Table of Contents
Title Page
About Travel Glasses
Other Works by Chess Desalls
Chapter 1 - The First Fall
Chapter 2 - The Past
Chapter 3 - The Date
Chapter 4 - The Time
Chapter 5 - The Free Fall
Chapter 6 - The Banquet
Chapter 7 - The Ball
Chapter 8 - The Kiss
Chapter 9 - The Decision
Chapter 10 - The Inventor
Chapter 11 - The Change
Chapter 12 - The Invitation
Chapter 13 - The Brook
Chapter 14 - The Blanching Effect
Chapter 15 - The Warning
Chapter 16 - The Diary
Chapter 17 - The Discovery
Chapter 18 - The Visit
Chapter 19 - The Encounter
Chapter 20 - The Venetian
Chapter 21 - The Persuasion
Chapter 22 - The Reunion
Chapter 23 - The Explanation
Chapter 24 - The Morning
Chapter 25 - The Family Album
Chapter 26 - The Message
Chapter 27 - The Taunt
Chapter 28 - The Letter
Chapter 29 - The Intrusion
Chapter 30 - The Tower
Chapter 31 - The Interrogation
Chapter 32 - The Memento
Chapter 33 - The Catch
Chapter 34 - The Reprimand
Chapter 35 - The Report
Chapter 36 - The Flight
Chapter 37 - The Departure
Chapter 38 - The Recipe
Chapter 39 - The Dose
Chapter 40 - The Nowhere
Chapter 41 - The Goodbye
Chapter 42 - The Reception
Chapter 43 - The Daily Reminder
Chapter 44 - The Party
Chapter 45 - The Governess
Chapter 46 - The Timeline
Chapter 47 - The Illlusion
Chapter 48 - The Revelation
Chapter 49 - The Connection
Chapter 50 - The Bond
Chapter 51 - The Truth
Chapter 52 - The Recovery
Chapter 53 - The Departure
Acknowledgements
A Note from the Author
Copyright Notice
Calla Winston’s mobile devices sit in a corner of her room, covered in dust. Weeks ago, she shared photos and laughs with her best online friend. Now, after having felt the sting of betrayal, she prefers being hidden and friendless. She equates privacy with security and technology with pain.
Then she meets Valcas, an otherworldly time traveler who traverses time and space with a pair of altered sunglasses. When an ethereal being knocks Calla to the ground near her family’s lakeside cottage, Valcas uses the Travel Glasses to help her escape. He offers his further protection in exchange for a promise. Intrigued by Valcas and the possibility of time travel, Calla accepts. That is until she learns that his search for her was no mere coincidence.
Calla sets off on her own, taking the Travel Glasses with her. Torn between searching for her estranged father and reuniting with the rest of her family, she tracks down the inventor of the Travel Glasses in hopes of discovering more about Valcas’ past and motivations. The Travel Glasses take Calla’s mistrust of technology to all new levels. But without them, she’ll never make it back home. With Valcas hot on her trail, Calla hopes to find what she’s looking for before he catches up.
The Call to Search Everywhen is a serial series of novel-length installments.
NOVELS
Travel Glasses (The Call to Search Everywhen, #1)
Insight Kindling (The Call to Search Everywhen, #2)
Time for the Lost (The Call to Search Everywhen, #3)
NOVELLAS
Glistens
Wrapped in the Past
Lantern (Lantern, #1)
Beacon (Lantern, #2)
Torch (Lantern, #3)
THE DAY I met Valcas began within the confines of the grounds surrounding my family’s lakeside cottage. Wild grasses crunched beneath my feet as I stomped through overgrown cattails and dodged piles of musty fallen leaves. The air was clean and brisk, thanks to the cloudless sky and the freshwater Lake Winston. It smelled of autumn, and that nearly made me gag.
I swallowed back the sick feeling by pumping my legs harder. Mom had been away for so long that Uncle Al was on my case again about making friends. An online friend would have been enough to make him happy, but I’d abandoned the last of those when I became anti-tech. My offline friends knew me as Calla. The biggest losers I knew called me Cow-la. And so I ran.
Running gave me plenty of time to brood, something I’d mastered during my seventeen years of life. Just like the seasons, my reasons for brooding seemed to grow and change with me. The one topic that never grew old was my father, Basileios Plaka. His name was serious and unusual, much like my real name, Calidora. I had so many questions about him.
Mom avoided the Dad topic by working herself to death. Uncle Al told me that I looked like my father except that I’d inherited my oversized dark eyes and pale skin from Mom. My father and I shared the same brown-black curls, round cheekbones, sharp chin and small build. It was no wonder that I often felt as if Mom couldn’t bear to look at me, and that was unfair because I knew that I had nothing to do with her meeting my father, getting pregnant and having me.
A run around the lake usually softened the bladed edges of the painful longings that I carried with me and made them more bearable. But, today, there was something about the crisp air and decaying leaves that choked me each time I inhaled.
“Back to school time,” I huffed, reminding myself. Tourist season had ended weeks ago, leaving the lake empty and quiet.
With the backs of my sleeves I wiped away sweat beads slipping down my forehead and across my brow. I stopped in front of the dock, a weathered brown-gray structure in need of repair and several coats of paint. Rows of sun-scorched irises lay trampled nearby. I wrinkled my nose. Interning at the lake made it my job to dig these out before landscaping the rocky area that would become the new picnic grounds.
As my breathing slowed, I pictured wooden picnic tables encircling a brightly colored jungle gym swarming with children. Teens would ditch their younger brothers and sisters to hang out with their new best friends, all while I watched from afar. At least that wouldn’t happen until the spring, after I started my first semester of college. By then I hoped to have piles of homework so I could stay inside.
I turned away from the dock and bent down to stretch my legs. Tension melted out of both hamstrings and then dashed back in again, in knifelike spasms, as something slammed into me from my right. The blow chilled me more than the time I’d fallen into the lake through a weak patch of ice. My legs flew up from underneath me as that something lifted me up and then dragged me across the ground. I landed on my left shoulder, five feet from where I’d been stretching.
More stunned than injured, I sat up. My clothes were streaked with dirt and grass stains, but I was not bleeding. I hadn’t seen the ground, the trees or the sky during the impact. All I remembered was a bright white flash of light as sharp as the blow that I felt. I sat there dumbfounded until I heard approaching footsteps behind me, from the direction of the dock.
“Here, let me help you,” a smooth voice whispered as a young man offered his hand. “Quickly, now.”
My brain groggily put the voice together with the hand I held. I looked back at the dock. A yellow and black Jet Ski sat in the lake that was empty just moments ago. I pulled my hand away.
“Who are you?”
He caught me in his arms before I fell again. “I am terribly sorry about that.”
I looked up and then immediately looked back down. The stranger was smiling at me and not looking the least bit concerned, despite his apology. Dark hair framed an angular face of olive complexion. Unfortunately, dark sunglasses prevented me from seeing his eyes. I suddenly felt uncomfortable in my sweat-streaked skin and sticky gym clothes.
“I’m Valcas and new to the area,” he said. “Meet me back here again this evening. Please. We’ll have dinner across the lake. Agreed?”
I wriggled out of Valcas’ arms. The top of my head reached just above his chest. His dark clothes were splashed with water, but they were clean and fitted to his tall and slender body.
“Yeah, sure,” I said. But I was anything but sure and could not imagine why this beautiful stranger would ask me out so suddenly.
Still dizzy, I awkwardly walked away, keeping my eyes to the ground until I got far enough away to glance back at Valcas. He stood there, smiling. My shoulders reflexively hunched forward, trying to make me appear smaller, as I stiffly walked back home.
By the time I reached the cottage, I convinced myself that he just felt bad for what happened to me at the dock.
My bearded Uncle Al stood outside watching me, amused and scruffy in his overly mended overalls. He was propped up against his pitchfork and wore a smirk on his face.
“Good morning,” I called out.
“So, where’ve you been this morning?” He chuckled, looking over my grass-stained clothes with small black eyes that peered through bushy brows.
“I met a guy at the dock,” I replied, “and tonight we’re going on a date.”
UNCLE AL raised his eyebrows.
Without waiting to find out whether he thought I was joking, I walked past him into the house and stamped upstairs to my bedroom. Serious book therapy was in order. I opened the door and flicked on the light. Shelves of books crowded my bed. My desk was wedged in a far corner near the window. An abandoned laptop and a mobile phone sat on top of it, both coated in dust.
I’d dropped out of live in-person classroom instruction when I turned thirteen, the earliest the law allowed students to take all of their classes online. Four years later, I graduated without ever setting foot in a high school classroom.
I squeezed my head with my hands and bit my lip. What had I done? What was I thinking? After living the last four years isolated against face-to-face interaction with my peers and spending the last month offline, I’d agreed to have dinner with a complete stranger later that day. As far as I could tell, Valcas was the same age as me, and that made me nervous.
I tried to remember exactly how I’d agreed to such a thing. True, I’d been dazed from being blasted by something. I still had no idea what that was and had to look down at my grass-stained clothes to convince myself that it even happened. Frustrated, I changed out of my running clothes, showered off all of the morning’s sweat and dirt and changed into a T-shirt and a pair of jeans. I would deal with dressing for my date later.
I dropped onto my bed and scanned the book titles on the shelves next to me. I’d kept some of the paperback books Mom bought me when I was a kid. Most of the books were from an old private collection that Uncle Al had given me, which was good given that after graduation I refused to read another book off of a computer or mobile device. I’d read the fairy tales and classics many times, as well as a smattering of coming-of-age stories which sounded just as far from reality as the fantastical myths and legends.
I opened a book and flipped through its pages until I found a story about a potter who’d been banned to an abysmal forest by an evil sorceress who was jealous of his wife. The sorceress promised him his freedom if he could craft an earthen vessel large enough for his wife to fit inside. I already knew that wouldn’t end well, and before long I started thinking about Valcas.
How had I found him to be so attractive without seeing his eyes? I imagined that the eyes behind the dark glasses would be a shade of brown, although light green would be a stunning addition to his already foreign appearance. I laughed at myself out loud until my stomach ached. My chances of developing any type of relationship with Valcas were completely hopeless.
“Are you all right up there?” Uncle Al called to me from the kitchen. I could hear the sizzle of odds and ends of leftovers being prepared for an early lunch. He was a good man and, even though he didn’t get me most of the time, I appreciated his sacrifice in taking care of me when I had nowhere else to go. So, I left my book and went downstairs to join him.
“Well hey there. I thought you’d be all primped up by now.” Uncle Al chuckled through his grizzly salt-and-pepper beard.
“I’m not going out until suppertime. Did we get the morning paper?” I knew this was a stupid question, filler talk intended to avoid the subject, a talent I’d inherited from Mom. The paper was right there on the table next to plates of fried cutlets and potatoes.
Uncle Al poured me a glass of iced tea. “Aw come on, Calla. You’re so cool all the time. I’m surprised you even told me about the fella.” He looked straight at me with his peering eyes. “If you don’t show some interest in this young man, you’re going to end up the smartest spinster this part of the country. The Wicked Witch of the North, they’ll be calling you.”
I choked on a dry chunk of potato. “Um, North and South are good witches.”
“I’m serious,” Uncle Al said. “Here you are messing around in the garden during the day, head buried in books all night. If you’d just let folks get a bit less intimidated by you, maybe you wouldn’t have to spend so much time by yourself.”
I knew my uncle meant well, but his words made me cringe from the pit of my stomach. Tension crept up my back and into my shoulders. I gripped the edge of the planked kitchen table with clenched fingers.
“Intimidated? What makes you think anyone here is intimidated by me?” I didn’t understand how keeping myself shut away would make others feel uncomfortable.
“Now there you go again. You take things too seriously. You’re good-looking and you know it, but you don’t seem to care who notices. A young fella’s got to work up a day’s worth of courage just to say hello to you and then gets nothing back.”
I shrugged. Being “good-looking” was never enough to make me anything more than initially attractive. Instead of arguing about it, I purposely became absorbed in a news article concerning Lake Winston’s sunfish overpopulation.
A FULL-LENGTH mirror attached to the back of the bathroom door reflected my image wearing a casual sweater and denim skirt over dark tights and brown boots. I had the same peering eyes as Uncle Al, but they were wider and softer with long black lashes.
As a preteen, when I saw Mom more regularly, she often reminded me to sweep blush across my cheeks so I wouldn’t look peaked. Today I took her advice and even applied some raspberry lip gloss. After pinning back a few stray black curls, I looked ready to go out. On the inside, however, I was a mess of knots and queasiness.
I REACHED the dock first, barely aware of my surroundings as I walked there. I paced, hearing the Jet Ski before I could see it. And then there he was, a figure wearing a dark jacket, black jeans and running shoes. Valcas casually approached the dock. I couldn’t tell whether he was happy to see me. He wasn’t smiling and dark shades once again covered his eyes.
Valcas extended his arm. “May I?”
We walked silently arm-in-arm from the dock around the perimeter of the lake. I tried to come up with an excuse for why I had to leave, anything to cut the evening short, but I couldn’t think of anything convincing. Occasionally, I glanced up at him, trying not to be too obvious. He walked confidently, much more so than I did, but my memory was right as far as his age. He looked no older than a recent high school graduate.
“Where did you have in mind for dinner?” My voice cracked on the word “dinner,” which nearly made me flee.
“Is the lakeside crab shack acceptable?”
“Sure.” I shrugged. For someone new to the area it was interesting that he’d picked a place tha
t only the locals knew stayed open after tourist season ended.
“Very good.”
“Are you always this formal?” I asked as we neared the crab shack.
He smiled, but he did not answer me. Instead, he caught the attention of the hostess and pointed to an outdoor table that overlooked the lake. Cozy and secluded, I thought. Strangely enough, this calmed me.
Valcas let go of my arm and sat down across from me. A waiter with shaggy brown hair and a dopey grin approached the table with two glasses and a pitcher of water. He looked back and forth between Valcas and me and snickered. I glared at him. I recognized him too—Kevin Staunch. Even though he’d come up with the name a half a dozen years ago, he still called me Cow-la. And he still thought it was funny.
“I recommend the house special, freshly caught crab,” he said. “I assume that you’ll want to be billed separately.”
Valcas handed the waiter a bundle of cash. “Two orders, please.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. I’d never seen one of Kevin’s insults backfire. He recovered quickly, patting my arm as he walked away as if to say, Well good for you, Cow-la.
“Thanks, Valcas,” I said.
“You’re welcome.”
While waiting for dinner, I glanced up at Valcas over sips of water, hoping that at some point it would get dark enough outside for him to remove his glasses. He, however, seemed to have forgotten that I was there.
When our food came, Valcas ate slowly and deliberately, mostly facing the lake. I caught him looking around behind himself several times—back in the direction of the dock.
Since Valcas remained quiet, I decided to try out Uncle Al’s advice. “Thanks for taking me out tonight. We had an odd introduction earlier today, don’t you think?”
Valcas looked at me. His lips tugged into a slight frown. Even with his sunglasses blocking his gaze, it was obvious that this was the first time during dinner that he’d really looked at me.
“Trust me, this is not a date.”
As he said this I felt a chill from the breeze coming off of the lake.
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