Waking the Dead (The Second Rising Series Book 1)

  Copyright © 2018 Amber Garr

  www.ambergarr.com

  This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

  If you’ve illegally downloaded this book for free, stop it. No one likes a thief. Authors put a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into their work and only I should choose whether or not I offer it for free. Besides, after reading my books, you should be leery about what happens to thieves.

  Cover Design by Amber Garr

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Waterfall Sneak Peek

  Newsletter Sign Up

  About The Author

  Other Titles Available

  WAKING THE DEAD

  Two decades ago when a magical war nearly destroyed all societies, those with supernatural gifts emerged from the shadows to help save the humans. Yet despite their contributions, the Magic Users are still treated like second-class citizens, being forced to register like criminals and monitored by traitors to their own kind.

  As a necromancer hiding her talents, Cressa struggles to raise enough money to free her mother from the Reformatory, a place far worse than prison. With a brother who’s working against her and graduation on the line, Cressa finds it difficult to follow the laws of her world. And when the alluring Noah enters her life with an opportunity to take back what is hers, she can’t resist the temptation to break all of the rules. Even her own.

  But Noah’s intentions are not clear, and his own mysterious background lands Cressa in the middle of a supernatural battle she hadn’t bargained for. He has plans of his own, and whether or not Cressa fits into them, is a question she must answer alone. Preferably before her heart makes that decision for her.

  The first time I watched my father die, I felt nothing. Not because I didn’t care, but because I couldn’t process what was happening.

  So when I watched him die again tonight, I would try to feel something. Although with all of the crying and sadness I’d endured at the viewing earlier today, I might be too drained to live up to my promises.

  “Are you sure we should be doing this, Cressa?”

  My older brother, River, rocked back and forth against the door frame, positioning himself as far away from my father’s corpse as he could get. I chuckled to myself. It wasn’t like he was going to jump out of his coffin or anything. Well, at least not yet.

  “We have to,” I said, gently setting my supplies on the white satin blanket covering the lower half of my father’s body. “He never told us where she is.”

  “Well, maybe that’s because we’re not supposed to know.” River’s hushed steps contradicted his large frame. Girls idealized him, woman loved him. Despite being a second-class magic user, River’s handsome face and overbearing confidence had helped him carve out a successful high school life. Too bad he didn’t have that kind of determination when it came to finding our mother.

  The knife in my hand fell to the floor when River touched my shoulder. The sound of metal echoed through the room despite landing on the awful blood-red carpet. “What are you doing?” I yelled through gritted teeth. “I told you to stay back.”

  River looked down at me with a scowl. “What if someone comes in here?”

  “Didn’t you set the protection wards?” It was the only thing I’d asked him to do, thinking it would help him feel needed at the same time we kept any curious workers out of the room.

  “Of course I did,” River huffed. “But I don’t know what will happen when they encounter your kind of magic.”

  “My kind of magic?” I set the knife in my dad’s open casket and turned to face my brother. With arms crossed, I said, “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

  “Stop being so dramatic, Cressa.” River walked back over to the doorway that led to the public viewing area of the funeral home. He leaned his head out, taking an annoyingly long time to explain his comment. “I just don’t know how the two will mix, that’s all.”

  River had always been jealous of my abilities. Despite inheriting good looks and enough magic that he had to register with the Imperium, I knew he hated the fact that I’d gained my father’s gifts.

  “It will be fine,” I mumbled, turning back to the coffin and rolling up my sleeve. “Mom and dad mixed their spells all of the time.”

  “Yeah, until mom disappeared,” River snapped.

  I closed my eyes to fight against the tears that developed every time I thought of her. She’d be gone for three years now, yet every day when I’d get home, I hoped that it had all been a really bad dream. Or that someone had mistakenly sent us into a time warp. But after the first year, everyone had given up. They claimed she left us for a common human. But I knew that she loved my father just as much as she loved being one of us. There’s no way she would have abandoned it all.

  “Hurry up,” River whispered into my ear, startling me yet again.

  I glared at him then picked up the knife. He took a step back, and a small smile danced across my face. I would never hurt my brother, but he needed to be respectful all the same.

  “This isn’t going to be pretty,” I said.

  “Why?” River asked.

  “Are you serious? Have you learned nothing about our rituals?”

  “I didn’t want to watch the two of you bring dead things back to life. So, no. I don’t know what you’re about to do.”

  Letting out a deep breath, I lowered the knife to grab the chicken foot and lock of hair lying across my father’s stomach. “Every time a necromancer beings life back to the dead, a sacrifice must be made.”

  “Sacrifice?” River’s face drained of all color and I thought he was going to pass out right in front of me. Would the wards hold if he did?

  “Blood, usually. Not a complete death.”

  “So what’s up with those?” he asked, gesturing to the items in my hand.

  “They’re kind of like my familiars.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t have time to explain this to you. Just know that I need these three things to bring dad back to life tonight.”

  River rolled his shoulders and mashed his lips together. I knew he hated feeling inadequate, but there just wasn’t enough time to go into the intricacies of Necromancy 101.

  Voices in the distance caught our attention and River rushed to the door. After a few seconds, he waved to me. “We’re good, but hurry up.”

  Well if you had any trust in your magic, we’d be just fine, I thought to myself. Then I felt bad. Thankfully, River couldn’t read my mind.

  I rearranged the chicken foot and the hair on either side of my father’s head, and picked up the knife. Clearing my thoughts of all worries, I let my mind
wonder into a dark hole of nothingness. Concentration was key, and since I hadn’t ever raised a human body before, it would be prudent to focus.

  “What? You’ve never done this before?” River squawked.

  “How? How did you know that?” I asked, trying to push any extra thoughts from my head. It worked, and although I’d need to talk to River about his question later, I fell into my zone and began the ritual.

  “What are you—”

  River’s question was cut off the moment I sliced open the palm of my hand. It had hurt every single time, but tonight felt different. Painless almost.

  “Cressa, you’re bleeding!”

  River reached for me, but I jerked my hands away, rubbing the blood on the knife as I did. I spoke my words softly, knowing the power they held. “Restituo animus. Restituo vita.”

  And then I plunged the silver, blood-coated blade into my father’s chest.

  “Cressa!” River yelled at the same time my father’s corpse sat straight up. I didn’t expect it to happen so quickly…the animals never reacted this fast. Although maybe it had something to do with the knife in his chest. Or the blood relation…

  “What did you do?” River whispered, arms pulling me away from the coffin and closer to the door.

  Large, vacant eyes stared at us both. Taking in the scene around him, my father patted his chest and tapped the side of the ridiculously expensive box we’d been forced to purchase for him. “Cresssssaaaa?” His voice rattled in the back of his throat, making almost a gurgling sound that sent my hairs on end.

  “Where is she?” I asked, knowing our time would be limited. My stomach was already churning with dread. “Where is our mother?”

  The reanimated corpse continued to look at us, head tilting slightly to the side and mouth gaping like a fish. “Gone,” he finally said.

  I broke free of River’s grasp and ran closer to my dad. Only being dead two days meant that my father looked just as I remembered him. A sharp pain clawed at my guts, and I grabbed the side of the coffin to steady myself. “Gone where?” I groaned.

  “Reformatoryyyyy.”

  The word gurgled out of his mouth in disgust and my heart dropped in fear. The Reformatory was worse than prison. It was like Hell to a magic user. Why had she been placed in there? And why didn’t he tell me this sooner.

  “You…” my father slurred as he pointed to River. “You will fail.”

  River’s cheeks flushed and he glared at the corpse. “Someone’s coming, Cressa,” he said with no emotion. “Finish this.”

  For a person who didn’t understand my rituals, he seemed a bit demanding. But River was right. Waves of nausea pushed through my stomach, lurching to my toes and skittering up to my head. I’d had this corpse alive long enough.

  Just as a pair of footsteps sounded in the hallway, I reached forward and grabbed the knife protruding from my father’s chest.

  “I love you, dad,” I said, and yanked the dagger free.

  His head hit the white satin pillow and my fingers burned with the heat of the knife. And a second before we were discovered, I ran to the foot of the coffin, and hurled into the small trash can sitting next to it.

  I really needed a new chicken foot.

  Preferably one that had been properly preserved and wouldn’t start to stink up my bag in a few weeks. But it was my fault. I shouldn’t have been in such a rush at the store, even though I now thought the old lady would have sold me an expired foot regardless of the situation.

  Brit grabbed her nose when she walked into my room, crinkling up her perfectly smooth forehead. “Jesus, Cressa. What died in here?” Waving her hand around in front of her face, she plopped down on the bed next to the offending odor. My bag tumbled to the side, knife falling out and cards spilling across my comforter.

  “Do you mind?” I asked my roommate. While we usually meshed with our living arrangements, the concept of personal space seemed as foreign to her as a bad mood.

  “You have a gig tonight?” Brit picked up the knife and twirled it in the air. Her short, blonde hair kept falling in front of her eyes with each pretend stab.

  “Yeah,” I grumbled while trying to tuck my thick mess of dark hair up under the purple wig. “I wouldn’t call it a gig, though. More like a humiliating side show.”

  “Where?” she asked. Continuing to play with my supplies, she deftly ignored my obvious desire to not discuss my means of making money.

  I grabbed one of the cards out of her fingers, smiling at her pout. “Some frat house.”

  “Close to downtown?”

  “Yes,” I answered hesitantly. Holding my hand out, Brit placed the knife in my palm and jumped to her feet.

  “Good. Let’s meet up after.” She bounced on her heels, excitement dripping from her skin.

  I scrutinized her face, wondering what had her grinning like a fool. “Why?”

  “Why what?” she asked.

  “Why do you want to go out?”

  Brit crossed her arms and cocked her hip. “Cressa, stop acting like an old lady. I want to go out because we’re in college and that’s what college girls do.”

  “No, there’s something else going on…” My voice trailed off as I tried to read her. I may not be a telepath, but I’d been taught the fine art of paying attention to detail. Her pupils dilated, her nostrils flared, and a slight blush crept up her neck. “Who’s the guy?”

  Brit uncrossed her arms and shook her head. “What? How did you?” She narrowed her eyes and stomped closer to me. “Did you just read my mind?”

  “I told you I can’t do that kind of magic.” As much as I tried to suppress it, a grin spread wide across my face.

  “But you’re one of them.”

  I raised a brow. “One of what, exactly?”

  “One of the magic users.”

  “So?” I ignored her glare and continued shoving the supplies for my job back into my bag. The putrid stench of the foot nearly made me gag. I’d have to get another one after tonight.

  “So you can do magic!” Brit cried out.

  I looked around the room in mock horror. “I can?” Crossing my hand over my heart, I feigned shock and threw in my fake British accent. “But what will become of me?”

  “Stop it, Cressa.” Brit tried to look angry but I could see through her façade. “Do you swear you can’t read my mind?”

  Sighing, I turned and faced her, palms out to express my innocence. “I may be able to bring your grandmother back to life, but I swear that I can’t read your mind.”

  She stepped over to me and straightened my wig. “What are you going to wear?”

  And just like that, Brit got over her fear of my magic. At least for now. It had been a long journey over the last year of our roommate experience. But she seemed to cope with the idea that people like me existed. Better than most of the world did.

  Then again, had we not existed, most of the world would be dead.

  “Cressa?” Brit asked, waiting for a chance to dress me like a doll.

  “This,” I said, waving my hands up and down my body.

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Yes, I am.” I turned and looked in the full length mirror leaning against my wall. The cropped purple wig complemented my black jeans and black blouse perfectly. “This is what I always wear.”

  “Exactly,” Brit said with a groan. “You want to get a big tip, right?”

  “People tip me for my magic skills, not for what I’m wearing.” But my protests were lost on her. She’d already started digging through my closet—way in the back where I stored things never meant to been worn in public.

  “How about this?” She held up a black corset I didn’t think I could even squeeze into anymore.

  “It won’t match the jeans,” I stated.

  “No,” she said, voice muffled in the closet again. “But it will match this!”

  Her excitement wasn’t contagious. I looked at the purple and black can-can skirt and shook my head. “That’s part of a
Halloween costume.”

  “I know.”

  “I haven’t worn that in years.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m not wearing that now.”

  Brit rolled her eyes and laid the two pieces of obscene clothing on the bed. Arranging them like they were on a mannequin, she bit her lip and stepped back to admire her work. I stayed near the corner.

  “It’s missing something…” she said, tapping her chin. “Oh!” Running over to my dresser, she completely ignored the glare I tossed in her direction. Digging through my top drawer like she knew where everything was should have concerned me. But I was too frightened for what might be brewing inside her pretty, blonde head to comprehend that thought.

  Finally, she slammed the drawer shut and turned around with a garter belt and pair of thigh highs in her hands.

  “Where did you get that?” I gasped. “Those aren’t mine.”

  “I know. I hid them in here so my mom wouldn’t find them.” Brit’s mother would show up for random check-ins and had a bad habit of cleaning my roommate’s room. Talk about overbearing.

  “This is what you need,” she continued.

  “Oh, no way.” Nope. Not going to happen.

  “You’re going to entertain a bunch of drunken frat boys, right?”

  I nodded.

  “And you want to make enough money to get your mom out of the Reformatory, right?”

  She knew right where to hit. I nodded again, only this time a little slower.

  “So, ham it up. Show those boys that not only can you entertain them with magic, you can serve as eye candy too.”

  “Brit…” I groaned.

  “Those rich boys will pay you double if they think they can get a little something extra out of you.” She crossed the room and cornered me. Her small hands grasped my shoulders and she shook me once. “Use all of your talents, Cressa. Trust me.”

  “I’m not a magic slut, Brit. I don’t do those kinds of tricks.” The lump in my throat started to shrink, but I couldn’t deny that her suggestion wasn’t a good one. I still had ten thousand more dollars to raise before I could see my mother again.