See You In My Nightmares

Endora Lee Andrews, "Eel" to her friends, has a pesky problem: Her touch is lethal to electronics. On her eighteenth birthday, Eel meets a boy, Kannon, who literally shocks her. Soon, she discovers he shares her electrocidal tendencies. But that is not all Eel and Kannon have in common; they have both died and been given a second chance at life. The catch? Their second lives come with a price, their allegiance to the Gods of the Underworld.

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1. Chapter One

                                                              Chapter One

“Come on, where are we really going?” I demanded, glaring at my best friend, Devon Halloway, across the front seat of her ancient Cavalier. 

In honor of my eighteenth birthday Devon along with two of my other friends, Elizabeth Bowers and Mandy Cowen, planned something special.  Unfortunately they wanted that something special to be a surprise.  I didn’t like surprises. 

Light from a streetlamp illuminated one half of Devon’s face.  The one blue eye I could see twinkled mischievously.  “Movies,” she said innocently.

I rolled my charcoal-lined eyes.  “You didn’t insist I stuff myself into your dress so we could go to the movies.”

Self-consciously, I adjusted the fabric of the too-tight dress.  Devon and I were the same height, five foot five, but that was where the similarities ended.  I was athletic and came by my muscular legs honestly, as my mother would say.  Devon, on the other hand, was so thin the lunch ladies always give her an extra helping of mash potatoes hoping to fatten her up.  Devon favored bras that came with the boobs built into the cups.  I hit puberty early and if my chest kept growing I would need two sports bras to run unless I wanted to give myself a concussion.  Needless to say, we weren’t the same size.

“Patience, Eel,” Devon replied.  Most of my friends call me Eel, like electric eel, even though my real name is Endora Lee.  My father started the nickname when I was a baby and the mobile that hung above my crib mysteriously stopped working every night.  Each morning, without fail, he replaced the battery, determined to find one durable enough to last eight hours.  He joked that I kept Energizer in business. 

“And you look amazing,” Devon added, drawing out the syllables.

“I feel like a sausage,” I grumbled.

“Wait, we aren’t going to the movies?” Mandy asked fretfully.  Apparently I wasn’t the only one being kept in the dark.

Devon emitted an irritated sigh and said, “No, Mandy, we’re not,” like she was talking to a child. 

I shoot Devon a warning.  She kept her eyes glued on the road ahead and pretended she didn’t notice.  Devon knew I hated it when she was mean to Mandy and usually she at least made an effort to conceal her annoyance. 

Mandy became my AP Bio lab partner after moving to Westwood at the start of spring term.  She wasn’t athletic, couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, and failed to impress Mrs. McAllister in her My Fair Lady audition.  That being the case, Mandy hadn’t made many friends.  I felt bad for her.  She was nice and I hated the thought of someone sitting home alone on the weekends.  I knew all about being alone, it sucked.

I craned my neck and smiled at Mandy over my shoulder.  “Don’t worry.  I’m sure whatever Devon has planned will be way better than Night of Horrors IV.”  While this seemed to mollify Mandy, I was worried.  Devon’s plans weren’t always . . . legal.  In fact, the last time I blindly agreed to go along with one I ended the night sitting in the Westwood County Police Station wearing nothing but soaking wet undies and a towel.  Devon thought it would be a riot to “borrow” her neighbor’s Fourth of July lawn ornaments for a party we were throwing at Elizabeth’s.  At first, I thought it was a good idea too – her neighbors had more red, white, and blue than green decorating their lawn.  In addition to more tacky pinwheels and streamers than the entire Russian rhythmic gymnastics team, Devon’s neighbors had a terrific sprinkler system.  Long story short, the neighbors called the cops, we ran into the woods, and several hours later I was explaining to my mother how a sleepover at Elizabeth’s turned into larceny.  Thankfully, the neighbors declined to press charges. 

Devon stomped on the gas pedal.  The Chevy whined and sputtered several times before picking up speed.

“Happy birthday, Eel,” Elizabeth said, reaching around the back of my seat and dropping a gift into my lap.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” I told her, secretly pleased that she had since besides Devon and her parents, no one ever gave me birthday presents.  “Celebrating one’s own birth is narcissistic,” my mother always said.  “You weren’t the one in labor for thirty-three hours.  You had nothing to do with bringing yourself into this world.  If anyone should get gifts and a cake, it is me.”  Admittedly, she had a point.  But her logic was little comfort when I was five and the only girl in kindergarten without a Dora the Explorer cake.  Or when I turned eight and Tia Ross accused me of intentionally not inviting her to a birthday party that I never had.

“It’s just as much for me as you,” Elizabeth replied absently.

I slid my nail under the tape and carefully opened the box.  Inside was an iPod.  “You really shouldn’t have,” I said seriously, turning in my seat to face her.

Elizabeth waved one French manicured hand dismissively.  “I know, I know, it will last like a month and then mysteriously stop working like the last seven you’ve had, but I am soooo tired of listening to you butcher the words to songs on our warm up runs.  At least this way, you will get them right.”

Elizabeth and Devon were on Westwood High’s lacrosse team with me.  At the start of each practice Coach Poranski made us run three miles.  The other girls listened to music to pass the time.  My iPod had stopped working just before the start of the season and my mother refused to buy me another one. 

“Thanks, Elizabeth,” I told her honestly, and then tucked the gift into Devon’s glove box for safe-keeping.

I turned up the volume on the radio, sat back, and tried to relax.  I was a planner.  A to-do list maker.  Or, according to Devon, a control freak.  Leaving the house with no known destination, wearing clothes three sizes too small and shoes three inches too high, put me on edge.  Not to mention that anywhere we were going dressed to the nines, as my mother would say, was not somewhere I wanted to spend my birthday. 

When Devon took I-83 towards Baltimore, I prayed that we were having dinner in Little Italy.  Unfortunately the take-out shrimp fried rice we ate while getting ready made that unlikely.  I knew only one other reason we’d be heading to Baltimore City, and that option didn’t thrill me.

Unable to keep quiet, I said, “Let me guess, The Penitentiary?”

The Penitentiary was the hottest club in Baltimore.  Since none of us were twenty-one, we had yet to check it out.  Rumor had it the doormen were lax, but I hoped we weren’t driving all the way down there on the off chance we’d get in. 

Devon grinned and nodded enthusiastically.  “Best birthday ever.”

I tried not to let my agitation show.  Clubbing was more Devon and Elizabeth’s speed than mine.  The music was always too loud, the men too bold, and the drinks too expensive.  I knew I should be grateful my friends cared enough to plan a celebration.  But I would have preferred to spend the night at home with people I knew and liked, not with 597 sweaty strangers.

“You need some fun in your life, Eel.  Trust us, you’re going to have a good time,” Elizabeth interjected, leaning between the front seats. 

Yeah, until my mother finds out, I thought.  My mother was extremely overbearing, always wanting to know where I was going, when I would be home, and who was going to be there.  Her speed dial consisted of all my friends’ cell numbers.  And if I god forbid forgot to call the minute I walked through our front door she inundated my friends’ inboxes with text messages until I checked in.  Thankfully she’d still been at work when I left the house, saving me and my friends her usual interrogation.

Lights from the Inner Harbor twinkled in the distance.  The moon was full, casting an ominous glow over the city.  Devon drove down Lombard Street and turned left by Camden Yards.  Populated city blocks soon gave way to deserted industrial buildings.  The Cavalier hiccupped when Devon drove over the railroad tracks and I silently begged the Chevy’s engine not to die.

Devon rolled through a stop sign below an underpass.  Ordinarily I would have chastised her lackadaisical attitude for road rules – she once told me that she treated all stop signs with white around them as optional – but the Mike Meyers look-alike ogling the car made me hold my tongue.  I turned off the radio, hoping that would draw less attention to us.

“This place is scary,” Mandy whispered. 

Couldn’t agree more, I thought. 

“Please, we’re totally safe.”  Devon said at the same time a guy with droopy jeans and no shirt walked in front of the car.  He smiled, flashing two gold front teeth.  I shrank back in my seat.             

     Just when I convinced myself we were lost, I spied a parking lot.  Devon maneuvered the Cavalier into the lot and wound through rows of cars until she found a spot between a Tercel with a red hood and black doors and a Suburban sporting spinning rims.  Three guys in their late twenties leaned against the Suburban’s grill.  Six hawk-like eyes narrowed on me and my friends.  I cursed Devon for not having tinted windows.

Devon appeared nonchalant, but I noticed her hand shook slightly when she smoothed her long blonde hair.  I checked my own makeup, not wanting to leave the safety of the car a moment before I had to.  The dress really did bring out the green flecks in my otherwise brown eyes, I decided, thankful I could find at least one positive about the evening.

“How are we going to get in?” Mandy asked nervously. 

“Don’t be naïve, Mandy,” Devon snapped, flinging the driver’s side door open, and narrowly missing the Tercel.  I regretted inviting Mandy.  Devon was my best friend and I loved her like a sister, but her lack of concern for other people’s feelings was embarrassing.

Elizabeth and I followed Devon out of the car, but Mandy continued to stare at the men now sprawled on the Suburban.

“Don’t worry, Mandy.  I’m sure Devon has a plan,” I assured her.  Mandy smiled uneasily.  Hugging her shabby faux leather bag to her chest, she finally climbed out of the car.  Devon and Elizabeth were already half way across the parking lot.  Since the odds of four girls being attacked by stray miscreants was less than two, I grabbed Mandy’s hand and hurried to catch up to my friends.

Drunken catcalls reached my ears as we approached a large cement warehouse.  A line of eager club-goers ran the length of one side, snaked around the corner, and disappeared from view.  Devon bypassed the line, marching straight up to a man with the biggest biceps I’d ever seen.  The bouncer’s jaw was set in a hard line, and his dark eyes ignored one girl after another tried to gain entrance by using her feminine wiles – he didn’t budge.  Despite my earlier assurance to Mandy that Devon knew what she doing, I hoped that she planned on doing more than batting her long lashes.  As it turned out, my worries were unfounded.  Immediately, the huge man saw Devon, his big lips curved into a grin, revealing perfect white teeth. 

“Devon Halloway,” he called, wrapping a mammoth arm around her slender shoulders. 

“Hey, Joe,” she replied, returning his hug.  Devon’s thin arms couldn’t reach the entire way around his midsection, and her head barely reached the Penitentiary logo on his shirt.    

Devon motioned to Elizabeth, Mandy, and me; spoke to Joe in a tone too low to hear.  Joe’s dark eyes followed the path of Devon’s finger.  He crooked a meaty forefinger and beckoned us forward.

 “Joe works with Rick,” Devon informed us.  Rick Hanes was Devon’s long-time on-again, off-again boyfriend.  He graduated last year, and now supported himself by waiting tables.  Rick was not one of my favorite people.  He was lazy, arrogant, and cheated on Devon repeatedly.  It amazed me that the girl smart enough to take all AP classes was too dumb to see she deserved better.

“So . . . we’re good to go in?” Devon asked, returning her attention to Joe.

“Sure are.  Just need to stamp you all.”

Devon held out her right hand and Joe stamped the word “under” in blue ink across the top. 

“Thanks for doing this,” I said when it was my turn to get stamped.

“No problem.  Happy birthday, Eel,” Joe replied.  His voice went up an octave when he said my name, like he was asking a question.  Since I had a “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy where my electrocidal tendencies were concerned I had my explanation ready.

“E.L.,” I said, enunciating the individual initials.  “It’s short of Endora Lee.”    

“Ah, got it.”  Joe nodded and turned to unhook the velvet rope to let us pass.  

“What if we get caught?” Mandy whispered anxiously in my ear as we joined the throng of people clogging the entrance. 

“Relax, Mandy.  We’ve done this a bunch, it’s not a big deal,” I promised her.  Saying we’d snuck into clubs a “bunch” of times might have been a slight exaggeration.  I had been to one other club, The Grecian Room, once the previous summer.  The Grecian Room was eighteen-and-over on weeknights and the bouncers never checked IDs.  The bartenders had willingly served us watered-down drinks with so much sugar they gave me a stomach ache instead of a buzz. 

Thankfully, Devon was busy winding her way through the crowd and hadn’t heard Mandy’s fretful question.  I resolved to sit Devon down and give her a lecture about being nicer.  Mandy was a little too eager to fit in, but I knew how she felt – I had been in her position three years ago when my mother and I first moved to Westwood.  I didn’t want Mandy to stop hanging out with us.  Nor could I stomach watching her continually subject herself to Devon’s mean-girl façade.  The talk with Devon could wait until the following morning, though.  Tonight was my birthday, after all.  And despite the less than ideal location Devon and Elizabeth picked for the celebration, I was determined to have a good time.   

“Drinks?”  Elizabeth screamed over the music thumping through speakers attached to the walls.

“Sure,” I yelled back, and then looked at Mandy expectantly.  The shorter girl clung desperately to my arm, noticeably afraid that she would get carried away by the tide of people swelling around us.  Her fingernails dug painfully into the sensitive skin on the inside of my elbow.  I tried not to wince.

“Um, sure, white wine spritzer,” she said to Elizabeth more like a question.  

Elizabeth pursed her lips in an obvious attempt to suppress a snicker.  I gave her a hard look, warning her not to laugh in Mandy’s face.  She tolerated Mandy on good days, but mostly pretended Mandy wasn’t there.

“B-R-B,” Elizabeth quipped and disappeared in the direction of the bar.

I scanned the crowd for Devon, finally spotting her on the second floor.  Her back was pressed against the railing.  Large hands were wrapped possessively around her tiny waist, and her face was smashed against a boy’s – Rick!  I should have known. 

Elizabeth returned in record time carrying three drinks.  She gave one to me and one to Mandy, and then the three of us made our way up the wobbly stairs to the second floor.  Devon and Rick were still making out rather aggressively. 

“Eel,” a tall boy called, drawing my attention away from the lovebirds.

“Hey, Kevin,” I shouted, sliding between a guy so short his eyes were level with the neckline of my dress and a couple gyrating to some beat other than the one shaking the floor. 

Kevin Mathis was Rick’s best friend.  He might have been good looking if it weren’t for his disproportionately large nose, and the fact his muscles were so overdeveloped that he had to hold his arms away from his body when he walked.  He reminded me a little of Arnold, circa 1984, and I always wanted to say, “I’ll be back,” in an Austrian accent whenever we parted ways. 

Kevin draped one of those overly muscled arms across my shoulders.  “Happy birthday,” he said, dipping his head so his lips were right next to my ear.  I squirmed, trying to extract myself from his lecherous grip.  Kevin’s libido was even more overdeveloped than his biceps. 

“Thanks,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Hey, Kevin,” Mandy said, joining us.

Kevin stared blankly at her.

“We have Brit Lit together.  Fourth period,” Mandy told him.

“Oh, right.”  Kevin feigned recognition.  The vacant expression lingering in his blue-grey eyes was a clear indicator that he had no idea who she was. 

The three of us stood in awkward silence for several long moments.  I sipped my drink through the tiny cocktail straw, shuddering when the liquor washed over my taste buds.  “Here, Kev, you want this?” I asked him.

Never one to turn down free alcohol, Kevin took the drink and downed it in one gulp.  He set the empty cup on the ledge behind him and pounded his chest with a mammoth fist, like Tarzan. 

Elizabeth sidled up next me and looped her arm through mine.  “Let’s dance,” she squealed.  The club was hot and pale blonde strands of hair were already stuck to her flushed cheeks. 

 I didn’t feel like dancing, but it beat hanging out with Kevin.  “Let’s go,” I agreed.

Devon extracted herself from Rick and grabbed my other arm, wedging out Mandy in the process.  I let my friends lead the way through the densely-packed horde of people swaying in time to the beat. 

“Eel, wait!” Mandy yelled behind me. 

I hesitated and glanced over my shoulder.  I’d nearly left Mandy alone with Kevin, who was now staring unashamedly at her ample cleavage. Mandy’s big hazel eyes were terrified, her brows drawn together in worry.  Devon tugged my arm, urging me forward. 

“Come with us,” I called back.

“I can’t dance,” Mandy shouted.

“I’ll keep her company,” Kevin promised me, placing a hand on the small of her back.  I started to walk back towards them, chastising myself for being such a bad friend. 

“She’s fine,” Devon grumbled in my ear.  “She doesn’t need a babysitter.”

I started to protest.  But when I looked back again, Mandy did look fine now that Kevin was paying attention to her.  In fact, she was practically glowing.  I continued to wage an internal debate for several more seconds before finally deciding that if Mandy enjoyed Kevin’s lascivious nature, who was I to judge.

The dance floor was packed; the air heavy with the mingled scents of stale beer, body odor, and Axe.  Guys circled our trio like vultures.  Elizabeth didn’t protest when one came up behind her and took hold of her slim hips.  Encouraged by his friend’s success a second guy with too much hair product tried to grab my waist.  One look from Devon sent him scurrying. 

“Thanks,” I shouted to her, then closed my eyes and tried to lose myself in the music.  By the third song my auburn hair clung to the back of my neck and several stray pieces were plastered across my forehead.  I lifted the bulk at the base of my skull and fanned my sweaty skin with my free hand.  Something knocked the arm propping up my hair. 

I gasped, startled by the shock of cold liquid dripping down my flushed skin.  I spun to face my assailant.  Black pupils, so dilated that the small rim of green was barely visible, stared down at me.

“Sorry about that,” a boy said sheepishly.  The lazy smile he offered rendered me momentarily speechless. 

I’d barely managed to get out the words, “I-I-It’s okay,” when Devon appeared at my side.

“If you were really sorry, you’d buy her a drink,” Devon said, placing one hand on her hip and cocking her head to the side.

The boy, taken aback, recovered quickly.  “Of course, what’re you drinking?”   

I muttered unintelligibly, still oddly transfixed.  Chestnut colored hair, just a little too long fell in curls over his forehead.  Impossibly long eyelashes.  Full lips.  Well defined arms.  Tan skin.  No doubt he was good-looking.  But that wasn’t the reason I couldn’t tear my eyes away, at least not the entire reason.  There was something . . . off-putting about the boy.  I was simultaneously drawn to, and repulsed by him.  Fascinated and disgusted.  Thrilled and terrified.      

The boy leaned down.  He smelled fresh, like pine trees.  “One more time.”  His breath tickled my ear and caused a new wave of heat to crawl up my neck.

“You don’t need to do that,” I choked out, finally finding my voice. 

“I want to,” the boy replied.  When he spoke, he placed a hand on the bare skin of my upper arm.

Time stood still.  I couldn’t hear the music.  I couldn’t see the crowd.  I couldn’t feel the liquid running down my back.  The boy and I existed in a vacuum.  One second I wanted to stay in this alternate reality with him forever.  The next, I was frantically searching for the exit.        

Pain exploded in my arm shot up through my shoulder and down to my toes, shattering the dreamlike quality of the moment.  Wisps of hair danced before my eyes like live wires.  Electricity crackled in the air surrounding me.  I screamed, but the music was so loud only those closest to me even noticed.

Devon was there in a flash, prying the boy’s fingers from arm.  “What did you do to her?” she demanded angrily. 

I locked eyes with the boy.  His surprised expression mirrored how I felt inside.  What the hell had just happened?

“He shocked me,” I sputtered, turning to look at Devon.  I gave a short laugh, though it wasn’t funny.  My arm really hurt. 

“Shocked you?”  Devon ran the tips of her fingers over a welt blossoming on my upper arm.  “I think he burned you.  Does this hurt?”  She pushed on the reddening patch of skin.

I swatted at her hand.  “Owwww.  Stop that.”

Elizabeth must have heard me scream, because she broke free from her dance partner and pushed her way over through the crowd.  “Are you guys okay?” Elizabeth asked, looking concerned.

I didn’t say anything.  Was I okay?  Besides the burn or whatever on my arm and the soaked dress, I was physically fine.  Inside though, I was shaken to the core.  Something about the boy was disturbing.  Drugs, I told myself.  The pamphlets in Westwood High’s guidance office all said dilated pupils were a sure sign of drug use.

“Were fine.  That kid just shocked, Eel,” Devon told her.

“What kid?” Elizabeth asked, looking around confused.  The boy was gone. 

I must have looked as rattled as I felt because Elizabeth thrust a cup in my hand and ordered me to drink.  Still unnerved, I downed the contents in three swallows and handed the empty cup back to Elizabeth.  The alcohol made my head spin and I wanted nothing more than to sit down.

“I need some air,” I told my friends.  Both girls offered to walk with me, but I waved them off.  I needed to be alone.  I was on the verge of hysteria and if I didn’t control my emotions, I was going to have a complete meltdown in the middle of The Penitentiary. 

I found a smoker’s deck off the second floor.  Only a handful of people were huddled under the heat lamps, indulging their vice.  I made a beeline for a bench far away from the fumes.  The night was frigid.  My ragged breaths came out in white puffs.  Wet fabric clung to my back like shrink wrap, providing little warmth, but the relatively fresh air helped clear my head and calm my racing heart.

You are overreacting, I told myself.  People shock other people all the time.  I shocked people all the time.  Elizabeth and Devon wouldn’t even let me touch them if I was standing on carpet.  I ran my fingers over the angry red circle of flesh.  The skin was still hot to the touch.  I might kill electronics, I thought, but at least I don’t injure people. 

The bench creaked beneath me.  “Got the time?” a voice asked. 

I stopped analyzing the patch of skin and looked up.  It was him.    

“No, sorry,” I mumbled uneasily.  My eyes darted around the patio, making sure the smokers were still under their heat lamps.  After what happened on the dance floor, I wanted witnesses in case his next touch was lethal.  Exaggerated paranoia?  Maybe.   

“You’re wearing a watch.”  He tapped the silver band encircling my wrist.  My mind and body were at odds.  My brain screamed at me to pull back from his reach, but my body wanted to close the gap between us.

“Right,” I said flushing.  The watch was a birthday present from Devon’s parents and I wasn’t used to wearing it yet.  I angled the mother of pearl face to catch the moonlight.  The hour hand was on the eight, the minute hand between the fifth and sixth hash marks, and the second hand was frozen over the twelve.  A new record, I’d worn the watch for only an hour before it stopped working.  “Um, it doesn’t work . . . battery’s dead.” 

“Are you in habit of wearing watches that don’t work?” he smirked. 

“No,” I snapped. 

“No?” he raised his eyebrows skyward in challenge, like he somehow knew my secret quirk. 

“No.  Yes.  I mean my watch batteries are always dying, so sometimes I just wear the watch after it dies . . . like jewelry or something,” I rambled.  God, Endora.  Get a grip, I scolded myself.  One good looking guy talks to you and suddenly you can’t string words together.

“How long did that one last?”  He tapped the band again.  I noticed that he didn’t look amused anymore.

I stared at him, trying to decide if he was flirting, actually on drugs, or just weird.  His green eyes were hard, intense even.  The vein in his neck pulsed in time with my heart beat. 

“Eel, there you are!” Elizabeth exclaimed, seeming to appear out of thin air to stand in front of us.  “We’ve been looking everywhere for you.  Your mom texted, we need to leave, like an hour ago.”  Elizabeth looked back and forth between me and the boy.  All sense of urgency was gone when she asked, “Who’s your friend?”  

“Ummm . . . .”  We hadn’t exactly gotten to the name sharing portion of the evening yet. 

“Kannon,” he supplied. 

“Elizabeth,” she purred back, offering her hand.  If Elizabeth was Superman, her kryptonite would be boys.  When she met a good looking guy she couldn’t resist flirting.  Usually I found her ability to turn her pheromones on and off like a light switch amusing.  Not tonight.  Not with Kannon. 

Kannon gripped her small palm, never taking his eyes off of me.  A thrill wound around my insides causing my stomach to flip-flop at the same time an ominous sensation skittered down my spine. 

“My mom texted,” I prompted, drawing Elizabeth’s attention away from Kannon. 

“Oh, right.”  Elizabeth shook her head as though the image of Kannon was so mesmerizing that she needed to look away, as she commented, “She says if you don’t call her from my house within the hour she is calling the cops.” 

My mother didn’t make idle threats.  And being the State’s Attorney for Westwood County she had a close relationship with the boys in blue.  “Let’s go,” I said, standing to join Elizabeth.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?  Alone?” Kannon asked me.

I looked at Elizabeth, who shrugged and said, “I’ll be by the door.” 

Kannon waited until Elizabeth was out of earshot before saying, “You didn’t tell me your name.”  He reached for my hand, but then seemed to think better of it.  He rose from the bench and stood so close we were all but touching.  His proximity sent my heart ricocheting from one rib to the next and I felt my palms become clammy.  Kannon towered over me and I had to crane my neck to see his face.  Impossibly, his pupils dilated further, completely eclipsing the green irises.  I could make out my reflection in their depths, distorted and elongated like looking through a peep hole. 

I hesitated.  Once again I felt an odd tangle of conflicting emotions.  The excitement of being close to him was matched by the fear that he was dangerous.  But that was stupid, right?  Shocking me didn’t make him dangerous.  Maybe one day we would laugh about how he shocked me the first time we met or how electric our connection was.  Before I got carried away and named our theoretical future children, I opened my mouth to tell him my name.

Only, before the words passed my lips, Kannon whispered, “Endora Lee Andrews.”

 

 

 

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