Beautifully Broken Read Online Free PDF Page A

so now she was basically an orphan, which made her different enough to have been rejected by the popular kids. And people…well, they just thought I was weird.
    After dropping Ari off, Jillian took a different route home. We drove through the affluent neighborhoods on Pine Street and Acorn Avenue, past mansions built in the style of the grand Victorian era. The estates had curving driveways, high gates, and spacious lawns. I loved, this area with its aesthetic beauty and exquisite designs. The personalities of the buildings and the charming structures spoke to the budding architect lurking inside me. It was said there were more Victorian homes in Whispering Pines and Alameda, based on California’s population, than anywhere else in the country. The styles varied from Eastlake cottage, Queen Anne, to Gothic Revival, that were characterized by steeply pitched roofs, pointed arch windows, hoodmolds over the windows, gingerbread trim along the eaves and gable edges, and the high dormers. The town hadn’t changed much, since many of the houses were built more than a hundred years ago. Over the years, many people moved to Whispering Pines to raise families and to escape the density of San Francisco and Oakland, mostly charmed by the antiquated architecture. The stuff I loved.
    Although Whispering Pines appeared serene among the lush landscape, like other coastal towns, twilight would signal the churning fog to ominously surround the town. Neighborhoods would be bathed in an eerie mist when nightfall’s dark veil fell upon the earth. In Whispering Pines, people locked their doors at night and kept their children inside. They didn’t talk about the fog hovering over the streets. It was as if the community realized long ago the divider between our world and the supernatural realm was gossamer thin. Night was a time when ancient magick purred seductively to anyone who dared to listen. From an early age, I’d heard the rumors about the town curse. To others, the rumors were urban legend. To me, reality. Because I saw what others only gossiped about.
    Blocks from home, Jillian stopped the car. I knew where we were. On our right stood an unusual mansion, its perimeters barricaded with a high wrought-iron gate. Crickets sang and dragonflies buzzed the entrance. Grass grew wild and tall in the yard, sprouting through the cracks in the cement path leading to the portico. The monstrous Gothic mansion was vast and rambling and wilting. It consumed the sky and blotted out the weak sun. Harsh seasons had torn shingles off the roof. Windows were randomly boarded shut. Tall, thorny weeds grew rampant and towering trees threatened to overtake, overwhelm, and engulf the grounds. Wind rustling between the oaks whispered of an ageless fear. Shrouded in shadows, nocturnal things slithered through the grass like snakes. A crooked No Trespassing sign hung from the newel post.
      A prickling sensation glided over my body then settled in my stomach. Ground fog swirled and transformed, rising high, forming into a distinct shape in front of me. An apparition with bleak sapphire eyes. The wraith from church floated closer.
    Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap.
    Jillian twisted in her seat and stared out the passenger-side window at the house. “Ravenhurst.” she said more to herself than to me. Then an odd note of urgency entered her voice. “Ohhh, oh no. It can’t be.”
    I cast a glance at Jillian. Her fingers clutched the steering wheel until they turned white. Her eyes narrowed and glowed like a fire replenishing itself. The eyes of a huntress.
    I looked back at the wraith, then at Jillian again. Does she see it too?
    My stomach did frightened flips. A wintry sense of dread hit me. Rising anxiety made my breathing shallow. I raised my sleeve and the uneven, raised skin on my arm was warm to the touch. My gut twisted on the lump of fear anchoring me to the seat. Again, a strange sense of familiarity stole over me.
    The wraith soared next to the car door.