Transcendence

The Transcend Time Saga Bonus Packet

Michelle Madow

Published by Dreamscape Publishing

Copyright © 2012

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal
enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other
people. If you would like to share this book with another person,
please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it
with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it
was not purchased for your use only, then please return to
Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting
the hard work of this author.

Transcendence is a work of fiction. Though
some actual towns, cities, and locations may be mentioned, they are
used in a fictitious manner and the events and occurrences were
invented in the mind and imagination of the author. Any
similarities of characters or names used within to any person past,
present, or future is coincidental.

Remembrance

Vengeance

Timeless

Transcendence (Transcend Time Bonus
Packet)

Hi, everyone! Now that the Transcend Time
Saga is complete, I thought it would be fun to gather the materials
I created while writing the series and share them with you in this
bonus packet. Included you will find: A sneak peak of the beginning
of
Remembrance
(for those of you who haven’t read the series
yet), bonus scenes for
Remembrance
and
Timeless
,
character biographies, character and author interviews, and other
fun information I wrote for this series—all in one place.

It’s been an honor to share this series with
you, and the support I’ve received from fans has been incredible.
Every time you’ve tweeted about the series, liked the Facebook
page, or recommended my books to your friends means the world to
me. I hope you enjoy this bonus packet for the Transcend Time
Saga!

xoxo,

Michelle

It was at the Halloween dance that I got the
first glimpse of my past life.

The gym was packed, and due to the masks and
the dim lights, it was impossible to tell who anyone was. I looked
through the crowd, trying to see who Chelsea was dancing with, but
even her red dress blended into the darkness.

Then I felt a movement from behind.

“Your boyfriend won’t mind if you dance with
someone else?” a familiar voice whispered in my ear, barely audible
over the loud, trancelike music. I turned around, disappointed to
find that the black bandanna wrapped around his hair and the
matching cloth mask covering the top half of his face made it
impossible to see his features in the low lighting. But I knew it
was Drew.

He pulled me closer before I could respond
to the question. His arms wrapped around my waist, and I rested my
head on his shoulder, closing my eyes and inhaling the sweet scent
of pine coming off his skin. Jeremy
would
mind, but pulling
away from Drew would be like trying to yank two magnets apart. It
was dark, and we were in the back of the room, far enough from the
main crowd in the center for anyone to notice. One dance couldn’t
hurt.

He must have figured that I wasn’t going to
try pulling away again, because he raised his hand to my shoulder
and trailed his thumb down to my elbow, reaching my wrist and
intertwining his fingers with mine. The palms of our hands
connected, and I decided to enjoy the time we could be together,
knowing that everything would return to the way it had been come
Monday morning. The world spun to the beat of the music, and I let
myself sink into it, clearing my mind of everything around me.

That was when the first flash came.

Today was going to be different. I could feel
it.

It wasn’t because it was the first day of
school, or that it was ten minutes after the time Jeremy agreed to
pick me up. There was something strange in the air.

Or maybe I was just being ridiculous.

Tires screeched around the corner, and I
looked down the street, recognizing Jeremy’s red Jeep Wrangler
speeding down the pavement. He pulled up in front of my house and I
hurried to the side of his car, swinging the door open and hopping
onto the hot leather seat.

“Way to be late for the first day of
school,” I said, pushing a few strands of hair off my face that had
gotten out of place during my dash to the car.

He looked at me and smiled, his blue eyes
hidden behind his sunglasses, and reached to tuck a loose curl
behind my ear. “Liz,” he calmly spoke his nickname for me. “It’ll
be fine. The teachers won’t even care on the first day.” He leaned
back, the sunlight shining through the window glistening off his
sandy hair. He looked like a model featured in a summer clothing
catalogue; the pale colors of the blue and white striped shirt and
khaki shorts he wore intensified his golden tan from his recent
outdoor soccer practices.

“Not all of us have gym first,” I pointed
out. “Your teacher might not care if you’re late, but mine
will.”

He shrugged and turned to look at me again.
“Why didn’t you straighten your hair today?” he asked, unhappy with
my decision to let it dry naturally.

“I like it like this,” I said, unsurprised
that it didn’t take long for him to mention it. I’d started to
embrace my curls over the summer, which was easier than
straightening my hair every day. It wasn’t like they were springy
and uncontrollable. They were loose and flowing, the kind of curls
people cherished before the invention of flatirons.

“I like it better straight,” he told me.
“You look so young right now, you could pass as a freshman.”

The words stung. I took a deep breath to
calm myself, keeping my eyes focused on the road. “If I’d
straightened it, we would have really been late to school.”

He reached his arm across the gearshift and
squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry, Liz. I meant it as a compliment. You
look great when you straighten it.”

I shrugged and pulled my hand out of his,
looking out the window as my house disappeared behind us and
blended in with all the others in the quaint New England
neighborhood. The early September leaves were still green, and I
soaked in the last days of summer, not looking forward to the
weather getting cold. Even though I’d lived in Pembrooke—a town
right outside of Manchester, New Hampshire—for my entire life, I
still hated the winter. Whenever snow, sleet, or ice fell to the
ground, I stayed in as much as possible. There was no point in
going outside and freezing to death.

Jeremy stopped at a red light and reached
over to turn on the stereo. The heavy pounding of an awful rap song
filled the car; it was so loud that the floors vibrated with the
bass. The old man in the rundown truck next to us glared and shook
his head in disapproval.

“When did you start listening to this kind
of music?” I asked, lowering the volume.

“Some guys on the team got me into it.” He
grabbed his iPod off the dashboard and handed it to me. “Check it
out, it’s pretty good.”

I glanced at it before putting it back where
it was, uninterested in the other songs in the album. “You know,” I
said, looking back over at him, “I just realized we don’t have a
song.”

The words sounded stupid after I said
them.

He thought about it for a second. “I guess
we don’t,” he said, switching the stereo over to the radio. “Why
don’t you put on any station, and whatever comes on will be our
song.”

It sounded ridiculous, but I reached towards
the tuner to change stations, closing my eyes before turning
it.

AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” blared through the
speakers, and I turned if off so quickly that I feared the knob
might break off in my hand.

“Great pick, Liz,” he said with a laugh,
driving into the parking lot of The Beech Tree School—a private
school for kindergarten through 12th graders that sprawled across a
small campus. We drove past a variety of cars—everything from used
Volkswagens, brand new SUVs, and even the occasional Lexus, BMW, or
Mercedes—but Jeremy didn’t turn to find a parking space. Instead,
he pulled up next to the flight of steps leading to the
entrance.

“How about I drop you off here so you’re not
late?” he asked, resting an elbow on the armrest and turning to
look at me. I couldn’t see his eyes behind the lenses of his
sunglasses, making it difficult to tell if he meant it or if he was
irritated at me for giving him a hard time earlier. But the offer
was nice.

“Thanks,” I said, forcing a smile I hoped
looked genuine. Maybe he did care that I was upset about his being
late. I grabbed my bag before hopping out of the car, swinging it
over my shoulder and turning around to look at him again. “I’ll see
you in French.”

The Jeep squealed against the pavement as
Jeremy turned into the parking lot, and I ran up the steps,
flinging the door open and scurrying through the commons where my
friends and I usually ate lunch. Finally I made it to the main
hallway. The light wood door leading to the European History
classroom remained open, and I slid inside, not wanting to draw any
more attention to myself than necessary.

“Just in time, Elizabeth,” said Mrs. Wilder,
turning her head in my direction. Her light grey hair was in a bun
in the back of her head, and she wore a flowing brown skirt with a
white button down blouse. She looked like she’d walked right off
the prairie. She nodded for me to sit down, and I looked around the
room to find an empty seat.

I spotted Chelsea sitting at the far end of
the giant U-shaped table, her back facing the large paned windows
on the opposite side of the room. Her straight, dark red hair
cascaded over the edge of the chair, and her jean mini-skirt was
paired with a dark purple top set off by a long golden necklace.
She looked like she’d thrown her clothes on in the morning without
a second thought. No one would have guessed that she didn’t let me
get off the phone with her the night before until she’d decided on
the perfect outfit. When I sat down next to her, I knew that my
dark jeans and light blue tank top I’d thrown on that morning
looked plain next to her ensemble.

“Who would have thought that
you
would almost be late on the first day of school?” she snickered,
keeping her voice to a low whisper.

“It wasn’t my fault,” I replied, leaning
back in the plastic chair. “Jeremy was late picking me up.”

I knew that his being late wasn’t worth
getting angry about, but my relationship with Jeremy was
changing—and not for the best. He was constantly with his new
varsity teammates, and while I knew it was normal for him to want
to spend time with them, it hurt whenever he pushed me to the side.
I couldn’t help but hope that he didn’t get elected co-captain,
even though it was an awful thought to have. He’d tried introducing
me to a few of his new friends’ girlfriends, but I couldn’t relate
to them sitting on the bleachers analyzing every play on the field.
While I did go to all of his games, kicking a ball around and
barely scoring wasn’t entertaining in the slightest—at least not to
me.

I didn’t realize that I was lost in my
thoughts and hadn’t heard a word Mrs. Wilder said about the
beginning of the school year until the opening of the door brought
my mind back into focus. I looked up in curiosity, wondering who
else would risk being late on the first day.

The moment my eyes met with his, the other
students in the room blurred into the background. My heart felt
like it was pumping at a faster than normal rate, and my lips
parted slightly as I took in the sight of the boy who looked so
familiar, even though I couldn’t remember where we’d met before.
His spiky black hair was gelled to make it appear like he’d just
rolled out of bed, although I had an image of what he would look
like if it were a bit longer, with no gel. The midnight blue jeans,
black shirt, and matching leather jacket that he wore seemed
impractical in the summer heat, but I couldn’t picture him wearing
anything but dark, heavy clothes.

He yanked his gaze away from mine and
scanned over the other students in the room, breaking the spell
between us. Realizing that I’d been staring at him for longer that
socially acceptable, I turned my attention down to my fingernails
and pretended to be interested in the chipped pink polish. I tried
to think of where we could have met before, but nothing clicked. It
was like trying to recall a forgotten dream—each time I felt close
to remembering where we’d met, the memories slipped away.