Free The Hierophant (Book 1 in The Arcana Series) by Madeline Claire Franklin Page A

gypsy heritage , to satisfy some weird anthropological curiosity.”
    “That’s not true, Ana.” Her voice is firm. “They just don’t know you like I do. You don’t let anyone know you. I’m the only one you’ve ever let in.”
    I turn back to her, see her stern expression, and know that she’s probably right. I’m just unwilling to confront it. “They wouldn’t like who I really am, anyway.” I shrug and sneer in one confused and ugly expression of forced apathy.
    Kyla touches my shoulder with hers. “Of course they would. I like you.”
    And Kyla is the queen bee, whether she means to be or not.
    Vanessa comes up beside her, her tall and slender form reorienting itself to Kyla’s orbit. Blond hair spills out from under a black beanie, down past her shoulders. “Hey,” she says, so low it almost can’t be heard.
    “Hey!” Kyla smiles, snaking her arms around her and planting a kiss on her cheek. “What have you been up to?”
    I slink away while she’s distracted, before she can convince me to do any more letting people in for the night, and take my wine bottle and myself down to the bonfire to get warm. The crowd seems immense, though I know it isn’t all that big—I just saw it from above a moment ago. But down in the thick of it, with everyone’s features distorted and their shadows lengthened by the bonfire, everything suddenly feels overwhelming.
    I plant my feet firmly beside the fire and watch a beer bottle turning red hot at the center of the coals. I won’t let the crowd bother me. I’m going to enjoy this night, because tonight, at least, in the circle of protection we’ve cast on Kyla’s property, I’m free of the shadows that have been stalking me.
    But, no matter how determined I am to enjoy the night, the crowd does bother me. Something about it all seems wrong, and in that wrongness, I can’t help but feel different, and alone.
    I see Andy through the flames, on the other side of the fire, talking with a beer in his hand to someone I don’t recognize. He’s looking in my direction when I happen to see him, and he smiles at me through the fire with a nod of acknowledgement. The boy he’s speaking with makes a point of turning away when I look at them.
    I smile and nod back at Andy to be polite, then immediately turn my attention to the ground, where no one is looking at or away from me.
    Ugh. So awkward.
    Before my discomfort levels can make it to unbearable , I take a deep breath and turn away from the fire, moving through the crowd with as much stealth as I can manage. I don’t want to be that girl who wanders off at a party, sullen with the knowledge that no one will notice her absence, but I find myself doing exactly that. I just need to get away from people, find some place to stand where I don’t feel so outside of everything going on around me.
    The creek that runs behind Kyla’s house is flooded along the bank. It’s muddy by the water, a soup of uncovered fall leaves and clay soil. It smells of algae and earth, a loamy, heady scent that I find myself breathing in with a strange need, taking as much into my lungs as I can before I finally exhale. I hop over a pool of water, onto a rock, then a tree root, again and again until I’m standing at the base of a crooked oak tree, staring out over the rushing creek. The creek has grown fat this week from the rain and the last of the melting snow. Water pours past my toes in hurried sloshes and sprays; somehow I feel the surge of its power as if it is my own, awakening a primal memory inside my cells.
    And like that, the visceral thrumming returns to my blood. My body brims with something I can’t quite name, and the more I think about it, the more intense it becomes. I want to run, to jump, to dive into the creek and let it throw my body to the rocks. I want to dance, to feel my muscles burning and flexing and stretching. I want to jump off of a roof, to break something, to hurt, to feel —anything but this wretched