Water Read online

  Elemental powers in the palm of her hand…

  …and it won't be enough to save her. When Kaitlyn Alder is involuntarily introduced to a life of magic, she becomes part of an organization hell-bent on saving the Earth. Just as her newfound life holds promises of purpose, romance, and friendship, the organization divides and a rogue member holds Kaitlyn hostage. Now one of the most terrifying men the human race has to offer stands between her and Earth's survival.

  Reviews for Water:

  By Jennifer at Can't Put It Down Reviews:

  "I LOVED this book, plain and simple. I am EXCITED about this book and the books to follow. This new author has completely amazed me, sucking me into this world she has created that I didn’t want to step away from." and "I was kept on the edge of my seat through the whole book, not being able to read fast enough to find out what happened in the next chapter. Water reads fast, never lagging. I love the characters, I love the premise, I loved the writing style."

  By Alexia at Alexia's Chronicles:

  "Where to begin… ok, this book is right up my alley! I enjoyed it so much that it kept me up till early hours of the morning – I could not put it down! I love the storyline and how Kaitlyn’s dreams are (in a way) connected to her everyday life and emotions. Terra Harmony is an amazing author!" and "At the end of the book there is a little sneak preview of the second book in the series, Air – that just made me want to read the second book immediately! I can’t wait for the second installment. This is definitely a series and author I’ll be following closely!"

  By Maria Violante, Author of Hunting the Five:

  "Speaking of the plot – it’s terrific, not just in creativity or in the “twist”, but also in the pacing. Water is balanced between giant, crashing catastrophes and quiet, tense moments, yet it rarely lags or feels stale or repetitive. That’s a pretty hard thing to do. It starts to really open up about ten percent out of the gate and just really picks up from there. Water really shines, though, when it comes to characters. They’re highly developed, with good backstories and clear motivations, and they act like real people do." and "Harmony does a decent job of reinventing the genre, adding in clear roots of Paganism/Witchcraft, nature-worship, and modern day environmentalism. The myriad of influences help move the book away from something stale and into the field of a really enjoyable read."

  The Akasha Series:

  Water, Book 1

  Air, Book 2

  Fire, Book 3: To Be Published October 2012

  Earth, Book 4: To Be Published Spring 2013

  Water

  By Terra Harmony

  Copyright 2011 by Terra Harmony

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author, except by reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The scanning, uploading and distribution of this publication via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage illegal electronic distribution of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Editing Team: Jessica Dall, Cathy Wathen,

  and Extra Set of Eyes Proofing

  www.readitreviewit.wordpress.com

  Cover design by Keary Taylor

  www.kearytaylor.com

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1: Closed Casket

  Chapter 2: Where in the World

  Chapter 3: Hey, Yourself

  Chapter 4: Needed

  Chapter 5: Tree Huggers

  Chapter 6: Redemption

  Chapter 7: Divergence

  Chapter 8: Fast Enough

  Chapter 9: Questionable Timing

  Chapter 10: Miles to Run

  Chapter 11: Drama

  Chapter 12: Quite a Sight

  Chapter 13: Fishing

  Chapter 14: Hypnotic Whispers

  Chapter 15: Pleasant Conversations

  Chapter 16: White Noise

  Chapter 17: By the Book

  Chapter 18: As Always

  Chapter 19: Eyes on the Prize

  Chapter 20: Sparks

  Chapter 21: For What It’s Worth

  Chapter 22: Bodyguards

  Chapter 23: Water Wars

  Chapter 24: Dirty Boots

  Chapter 25: Olé

  Chapter 26: Boats and Fruit

  Chapter 27: Outcast

  Chapter 28: Girls Night Out

  Chapter 29: Perro Gaurdian

  Chapter 30: Not Quite

  Chapter 31: Alive and Kicking

  Chapter 32: Unpleasant Conversations

  Chapter 33: Field Trip

  Chapter 34: Triumph

  Chapter 35: Fate of a Gaia

  Chapter 36: Dirty Work

  Chapter 37: Water of Wonder

  Air Excerpt

  About the Author

  Forward

  Water is the first book in the Akasha Series, a set of contemporary eco-fantasy novels. This book is for mature readers only. It contains sexual content, some of it non-consensual. Comments and criticism are always welcome and can be sent to [email protected]. Readers can also find me on facebook, goodreads, and on my blog.

  If you enjoy the book, please consider leaving a review. Happy reading!

  Terra Harmony

  Chapter 1

  Closed Casket

  There is nothing like an avalanche to put your life into perspective. I leaned forward and the board strapped to my boots responded. Slicing through the fresh powder, I made a sharp curve to the right. A quick glance uphill showed the wave of snow was five times my height, and about to catch up to me.

  The sound of an angry dragon, breath stinking of the earth churned up in its path, pumped me full of adrenaline. The entire right side of the unmarked backcountry trail was a thick wall of trees, impossible to break through. I pulled my toes up, arching back to the left side of the trail. But I wasn't going to make it. The dragon's spittle pelted me on the back of my neck, sending chills down my spine. Instead, I pointed my snowboard straight downhill and put all my weight on my forward leg, hoping to outrun the beast.

  I willed my board to go faster than I ever dared before. The avalanche was faster. The dragon opened its mouth wide, closing in on me from both sides and overhead. Gray jaws blacked out the blue sky above and the trees to the side of me. The mountain slope cracked and slithered forward, like the monster's forked tongue. As the force of nature dropped over me, I closed my eyes and threw my arms around my head. My screams were swallowed by the creature.

  Completely engulfed, I moved with the dragon. The whole of the trail had transformed into its body; an agitated, unstoppable river of churning snow and debris. The world became darker and darker, the snow heavier and heavier. Flashes of light were few and far between.

  When I gasped for air I was sometimes rewarded with a clear breath but more often than not I sucked in a mouthful of snow. Hacking to rid my throat of the slush, I came to the awful realization that I was drowning on dry land.

  My hands, flailing for something solid to hang onto, finally caught hold of a tree. Small as it was, it held fast against the merciless rush of snow. I fought against nature, literally holding on for my life. I wrapped myself around the trunk as two large branches just above me ripped away and disappeared in the churning white waves, along with m
y screams. I squeezed so tight the rough bark scratched my cheek. The scent of pine was strong, and I inhaled deeply as though the scent alone would keep me tethered to the tree. I willed the roots to be strong.

  They were, but I was not. My grip started to loosen as my tired muscles and numb fingers were unable to hold on against the rushing snow. I lost the stable trunk and returned to the tumble of snow.

  I came to a halt just like the rest of the debris that used to be the Canadian mountainside. A small air pocket had formed, allowing me to spit out the coppery taste of blood. Suffocation couldn’t be too far off, encased as I was in an immobile block of ice. Feeble attempts at movement proved useless. Silence settled in on me as I heard the last of the snow come to a halt above me. I tolerated its crushing weight because I had no choice. I should have broken my habit of solitude and at let someone know of my vacation plans.

  As the numbness slowly receded, pain returned to one hand. I wiggled my fingers. They were free, possibly above the surface. I grimaced. Great – at least the wolves would find me. Closed casket for me.

  Chapter 2

  Where in the World

  I sat up, gasping for breath. My lungs tried to hack up snow that wasn't there. The clear breath didn't stop me from hyperventilating. I was still buried. Flailing all four limbs, I clawed my way out from the white. Waves of pain starting in my head, then shooting down to my arms and legs threatened to engulf me. Sharp, painful jolts coursed through my body.

  Sunlight hit me, bright and intense. I covered my eyes and my hand brought up a cotton sheet with it. I looked down and around me in confusion. Soft, cream-colored pillows and blankets surrounded me; a large comforter was halfway on the floor.

  I should be dead. What happened? Snowboarding, avalanche, free hand, a pull on my hand, blue sky…

  It took a moment to settle in. The razor sharp teeth and vice-like jaws of wolves I had been expecting never came. Instead there was a firm but gentle pull from a warm hand. Somebody saved me! But who? How? In my usual inability to plan I had told no one of my trip.

  Trying to recall the events further only managed to evoke foggy snatches of conversation. There were men talking about my injuries. A broken wrist, sprained ankle, bruised ribs. Other bits of medical terminology toyed with me.

  Slowly turning my sore neck, I surveyed the room. It was strangely bare, save for the bed, and the porcelain sink in the corner. The only window was small, placed high up on one wall, flooding the room in brilliant rays of afternoon sun.

  It didn't smell like a hospital. The air was fresh, almost tropical. The familiar boops and beeps of machines were absent; there was no low hum of conversations from nurses and doctors in the hallway. I knew those sounds well thanks to my unnatural knack for getting caught in the middle of disasters. This wasn’t a hospital.

  I shifted, and pain shot up my arm. If my wrist was broken, they hadn’t bothered to cast it, or even brace it. Cradling it with the other arm would do for now.

  I swung my feet over the side of the bed and forced myself to stand, slowly. Wavering slightly, I caught myself on the wall, and waited for my legs to steady themselves before hobbling to the sink.

  Cold, metallic-tasting water poured from the faucet. I drank greedily, soothing my dry throat. The pain in my ribs, multiplied by the simple task of breathing seemed to lessen. Still, the bruised mass that was my body protested every small movement. Given that I had already marked myself for death on the mountainside, the pain was more welcome than not.

  I slowly made my way across the room and tried the door handle. Locked. I turned around and fought back the inclination to panic. I could hardly recall a time in my life I had felt imprisoned. As a child I was happy to stay close to mom and dad, and whatever home we had at the time. Having very few personal relations and a flexible job as an adult, I was free to do what I wanted, when I wanted so long as the balance in my bank account held steady.

  Suddenly, that freedom was no longer mine.

  A thick lump began to form in my throat. Quickly, I recalled my mother’s meditation sessions. No peeking, honey. Keep your eyes closed and your mind clear. I imagined the smell of her sage, and after several deep breaths and a few moments of Zen, my nerves were calmed. Sufficiently satisfied I could think straight, I concentrated on my surroundings. The only window was out of my reach but fortunately placed directly above the sink. Amidst unsuccessful attempts to coddle my various breaks, bumps, and bruises, I limped back toward the sink. Waddling too close to the end of the bed, a clipboard clattered to the floor.

  I picked it up, my ribs groaning in protest, and quickly scanned the pages of handwritten notes hastily scrawled across them. Female subject #134, experimental phase. Survived initial encounter. Begin injection treatment; run blood tests.

  That did it for me. No need to read the rest. Practically choking with fear, I dropped the clipboard and ran to the far wall. One painful hoist later, I was face to pane with the window. It was easily within reach, but I would have to break it in order to free myself. A single sheet of glass separated me from being able to return to my own life. Lonely though it was, my apartment was my sanctuary. As soon as I got back I would run a hot bath and soak away the cold and pain of the avalanche. I would concentrate on my job, find comfort in the familiarity of a photo shoot, and never, ever again take another vacation.

  Placing my open palm on the glass brought back memories of childhood. It was warm from an afternoon of sun, just like the window in the backseat of our car. We would drop Dad off at work every day, my hands and face squashed against the window in an attempt at a funnier face than the previous day. Have a good day, Katie. Be good for your mom. He put his hand against the other side of the window in a final farewell. There was no hand on the other side of the glass now.

  I tapped on the windowpane and the sound echoed around the empty room. It seemed sturdier than ideal. I'd never broken a window. I tested different stances and slow-motion strikes with my elbows and fists, debating what would be most effective on the wobbly basin. Deciding on a simple strike, I shifted so my back leg rested just inside the front of the sink. Common sense prevailed and I took off my shirt to wrap it around my knuckles. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and imagined myself punching through the glass.

  Feeling adequately prepared, I reared my hand back and then toward the windowpane as fast as I could. My fist bounced back instantly. I lost balance. My forward foot, cleverly anchored underneath one of the handles, did me no good and I fell backward off the sink, bringing the handle with me. The hard landing sent more jolts of pain through me. Though on the verge of shock, my body made a quick recovery aided by the cold. I lay directly in the path of water erupting from a now broken pipe.

  Shocked out of shock; that was a first, even for me. I lay in a topless, sopping sprawl on the floor, staring up at the still completely intact window. I cursed at it. The only thing I managed to accomplish was that I could now add throbbing knuckles, an aching tailbone, and a bruised ego to my list of various injuries. Now more determined than before, I climbed back up armed with the broken handle from the sink. The window was no match against my new tool, and I let out a small cry of triumph as it shattered.

  Woe be to those that try to stop me! I do not play victim. I am not familiar with that role.

  Five days after my parent’s funeral I had moved two states away, found work as an assistant to a local photographer, cajoled him into issuing me an advance, and was furniture shopping for my new apartment. I don’t do grief or self-pity.

  The window was level to the ground outside and I was back to survey mode before I moved further. I was right about the tropical atmosphere. The heavily scented and thick leafy bushes in front of me told me as much. They were covered in rich, burgundy star-shaped blossoms with white ruffled edges. The sheer intensity of it gave me pause. What else would I encounter outside of the shelter of my cream-colored room? Two beetles with long horns protruding from their heads fought each other on a leaf of the
bush. Caught up in their own struggle, they were oblivious to my own predicament.

  Enough Kaitlyn, get a move on.

  I pulled myself through, grabbing the shrubs as leverage. Freedom achieved, I belatedly realized I was bare from the waist up. I looked back at the room, debated for a moment, then finally re-entered through the obstacle of broken glass. A few cuts and several curse words later I was outside once again, fully clothed. The beetles disappeared into the depth of the bush, both living to fight another day.

  Pressing into the shrubs against the wall for cover, I tried to orient myself, wondering where in the world I was. I was definitely a long way from Canada. A few yards of lush, dark green grass extended out from the bushes and then stopped at the wall of trees. The highest tree must have been at least a hundred feet tall. Broad, straight trunks supported a thick canopy of light green. The chaotic buzzing of insects and other wildlife filtered down from the top. Humidity weighed down the tropical breeze, but not enough to dampen a sweet fragrance in the air. I breathed it in, frowning at the smell that didn’t quite seem to be a spice, but something more of a tangy zest. I tried to place it. It was an odd cross between a southeastern Chinese beach and the orange groves I once photographed near Riverside, California. I’d moved around more often than a military brat as a child, and had a job that put me in sixteen different countries by the time I was twenty-five. Fat lot of good that did me; I still couldn’t place where I was now.

  I looked at the building behind me. It was maybe three stories high, plus the basement, and long. Voices interrupted my examination. My head snapped toward them as I sucked in my stomach…as if that were going to hide me any better.