Read Shattered (the Spellbound Series Book 2) for Free Online

garbled voice of someone in the apartment, but the moment never comes. There’s a faint buzzing sound, and Nick pushes the door open. Whoever’s home, it seems like they don’t care enough to know who’s coming up.
    There’s only one apartment per floor, so it’s hard to miss Nick’s old home when we hit the third floor landing. My heart hammers against my ribcage as his door comes into sight; regardless of the unconventional circumstances, I’d still admittedly be a little nervous about meeting Nick’s family. Attached to the door is a miniature cross, complete with a bleeding wooden Jesus with nails in his palms and feet. I groan in distaste as come close enough to the door to inspect it. I don’t have anything against hanging up religious symbols, but this one’s too gory and detailed for my taste.
    “That wasn’t there last time,” Nick whispers when he notices the door. “I guess they’ve become even more paranoid about the supernatural.”
    “Do crosses even effect vampires, or is that an urban legend?,” I whisper back.
    “Urban legend. Garlic, too.” Nick takes a deep breath, then grabs onto the brass knocker just above Jesus’ head, and slams it into the door three times.
                  Almost immediately, a girl that looks roughly my age pulls open the door, glances at me, then lets her mouth hang open slightly when her eyes land on Nick. Her eyes, soft and brown as his, widen in shock, and in a hushed voice, she asks, “What are you doing here?”
                  Nick squares his shoulders, and asks, “Are Mom and Dad home? I have some news for you guys.”
                  “Just Dad, but neither of them wants to see you. They’ve made that clear.”
                  “Emma, please. All I need is fifteen minutes, tops.”
                  The girl, Emma, looks back into the apartment, then stares at Nick intensely for a moment, gnawing on the inside of her cheek. “Alright,” she says once she’s made up her mind. “But if he asks, you forced your way in.”
                  Emma backs away from the door, and allows Nick and I to step inside. The décor in his old home matches the cross on their door; there are religious artifacts hung on walls or placed on bookshelves, anywhere one can hang a cross or place a figurine. Under my breath, I ask, “Were your parents always this crazy about God?”
                  “No,” Nick responds. “They’re Sunday Christians, if that. The only commandment they take seriously is ‘Thou shalt be two-faced’.”
                  I’m not horribly religious myself, but I’m pretty sure that’s not an actual commandment. I’m about to correct Nick when a voice from down the hall calls, “Emma? Who was at the door?”
                  “Come and see for yourself!,” Emma yells back.
                  A door opens down the hall, and a balding, middle-aged man in a navy blue polo steps out into the living room. Like his daughter, he notices me first, and his lips open to ask who I am just a split second before he notices Nick. He pales, and backs away until he lands on their leather couch. “W-what do you want?,” he stammers out, his eyes reminiscent of a deer in headlights.
                  “Hi, Dad. Thanks for the warm welcome.” Nick holds his hands outward, I suppose as a sign that he’s not here to hurt anyone.
                  “How did you even make it through the door? You’re not welcome here!”
                  “Even if your ‘faith’ could have stopped me from getting in, it wouldn’t have any effect on me anymore.”
    “Why not? It keeps out the others.”
    “Right… whatever. What I came here to tell you is that I’m not one of them, not anymore. I’m cured, Dad.”
                  The man on the couch straightens up a little, and puts his hands down at