13: Thriller Anthology Preview

13: An Anthology of Horror and Dark Fiction

Méchente Reine

By Savannah Blevins

Sanctuary 1802

Chapter One

“Lake.” Abram held his hand above his eyes, squinting through the darkness. Even though the sky was clear and the moon bright, reflecting off the snow covered mountain, it would be hard to see Lake sitting in the shadows, draped in her ragged black cape. Abram stepped around the sparks of the fire he’d just spent two hours smoldering into a gallant flame. “C’mon Lake. Come sit by me and warm up.”

She doesn’t move. Not even a single inch.

Abram and Lake are like Romeo and Juliet. If Juliet wanted to fling a harpoon through Romeo’s rich, privileged heart every day.

“I’m fine, Abram.”

Abram tugged the bottom of his perfectly tailored winter coat around him, and stuffed his hands in his pockets before leaving the warmth of the fire to step closer to her. “Don’t be stubborn on me, Lake. You’ll get hyperthermia up here. Do you want to lose your toes?”

Lake looked the other way. She couldn’t be cruel and look at his stupid, perfect face. “I’ve always looked good in blue and who really needs toes anyway.”

“Lake.” Abram’s voice dropped two octaves.

Lake’s teeth clenched together. She hated when he said her name like that. Like she was supposed to listen to him, no questions asked. Mostly, she just hated when he said her name at all. It was a constant reminder of who she was, or rather who she wasn’t. Lake didn’t belong to one of the four founding families of Sanctuary. She’d been found abandoned on the fountainhead shoreline by none other than Abram’s father. They’d given her the name Lake and that was it. No surname.

In Sanctuary, your last name was a big deal. Like Abram, for example. His last name was Daniels. That meant his family owned Frog Hollow, one of the largest pieces of land in town. He had everything a nineteen-year old boy could want. Power, money…girls. Abram Daniels could get any girl he wanted.

Lake had nothing but the clothes on her back.

The wind whistled in her ears, rattling the barren trees around her. Her toes were numb and probably blue. The snow leaked through her shoes hours ago. The holes and worn leather no match for the frigid temperatures of an Appalachian winter, especially one at the top of Red Crane Mountain.

“Come sit by the fire or I swear I’ll drag you off this mountain kicking and screaming. I promised you I wouldn’t stop you from this suicide mission, but I won’t sit here all night and watch you freeze to death.”

Lake’s gaze rose to Abram. He was absolutely serious. She knew that look all too well. The take no prisoners glare. For a spoiled rich kid, Abram had a big heart. For some ridiculous reason, he’d always chosen her as his charity case. She hated it. Most days, when she could convincingly lie to herself, she hated him too.

Today wasn’t one of those days.

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