Emotionally Charged

  Emotionally Charged

  By S.A. Fenech

  Empath Chronicles Book One

  Teenagers with superpowers fueled by emotions... What could go wrong?

  Young Adult Paranormal/Superhero Romance – Recommended Reading Age 10+

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Need More Empaths?

  A Personal Thank You from Selina

  About the Author

  Free Chapter from Empath Chronicles Book 2 - Emotionally Unstable

  Copyright Information

  Chapter One

  I stared at the crack that ran up our living room wall.

  The ground had stopped shaking, but tremors still zinged through my body. Did that really just happen?

  I couldn’t drag my eyes away from that lightning-shaped fracture scarring the wall. Apart from the contents of our shelves that were now on the floor — books, ornaments, a plaster “Olivia” I’d painted when I was five, now smashed to bits — it seemed to be the only visible damage. I should probably have been upset by it, but instead I felt... excited. The crack gave me shivers like it was carved up my spine. That really just happened.

  The floor rumbled under my feet and I shared a look with Mom and Dad, all three of us ready to bolt out of the home we’d just re-entered after fleeing for the first time.

  The aftershock passed before we could move. Just the last little ripple after the wave.

  We’d always known our town was near a major fault, but it was one of those sleepy fault lines that didn’t do anything for decades, centuries even. Then just when everyone in our middle-class paradise had achieved a false sense of security, here it was, throwing a great big earthquake at us.

  Dad talked on the phone to his cop buddy to get all the details and updates. He repeated the news out loud for Mom and me to hear.

  “Power’s out everywhere, and Terry doesn’t think they’ll get it back on any time soon.”

  Mom had already gathered up her collection of scented candles, those that hadn’t broken in a fall, and lit them. Her first course of action in any blackout. The whole room smelled of struck matches and ylang ylang.

  “Mom, it’s not even dark yet.”

  “They make me feel better,” she said, shrugging and lighting the last one.

  Dad put his hand over the phone and looked at Mom seriously. “Terry says there have been reports of people looting.”

  Mom paused a moment, then stomped into the kitchen and picked up a brush and dustpan. “The kind of person who would take advantage of a situation like this deserves their own personal karmic earthquake.”

  My imagination teased me with scenes of what could be happening out on the streets. Broken buildings where looters, police officers, and emergency response crews played their roles. I imagined a world of adventure outside. Bad guys and heroes. Handsome heroes.

  Mom was always pushing me to follow my dreams, but truthfully, the only things I wanted were fantasies. Damseling for a gorgeous superhero, escaping to a magical world with a fairy prince, being adored by a morally vague vampire: I’d take any of the above. In real-life terms, I didn’t know what I wanted. I just knew if I ever got a chance to follow my fantasy dreams I’d be there with bells on. Real life was kind of dull, and maybe an earthquake wasn’t the romantic escapism I normally went for, but I could work with it. Even a sexy fireman would suffice.

  I daydreamed as I kneeled down next to Mom where she worked at brushing up shattered ornaments that had fallen from our shelves. Her collection of ceramic owls would never be the same. I helped pick up the few which had broken into larger pieces and put them aside. Mom loved her owls. Maybe some could be glued back together.

  Dad’s news report continued. “We were lucky. A lot of people have lost homes. And the old post office is flattened, but we’ve been expecting it to fall down for years. How many times did I try to tell the council to get it renovated?”

  Mom counted on her fingers and Dad added his own fingers into the count too while he listened to the phone again. “There’s a shelter being set up in Livvy’s high school for anyone whose house is unsafe.”

  I bet they needed volunteers. The shaken world felt full of possibility and I wanted to be part of it. Even handing out blankets had my mind brewing up dreams of romance. Mopping at the brow of a dust covered EMT who’d just saved a puppy from a crumbled home...

  I have to get out there. “Mom, can I go and help at the school?”

  Mom looked up at me. A glow of pride and the darkness of worry showed all over her face.

  I could read the emotions clear as subtitles. For as long as I could remember, I’d been able to see energy shining from a person with their emotions. Not like an aura or anything; that sounded so New Age woo-woo. I was just good at knowing how people felt. Always had been. It was my one and only superpower. When I was a kid, I used to dress up and play at being a caped crime fighter, Awesome Olivia. Then I’d realized reading someone’s feelings wasn’t the kind of power that was useful in a fist fight. But it did come in handy sometimes.

  I pre-empted the inevitable worried mom speech with soothing words. “I’ll just be helping out in a shelter, under the watchful eye of aid workers, responsible adults and doctors. Probably the safest place at the moment, right?”

  “You know I like to let you make your own choices but things sound pretty rough out there. I don’t want you to get hurt.” She looked at the dustpan and brush in her hands as though making a point about the damage the earthquake had done. Her startling blue eyes turned back toward me. Why couldn’t I have inherited those? My eyes were brown instead, to match my hair which she guilted me out of dyeing. Harsh chemicals didn’t fit her idea of green living.

  I could win this debate though. “Just think how appealing some volunteer work will look on my college application as an extracurricular activity. And I can swing past your shop and make sure it’s okay.”

  “I hope there’s not too much damage. I just had a porcelain shipment come in. Great timing, right? I’d go check myself but there’s so much to do here.” She paused, chewed at her bottom lip. “All right, off you go then, but be careful.”

  Dad finished his phone call and kissed the top of my head when I stood up, his moustache tickling my forehead. “I think it’s a beautiful idea, Lollipop. Good on you for wanting to help out.”

  Mom walked over to empty her dustpan, sighing as shattered owls tumbled into the trash. Shards of pink rolled in and I knew it was the remains of her favorite one. Dad gave her a hug as though they were standing by the grave of a beloved relative.

  I saw how sad Mom was and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll be careful. And I’ll keep an eye out for any owls needing adoption on my way.” I threw on my red trench coat, chucked my phone, keys and wallet in the pockets, and headed for the door.

  “Buses are still running, Livvy,” Dad called out. “There’s a clear route to your high school. Just a couple of hours, o
kay? Be safe.”

  “Of course,” I replied. “See you soon.”

  The air outside had a hint of dust and sense of silent awe. People filled the street, gossiping in relieved whispers. A hairline crack across a nearby pavement had drawn the attention five or so local kids, who stared at it the way I had stared at the one in my home—as though it could snap open like a monster’s maw at any second and engulf me.

  Sirens sounded in the distance.

  The possibilities of what could happen tonight, and an intense desire for adventure ... or something ... made my body hum. I pulled my trench coat tight around me and set off.

  Chapter Two

  This. This was what I was made for. I felt like I was actually glowing or vibrating, or something.

  “Bless. You’re just an angel.” A woman with a cloud of white hair patted my hand as she took a blanket from me. She smiled, but I felt the tremble in her palm and sensed her fear.

  It made me tingle.

  I felt like some kind of weirdo. These people were here because their homes were too unsafe to stay in, or gone entirely. I saw fear and sadness on every face, felt it in my bones, and there I was, bubbling over on some kind of weird high.

  What is wrong with me?

  I’d felt it before I’d even reached the shelter. On the bus ride, a buzz had built in me the closer I’d got to the school and it’d been non-stop since. I wasn’t sure how many blankets I’d handed out or how many people I’d escorted into the gym, finding them a patch of ground to rest on. Any injured went straight to the hospital, but I still felt like a warrior helping out in the aftermath of a battle. Handsome heroes so far had been non-existent, sadly. I remained hopeful and kept busy. I’d listened to people’s stories of the earthquake, dragged restless children back to their parents, and helped unload the cartons of bottled water the local U-Mart trucked in. The cartons felt feather-light—I was on such a high. I’ll probably be aching tomorrow. I’d tripped over twice, my feet wanting to move faster than I could keep up with, and my hands twitched and jittered. It was probably adrenaline. Maybe I needed to take a break.

  I found my way to the volunteer’s area and cracked open a bottle of water. I squeezed it too hard as I was drinking and splashed water all over my chest. Well at least it’s a perfect set up for a meet-cute. I held my breath, wishing this was the moment my hero would appear and be enamored by my clumsiness. But the only man approaching was my history teacher. I sighed and patted myself dry with paper towels.

  Trevor was also the coordinator for the shelter. Any other day he was Mr. Jones, but today he insisted on being Trevor. He leaned on a bench next to me and pushed the sweat up off his forehead and back over his head, slicking graying hair away from his face.

  “Thanks for all your help tonight, Olivia.” His voice came out as a long sigh. “I wish I still had a teenager’s stamina. Is this your first break? You’ve been at it for hours.”

  Hours? It felt like twenty minutes, tops. My eyes popped wide. “What’s the time?”

  I pulled my phone from my pocket for the first time and saw it was half past eleven. I also saw three missed calls and two texts from my mom, and a couple from my BFF Nati. I should have checked in with her. Where is my head tonight? Maybe it wasn’t me buzzing, just my phone doing its vibro-dance in my pocket.

  Trevor watched me with concern as I grimaced. “Sure you’re okay?”

  “I’ll be fine, as long as my parents don’t kill me.” I tapped the screen to call them back and got nothing but failed calls. No bars meant no signal. The messages left by my parents were all from back before seven o’clock. The last bus ran at ten-thirty, and thanks to my parents’ hippy car-free household policy, last bus translated to curfew and I knew it. Especially on the evening of a mid-level natural disaster. I was going to find myself on the wrong end of a serious lecture, assuming I could find a way home.

  Trevor watched my hopeless phone poking. “Phone towers have battery backups which work for a couple of hours, but in a long blackout like this they will have cut out by now.”

  Even if I could get through, I had no way to get home that wasn’t going to put out the neighbors, or worse, Terry. I cringed. A ride with him in his cop car was not the way I wanted to arrive home.

  Maybe I could stay in the shelter for the night. I just had to let my parents know I was here and safe.

  “Sorry Mr. um... Trevor. I sort of maybe kind of missed my ride home.”

  Trevor looked around the gym. Everyone was settled in, many asleep already. Even half the volunteers had curled up in a corner somewhere as the influx of new people had slowed down. “I could ask around for a lift for you, or—”

  “I’m happy to stay.”

  He sighed. “Yes, fine, you can stay, if you can find a spare blanket and bit of floor. Landlines are still working if you want to use the phone in the office to let your parents know. Briefly. Have to keep the line clear for official calls.”

  “Do you think you could call them for me?” I hated talking on the phone. I couldn’t see people’s reactions, couldn’t tell how they were feeling and always ended up saying the wrong thing, even at the best of times. And now was far from the best of times. “It would just be better if a teacher told them, instead of me. You know, someone of authority.”

  And yes, I was also dodging the lecture.

  Trevor rubbed his forehead, the pen still in his hand marking it blue. He added my name to his clipboard. “Go on. I’ll call them. School’s off for the week and people are going to be here a while, so if you want to help out again tomorrow everyone would appreciate it.”

  Sounded like an offer I couldn’t refuse. I nodded gratefully and he took down my number and left for the office to make the call.

  I still had my phone in my hand, and voice mail was down so I checked the texts my mom had sent. The earliest must have been while I was still on the way in—Mom reminding me of the bus schedule. The next, five minutes after the first, asked me to check the boxes of new stock that had just arrived at her shop.

  I’d missed the bus home and I had completely forgotten to go past her shop on the way in like I’d told her I would. I can’t believe I spaced so bad. The winner of daughter of the year? Not me.

  I could still go now. Real quick, just zip out and back before anyone noticed I was gone.

  Heading out onto the streets seemed a bit crazy but I really wanted to do this for Mom. Knowing her “Duck Egg Blue” home-wares boutique was okay would mean a lot to her, especially after she’d lost her owls. Her little shop wasn’t far from school. Normally a ten-minute walk, but tonight I felt like I could fly.

  Another family trudged into the hall armed with pillows and suitcases, prepared to camp out with everyone else, looking sad and lost. I felt bad for them, but there were other volunteers who would help them out. I needed to check on the shop before it got any later and this adrenaline kick I was on ended and I crashed.

  I waited until no-one seemed to be watching me and slipped out the gym entrance and through the school gates, and jogged down the street. The chunky heart pendant I wore thudded on my chest like a second heartbeat.

  Just checking on Mom’s shop, I repeated to myself, while a deeper, quieter voice whispered of heroes and adventure and what-if.

  If only I’d remembered that with adventure, comes danger.

  Chapter Three

  Once away from the school, where generators were running and floodlights lit up every corner of the grounds, it was quiet.

  I hadn’t ever seen the town so deserted. The police weren’t even out driving around. They must have had a lot more on their plate than patrol. It was quieter than any other time I could remember.

  Mom always called the town ‘sleepy’. On this night, though, I would call it beyond sleepy. It had an almost post-apocalyptic feel.

  In reality, there were still plenty of buildings standing and no enormous cavern in the middle of the street like there might have been in some end-of-the-world movie. Which
probably also meant no grisly-but-good-hearted savior riding in on his motorbike to sweep me to safety. It would have been a lot more interesting if there had been, but for now, I needed to get to Mom’s shop and back to school before they noticed I was gone.

  For some reason, the details of the older terrace housing which backed the main street appeared clearer than I’d ever seen before, even in the dark. It was like I could see better than normal. I looked around for a full moon or some other light source to explain it, but found nothing. Shame. I felt like I wanted to howl at the moon. I almost giggled at how good I felt and then thought again how strange it was, that I could feel good in the midst of such chaos.

  No matter how many times Dad had said the post office was going to come crashing down someday, the sight of it as I passed by was eerie. Water flowed from a burst pipe and piles of mail were strewn throughout the wreckage, snow drifts of letters white on the ground.

  Slowing my pace, I enjoyed the excitement of the solitary darkness. So I got a bit over-excited tonight and missed my bus, but I helped people tonight and it had felt amazing. Mom would understand. She was always understanding and encouraging. Checking her shop out was the least I could do.

  She loved her shop like she loved her owl collection. When I was younger, she’d talked about getting a real owl. I’d looked at her like she was crazy. “Ew no, so messy! You have to feed them real meat. So difficult.”

  “Life should be like that. Difficult, messy, and real,” she’d replied. “You have to do what you have to do to make your dreams come true.”

  Now, I understood what she meant. So maybe it was crazy I wanted a rich, handsome prince to sweep me away to far-off lands of adventure, intrigue and decadence. But I didn’t want my life in half measures. I wanted real affluence, real excitement, real romance. Mom’s dreams had come true, and I wanted to be as happy and in love as her and Dad one day.

  On the main street the shops were all still standing. Some had cracks running up pastel-painted fronts, splitting quirky logos with jagged smiles. The arty mosaic archway leading into the boutique district had crumbled, blocking the road so cars were unable to pass. I felt a pang of grief for it, knowing it was a humpty that couldn’t be put back together.