Somewhere Within: (A Havenwood Falls High Novella) Read online

  About This Book

  Welcome to Havenwood Falls, a small town in the majestic mountains of Colorado. A town where legacies began centuries ago, bloodlines run deep, and dark secrets abound. A town where nobody is what you think, where truths pose as lies, and where myths blend with reality. A place where everyone has a story. Including the high schoolers. This is only but one . . .

  With her raven-black hair, porcelain-white skin, and shy demeanor, Zoey Mills has been the target of bullies since childhood, no matter how many times her family moved. She expects nothing to change when they relocate to Havenwood Falls, her parents’ hometown. What she doesn’t expect is to discover that she inherited her eccentricities—as the next generation of a long line of frost dragons.

  As she learns to accept she’s on the cusp of becoming a shifter, she finds out her new best friend isn’t human, either. But the boy Zoey’s fallen for is, earning the disapproval of her grandfather and patriarch and fueling the fire of a decades-long feud among her extended family. Elitism and prejudice take on whole new meanings.

  While she wants to trust her instincts and follow her heart, Zoey discovers that hiding who she really is and playing by the rules would make life a lot simpler. But simple doesn’t mean easy. She must find her strength somewhere within and embrace her destiny—or risk losing everyone she cares about. And all of this on the eve of her Sweet Sixteen.

  Somewhere Within

  A Havenwood Falls High Novella

  Amy Hale

  Contents

  Havenwood Falls High Books

  Other Books by Amy Hale

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  An Excerpt

  Written in the Stars

  Havenwood Falls High Books

  Written in the Stars by Kallie Ross

  Reawakened by Morgan Wylie

  The Fall by Kristen Yard

  Somewhere Within by Amy Hale

  Awaken the Soul by Michele G. Miller (Dec. 2017)

  More books releasing on a monthly basis

  Stay up to date at www.HavenwoodFalls.com and by subscribing to our newsletter.

  Other Books by Amy Hale

  Ulterior Motives

  The Shadows Trilogy

  Shadows of Jane

  Shadows of Deception

  Shadows of Deliverance

  Catching Whitney

  Letters From Jayson

  Copyright © 2017 Amy Hale, Ang’dora Productions, LLC

  All rights reserved.

  Published by

  Ang’dora Productions, LLC

  5621 Strand Blvd, Ste 210

  Naples, FL 34110

  Havenwood Falls and Ang’dora Productions and their associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Ang’dora Productions, LLC.

  Cover design by Regina Wamba at MaeIDesign.com

  Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the owner of this book.

  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters and events are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-939859-49-5

  Print ISBN: 978-1-939859-50-1

  For all the young people who fight to be normal.

  Normal is boing and overrated.

  Be unique.

  Aim for extraordinary.

  Show the world why it’s great to be you.

  Chapter 1

  I glanced at the boxes still waiting to be unpacked as I attempted to relax in my new bedroom. The excitement that generally accompanied a new house was missing. I felt like we moved more than we stayed still. My dad had assured me this would be the last time, and while I thought he believed that to be true, I had my reservations.

  My first memories of moving took place at age seven. I don’t remember all the details, but I do recall a loud commotion, after which Mom had run out to the backyard to get me. She rushed me into the car, and we left. Just like that. No goodbyes to the neighbors. No “grab a few things for overnight.” We just left. Two days later, my dad arrived at our hotel room, two states away, driving a moving truck containing all our belongings. At the time, I was afraid to ask what happened, but it had certainly crossed my mind with every successive move. I’d had an unpleasant sensation down in my gut each time I attempted to mention the subject, so I’d always chickened out.

  So there I was, on move . . . what was it? Move eight? Yeah, I thought this was move number eight. One would think I’d be used to starting over, and over, and over. But the truth was that with every packed box, I felt like I’d left a part of me behind. Even if that part wasn’t important, it was a segment of my scattered life that no longer felt valid. Those memories now lived in the past.

  This latest move had been prompted by a family member. It turned out I had a grandfather here in Havenwood Falls, Colorado. My parents had never talked about him before, so I’d assumed my dad didn’t know who his father was. It was the only logical explanation for never hearing about Grandpa Mills. You couldn’t talk about someone you didn’t know, right?

  My parents had received a letter that my grandfather, Lawrence Mills, had become very ill, and was possibly dying. Mom and Dad seemed frustrated by the phone conversations they’d had with him afterward. Ultimately, I held the impression they’d decided it was time to mend fences. Granted, they’d never told me what busted the fences to begin with, but maybe someday I’d learn all the deep, dirty family secrets. All families had a skeleton or two in their closets, so I’d heard. I suspected my family to be no different.

  I stood and opened the box closest to my bed. It contained some of my clothes and the most beautiful jewelry box I’d ever seen. It’d been a gift from my parents for my sixteenth birthday. I hadn’t actually had that birthday yet, but it was only about a month away. Dad had said that he wanted to give it to me before the move. “Something special for your new room,” he’d said. I thought he’d been attempting to bribe me so I wouldn’t complain about changing houses and schools yet again. It kinda worked.

  I ran my fingers over the smooth metal casing, and I could almost feel it vibrate beneath my fingers. I didn’t know how to explain it, but it felt as if the box itself was alive. Every time I touched it, I felt a zing of positive energy pulse through me. No doubt these sensations all took place in my mind, but I allowed myself to indulge the fantasy just the same. As long as I didn’t say it out loud, I should be safe. Admitting it to others would have been like saying I’d grown a third leg, but no one could see it.

  I placed the gold box on my nightstand and studied the intricate design on the lid, which looked much like a maze, with lines darting out from the center in odd geometric patterns. From the moment I laid eyes on it, I’d tried to figure out if there were some kind of labyrinth hidden in all the chaos, but if so, I had yet to solve it.

  Regardless, it was another great addition to what my mother lovingly called my
“jewelry hoard.” I did have a slight obsession with jewelry, but really, what teenage girl didn’t? I wouldn’t call it a hoard.

  “Zoey, here’s another box with your name on it.” Dad pushed through my bedroom door and set the box on the bed beside me. “Sheesh, that’s heavy. What do you have in there? Anvils?”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “Yes, Father. I have an anvil addiction. You’ve found me out.”

  He smirked. “So much sass in such a little person.”

  I reached over and pulled the tape from the top of the box, then glanced inside. “Oh,” I said.

  Dad simply raised his eyebrows in curiosity.

  “It’s my jewelry boxes,” I said quietly.

  His soft laughter followed him to the door, and he sent me a wink. “Enjoy.” He walked out of the room and gently closed the door behind him.

  I looked into the box again. I had several jewelry boxes, most of them very full. Okay, maybe I do have a jewelry-hoarding issue. Is there a therapy for that?

  After lunch, Dad had some things to take care of at his new job running Simple Treasures Pawn Shop, so that left just Mom and me cleaning and unpacking in the kitchen.

  Mom crossed her arms and leaned against the tan Formica counter. “What do you say we run into town for coffee? A latte sounds great, and I noticed a nice-looking shop as we drove through town.”

  I put away the last plate in the stack I’d unpacked and wiped my hands on my jeans. “Sure. Sounds good.”

  She smiled at me. “Perfect. As much as I love this new house, I’m eager to get out for a few minutes.”

  I didn’t comment. I knew she wanted to hear me gush about the new place. After all, it was a nice house. A relatively new brick ranch house, it contained three bedrooms and loads of extra space. My bedroom easily overshadowed the dimensions of any other room I’d ever had. I even had my own bathroom. The pale yellow walls and white gauzy curtains gave my room a cheery feel. My white bedroom suite fit perfectly within the space. Much to my mother’s delight, there were hardwood floors throughout. All I could think about was how cold those floors would be first thing in the morning. I made myself a mental note to ask for a rug in my bedroom.

  The main part of the house had an open floor plan with the living room, kitchen, and dining room all in one large area. The fireplace had to be my favorite feature of the house, aside from my bedroom. The large grate could hold a decent-sized load of wood, and I could imagine the relaxing crackle as the flames warmed my fingers and toes while the smell of the fire saturated my clothes.

  I had every reason to love our new home, yet all I could muster for my mother was a less-than-excited smile. As for the town—it was lovely. The gorgeous mountains surrounding the town boxed us in and lent a cozy, protected feel. As it was November, the air felt frigid and crisp, but also clean. Air this fresh was foreign to me, since all our other homes were in larger cities filled with smog and the various odors that accompanied living in a crowded area with several thousand people. One apartment had been so poorly located that a few times I wondered if I’d ever get the stench of garbage out of my nostrils. There was nothing like living a few blocks from a landfill when the wind blew just right. Thankfully, that stay was short-lived.

  Havenwood Falls was perfectly sized for exploring. I hadn’t had a chance to look everything over yet, but Mom assured me I could easily walk from one end of town to the other. Since I’d always felt pulled to the outdoors, I should have been thrilled, but moving and leaving what little stability we’d had dampened my spirits. The unknown was always scary. I’d never been good with change.

  Mom pushed away from the counter. “C’mon, kiddo. Let’s get some caffeine.”

  She wasn’t kidding about the size of Havenwood Falls. We’d only been on the road a few minutes when we pulled into a spot in front of a collection of cute little storefronts on the town square. We stepped onto the sidewalk, and I glanced at the surrounding businesses. It seemed to be the typical small-town America kind of place, except for a few eclectic shops, which oddly didn’t seem out of place. I spotted Madame Tahini’s, whose sign advertised potions, palm readings, and other services. I couldn’t say I’d ever been in a store like that. It intrigued me. It was at the end of the block, next to Simple Treasures Pawn Shop, which was owned by my grandfather and now managed by my dad.

  Directly in front of our parking space was Coffee Haven. The bell over the door greeted us with the light tinkle of chimes as we entered the shop. The scent of coffee and baked goods hit me immediately. I was suddenly thankful for the distraction and the promise of chocolate. I wasn’t as into the whole froufrou drink thing as my mom was. If it had a weird name and complicated list of ingredients, she’d try it. I honestly preferred hot cocoa over coffee. Thankfully, most coffee places offered both. With it being the first week in November, the weather was perfect for a warm drink.

  I glanced around the cozy space, and my eyes were instantly drawn to a section near the back of the shop. Shiny silver, copper, and gold hung from various displays, and the overhead lights caused a sparkle from the beads and gems as I moved to the right or left. My quest for hot chocolate was all but forgotten.

  “I see that look in your eye,” Mom teased.

  “What?” I shrugged. “I’m just looking around.”

  “Well, why don’t you go look closer, and I’ll order your drink. You want your usual? With peppermint?” She asked.

  “Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.” I wasted no time in getting to the jewelry display. Several gorgeous pieces were front and center, and I couldn’t help but reach out and touch them. I had an affinity for all jewelry, but these were expertly handcrafted by someone named Serena Alverson, and I found myself wishing I had such a creative gift. Of course, if I did, I’d likely end up with more jewelry than all the stores in town combined, so it was probably fortunate I didn’t possess that talent.

  I glanced down at the bracelet hanging from my wrist. It was my favorite, and my parents had gifted it to me on my tenth birthday. The green and yellow crystal beads were strung together on a delicate gold chain. Inside the gift box there had been a note indicating that the crystals were fluorite and yellow jasper, providing the dual function of an energy shield and a protective amulet. I wasn’t sure I bought into all that, but I loved wearing it just the same.

  “Zoey, here’s your drink.” My mom’s voice pulled me from the allure of shiny objects, and she motioned for me to join her at a small table near the large picture window in front. My mother and I were opposites. Her short brown hair barely reached her shoulders, and her eye color matched it perfectly. Naturally petite, she possessed an inner grace and beauty. She preferred more casual clothing, but no matter what she wore, she made it look classy. She oozed charm and confidence. I did not. I was more comfortable reading in my room than I was socializing. Outside of us both having pale complexions and being short, I appeared to be nothing like her—a disappointing realization.

  My dad was a tall man, easily over six feet in height with only a slightly darker skin tone and a muscular build. His hair had a thick texture with waves, and while dark, it was nowhere near the raven black of my own hair. His eyes were blue, where mine were gray with hints of blue. His self-assurance inspired me, and I had idolized him for as long as I could remember. He was my hero. I seemed so very different from them both. I often wondered if, upon my eighteenth birthday, they’d tell me I was adopted. It wouldn’t have surprised me.

  I took a seat opposite my mother and cupped the warm mug in my hands as I sipped it cautiously. Perfect. I looked up at the counter and noticed the young woman behind it smiling at me. Her name tag said Willow. Such a pretty name! I gave her a thumbs up to indicate my pleasure, and she winked at me, then turned to wipe down one of the espresso machines.

  “So, what did you think of the jewelry? Anything you can’t live without?” my mom asked as I took another careful sip of my drink.

  “There are a few that are amazing, but I should probably a
t least get my room unpacked before I start adding more to my collection.” I thought back to the various jewelry boxes in my room still waiting for my attention.

  She laughed and reached across to pat my arm. Bad timing on her part, or on mine. As she moved, so did I—I scooted my mug to the side, directly in her path. Her fingers hit the cup and tipped it over, spilling the scalding hot contents all over my right hand.

  I yelped in pain, and my mom jumped up to help me. Willow appeared at our side quickly, and I vaguely remembered hearing her ask how she could help. My instinct was to blow on the back of my hand, and to my amazement, impossibly cool air passed over my lips and cooled my skin. I watched in shock, and honestly some horror, as ice crystals formed over the burned area.

  My mom wrapped her arms around me, shielding my hand and face from the view of those around us. A towel was thrust between our heads by a tight-smiled Willow.

  “I’ve got this. Go take care of her before anyone notices.” Willow’s voice barely registered above a whisper.

  She and my mom exchanged a look that I couldn’t understand, then Mom nodded and ushered me out the door.

  “It’s okay, baby. Let’s get you to the hospital to have that looked at.” Mom spoke louder than necessary, and I began to think I was losing my mind—or dreaming.

  The pain had disappeared, and I had a morbid eagerness to peek under the dish towel to see how bad my injury really was. I glanced back into the shop and saw Willow quickly cleaning up the mess we’d left behind.