Guardian of the Moon Pendant Read Online Free Page A

there for all to see.
    I rolled onto my belly, blinking into the metal head board I had made from an old Harley Davidson’s frame. I liked the fact that it doubled as a mirror. I guess I wasn’t that offensive looking. I had crystal blue eyes, rimmed with some seriously cool ultra-violet eye shadow that was a lot hipper than Anabel’s sappy emerald eyes.
    “Ugh,” I said aloud, starring into my distorted reflection, noticing my black eyebrows needed some serious tweezing, “gross!”
    I flipped back onto my back, flinging my arms out wide, bouncing a few times on my chunky mattress.
    I just wanted to get far, far away from here, from all this crap!
    My whole life I lived like a troll in the basement, living like an unwanted child, hidden in my subterranean cave, living in a different world from my control freak of a sister. Anabel always got her way. I huffed. I don’t know why I even bother to fight with her, might as well tattoo sucker across my forehead.
    I threw my hands behind my head, cradling my skull, scratching my mangled hairdo, feeling like there might be something living inside my big mop of  raven hair. I let out a loud sigh, all these years of living, never being wanted, never being appreciated, never being worthy of the name, MacAlpin! 
    “Screw them,” I sneered, rolling my body to the side, picking up the old parchment from my nightstand, studying its strange rune symbols. “Scotland will be my chance, my chance to change it all.”
    I leapt to my feet, pressing play on my iTunes and rocking to Lady Gaga’s “Poker face.” I curled my fingers into a tight fist, pounding my hands in quick succession into my sand filled punching bag in the corner of my room, its weight swaying to the side after each strike, slowly reli e ving my body of all its stress. I did a final roundhouse kick into the bag, swinging my leg around in a semicircular motion, slamming the front of my foot into it, jostling the sturdy bag on its chains.
    I wiped away the beads of sweat from my brow as I yanked out my old green duffel bag from the back of my overly stuffed closet, tossing it onto my bed, and shoving everything I could get my hands on into it for my trip to the Motherland.
    Yup, I tossed in everything that was black, which is pretty much everything I owned: black undies , bra, stretchy pants, T-shirts, gotta love those platform boots, tights, socks, belts.
    I paused for a moment, studying the extra pair of long black gloves clenched in my hand. “What a great day it’ll be when I finally get rid of you!” I said, hurling them into my bag on top of a couple comic books.
    Boom! Boom!
    Great, someone was pounding on the backdoor.
    “Yeah?” I called out.
    I heard a man hacking up thick ball of phlegm, spitting it out onto the concrete steps outside. “I brought you some flowers, honey bear,” Vyx groveled.
    I was flabbergasted.
    Vyx was definitely not the type of guy to beg, especially to me of all people. Vyx was as hard as nails. He’d make a Hell’s Angel cry if they crossed paths. Why was he sucking up to me now?
    I hesitated. What was he up to?
    I pressed my ear to the door to listen.
    “The red ones,” Vyx said sweetly.
    I scratched my head. Should I say something?
    “Blood red,” he whispered.
    I was still furious at him. He was mumbling in his sleep one night, about a beautiful woman, he kept ra mbling, my love, my love…. It was pretty darn pathetic as he literally worshiped this woman he called “my love.” He definitely never called me “my love.” I knew he was up to no good.
    I could hear him inhale through his nose, like he was trying to stay in control.
    “Come on, Iz , open the damn door!” he wailed, pounding his fist against it.
    “No!” I snapped.
    Vyx went silent for awhile. I could hear his mind thinking; maybe it was from all the steroids he was on. And then it sounded like something rustling outside. I peered down at my feet, noticing a slender white cigarette poking out