Read One Kiss: An Apocalyptic Urban Fantasy (Transmissions from The International Council for the Exploration of the Universe., #1) for Free Online

you think?"
    "I thought it was a hallucination."
    "Why?"
    <<<<>>>>

CHAPTER FIVE
    I t had been decades since my last hallucination. But I'd believed the first twelve years of my life, at least my memories of them, were a hallucination. My first memory is of an endless white landscape, harsh winds, and punishing cold. I'm on my father's sled and I can see the dogs in front of us, straining into their harnesses, powering through the snow, steam ballooning with each breath.
    I have vivid, joyful memories of growing up with a loving father who cherished me and died to save me. With his final breaths, each word punctuated by a spray of blood, he told me to run home. To climb into the bottom kitchen counter, close the door, squeeze my eyes shut, and wait.
    I remember clearly doing exactly what he said. I sprinted through the snow, my body covered in sweat, fear and grief warring inside of me. I wanted to stay with my father and hold his hand, but I knew that I would die if I did that. You can imagine how clearly I remember this. The smell of my home when I burst through the front door. A mix of smoke scent and rosemary, the musk of wet dog, the aroma of antelope stew.
    There were pots and pans in the cabinet my father told me to climb in. When I pulled them out, tossing them behind me, they clanged and clattered on the wooden floor. The only things I took in with me were our bows. My father's was almost twice the size of mine, which made sense, because he was about twice the size of me. I pushed it in first, angling it so that it fit.  Positioning myself  next to it, I pulled my bow tight to my chest and closed the door. Light leaked in but when I closed my eyes it was pitch black behind my lids.
    That is how I was found. Huddled in a kitchen cabinet clutching a crossbow and squeezing my eyes shut. But on the other side of that door wasn't the two-room cabin my father built.  It was an apartment in a four-story building. The most northern housing project in all of the United Tribes territory.
    Police found me after responding to calls from the downstairs neighbors about a putrid leak in their bathroom. Apparently, my "real" father died a very different death than the one I'd imagined.
    I remember the police officer who opened that cabinet door as clearly as my father's dying words. It is seamless, and yet, impossible.
    When I told the social worker about who I was and how I got in that cabinet she listened attentively, nodding her head and taking notes on a yellow legal pad. I experienced such deep and abiding confusion. She reached across the interrogation table and covered my hands with hers. They were warm and rough. She smelled like sweet summer flowers.
    "Darling, sweetie, I'm sorry. You witnessed something horrible—"
    "I know," I said.
    She shook her head, her gold hoop earrings brushing against her cheeks. "That whole thing with the dogs, Darling—"
    "They weren't dogs," I said. "They were wolves. Sick wolves."
    "None of that happened," she said. I opened my mouth to speak but she forged ahead. "It's okay," she said. "I'm going to get you some medication that will help."
    I took the pills, but they didn't help. When Megan and I ran, I didn't take them with me. And since I'd left the north behind I'd been fine. Until now.
    I sprinted all the way home, and when I got through my front door, I slammed it shut and forced the deadbolt into place. My heart felt as though it wanted to escape my body, would beat its way out. I wanted to escape.
    Walking into the living room, I dropped my violin and purse onto the couch then continued to the kitchen. Turning on the tap, I grabbed a glass and filled it. I chugged it down standing in front of the sink, water leaking out the sides of my mouth and dribbling down my chin. It felt cool and refreshing but I drank it too fast and some went down the wrong way; I coughed and sputtered. Dropping the glass into the sink, I held onto the edge for support while I fought to catch my breath.
    My