The Space Between (The Book of Phoenix) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Books by Kristie Cook

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  About the Author

  Connect With Me Online

  Want more by Kristie Cook?

  Read an Excerpt of Promise

  “This is a completely new twist on the idea of a timeless love story with a paranormal twist unlike any other. The connection between the two characters is bone deep and resonates beautifully. I will never forget this novel.” ~ Heather McCorkle, Author of the fantasy Channeler series

  “Kristie has done it again! Her Soul Savers series is my favorite by far and yet The Space Between is easily the best book she’s ever written! Readers are always looking for something new, something that’s never been done before, and Kristie really nailed it with The Space Between. It’s dangerous, suspenseful, and smokin’ hot. I can’t wait for the next part of the Book of Phoenix!” ~ Marissa, Comfortably Read Book Reviews

  “The Space Between is an amazing story of life, love and fates. Author Kristie Cook has you hanging on the edge of every page. This book stays in your head well after the last page.” ~ Mindy, Forbidden Reviews

  “A completely unique story with a paranormal twist. The Space Between had the perfect blend of romance and mystery with a phenomenal plot that will keep you guessing.” ~ Jessica, Confessions of a Bookaholic

  “Beautiful writing and characters are two parts of what make Kristie’s books must-reads. Add in the magic of her stories, plot lines that’ll have you holding your breath and epic loves, and you’ll find rich worlds to escape to and hours that’ve flown by in the blink of an eye.” ~ Lisa, A Life Bound by Books

  “I loved this book! The characters, the romance, the plot, the originality! It had everything to make it an amazing book! The Space Between is the perfect book to what I hope will be a fantastic series and everyone is going to fall in love with it!” ~ Kendall, Book Crazy

  The Book of Phoenix Series

  Part One

  THE SPACE BETWEEN

  Kristie Cook

  Ang’dora Productions, LLC

  Naples, Florida

  Books by Kristie Cook

  — Soul Savers Series —

  www.SoulSaversSeries.com

  Promise

  Purpose

  Devotion

  Power

  Genesis: A Soul Savers Novella

  Soul Savers Book 5 (June 2013)

  — The Book of Phoenix Series —

  www.TheBookofPhoenix.com

  The Space Between

  Find the author at www.KristieCook.com

  Copyright © 2013 by Kristie Cook

  All rights reserved.

  Published by

  Ang’dora Productions, LLC

  15275 Collier Blvd

  #201-300

  Naples, FL 34119

  Ang’dora Productions and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Ang’dora Productions, LLC

  Cover design by Regina Wamba at MaeIDesign and Photography, L.L.C.

  Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the copyright owner.

  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters and events are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  First Edition April 2013

  EPUB ISBN 978-1-939859-00-6

  For Shawn

  Acknowledgements

  First and foremost, I thank The Maker and His Son. My life, my writing career and this book are all blessings from above.

  Second, I must thank my husband Shawn who woke up one morning in 2011 while we were on a motorcycle road trip and said, “I had an awesome dream!” He didn’t understand everything going on, but I took the few things he remembered and his dream became The Space Between. Without that dream and his memorable exclamation the next morning, this book (and the rest in the series) would have never been.

  Next I thank our fabulous sons, Zakary, Austin and Nathan, who often seem to test how far they can push me while I’m writing, but show their support in many ways. Like putting up with leftovers and carryout and Mom not being able to hang out because she’s under deadline. And giving me great insight into the minds of young males that has given me great fodder for Jeric and other characters. Thank you most of all, my wonderful boys, for being you. I’m so proud of you all.

  Chrissi, my business partner and publisher, who is nearly as much my “other half” as Shawn is. Thank you for your never-ending support, for your kicks in the butt, ear to whine in, shoulder to cry on, and for not being afraid to challenge me. I say it often, but not enough: I couldn’t have done this without you.

  Thank you to my brilliant Kristie’s Crew: Claire, Julie, Marissa, Jessie, Mindy, Inga, Kate, Debbie, Stacey, Heather, Rebecca, and Christina. Claire, thank you for the fabulous UK fan site you created and thank you, Julie, for helping her admin it and for managing our UK distribution. Jessie (and Dave), thank you for sharing your beautiful phoenix. Marissa, thank you for helping with the release tour, and Claire, Julie, Kate, Debbie and Stacey for coordinating the UK signing tour. Thank you all for beta reading and for your continuous support, shout-outs and for all you do on the streets. You go above and beyond and I am so blessed to know all of you.

  Thank you to author Heather McCorkle and Jessica Cook for critiquing The Space Between for me. Thank you to Jen Trammell for proofreading. And thank you to Regina at Mae I Design and Photography for my gorgeous cover. Brenda Pandos, thank you for being my Best Author Friend Forever.

  Thank you to Cami and Reading Addiction Book Tours for organizing the cover reveal and release tour, and a special thank you to all of the bloggers who participated.

  Last but most definitely not least, thank you, reader! I sincerely appreciate your giving up your precious time to read this story. I hope I’ve made it worth your while. (And if I have, thanks for the fantastic review I know you’ll leave. *grin*) I appreciate my readers and fans more t
han you will ever know. Please don’t ever hesitate to connect with me. I love to hear from you!

  THE SPACE BETWEEN

  Chapter 1

  If I could take the form of a bird and fly high above the roofs of the village and soar over the fields, it would feel like this. With me balanced on his hands, Alberto spun across the stage, my arms and legs spread like a bird’s wings. After he gave me a push up into the air, I tucked my limbs in and twisted in a perfect spiral. My stomach dropped and my body followed as I slid down him and became a graceful heap at his feet just as the music came to its tragic end.

  The audience exploded into applause, followed by a standing ovation. The thunderous noise reverberated into my bones, and my chest swelled as I took a bow for the very last time. When the audience showered me with white roses and Alberto and the troupe brought me a bottle of vino, I gave a heartfelt grin that hopefully hid the sadness battling within me. A dream come true . . . but I’ll never dance on stage again. My heart knew this truth. Tomorrow I would fly home, and this would all be nothing more than a memory.

  But tonight was still mine.

  I hadn’t been the real star of the show, not by far, but everyone made me feel like I’d been tonight. After the curtain fell, backstage became as loud as the audience as we all congratulated each other on a great show. I glided on air as everyone gave me farewell hugs and shouts of “Bravo!” and “Eccelenté!” Tomorrow, the dance company would move on to the next town, and the professional dancer who I’d been filling in for would join them. I, on the other hand, would be headed back to reality.

  “Move on, move on! Take it to Alonzo’s,” the stage manager finally ordered in Italian. The lights over the stage went dark to emphasize his point. The theater owner was ready to shut down for the night. We all scurried to our dressing rooms.

  I pulled out my cell phone right away and texted a message to Uncle Theo as I had every night after a show. I frowned at the phone when he didn’t immediately reply. Since he’d lost nearly all his hearing, I’d taught him how to text and email before I left so we could communicate while I was gone. He’d been a trooper at using the “silly gadgets” up until recently. He hadn’t responded to either my texts or my emails in three days now. A day or two was normal—sometimes he simply forgot. But three days? There are many possible reasons. Maybe the battery died and he forgot to charge it. Maybe he knows you’re coming home soon and is done with the “damn buttons.” Maybe he’s just too busy with Mira. This last one was more like my Uncle Theo.

  “Beautiful as always, cara mia,” Alberto said to me in strong English heavy with an Italian accent as he stood in the doorway to my dressing room, distracting me from my phone. He’d already changed out of his costume into street clothes. With dark curls hanging to his shoulders, eyes like onyx sparkling with life and a perfect dancer’s physique, he was a sight to behold, even in jeans and a tight white T-shirt. He knew it, too.

  “Grazie,” I said with a wide grin. “You were amazing, too, as always.”

  “Of course I was. You come to Alonzo’s to celebrate, no?” he asked.

  “Wouldn’t miss it. I need a little more time than you to look beautiful, though,” I said as I wiped a trickle of sweat off the back of my neck. “And I still need to change.”

  “Bah! You should wear that,” he said, flipping a hand at my skimpy costume. “So sexy.”

  I laughed as I pushed him out the door. Alberto was nothing but a tease. After all, he truly had eyes for only one person—Bruno, the sound technician.

  Alone in my tiny dressing room with the sounds beyond the door quieting as everyone headed out, I pulled off my golden leotard and the scrap of shimmery material that passed for a skirt. I left my tights on and slipped into a white lacey smock and faded red cowboy boots. My chest tightened and my eyes burned as I folded my costume with deliberation and tucked it into my duffle bag. I’d never again wear it. I’d never again be in a dressing room like this, overhead lights flashing as the theater owner gave a final warning he was about to lock up. I’d only used this particular room a couple of times, but it represented all of those in the last month as I’d made my way across Italy with this dance company. Not exactly what my dream had been, but pretty damn close. As close as I’d ever get.

  This is it, I thought as I slipped on my collection of bracelets and rings. My final farewell to any hopes of a dance career.

  My eyes followed my hand as it caressed the old, abused vanity before looking up into the lighted mirror. With a sigh, I pulled off the band keeping my wild curls in a tight bun. They sprang from my head in every which way, celebrating their freedom. I smoothed my hands over the light brown spirals, trying to control them, but as always, they refused to cooperate. The best I could do was what looked like a curly lion’s mane. I dabbed at smudged mascara under my green eyes, rubbed some of the excess make-up off my cheeks and decided I was as good as I’d get.

  The overhead lights fell dark for the last time when I opened the dressing room door. The rear exit stood open at the end of the hall, and the streetlamp spilled dim light down the corridor, the scuffed wooden floor dully reflecting its glow. I inhaled slowly, cherishing the musty smell of an old theater mixed with the rancid odor of dancers’ sweat and the sweet fragrance of roses. I silently said my goodbyes as my feet carried me outside.

  “Thank you, Uncle Theo,” I whispered as I left the theater for the last time. Only because of him did I even have this opportunity. I couldn’t wait to tell him all about it.

  A large, muscular body flew at me, swept me into his arms and twirled me around as though we were still on stage. Laughter bubbled out of my chest.

  “You ready to celebrate, cara mia?” Alberto asked as he set me down.

  “Celebrate that you’re finally getting rid of me?” I teased.

  He clapped his hand over his heart, and his face fell into an exaggerated expression of pain. “Oh, Leni, you do not know how I will miss you and your mane.”

  He swatted playfully at the bottom of my curls. He had no idea how I would miss the way he said my name, drawing out both syllables, “laaaay-neee,” like only an Italian could do.

  “But you won’t miss my heels on your toes or my arm in your face?” I said in mock disbelief.

  He took my hand and danced me down the cobbled street toward the plaza at the center of town. “You are a stunning dancer, cara mia. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” He spun me under his arm, my duffle bag smacking against my butt the whole time. “Of course, you have become much better since becoming my partner. But everyone does.”

  He winked at me before dropping me into a dip. My bag slid off my shoulder and a hand darted beneath me to catch it. Alberto swung me up and around, bringing me face-to-face with the most unbelievably stunning vision I’d seen my whole time in Italy. Which was saying a lot. His eyes—blue, I thought, though the light from the corner post wasn’t enough to be sure—enraptured me. He held my bag out with a small smile that hinted at dimples.

  “Grazie,” I said breathlessly as I wrapped my hand around the strap of my bag. He gave me a nod almost deep enough to be a bow, his shaggy blond hair falling in his face. Then, without a word, he turned and walked away. My mouth fell open. “How rude.”

  “Must be American,” Alberto said. I punched him in the arm.

  “Who goes out of their way to catch a falling object and then can’t even say ‘you’re welcome’?” I asked absent-mindedly as I stared after the retreating body that rivaled Alberto’s. No, scratch that. It totally beat out Alberto’s even on his best day.

  “What an ass,” Alberto muttered.

  “Rude, yes, but I don’t know if I’d go that far.”

  “No, I mean what an ass that man has.” He let out a low whistle.

  I laughed and admired the view as well. “I can agree with that.”

  “
He’s going to Alonzo’s. Lucky us.”

  Alberto held out his arm, I looped mine into it, and we sauntered toward the club, the heels of my boots clacking on the cobblestones. Discotheque music pounded from inside, drowning out the noise of my steps and even the fountain as we crossed the center of the plaza. Bruno waited for us outside. He flicked his cigarette to the ground and took my other arm. We made a scene as the three of us squeezed through the door, and then the party swallowed us whole.

  We drank and danced and drank some more. Since I couldn’t take it on the plane tomorrow, I opened the bottle of wine my fellow dancers had given me, took a swig and passed it around. It never found its way back to me. Almost all of the fifteen dancers and five crewmembers had come, including Bruno and Alberto, who was also the director.

  I found this funny, in a drunken kind of way. Up until tonight, Alberto and Bruno had pretty much been the only ones to provide any kind of friendship. The rest of the dance company had grown from hating me to barely tolerating me to finally accepting me, on a temporary basis, anyway. I was American, I didn’t speak Italian well enough, I was too short, too round, too pretty but not pretty enough, and definitely didn’t dance at their level. In other words, I wasn’t one of them. Tonight, however, they acted as though they might actually miss me.

  Dancing with them at the disco was much different than our dances on stage. Maybe this difference was what had finally brought them all around to me in the last week. Throughout the tour, we’d traveled every night, crossing the countryside to get to the next town in the wee hours of morning, grabbed some sleep, performed, then boarded the train again. But for this leg, this village had been our home base, centrally located between the six towns we’d visited this week. We’d taken bus trips to the dance theaters for our performances, returning each night early enough to let loose for a little while at Alonzo’s. And that meant dancing how we wanted to, and I was much better at modern freestyle than the structured ballroom numbers Alberto had us doing on stage. The other dancers finally saw how I could move.