Order of the Omni: A Supernatural Romantic Suspense Novel (The Immortalies Book 1) by Penny Knight (good english books to read txt) 📗

how Franziska raised me, to be tough. Crying and wallowing will get you nowhere. She was regimented, and I guess it gave me the work ethic I have now. Probably why I am sitting here and haven’t bailed.

Topher had basic rules if he wanted to stay with me. School was number one. He fought me on it, as any fourteen-year-old would if they thought they were living it up in their own flat. That wouldn’t fly with me. He had to go. I know he had a rough time, being different and all. He was bullied excessively at school. Coming home crying to me.

I had been there, too. I had it rough at school, being quiet and an introvert. So, I gave him the same treatment I had, it was all I knew. I told him to suck it up. They wouldn’t change. And crying won’t make it better. He had to be better.

What he didn’t know? Even though I told him to get over it, I sure as hell didn’t. I found the main culprit at his school and stalked him and his family. What I found on the mum. Priceless. She got very friendly with the workmen renovating her pool house. They had a grand old time, all eight of them. Believe me, you do not want to know the details about it. It still makes me shiver when I think of the photos I took of her. One person who wasn’t invited was her husband. It was all I needed to convince her to transfer her shit of a kid out of the school.

The bullying didn’t stop, but at least the physical pain he suffered from this boy did. It was more bearable for him. Was it illegal? Yeah, I blackmailed her. But ask me if I care one bit. Nope. Not in the slightest. Franziska may think he needed to learn the lesson himself. To become tougher, more resilient. But I hate people getting away with shitty things. It was my first taste of investigations, and I was hooked.

My respite is short lived, and it feels like an ember is flicked on my skin. The heat rising again, coming from the back of my neck. A slow burn creeps up. Not piercing, yet.

“Adonis is on the way back. Be nice. We need the room,” Topher warns.

Of course, he’s on his way back. My neck is on fire again. He’s the reason, I know it. As crazy as it sounds, this man is burning me alive.

Trying to find a comfortable position in this chair seems impossible. I know he’s coming closer as my pain intensifies. It steadies right before I hear his husky voice.

“We have found your room.” I look up to him. Big mistake, it made it worse. How am I going to get through this? “If you would like to come with me, Mrs...?” he asks.

“Whetherall, Miss Whetherall,” Topher emphasizes the Miss in my fake last name he spews. “I’m Topher, the assistant,” he says. Why did he say his real name? I don’t have the strength to get angry.

The mans eyes trail off me to Topher.

“Topher, my name is Leo.” He extends his hand. Topher eagerly takes it in his and gives it a firm shake. “If you and Miss Whetherall would like to come with me, we can check you in at reception.” He motions his hand forward for us to follow.

I cannot go with this man. In fact, I cannot even be around him any longer. I try to stand, but my legs are weak. I hold the table for support and refuse to look at him again.

“Topher, you go with Mr.... Umm?” I try to remember his name. Things are fogging up in my brain.

“Leo, just Leo,” he says. “Are you ok?” his concerned voice rings out.

I look to Topher and our eyes catch, and then his eyebrows furrow. Oh no, he can see something is wrong with me. That’s all I need, a worried Topher. My eyes water. The pain is worse than before.

“Elita, what the hell. Are you ok?” Topher stands. He did it again. He gave out our real names.

“Yes, fine. You go with Leo and get us checked in,” I snap.

The room is closing in. Swallowing is hard and darkness is creeping in. A hand grabs my arm. Pain shoots through me and my knees wobble.

I look to see Leo is holding me upright. “You need to let go of me,” I grit out, trying to plead with my eyes. Can’t he tell he’s the one doing this to me?

“I can’t,” he says. His eyes trained on my tattoo. “Your neck is red. Your mark is glowing.”

What, glowing? Someone help me make him let go. His hand traces up my arm, the room darkens until his fingers land on my mark, then nothing.

Darkness envelopes me and I’m out cold.

I have been here before. Many times. The light is so bright, it’s burning. Looking down, I see lush green grass. The dream. I’m back here again.

“Concentrate,” the grey-haired lady appears in my mind. “Shield your eyes. Let it in slowly. You will see it. You will,” she says.

This is what she meant. Right here, right now. In this moment, when the piercing light hits my eyes, I need to concentrate. With both hands, I cover my eyes. I look forward slowly, spreading my fingers inch by inch. The brightness punches through. It attacks my senses, but not as debilitating. With the darkness from my hands, it refreshes me.

I need to concentrate, I can do this. I open more. Growing more confident. More determined. My eyes adjust. I see something out in the distance. Is it a tree? It could be. It’s still bright. I blink a few times. When I open them again, I can see. I can see it all.

Home, that is what it feels like. It’s a feeling that washes through my veins. Calm sweeps over me, as I