Annabella Volta is an Arkanian, a shy and nice girl, the only daughter of a furrier family. She likes to paint her jeans and - just like Molly - she also plays the guitar. Her secret? She is in love with Weston.
EXCERPT
Fields of Elysium
A YA romantic fantasy
“What are you doing, Victor?” Weston asked, awe-struck, breaking the moment of life and death.
“You do know that we can’t let her go now,” Victor growled between his teeth.
“I’m sure she means no harm to us,” Weston countered, his voice unnaturally even, considering the situation.
“You give me no choice, Weston! I can’t let her get away, knowing what she knows about us. And it’s all your fault,” Victor thundered at me, his eye twitching again.
“I didn’t do anything. I didn’t …” I stuttered, my voice trembling with frustration.
“But you will!” Victor snarled.
“Are you mad, Victor? You must calm yourself down.” Weston laid a hand on his shoulder, but Victor shrugged it off.
“Look what you’ve done, Weston. By bringing her here, you force me to do something I didn’t want to do.”
The string of the bow tightened once again, and I gasped in horror. I needed a miracle.
And as if the heavens answered my prayer, a cheerful girl burst through the door, her face full of anticipation. Her orange-shaded red hair came down in wavy locks to her back. She wore a short plaid skirt and bright top with a boat neck hanging over her shoulders. The strap of a guitar was crossed between her breasts.
“So it is true,” she said in an angelic voice, pulling the strap over her head and setting the guitar on the floor.
“Why, have I ever lied to you?” Weston said, smiling. “I found her.”
It was strange to listen to these people talking about me like I wasn’t there. They were so kind to me earlier, at the campfire. What had I done to Victor to make him treat me so dreadfully? And all that, while Weston talked about me like I was a new species of animal he discovered?
“What’s the Terraka?” I asked, my stomach in a knot.
“Terrakas are exactly what you are: troublemakers from Earth. You come here and make us slaves, kill our parents, and …” Victor trailed off, his eyes boring into the space down the hallway.
“There are others here from Earth?” I asked, shocked.
“Why, you thought you were the only one who found the Sacred Passage?” Victor snapped, his eyes sparkling with irony.
The skin on my face started to burn as if tongues of fire were licking at it.
How could Victor hate me so much when he doesn’t even know me?
“I don’t know who those other people are and what they did to you, but I’m not one of them,” I whispered, on the verge of tears.
“You are. You just don’t know yet.”
“Leave her alone, Victor.” The girl stepped between us, pushing him away. His arm relaxed, but the arrow was still pointing at me.
“Don’t listen to him. He’s just bitter because he suffered a lot in the past. I’m Annabella, by the way, but just call me Ann.”
“Molly.” I breathed and showed her a faint smile of appreciation for helping me.
“This is amazing,” Ann gushed, fidgeting in front of me excitedly. “How old are you? Who are your parents? …” she bombarded me with questions, but my ears tuned her out. I glanced at Victor over her shoulders. The bow was parallel with his legs now as he paced up and down in front of Weston’s room, squeezing the back of his neck. He had a strange haircut. In the middle of the back of his head his dark blond hair was divided in half. The top part was longer and pulled back into a braid held by a leather strip, while the bottom was shaved to almost nothing. It was so unique and quite masculine.
Lean muscles bulged on his arms as he carried his bow around, obviously struggling with himself. Then suddenly he stopped, pulled the bow over his head and fixed its black leather string over his chest. There was a sheaf of arrows in a black quiver on his back, and I gulped just from the mere thought of why he brought them. I lowered my eyes to his straight black pants and knee-high black leather boots with silver buckles, which clinked together as he moved around. I could hardly draw a breath just by looking at him. He was the most beautiful thing I’d ever laid eyes on. Beautiful, but furious.
Then he stopped and fixed his eyes on me as if he could hear what was I thinking. I held his gaze, not because I was confident enough, but because physically I was unable to move my eyes away.
Written and illustrated by A.B. Whelan
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Ends 5/18/14
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From the Author
I'm the author of the Fields of Elysium saga, which I like to call a young adult romantic fantasy. The first book of the series was inspired by amazing movies like Dirty Dancing, Avatar, and Twilight and earned praise from prestigious review companies and readers. I'm currently working on book three and four, and planning to write one more novella to finish the series, dedicated to another very interesting character in my story, The Prophet, the mysterious leader of the Arkanians.
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