Tempest in Disguise (Darkest Faerie Tale Series Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

The curtains flapped against the opened window. They must have jumped out.
    Mya turned around in the room, her heart nearly exploding as she glanced around. Slowly, the innards of the house burned, ready to consume the entire dwelling. Her entire life was in this home. All the memories she had of her mother and father. What could she grab quick enough to take out of the house? She jogged back into her room and flung open the closet door. A crate of photo albums sat on the floor in the corner and she dragged them out.
    She quickly scanned the rest of the room, taking inventory of the most important things she could save from being burned. Everyone always thought about worst case scenarios, how they might react, what they would do—but when the real thing actually happened, all of those plans dissipated when panic set in.
    The smoke became overbearing and she coughed into her elbow. Her baby blanket. The yellow and white gingham blanket her mother made before she was born. Sure, it may be a tattered rag, but it couldn’t be replaced. She fumbled on the shelf of her closet, searching for the blanket—the last physical connection she truly had of her mother. Her hands slapped across the warmed wood blindly searching as the room started turned into a hazy suffocating gray. She found the blanket and ripped it off the shelf.
    Mya knew she needed to get out, but this was her parent’s house before they died and soon, everything would be gone. So many memories. She closed her eyes for a moment, the smoldering house around her burning to ashes from the inside. Rushing back through the bedroom with her blanket in hand and the crate of pictures, she swiped her cell off the nightstand and stuffed it into her back pocket.
    Staying low to the ground, she gathered the tiny memories she gripped in her hands and bolted down stairs. The doorknob seared her palm as she reached for it. Shit. She jerked her hand back and waved it in the air like the action would make the burning stop. Glass shattered and her heart jumped. The windows cracked and popped against the growing heat. She ducked and shielded her face as shards shot across the room.
    She kicked the remaining glass out of the window and hopped over the frame with the crate and blanket in tow. The sun barely began to rise as she made it out toward the sidewalk and dropped everything on the grass, staring at her home—deconstructing between the walls.
    Joints on the still standing house shook, lowering the structure a foot or two. Think Mya, is there anything else you need? Her head ran through the gamut. My mother’s china. The silver. My father’s guns. Gun’s my grandfather had owned. My mother’s wedding ring. She clasped a hand over her mouth. For seven generations the gaudy, diamond ring passed through her mother’s family, she couldn’t let the fire ravage it. But, there wasn’t a fire, not yet—strange, yet eerie, watching the house burn from its innards out, everything in reverse. She couldn’t even get her car out of the garage. If she started the engine, it might blow up from the fumes coming out of the walls.
    She glanced up and down the street, across the road, seeking help, trying to find anyone who might be able to help her. The emptiness around her consumed her. She couldn’t let it all burn.
    Her Unseelie side kicked in. She darted back in, crouching down, and took the stairs two at a time, going back to her bedroom—the room her parents shared when they were alive. The room with the king bed, the one her parents slept in, the same one she used to crawl into every night as a child when she had a nightmare. It was funny how tragedy brought up memories when one panicked.
    She whipped the closet doors open. When did I close them? Shaking her head, she reached to the corner of the shelf, back further. Heat radiated from the wood threatening to sear her skin. Under some hats, her hand stretched, until she latched onto the little wooden box. The house wobbled,