A Tune of Demons Box Set: The Complete Fantasy Series

by J E Mueller

  “And the angels have no idea either, do they?” Lydia seemed hesitant to ask.

  “They’ve seen it before.” I paused and tried to decide the right way to explain. “It’s really what made me want to learn more about my gifts. Rania was the same.”

  Lydia looked bewildered for a few moments before it sunk in. “Cally’s friend. She was one of the others the Blessed allowed in like you.” A moment passed before her eyes went wide. “Wait, wasn’t that the person who was going to teach you….”

  “About my gifts, yes.” I shrugged. She had a mission soon after we first met and disappeared. “I didn’t know at first who the angels even meant until after she passed. There have been a lot of vague hints to pull together. The angels don’t seem to want to give answers, and at the same time, they really don’t have many to give. I don’t know what’s going on with this gift, but it brings up more questions at every turn instead of answers.”

  “But you have the books now!” Lydia’s excitement radiated in those few words.

  I smiled at that fact. “And that is my plan for the night. I think I can get through book one in a day, but I have no idea what to expect. Lliam seems to think it’s going to be a lot more information to take in than I believe.”

  “Psh, what does he know?” Lydia glanced around. “Is he even here?”

  “Not currently,” I replied, looking around just to be sure. “I’ve no idea what a spirit has to do all day.”

  “Haunt stuff? Complete that one thing holding them back?” Lydia mused as the fire she was working on came to life. “I have more campfire knowledge of ghosts than useful guesses.”

  “Might be fun to ask him when he comes around next time,” I said, getting up to gather things to make a small dinner.

  “Think he’ll be back?”

  “Yes. He really seemed interested in helping us the best he could. Aside from me seeing him, I’m not sure what he can do.” It would be interesting to find out what he had in mind. “Even after her death, Key’s mom managed to figure out ways to help her. Subtle changes of wind, bad feelings… It might be an interesting adventure yet.”

  Lydia thought for a moment. “Have I ever had anyone following me around?”

  I was surprised she hadn’t asked sooner. It was usually the first question on everyone’s lips when the horror of my gift passed.

  “No.” I shrugged.

  “Makes sense.” Lydia got up and started to draw a box in the dirt around the campsite with a stick. “I’m pretty sure my whole family has had nothing but generations of Blessed blood. If they passed, they went straight to heaven.”

  “Has anyone important to you ever followed you?” she asked as she vaguely concentrated on her task.

  I didn’t feel like talking about it but answered anyway. “Asa did for a short while.”

  Lydia paused and looked at me. With a nod, she asked no more questions and completed her new task. I watched as she called upon her magic and a sliver of light slowly glowed from her hands and spread through the area she had marked off. It didn’t have any visible effect on things but I knew it helped to keep us off the demons radar.

  I tried to concentrate on dinner, but Asa, my late cousin, kept coming to mind. I was seven when she passed, and remember it was the first time Lee’s magic had truly failed him. Even seeing the future couldn’t stop her death.

  With a deep breath, I pushed the thoughts away. “So, how have your songs been coming along, then?”

  “Eh.” Lydia shrugged as she rejoined me by the fire. “I much prefer singing to writing songs. I don’t mind jotting down the adventures but to get the song part right is always much more boring.”

  I don’t know why it always amused me when she admitted that, but it did. I gave her a quick smile as I tried to figure out what I was doing with this dinner. Still, my mind wanted to wander back to Asa. Maybe I hadn’t dealt with the past enough. A child ghost who drowned was a pretty terrifying sight. Seeing that had given me a series of bad nightmares for years. I wasn’t going to put off reading that book any longer though.

  “Well, hand over the pan, you’re killing dinner,” Lydia stated, pulling me from my thoughts.

  “Oh, right.” I handed everything over to her. “Cooking’s fun, but it’s probably not my strongest interest.”

  “You don’t say.” She snickered and gave me a playful shove. “At least you’re a good taste tester.”

  “That’s a nice way to say that I haven’t died from your failed experiments.” I laughed, moving to set up the tent instead.

  “Cooking does not run in the family. Mother is happy my sister got those genes from her.” Lydia started to hum to herself.

  The tent was up in no time, and dinner was done not much longer after that. The evening air was cool, but it was unlikely to get cold. I loved this part of the change of seasons. The perfect weather, the many colors of leaves - really everything but the late season rain.

  “Well, we traveled. We ate. We seem to be clear of prying spirits.” I glanced around to be certain. “It looks like a great time to read.”

  “Yes! I want to see how this magical chest works,” Lydia said excitedly.

  Gleefully, I pulled out the tiny toy like chest. I considered putting a chain on it so it would be easier to wear but that would have to come another time. “Want to see it?” I handed it over to Lydia.

  “We’ve had magic our whole lives and I’ve never seen anyone manage to manipulate the size of something. There’s no way.” She laughed, handing it back to me. “Obviously I’m wrong here. Show me already!” Glee and delight twinkled in her eyes.

  Without further ado, I whispered the word to the chest and set it down as it grew to its normal size. Lydia was quickly glued to my side as I opened it up. Still sitting on top was, of course, the daggers. With great care, Lydia picked one up and stared at it.

  “A black dagger?” she asked, confused. She didn’t seem impressed and it confused me. The deep emerald green colors seemed to dance for me. Surely, she could at least feel the magic in them.

  Maybe she couldn’t. “You don’t feel anything?” I asked softly.

  “Feel anything?” Her expression echoed my confusion before it dawned on her. “Maybe since it’s for your gift, only someone with that talent can sense anything.” Lydia looked slightly annoyed. “So, this is how normal people feel handling Blessed artifacts. Plain, boring, ordinary nothingness.”

  “That’s kind of cool, actually,” I replied happily. “So, this gift really might be its own thing. It’s not standard magic anyone with a gift can sense. I just hope it’s in a positive category.”

  “I’m sure we’d know if it was bad. I mean, we can sense demons and all that,” Lydia reassured me.

  “Fair enough.” I pulled out the first book and put the dagger back in with its mate. “Kegan said she couldn’t read these. I wonder if your Blessed blood will help.” I whispered the word to make the text appear.

  Lydia waited expectantly. I glanced over at her as the text pooled to the surface and filled the book.

  “Guess not,” Lydia grumbled.

  “I really didn’t think this magic would truly only be visible to me and spirits,” I said.

  My heart raced at the thought. Angels and demons alike might, in fact, not have the power to see this. How? Even better, why? I loved the idea that someone managed to find a middle ground between the two all-powerful types of beings. Was that the original intention, or was something else at play? More questions, but some answers were finally at hand.

  “Guess I’ll just sharpen some blades. Keep me updated on the good stuff,” Lydia huffed as she gathered her gear.

  I got as comfortable as I could before reading the first line aloud.

  “In the beginning there was life, and then, your death.” I paused. “Well, that’s one odd start.” I shrugged and continued on. “You were young, between four and six when the spirits first showed. This is because only those who have experienced death at that ag
e can see and hear them.” I felt my pulse quicken but kept reading. “It was a small miracle you were brought back from the brink, one foot over the line, just enough to taste the other side. It was enough that it never left you.” I stopped. Kegan’s words came flooding back to me. Should be dead. Well, damn.

  I looked over and locked eyes with Lydia.

  “Maybe you can help sharpen these instead?” she asked, playing cool.

  We both knew what incident the book was referring to, and I for one did not want to think about it. The whole mess was confusing and ended with more questions than actual answers. The lines I was fed I knew weren’t the truth. Everyone had just wanted to push the event as far behind them as possible… and I wanted so much to believe them.

  “I’ll be okay,” I said instead, knowing I already wasn’t going to be. If reading was going to pull up nightmares, I might as well get all of them at once. So, on I read.

  7

  Finally, it was late enough I knew I had to sleep. After all the recent traveling, it didn’t take long for dreams to consume me. It took even less time for them to twist and turn on me. The memories were strong and as sharply detailed as they always were.

  I was sitting in a chair at home by the fire, working on creating a scarf for Mother’s birthday. Both Marc and Mother were out of the house visiting Aunt Juniper and Lee. I didn’t remember where Father went, but he had been acting strange for months, so his absence was hardly noticed by me. It bothered my family, and I knew Mother was spending a lot of time with Auntie Juni because of it. She wouldn’t tell me her concerns, but I didn’t care too much. I was learning to crochet and - being four - found it very hard to make a scarf. It wasn’t even real crochet since I didn’t have a hook, but still I was determined to do it, and I was big enough to sit home alone and do so -at least for the ten minutes they were planning on being gone.

  Mother said she’d be back soon; she was only going to grab a pie, and Marc only really went to hang out with Lee. It wasn’t the first time I’d been left alone for a few moments, and try as I might, Mother knew that my surprise present to her was my terrible looking scarf, so she allowed it.

  I had no idea how long I was sitting there, working hard on my project when the door opened. I felt the frigid wind sweep in and glanced over.

  “Evening, Father,” I called, remembering Mother had said it was important to greet everyone as they came in. It showed you cared.

  There was no response, so after a moment, I glanced back over but saw nothing. The fire and a few lit candles caused shadows to dance around the room. It had always felt snug and cozy, but something made me shiver, and the breeze from the door had already passed.

  Confused, I glanced around. I hadn’t heard Father go anywhere. When I saw nothing, I got up, set my work down, and walked around the house. After not finding him anywhere, I started calling for my father out loud. He couldn’t have just disappeared.

  My heart started to beat faster and faster at the thought he might have vanished. Something wasn’t right. Where did he go? The cold would have swept in again if he had gone back out.

  Father wasn’t in his room.

  Nor in Marc’s.

  My room was just as I left it.

  Where was my father?

  “Where did you go?” I started to cry. The terror of the mystery was sinking in.

  “Hush, little child…” I heard a strange voice sing.

  I turned from looking at my bed to the doorway. A strange sense of dread filled me.

  “Don’t you cry now… ev-er-y thing will be… just fine.” The strange voice continued to sing from the direction of the living room fire.

  A strange presence filled the space around me and I felt as if I was being pushed from the safety of my room toward the sound of the voice. My feet seemed to move stiffly forward of their own accord. I didn’t want to move. I knew I needed to stay rooted in place, and yet, I couldn’t. Every step made me cry harder and harder until I was finally back in the living room.

  To my surprise, no one was there. Every chair was empty. I wasn’t sure if I should be relieved or even more frightened. Who had been singing?

  Though the door was still tightly closed, as was every window, a deep chill began to settle in the room. The fire was making no difference.

  I noticed my scarf project had gone from resting on my chair to hanging off it. This time my feet moved as I willed, and I walked over to pick it up. As I grabbed it, I noticed there was spots of blood all over it and quickly dropped it to the ground.

  “How?” I gasped aloud. My project was ruined and there was no one here.

  Again, I quickly looked around the room before feeling what felt like a drop of rain hit my hand. Looking down, I saw the crimson drop and very slowly looked up. Above me was darkness. A pit of blackness darker than any night sky was slowly leaking down, drop after drop…

  I heard a footstep, and before I could turn, I felt something hot and sharp stab straight through me. I looked down and saw the fire poker had speared me, and I glanced back to see what at first looked like my father. The black soulless eyes told another story. I wanted to scream, to call out a thousand things, but all I could do was cry.

  Each breath quickly got harder, and darkness spotted across my vision until I hit the floor. I remembered crumpling, but not the feel of the ground. My pain was too deep to notice other unpleasantries.

  An eternity later, I saw what was my father hit the floor. Black eyes turned to white before closing - never to open again.

  Someone shook me, my vision too black to make out faces as I coughed up blood. The taste of iron was so thick in my mouth I felt as if I was choking.

  My eyes closed even though I wanted to know who was there.

  Slowly, the pain faded. The heat was gone, and nothing but emptiness and silence replaced it for a long time.

  Heat suddenly wrapped around me again. Instead of burning, it was comforting, like a blanket on a cold night.

  I clung to it, but felt as if it was just too far out of reach.

  I remembered a voice. So soft and sweet saying it wasn’t time, that I should stay. I felt as if I was being pushed to the warmth, and finally, I could grab hold of it.

  Suddenly, I was coughing again. The taste of blood filled my mouth, but I could breathe. It wasn’t suffocating any more. The pain was still overwhelming and I blacked out, but this time I was aware I was going to be okay.

  I awoke with a start. Lydia was hovering over me, a look of deep concern on her face.

  “You were dreaming of it weren’t you?” she asked softly.

  I closed my eyes again but nodded.

  “Are you going to be okay?”

  Sighing, I pushed myself into a sitting position. “It’s probably time to face it down.” I looked at her. “What do you remember?”

  Lydia glanced away before settling into a more comfortable position and meeting my eyes once more. “Back then you didn’t know me and sis were in this Blessed business. Sis took care of the problem, along with mom. You were my first heal. That part you know.”

  Nodding, I took a deep breath. “Do you know what actually happened then? I know Mother got home shortly after it happened.”

  Lydia hesitated. “I’d rather tell you nothing than the truth.”

  “I would rather be hit with the truth than have it creep up on me again later.”

  We stared at one another for a long moment before Lydia gave in. “In the ritual of reviving health with a demon’s aid, a sacrifice must be made. It’s likely your father found out he was dying of something. In order to regain his health he needed the blood of an innocent and the blood of a family member. Both in one go would guarantee no ill health evermore.”

  “A demon's bargain. I’m surprised he had any guts to carry it out.” I sighed, trying to process the information.

  “It’s more likely he was too frightened and let one possess him to accomplish the task,” Lydia replied.

  The black eyes came to
mind. “Yes, that would more likely be it.” I couldn’t shake the creepiness of his expression.

  “It’s nearly dawn if you would rather just get up,” Lydia commented. “Not that I’m eager to be back on the road so soon.”

  “Being up and moving sounds better than dwelling on those images,” I replied, trying to untangle myself from my blanket.

  This was going to be a long week.

  Despite the influx of nightmares, I continued to read. So what if my gifts came from my brush with death? I tried not to let the fact bother me. I learned a bit more than that, anyway. Instead of crossing, a nearby spirit could insist on the dying child’s soul staying. It wouldn’t work, however, if there was no one there to heal the dying child. If someone did heal the child in time though, the child would have had direct contact with spirits and will be gifted with the ability to see and hear them -along with another spirit related talent.

  Not everyone could guide spirits to the afterlife. It turned out that was a specific gift only granted to some. Others could track spirits. Some were gifted at untangling the threads that kept spirits tied to a specific location, allowing the spirit to move freely once more. Select others could actually fight spirits. Not all who were trapped in the spirit realm were good, and some needed to be put in their place before another could make them cross where they belonged. The final role was simply called the Gate Keeper and wasn’t explained at all yet.

  Another fun fact the book mentioned was that traveling angels and demons pass through the spirit realm. While they could not stop there, since they were not, in fact, fully dead, that mixture of magic constantly in and out of the spirit realm was what gave the child the ability to also see angels and demons.

  It was hard to guess what my gift would be, but I was excited to uncover any details. All of which were explained in depth in other books. I wanted more time to read them, but as we neared the end of day three, I knew we would be meeting up with more of the Blessed and I didn’t really want to include random strangers in my reading.