The Awakened (The Awakened Duology #1)

“I think I found it,” she said, her voice low.

She led me closer. Hidden just beyond some of the dwellings was a crack in the cliff just large enough for a person of decent size to squeeze there. I had to wonder if people actually used this entrance all the time. There was no way. There had to be an official entrance. For now, though, it seemed that this would be the way we go. Right above the entrance, two large circles were carved, intertwining, almost like a Venn diagram.

“I’ll go first,” I heard myself saying. I took the pack off my shoulder and handed it back to her. She had her arms folded tightly across her chest as she watched me. My body was pressed tight against the stone as I turned sideways and pushed my way through. I was grateful, for the first time, for all the weight I had lost in the past months. I blinked a few times, trying to adjust myself to the darkness that was on the other side. I didn’t hear anything, but this had to be the right way. No more than a hundred yards away was a light.

“Well, I think I just lost about twenty pounds squeezing through there.” I heard a light laugh coming from the other side. “But it’s safe.”

Zoey came squeezing after me, a look of panic on her face as she took in the darkness around us. She steeled herself, her hand reaching for mine. I thought for a moment that she might falter, but instead, she pushed her shoulders back and started walking toward the light.

When we reached it, we realized it was just the first in a series of overhead lights, lighting the way down a tunnel. We continued to follow them, like a trail of lit up crumbs, leading back home from the witch’s house. Soon, the dark crumbly cliff walls disappeared, and we found ourselves in a hallway, not unlike the one at Sekhmet. I felt my heart slam into my chest as I began to spot the cameras dotting the hallway, every few yards or so.

“I’m scared,” Zoey said, her voice so soft that I was unsure if I had even heard her correctly. I wanted to pull her toward me, wrap her in my arms and never let her go. I knew what it meant for her to admit that.

There was a loud bang, and the sound of a door opening. It echoed down the hallway toward us, overwhelmingly. We both stepped closer to each other, stopping in our tracks, afraid to move.

It had been no longer than a minute or two when I heard it: footsteps, light and unhurried, heading down the hallway toward us. I took a step forward, subtly placing myself between Zoey and whoever was coming toward us. She didn’t notice. Her eyes were focused on the space in front of us, waiting to see who would appear.

Eventually someone came within our eyesight, and we both looked at each other quickly before turning our eyes back to the figure. It was a woman, I noticed as she came closer. She was small, almost as small as Zoey, dressed impeccably in a blazer and skirt, reminding me of the women I sometimes saw on political shows. She had dark black hair streaked with gray, and I placed her around my parents’ age, forties, maybe fifties. She had a pleasant look on her face, not quite a smile but still welcoming. She stopped about six feet in front of us.

“Hello,” she said, her voice strong and deep in the cavernous hallway.

I went to speak, but the words were stuck, and I was grateful when Zoey spoke. “Hello,” she said. I felt her nervousness in the shaking of her palm against mine, but her voice was clear and steady. “I’m Zoey, and this is Ash.”

The woman smiled wide and swept her arms out in greeting. “Zoey. Ash. Welcome to Sanctuary.”





SHE HAD WATCHED THEM FROM the moment they had left the old man’s house. Bert Washington, she didn’t know him well; in fact, she barely recognized him from the files she had managed to glean from Sanctuary years before. He had aged quite a bit since then, more than she would have expected. They felt safe and hadn’t noticed that she had been following them for miles, staying far enough away that they wouldn’t notice her car in the distance.

The car hit a rough patch on the windy road as it went over a rock. She winced as the jolt sent a wave of pain through her body. Her driver looked over at her, concern on his face, but he knew better than to say anything to her. She was the leader. She was strong.

She had let them escape, and now they were soon to be in the safety of Sanctuary.

“Did you want me to continue following them, ma’am?” the driver spoke, his voice full of unwavering devotion. He would do anything for her, anything she asked of him.

“No.” She watched as the two climbed down a steep hill, just visible from the window of her car. She was obsessed with them, and she wanted them, needed them. She would get them.

She turned away from the window, her eyes shining with purpose. “No, I think not. We can leave.”

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