The Twisted Kiss: Doomsyear, Book 1 Read Free Page B

twenty-five times today.”
    Silence dominated the other end of the line for several long moments. Finally Carolyn said, “What will you do?”
    Carolyn alone was privy to all her secrets. She understood why Kylie didn’t want any romantic entanglements, not even with two gorgeous men.
    “I don’t know.” She glanced out the window, her jaw tense. “I need to go see the council and find out what went wrong. Why didn’t they match you with them?”
    Carolyn snorted. “I wish. I have to admit, I’m pretty jealous right now.” She paused. “I don’t know Michael, but I know Christian. He’s had his eye on you for a long time. I’m not really all that surprised at the matching.”
    “I’m sure he’s a great guy—”
    “He is.”
    “I just don’t want—”
    “I get it. We don’t have to discuss it if you don’t want. I know it’s not your favorite topic.” She paused again. “Good luck with the council. I’ll come in to the bar tonight, okay? We can talk.”
    “That sounds great.”
    Once she’d hung up the phone, she spent a little time tending her vegetable garden. In post-doomsyear, most everyone grew their own food, canning for the winter months. Some people raised their own livestock too, but Kylie was lucky enough to be part of a co-op for her meat.
    Necessary chores done, she grabbed her purse, locked up the house and barn, then took off for the council. It was time she got this straightened out.

Chapter Three
    She approached the blue house on the far end of town where the Council of the Wise, aka the Supe Council, was located. The viruses that had shot through the world’s populace during doomsyear, creating genetic mutations like vamps and werewolves, had also created a very small number of superpsychics…and a few monsters, but no one liked to think about those, especially Kylie.
    Out of all the supernaturals, the psychics were by far the oddest. They existed in pockets around the world, usually near high concentrations of supes, gathering together to live and to give out proclamations to their various communities from time to time. Their greatest gift to post-doomsyear society was their apparent ability to see into the hearts and minds of those around them and make romantic matches.
    Those matches were often two males to one female, since the waves of viruses had left women scarce in the world. Two males to one female cut down on things like wars, kidnapping with the intent of sex slaving and such—the things that tended to happen when there was an imbalance of testosterone in a society.
    Kylie had been five during doomsyear. The earliest years had been toughest, of course. She’d been young, but she remembered extreme hunger and being cold in the winter. She remembered her father defending their home from marauders with a shotgun.
    The world economy had been decimated, of course. Money had been useless for years. She’d grown up learning how to provide for herself, bartering for the things they couldn’t grow, make, or scavenge for themselves. It had only been in the last ten years that money had started to be used again.
    The virus had killed Kylie’s mother. She and her father had been immune, as were all the remaining humans. Those who weren’t immune had either died or been turned into a supe. She lived in a world of monsters now and normal was something of a novelty.
    And all seemed guided and governed by the psychics.
    A bent, white-haired old woman opened the screen door of the blue house and stared at Kylie as she walked up the steps. “We knew you would come.”
    Well, of course, they had. They were psychic, after all.
    “There’s been a mis—”
    The old woman—her name was Margaret—held up a hand to stop her words. “Now you come on in here, sit down and have a cup of coffee. Then we’ll talk.”
    Kylie pursed her lips into a thin line, hesitating on the steps. Figuring this was her only way to bring her issue in front of the council, she nodded and continued