Recreated (The Reawakened Series, Band 2) - Hardcover

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Colleen Houck is the New York Times bestselling author of the Reawakened series: Reawakened, Recreated, and Reunited, as well as the Tiger's Curse series. Colleen lives in Salem, Oregon with her husband. Learn more about Colleen and her books at colleenhouck.com or follow @ColleenHouck on Twitter and find her on Pinterest.

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1

Reprieve

“Amon!” I jerked awake, my pulse racing as the nightmare slowly ebbed. I’d taken to keeping a night-light on near my bed ever since the horrors that took over my dreams still haunted my dark room when I woke. Some terrible creature had cornered him. It had screeched in a satisfied way, its putrid breath stinging my nose as its tongue darted out to lick the blood from a gash on Amon’s shoulder. It all felt so real.

Shivering, I wrapped my arms around my body and slid from the bed as I headed to my favorite spot on the balcony overlooking Central Park. Once there, I rubbed my hand over the head of the falcon statue perched on the railing.

The bird reminded me of Amon’s golden falcon form, and when the sun warmed it, the heat stored in the metal carving seemed to linger, even in the late hours of the evening when I paced my room unable to sleep. It soothed me when I touched it and I could picture Amon as I’d last left him and not as the bruised and pain-filled man he was in my dreams.

He was lost to me. I knew that. I acknowledged that I should try to move on, maybe try to date someone else, but the memory of my Egyptian sun prince come to life was a hard one to beat. Amon wasn’t perfect, but he was pretty darn close. Even now I could easily picture him standing near me--his golden skin warmed by the sun, the glint in his hazel eyes, and that secretive smile hiding behind his defined and very kissable lips.

Sighing, I leaned on the railing and looked out at the park. I was in love with a guy who was centuries old and currently moldering away in an elaborately decorated sarcophagus fashioned by Anubis himself. His spirit half, the half that was supposed to be in paradise while he waited for the next time he was needed, haunted my dreams.

Either he was in grave trouble or something was seriously wrong with me since I’d returned from Egypt. Still, the creatures I saw in my dreams were much more horrifying than any I could have made up. I wasn’t that creative. Even worse than my suspicions that Amon was in danger was the problem that I couldn’t tell anyone about it. Nobody even knew he’d existed.

Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Dr. Hassan knew, but he lived on the other side of the world. I’d written to him when I got home, and his elated response made me smile even though I’m sure he’d figured it out when he couldn’t find my body on the pyramid after Amon and his brothers had saved the world. I was more than a little proud to be a part of the whole thing, even though fooling Amon into siphoning off my energy had nearly killed me.

It took a month to get a reply from Dr. Hassan, though I’d fanatically checked the PO box I’d leased for our secret correspondence every day. He’d told me not to worry, that Amon had the protection of the gods, that he’d hidden the brothers well, and that I should be proud of the sacrifices I’d made to keep the world safe.

That was pretty much the extent of his letters. They got progressively shorter as time went on. It was as if he, too, wanted me to just forget everything that had happened and move on with my life. But how could I? Amon haunted my dreams. Not that I wasn’t happy to see him. I was. But the horrors he faced were enough to send any girl, even one who had seen the things I’d seen, running for the nearest mental institution.

My parents were worried. My lack of sleep was starting to show, though I tried to act as though my life was simply business as usual. They had no idea that I’d nearly died, fallen in love with a drop-dead (no pun intended) gorgeous mummy come to life, and spent an extended spring break in Egypt. The fact that I’d actually made it through to the end of the school year without my grades falling was a major accomplishment.

They didn’t know about my experience with Amon in Egypt and how much it had transformed me. I myself didn’t know how much I’d changed until I got home. I thought it would show on my face, all the emotion, all the trauma, all the . . . death, but my parents only noticed my hair. My brown, no-nonsense straight hair was now riddled with random sun-kissed highlights of different shades. They didn’t like it.

The first thing my mother said was, “What were you thinking?” Immediately she picked up the phone and lectured our hairstylist, who didn’t have anything to do with it but who cleared his schedule instantly to repair the “damage.” I told her quietly but sternly that I was rather fond of it and that my intention was to keep it. To say they were shocked at my little act of rebellion was an understatement.

As much as they protested my decision to keep my new highlights, they outright refused my request that they call me Lily instead of Lilliana. As a result, I began to feel like a stranger in my own home. To keep the peace, I told them I’d go to the college they wanted as long as I was allowed to spend the summer at my nana’s farm in Spring Lake, Iowa. I figured it didn’t matter anymore where I went, and the compromise went a long way toward assuaging the fears my new hairdo ignited.

Once I got the acceptance letter, they backed off and left me to my own devices, which meant I could mourn the loss of Amon without anyone taking notice. One month after another went by, and then graduation was upon me.

As I gazed in the mirror the morning of graduation, I was dismayed to see that my golden highlights, the last tangible proof I had of Amon’s touch, were fading. At this rate, they’d be gone by Christmas. I indulged in a good cry before showering and dressing for my graduation ceremony.

If my mother noticed my too-bright eyes, she probably chalked it up to my being emotional about leaving high school. The truth was, I didn’t care about high school. I didn’t care about college or boys. I didn’t care about much of anything anymore.

The time soon came for me to depart for the summer, and I was surprised that my parents wanted to drop me off at the airport. Maybe they noticed more than I thought they did, or perhaps they were just feeling nostalgic about me growing up and leaving the nest. Either way, the drive felt a bit awkward.

I stared at my reflection in the window.

My eyes were large and dull; my hair was wound in a perfect, tight bun at the nape of my neck; and my lips were stretched in a thin, unforgiving line, as rigid as a ruler. In fact, that was what I looked like: a schoolmarm. A smirk lifted the corner of my mouth as I imagined how much Amon would hate my hair like this. He preferred it wild and unbound.

After a few quiet goodbyes and some stiff hugs, my parents relinquished me to the chaos of the airport. Inside, a range of emotions hit me all at once. I remembered being there with Amon a few short months earlier, and how with the wave of his hand and a charming smile, he could wrap anyone around his finger.

I boarded the plane and strapped in, remembering how even the most mundane actions like buckling a seat belt were completely new and foreign for Amon. Though I actually did try not to think of him, it seemed that was all I could do, and when I shut my eyes, rocked to sleep by the plane, I found myself in Amon’s world once again.

He wasn’t fighting a monster, which was a relief, but he had a wicked wound on his thigh that was...