The Bloom Series Box Set: Bloom & Fade Read online

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2014 A.P. Kensey

  Covers by TJ Wright

  neechmonkey.carbonmade.com

  BLOOM Copyright © 2012 by A.P. Kensey

  FADE Copyright © 2013 by A.P. Kensey

  — CONTENTS —

  ○

  {MAPS}

  ○

  BLOOM

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 40

  ○

  FADE

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 40

  ○

  {NOTES}

  DEDICATION

  For every person who can tell the difference

  between reality and imagination

  and still prefers the latter.

  1

  Haven Kincaid won a spelling bee when she was seven, a math tournament when she was twelve, and nothing else until the day she turned sixteen. Her parents thought their daughter would be happy to learn she had “won” the right to stay out until ten o’clock on a school night. It was a sign of trust, they said, since they were both so knowledgeable about what teenagers did and they were certain their little Haven never got into anything that would make them blush in front of a crowd.

  Now, just after turning seventeen, Haven spent most of her days wishing she had an apartment of her own so she could make the rules. Ever since her dad got his new job a year ago and moved the whole family from Flagstaff to Scottsdale, Arizona, she felt like she didn’t belong at home, at school, or anywhere else.

  Haven left behind a handful of friends that she had known ever since grade school—girls she was planning on graduating with and rooming with at college. Moving across the state was bad enough, but to do it right before her last year in high school was the absolute worst.

  Her family’s new home in Scottsdale was nice enough. It had two stories, which Haven always wanted, and was on a quiet street not too far from the downtown area. There was a small movie theater next to a smelly bowling alley not too far away, and she heard rumors that someone was building a miniature golf course.

  Yippee.

  Haven was at least thankful that she no longer had to share a room with her little brother, Noah, and that the new yard was a lot bigger than the old one—but she was still more than two hours away from her friends in Flagstaff. Those two hours could just as easily have been two weeks since Haven didn’t have a car and there was no way her friends were going to drive all the way down to Scottsdale just to hang out at a smelly bowling alley.

  If she had more than one close friend at her new school, she probably would have been happy. But Kayla Robertson, her closest, could only stay out until eight-thirty. Haven wouldn’t have her own car until her eighteenth birthday (when she was expecting to inherit her mom’s old junker once her dad “surprised” her mom with a new luxury model on their twentieth wedding anniversary), so her curfew may as well have been eight-thirty, too. Haven suspected her parents knew all of those things already and that extending her curfew to ten o’clock had been more of an attempt to distract her than anything else.

  Things hadn’t exactly been rosy around the Kincaid house for the past week. Haven was disrupting her classes at school out of boredom—nothing serious, but she had been sent to the principal’s office several times for making rude comments in the middle of lessons—and she was caught drawing a lopsided heart on the gymnasium wall with a permanent marker. She was trying to write a name inside of the heart before Coach Lawford saw what she was doing and took away the marker, but she only managed to spell out J-A-S.

  Up until then, Principal Rivera had only given her warnings for disrupting class, but said Haven was on a “slippery slope” and called her parents after the incident in the gym. They scheduled a meeting for later in the week—a face-to-face meeting—that Haven would be forced to attend.

  Haven’s room was small but had two windows since it was in a corner of the house. She and Noah had the two bedrooms on the second floor of their two-story home, and her parents had the largest bedroom—downstairs next to the den. The stairs were well-carpeted—enough so that when she was very careful, Haven could sneak up and down in the middle of the night without making a sound. She did that often to raid the fridge for ice cream whenever she couldn’t fall asleep. Opening the silverware drawer was another story. It squeaked loudly unless it was opened at a snail’s pace. Haven meant to stash a spoon away in her room for those sleepless nights, but she had forgotten yet again, and would be forced to use stealth to obtain her late-night snack.

  She walked quietly down the stairs, her feet padding into the carpet with each step, then crept into the kitchen, pausing briefly by her parents’ closed bedroom door to make sure they weren’t moving around. Hearing nothing, Haven stepped softly to the silverware drawer next to the sink, her bare feet making slight sticking noises as they peeled off the hard linoleum floor.

  She grabbed the metal handle on the drawer and started to pull it out as quietly as she could. When the drawer was halfway open, a small bubble of blue light formed just below the first knuckle of her index finger—it looked as if she was wearing one of her mother’s gaudy costume rings. The back of her hand glowed pale blue and small flames flickered across her skin.

  Well that’s new, she thought.

  It didn’t burn, whatever it was. There was no heat at all.

  The bubble on her index finger expanded as the thin fire on the back of her hand fed into it. After the growing bubble had absorbed all of the flame, it moved slowly from her knuckle down to her fingernail. She let go of the silverware drawer handle and the small sphere of light exploded like a tiny firework. The drawer slammed back into place and the metal utensils inside jumped and clattered loudly in the plastic drawer organizer.

  Haven covered her mouth with both hands to stifle a small scream.

  She held her breath and listened for the all-too-familiar sound of her parents getting up to see what she was doing out of bed so late at night. In the absolute silence, she heard soft footsteps in the grass outside, moving quickly away from the kitchen window. A quick shadow darted across the kitchen window and Haven gasped.

  Someone had been watching.

  2

  Colton Ross awoke late—the glowing red numbers on the cheap alarm clock next to his mattress read eleven o’clock. He lay there smiling, knowing that he felt better in that moment than he would feel for the rest of the week. He pulled aside his thin sheet and stood on the cold wooden floor.

  The uncurtained window next to his mattress showed him a view of the busy street below his apartment building. Businessmen and women walked briskly down the sidewalks, bumping into each other and generally ignoring the world around them.

  Colton rescued a dirty skillet from the bottom of a pile of filthy dishes and, after a thorough scrub, cooked three scrambled eggs for breakfast. He then took a quick shower and pulled on the cleanest t-shirt and pair of jeans he could find. Normally Colton rode his bike to the homeless shelter for lunch on his days off, but he decided to walk instead.

  He liked New York City because it was big enough to get lost in yet personal enough when he needed it to be. His new job at the shipping depot kept him busy for fifty hours a week or more and his spare time was steadily shrinking as the weeks passed, so he tried to make the most out of his occasional day off.

  After graduating high school six months ago, he had kicked around his hometown of Pittsburgh for a while before his friend Reece convinced him to move up to New York. After he settled in to the spare room in
Reece’s apartment, Colton ditched his pickup truck for a bicycle and had barely thought about Pennsylvania since.

  When he emerged from the front door of his apartment building, the street was even busier than it had been just thirty minutes earlier. No matter what day of the week it was, Colton always seemed to have to travel against the flow of foot-traffic. Pittsburgh had been moderately better, but Colton had lived in the suburbs instead of downtown.

  His favorite produce stand in The Bronx was near the corners of Westchester and Castle Hill. The owner was busy topping off a heaping carton of bananas when Colton approached the stand.

  “Morning, Mr. Laretti.”

  “Mr. Ross! Good to see you, as always. Yet it is few and far between, yes? You must have the day off.” Antonio Laretti had bushy black eyebrows and a receding hairline. Standing on his toes, he was probably only five feet tall. He squinted up at Colton through thick reading glasses.

  “My first in two weeks.” Colton picked up two apples and inspected them for bruises.

  “Ah, yes, they work you too hard. I am also working too hard. But! People are needing their fruits and vegetables, yes? Where else they gonna get them if not from old Antonio!”

  “Thanks a lot, Mr. Laretti.” Colton handed him a dollar and took the two apples.

  “Of course, of course. Come back soon, I’ll have better apples.”

  Colton turned to walk away when movement in the cart of bananas caught his eye. He stopped to watch as the entire bunch slowly turned from bright yellow to dull brown, as if they were being coated with some kind of acid that burnt their peels.

  “Hey,” said Antonio, “what is this?”

  The bananas curled in on themselves as they darkened and shrank. Colton took a step toward the produce stand and the crate of oranges next to the bananas began to change as well. The round fruit withered like they were being drained of all their moisture, shriveling into dried husks right before Colton’s eyes.

  If it hadn’t been for a similar accident two months ago, Colton would have thought he was imagining the whole thing. It had only been a lizard back then, though—one small, barely-alive lizard he had been trying to carry from his bedroom to his backyard when it dried up in his hand and turned to dust.

  “You!” said Antonio loudly. He pointed right at Colton, his mouth moving up and down as he tried to form words. “You!” was all he could say. He pointed at Colton’s hands.

  The apples he purchased were rapidly shrinking, turning brown as if some invisible flame were cooking them in his palm. He dropped them like hot coals and quickly brushed his hands against his shirt.

  Colton knew what came next. Warmth gathered around his spine between his shoulder blades as heat bloomed within his body. It first spread up to the base of his neck, then back down his spine before flowing out to his arms and legs. Finally, it settled in his hands. His palms radiated with heat.

  “Mr. Laretti, I-I-I’m sorry,” he stuttered.

  “Get out of here, whatever you are!” hissed Antonio. “You ruin my whole business so you don’t come back, you hear me?! I call the cops if you come back!”

  Colton turned and hurried away as Antonio shouted curses at his back.

  3

  Haven went quickly to the kitchen window and looked outside. A harsh yellow glow from a nearby street lamp painted the wet grass in her backyard. A tall white fence bordered the yard, too high for someone to climb over (or so she thought), so if someone were back there, they would have had to walk all the way around from the front.

  There was a crunching noise from a large bush at the base of the fence. Haven strained her eyes to look into the shadows. A black cat shot out from the bush and hissed as it clawed up the fence, its fur raised and its teeth bared. It ran across the top of the fence, its body casting a quick shadow over Haven’s kitchen window as it passed in front of the street lamp.

  Haven watched a moment longer, still uneasy. Finally she sighed and tried to relax. She slowly pulled out the silverware drawer again, waiting for the blue light to burst from her hand. It didn’t. She grabbed a spoon, then pushed the drawer back in with her hip and got a bowl out of the cupboard. Haven filled it to the brim with strawberry ice cream.

  “Couldn’t sleep?”

  She jumped at her father’s voice and turned around quickly.

  “Dad!”

  “Hi,” he said, smiling. He wore his white robe and what remained of his greying hair stuck out in every direction.

  “Hi.” She put the tub of ice cream back in the freezer and closed the door. “No, couldn’t sleep. Was I being too loud?”

  “Nah, I couldn’t sleep, either. I heard a noise and figured you were on one of your late-night ice cream runs.”

  “You know about that, huh?”

  “Your mother used to do the same thing right after—”

  “Dad, gross!”

  “What? I was going to say ‘right after she finished working the late shift at the hospital’.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “So, why the midnight snack? Something happen at school?”

  He walked toward the kitchen and pulled out one of the tall stools below the bar. The counter that ran along the back of the kitchen turned out from the wall and separated it from the dining room. Haven’s mother liked to keep that surface clear so someone could sit on a stool and use it like a bar.

  Haven’s father sat on his stool and smiled at her.

  “Dad, it’s late.”

  “So? You’re not going to sleep any time soon. Not with all that sugar, anyway. Come on, sit down. I’m a good listener.”

  She sighed and reluctantly pulled out the stool next to him, then placed her bowl on the counter and sat down. She ran her spoon around the inside edge of the bowl, scooping up the softer ice cream on the sides.

  “Is it boy trouble?” he asked.

  She made a sour face. “I am not talking to you about that.”

  He nodded. “I guess that’s your mother’s department, anyway.” He pretended to wipe sweat from his forehead in relief. Haven smiled and took a bite of ice cream. “To tell you the truth, kiddo,” he continued, “you have us a little confused. This is the first time we’ve ever heard anything other than high praise from your school. I know you’re still upset because of the move and I hated to take you away from your friends, but my new job is going to give this family a lot of freedom.”

  “It’s just a little healthy rebellion, Dad. That’s all. Didn’t you and Mom ever start trouble for no good reason?”

  “Of course not!” he said, feigning insult. “We were model students in every way. Why? What did you hear about us?”

  She laughed and shook her head. “You’re so corny.”

  “That wasn’t corn. And for the record, I’m a very cool dude.”

  “Riiiight. You just said ‘cool dude’.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m still learning.” He looked at her. “So, everything’s really okay? No drugs, no dropping out, nothing like that?”

  “Everything’s fine, Dad. I promise. I don’t even know why I was acting up. It’s not really me.”

  “Maybe you were testing your limits,” he said.

  “Maybe…I guess.”

  “Which is perfectly normal,” he said. “You need to know how much you can handle. But you also need to do it respectfully. You’re an extremely bright girl, Haven. You surprise me every day, but we can’t handle getting phone calls from the principal like that. Especially your mother. She’s a little scared.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  He ruffled her hair until she pulled away, smiling.

  “So,” he said. “Tell me about the boy you like so much that you wrote his name on the gym wall.”

  “Ew, Dad!”

  She hopped off her stool and hurried upstairs with her bowl of ice cream.

  Haven stopped by the door to Noah’s room. He hugged his favorite blue blanket close to his chest while he slept. He was still young enough to need a night-light an
d the soft glow cast long shadows over the toys scattered across his cluttered floor.

  Haven stood there watching her brother’s small chest rise up and down with his breathing. She wondered if he was going to have to suffer through all of the same things she was suffering through—confusion about the future, especially. All of the adults at school continuously stressed how important it was for her to know what she wanted to do for the rest of her life before she graduated high school—that she should have known even earlier if possible. How else would she decide what college she wanted to attend or the field of study she wanted to pursue? Haven knew she didn’t want to live in Arizona forever, but she also had no clue where she might want go.

  It made her head hurt to think of all those things at once. Haven closed her eyes when she felt pressure building behind her forehead and thought of a green meadow bathed in warm sunlight. It was an imaginary place she would envision whenever she felt a migraine fast approaching.

  The meadow was surrounded by a ring of tall trees. Small lights floated around the branches; they moved in different directions and at varying speeds as if each one had a mind of its own. Haven was never able to figure out what the lights were, so after a while she stopped trying. They made her smile, which, in the meadow, was the only thing that mattered.

  She imagined herself lying down in the soft grass and looking up at the blue sky, her reddish brown hair fanned out on the ground above her head. The clouds were light pink and formed funny shapes as they drifted high above. One of them shifted into the shape of a bird and floated gently down to the meadow. Haven smiled and the cloud dropped lower until it hovered right above her. She reached up and ran her hand through the pink fluff. It moved between her fingers and trailed after them when she pulled her hand back.

  In the field, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

  When she opened them again, she was standing in front of the door to Noah’s room, holding her bowl of melting ice cream. He still slept soundly in his bed. She had only asked once why her parents chose to have another child so long after having her, but they simply said it felt like the right thing to do at the time.