What Survives of Us (Colorado Chapters Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

fact that she was a practicing Witch.
    And she didn’t even have the courtesy to be subtle about it.  Jack shuffled ahead in the line, keeping his head down but straining to listen to her conversation with the checker just the same.  Everyone was buzzing about the quarantine in Colorado Springs, but not Layla, oh no.  She was talking about the upcoming metaphysical fair in Colorado Springs – she would be reading Tarot there as usual, he learned, and barely repressed a shiver of revulsion.  She and her ilk came close to making him reconsider his doctrine of non-judgment. 
    They disgusted him, with their ridiculous costumes, their cards and crystals and fripperies and geegaws, their talk of past lives, Chakras and Spirits.  All that hoo-ha, of course, appealed enormously to the kids he worked with – always and forever, teens would be drawn to the danger, the mystery, the edge.  And that, Jack told himself, was what made their practices unforgivable:  The corruption of the kids he loved and counseled, the peril to their very souls.  He knew all too well just how real that peril was.
    The checker wished Layla a good morning, promising to look her up at the fair for a reading – Jack made a mental note to add the poor girl to his prayer list – and the line crept forward.  By the time Jack was leaving the store with his groceries, he had put the near-encounter with Layla out of his mind and moved on to a mental list of the tasks he hoped to accomplish that day.  This, of course, made Layla’s unexpected presence in the parking lot all the more unpleasant.
    She was leaning on the bumper of her junker jeep, face lifted to the sun, eyes closed.  Tiny multi-colored beads sparkled in the long strands of her dark hair – he had noticed that she wore it long and loose when she wasn’t working, up and sleek when she was – and a tiny smile lifted the corners of her mouth.  Jack wasn’t sure how old she was – a couple years his senior, if he had to guess – but she looked younger than usual like this, her face open, relaxed and filled with quiet joy.  She was parked right beside him.  Of course.
    Jack resigned himself to the grinding headache as he popped open his trunk and started loading in his groceries.  “Good morning, Layla.  Car trouble?”
    She blinked her eyes open and focused on him.  Her chest lifted in a peaceful sigh before she answered.  “Yep.  Battery’s dead.  I called a friend, but he’s tied up and it’s going to be a while.”  She closed her eyes and lifted her face once more.  “I don’t mind, though.  What a beautiful gift from the Universe this morning, especially after the snow last night – some quiet time to just enjoy the sun.”
    Since her eyes were closed, Jack didn’t refrain from rolling his.  “Sure.”  He finished loading up, shut his trunk, and took his cart to the corral while his conscience gave him all manner of Hell.
    He drove right by her little vine-covered cottage – even her house was clichéd - on his way home.  Literally, right by.  Man, sometimes being a Christian sucked.
    “Layla, I can give you a ride home – you could put away your groceries and come back with your friend later to get your jeep.”
    Those eyes blinked open again.  She had the darkest eyes he had ever seen, black, shining and liquid, like a lake at night.  She smiled.  “That is so thoughtful of you, Jack.  I’ll take your offer, thanks.”
    She loaded her groceries into his back seat, and within moments, he was trapped in the car with her.  She smelled like some weird perfume – probably incense, which would explain his intensifying headache – and she chimed every time she moved.  Bangle bracelets laddered up both arms, multiple ankle bracelets on one ankle, earrings that brushed her shoulders.  How did she think with all that jingling?
    “I’ve been meaning to give you a call,” Layla said, as they pulled out of the parking lot.  “I’ve got a student