CHAPTER ONE
The Ritual
ASH:
“Surprise!” My Aunt Farrah throws her arms out wide as she walks into my room.
I hop off the bed and crash into her. “Oh my God! No one told me you were coming. I thought you were stuck in Europe and wouldn’t make it home for the summer.”
“That’s because the only person I told was Mom. I wanted to surprise everyone else.”
Aunt Farrah returns my hug then holds me out at arm’s length. “Look at you! I can’t believe how much you’ve grown up in the past year.”
“Aunt Farrah!” I complain at her fawning over me like I’m still a little kid.
“Sorry. Sorry. I’m just in shock. You filled out nicely babe. The last year has been good to you. You don’t look almost seventeen. You look like you could be mistaken for my twin.”
Her compliment makes me stand up a little straighter. My twenty-two year old aunt is gorgeous. We share the same almond-shaped eyes and pin-straight black hair that will only hold a curl if you apply an excessive amount of heat to it. But where mine is cut in layers that give it the illusion of being voluminous, hers is bone straight with side swept bangs that give her an air of softness that any one who knows her isn’t fooled for a second by.
My Aunt Farrah is a hardass. She can knock just about any guy on their ass in less than ten seconds flat. It is my single mission in life to be as badass as she is. It’s why I push myself so hard performing twice the amount of strength, endurance, and combat training that is required of me. On the days I’m not training with my grandfather at home, I drop in on a MMA class at the only gym in Laurel Springs.
“How long are you staying?” I ask her, hoping she will be around for the entire summer. I’ve missed her and her visits are always sweet but way too short. Plus, Becca is gone which brings the number of people around that I would actually want to hang out with down to none.
“I don’t know. We’ll see,” she responds not really committing to anything one way or the other. “I had a talk with your dad before I came up here, and there might be a matter he’ll need some assistance with.”
“What kind of matter?” I ask fishing for information.
Aunt Farrah doesn’t take the bait. “Ask me that question after tonight,” she grins at me.
I raise my eyebrow at her. “What difference will a few hours make? It’s not like you’re a stickler for following the rules anyway.”
“True,” she grins again flashing the same dimples I do when I smile that wide. “But it’s fun making you wait. I know how impatient you are kiddo.”
“Argh.” I groan. “I think it’s time we stopped calling me that. I’ll be seventeen in four months you know.”
“I know. Practically a grown woman.”
“I’m glad somebody thinks so. Can you tell Dad that? Every body I try to date he scares away by showing them the small arsenal we keep in the basement. He calls it a hobby.”
Aunt Farrah’s bark of laughter bounces off the walls of the room.
“I’m glad one of us thinks it’s funny,” I tell her dryly.
She tries valiantly to sober up but fails. “Sorry, Ash. I’ll try but I don’t think there’s anything I can do about it. I had to deal with the same thing until I left for Europe after high school and Sean and Gerard used to help him. Where are our two illustrious cousins anyway?”
I roll my eyes at the mention of Tweedledee and Tweedledum as I like to call them. And yes I do it to their faces. They turn red and try to literally take my head off every time. It’s a good thing I’m nearly as good as my aunt and can put them on their asses too. It just takes me a little longer to accomplish it. “Probably at a bar or somewhere trying to get laid.”
“I see nothing ever changes,” Aunt Farrah sighs. She finally hands over the wrapped package she’s been holding since she came in.
I didn’t ask about it’s contents because I was trying to prove how patient I could be. I’m glad she hands it over when she does because I don’t know how much longer I would have lasted. It’s clearly for me and I am dying to know what’s inside it.
“I would have had you if I’d held out a minute longer, but since today is kind of about you I decided to go easy on you.” She’s referring to a sort of game we play every time she visits. She brings me a present back from wherever it is in Europe she’s been staying at the time, but she doesn’t immediately give it to me. She doesn’t even mention it or says it’s for me. She doesn’t have to. I know it and she knows it. But she waits to see how long I can last before asking her what it is or if I can open it. It’s like a game of chicken but with a wrapped package because she is just as impatient as I am and wants to give me the gift as badly as I want to open it. I always crack first and then she gloats by telling me patience is a virtue. The playful chastisement is our own little inside joke. The amount of patience both of us possesses is small enough to fit underneath the nail of our pinky toes and we both know it.