Carrie May Frisco left home to find her mom, who mysteriously disappeared. She misses many things about home on her trekk to find her mom's kidnappers, but the two things she doesn't miss come back to find her. George Kentin, and the Pack. But now, George needs her help. She agrees to go home, after they find her mom. What will happen on her journies?
Chapter 1: My Old Life Comes Back to Bite Me in the ...
In a world of Cheerios, I was a Froot Loop. That's what my friends always told me. They even called me Froot Loop. Well, they used to. After my mom disappeared and I set off to find her, I hadn't seen anyone I knew.
I rushed through the throng of people pushing me the opposite way. I was following a lead, and I had to get to the Arch before noon. I slipped my hand into my pocket and felt the small, deadly dagger that I carried with me everywhere. I brushed my thumb along the decorative inscription that ridged its sheath.
"Carrie!" a voice said loudly, pulling me out of my thoughts. I glanced around, my fist clenched around my weapon. I hadn't heard my name called in so long. Why was that voice so familiar? "Carrie!" the voice shouted again. I spun to the sound in the busy St. Louis street. He weaved in and out of the other pedestrians. Dark brown hair... Tan skin... Light green eyes... Holy crap! What the hell was HE doing here?
"Carrie! I can't believe I found you!" George Kentin shouted. I spun around and started to run. About a half second later, he was standing in front of me. I should've known it was useless. George was the fastest person I knew. I had to try something else.
I faked a punch at his face, and he ducked, falling into a crouch. I kicked upward and almost connected with his nose. But he pulled back just in time. He fell backwards, thrown off-balance. I spun away from him and sprinted towards the looming silver structure.
Two seconds later, he was right in front of me again, though this time he was out of breath. I groaned. There was just no getting rid of him. By this time, people had backed away, but were still ignoring us. No one wanted to get involved in personal issues.
I slowly lifted my hand out of my pocket until he could see the handle of the knife I held. His green eyes widened. “Leave me the hell alone, or things are going to get bloody,” I threatened. His eyes flickered back to my face. I could see it written in his eyes; he was shocked at how much I’d changed. He slowly raised his arm, showing the symbol I’d seen a hundred times tattooed on his wrist. But now I knew what it meant. I glared at him, wishing I didn’t know. Something inside me broke. I put my weapon away and fell to my knees, crying out of anger.
Hate burning in my chest, I watched as his black Converse stepped towards me. He crouched down.
"Carrie, please listen. Come back with me. There's something I think you need to know," George asked quietly, taking my wrist.
“I don’t care about the stupid Pack,” I growled, ripping my arm away. “I don’t give a crap anymore! I won’t listen to you.” But I knew I had no choice.
“Carrie, I’m not forcing you to obey me. In fact,” he hesitated, before pulling a beautifully crafted sword out of a well-hidden sheath straight down the side of his loose jeans. I knew right away it was just for ceremonies. A sword with an emerald-encrusted hilt and a bronze sheath was not meant to be wielded against an opponent.
People around us gasped and began whispering to each other. No one had seen a sword since… well; most of them had never seen one. He unsheathed the beautiful silver sword. Many more people began whispering.
One brave man stepped out from the forming crowd and said, “Hey, don’t do anything rash.” His hands were up in surrender, but he was slowly moving to George.
I shouted, “Don’t interfere. Anyone who tries to stop this will have to deal with so much more than they can handle.” I knew they didn’t know what was going on, but I figured hearing it from me would show them that they couldn’t help.
The man whispered, “Are you suicidal?”
I shook my head. “He won’t hurt me. You don’t want to get involved. Trust me.” He hesitated for a second before he melted back into the crowd.
George tilted the sword to me. I shifted so I knelt on one knee and bent my head to the ground. “Carrie May Frisco, I, George Anthony Kentin, Lieutenant Colonel of the Pack, hereby release you of your binding contractual duties to the collective Pack, me, and any other individual included in or associated with the Pack. Any individual that shows you the symbol of the Pack now has no ability to force you into obeying their orders. I speak with the authority of the entire Pack in releasing you, and I take into account the will of the Pack as I speak these words. Now I release you forever, Carrie May Frisco.” As he spoke these words, he pressed the flat of his blade against each of my shoulders twice.
When he finished, I stood. Literally, I felt as though a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I stared at George, confused for more than one reason.
“Why’d you do that?” I asked.
“I need you to trust me. You can’t be obligated to obey me and still trust me. Carrie, there’s big trouble back home. We have to go back. Please,” he said. I could tell he really needed me. I just couldn’t understand why. And it didn’t matter, because I wasn’t going home without my mom.
"George, I'm not -" I glanced around at all the curious, confused faces. "Let's talk somewhere else." He nodded and led me to a tiny coffeeshop set in the back of a strip mall.