how long I'd been out by my mom's expression when I came to. That and whether or not I'd seriously injured myself on the way down. She looked concerned, but not desperate yet. Her cell phone was in her hand, but not yet flipped open. It probably hadn't been more than eight or nine minutes.

  "Adri, what just happened?"

  She knew already, the psychiatrist had some fancy name for it complete with a whole list of symptoms and psychobabble garbage. It all boiled down to the idea that the more Mom could get me to talk about it, the sooner I'd shake off the fainting spells. Yeah right. Talking didn't make anything better; it just let him rack up a bunch of fees while I was passed out on his couch.

  "I'm fine, Mom. I just got a little dizzy." I didn't want to talk to her. What I really wanted to do was enjoy the short immunity fainting usually granted me. For a minute or so I could think about Dad and Cindi with impunity.

  I think Mom had figured that out though. Nothing I'd tried recently had been equal to the task of getting her to leave me alone, or at least in silence, right after an episode. She was probably worried I'd go back to how I was immediately after it all happened. I'd lost a couple of weeks there, alternately triggering a panic attack and then thinking about Dad or Cindi until the immunity wore off and another attack ensued.

  Mom had flipped out. I'm not sure what brought me out of that black hole. I think maybe it was when I looked out the window one day and realized I'd somehow missed fall. Fall had always been Dad's favorite time. Cindi's had been spring--she hadn't minded the mud.

  My immunity was wearing off; the racing heart was a sure sign. I focused back in on what Mom was saying.

  "...you were doing so well. Don't worry; this is just a little setback. You'll see. Being in a different environment will do wonders for us both."

  I knew the rest of Mom's speech by heart, there was no reason to listen. Next she'd run through all of the famous, marginally well-known, or even really obscure photographers who got their start in the West. It didn't really matter.

  I waited the requisite fifteen minutes and then went back out to the U-Haul and got another box. Mom followed me out this time. I guess she was worried again.

  Even worries about school wouldn't cushion me now that I'd had an attack today. There was nothing left but to wrap myself in numbness as I traveled back and forth between the truck and the house in a slow-moving haze.

  The truck was the smallest one they rented, and we hadn't come even close to filling it up, but it was still dark by the time we finished. Mom looked at the mass of boxes, groaned dramatically, and then went to the fridge and broke out the sandwiches we'd purchased when we stopped in town for directions.

  An hour later our beds were made, and I had an outfit laid out for school the next day. The clothes weren't mine. They'd nearly triggered a full-scale blowup. Mom thought I just wanted new clothes. I knew we couldn't afford a new wardrobe just because I was temporarily skinny. I didn't mind wearing my old stuff, I just didn't want to wear Cin...wear her clothes. My near attack ended the conversation, albeit with my old clothes still packed away in some anonymous box.

  Mom's enthusiasm couldn't be damped for long though. It had fully returned by the time she turned my light off. "Have a good night, Adri...ana. You'll see, tomorrow will be like the start of a whole new life."

  I kept the tears back until the door was shut, and then they came in a hot rush that left me depleted and sore. It was like Mom had already forgotten about the other half of our family.