Ink & Fire

by R. K. Ryals

  I glance at him. “Do you know anything about what I am?”

  He stares at the bookstore. “We all have demons that haunt us. You are a scary person, Harper Sinclair. You can channel darkness and attack people with their own nightmares.”

  My breath catches in my throat. “I don’t want to do that.”

  “I know.” He looks at me. “That’s what saves you.”

  The way he stands—his muscular arms making him look like a bear inside his pullover, his baseball cap casting a shadow over his face—makes me smile. “I hope I don’t offend you when I say I own a scary-looking baseball bat that would look right at home in your hands.”

  He laughs, the sound as gravelly as his voice. Rock stars would weep. Yet, the way he laughs sounds new, too. Maybe untried?

  “You don’t do that enough, do you?” I ask.

  He sobers. “What?”

  “Laugh like that.”

  He smiles softly. “Maybe I don’t.”

  “You should.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  We stare at the bookstore.

  “Do I smell like Hell to you?” I ask, turning to him.

  He snorts. “Is everything out of your mouth always this unexpected?”

  “Do I?”

  He takes a sip of his coffee, and then says, “You smell good.” There’s nothing flowery about his words, and I find I like that.

  Turning away, he gets ready to lope across the street.

  “Do you come here often?” I ask out of nowhere. “For coffee, I mean?”

  He glances back at me. “I do.”

  “Good . . . you know, you should switch to hot chocolate. It’s more holiday-ish. As a matter of fact,” my gaze flicks to Coffee Haven and then back to him, “the town Hot Cocoa and Cookie Crawl will be happening soon. That’s as good a time as any to switch.”

  “Have you ever done the Crawl before?” Elias asks, his booted feet on the curb, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Or is this on your ‘first time for everything’ list?”

  I shrug. “Branching out, remember?”

  “You need a phone, Ms. Sinclair,” he calls while crossing the street.

  “Maybe I’ll get one,” I call in return.

  Smiling, I turn back to the bookstore. New friends. A possible phone. Books I might attempt to read. People I want to try to talk to.

  Christmas books start to pile up in the showcase window, and I briefly catch the title of one. A Christmas Carol.

  My lips curl. My Aunt Eloise has forced me to listen to A Christmas Carol every Christmas for as far back as I can remember. First by reading it, and then in audio. It became tradition. I’m not sure why the book is her favorite, but by making me listen to it year after year, she’s made it one of my favorites, too.

  I suddenly feel the urge to hug Eloise. For nothing more than just being her. Now that I know my powers can be controlled, I can start building an even closer relationship with her, the kind of relationship I should have had before.

  Who knows? Maybe, just maybe, I am Havenwood Falls’ version of Scrooge. Only I’m not old or miserly. I’m a recluse imprisoned by fears rather than faults. My ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future are two villains, a fallen angel, and a sentient weapon.

  A work truck roars to life, and I glance at the street just in time to see Elias driving off, his window rolled down. His hand lifts in a wave, and I wonder about his story.

  But first . . .

  Today is the first day in a new beginning.

  Chapter 17

  New beginnings mean less fear, right?

  At least that’s what I kept telling myself when I left Main Street for the one place I felt safe enough to practice my powers. After a hug fest with my aunt, which is less weird than it sounds, I hole myself up at her shop in a space I never even attempted to enter until now.

  I am not afraid of my powers. I am not afraid of my powers. Over and over again, I repeat the mantra in my head, my eyes on the walls of the back room. The reading room, my aunt calls it.

  There are notebooks and pencils everywhere. It looks like a wet dream for writers. For me, not so much.

  I am not a coward.

  The door to the shop dings. Customers enter, and then exit. Time ticks forward.

  Eloise has a client scheduled for the afternoon, and I know by the impatient way she paces the floor beyond where I stare at the wall, that I’m running out of time.

  “Hey, Eloise,” a voice greets, her words chasing the door’s bell. “Harper around?”

  Relief and trepidation flood my veins. Addie Beaumont. Saundra’s granddaughter.

  The bead curtain behind me clicks together.

  “Hey,” Addie says gently. She walks in front of me, her studiously edgy appearance a welcome one. Light brown hair fans out over a red sweater, the shirt resting over ripped jeans. A diamond in her nose winks at me when she leans down, her eyes softening behind her glasses. “Bet you can’t guess why I’m here.”

  “That fast, huh?”

  In her arms is a leather satchel, the bag home to a tattoo kit. Adelaide Beaumont is here to mark me. All of the supernaturals in Havenwood Falls are marked when they come to town as a way to register with the Court. It keeps tabs on the supes. I’m one of them now. Always had been, I guess.

  “They definitely don’t take their time with things.” She taps me on the arm. “Where and what?” She doesn’t have to say more than that. I know how it works.

  “My wrist. A quill pen.”

  She chuckles. “That makes sense.”

  Pulling a pad and pencil out of her bag, she gets to work sketching the design before tracing it with a purple pen and removing it.

  Giving her my arm, I look away. Even if I was afraid of needles, the pain would be nothing compared to the pain I’ve already faced. To the way my heart feels now, torn between jubilation and heartbreak. New beginnings and loneliness.

  Damp paper is pressed against my skin. “What you did last night was incredible,” Addie tells me.

  My eyes drop to the table. “Can you help me with something?”

  Addie pauses. “Depends.”

  “I want to try to use my powers.”

  “Now?” she asks, startled.

  “No.” I shake my head, smiling. I know by the way I’ve stared at the wall for hours that I’m not ready. But I will be. “Not now. But soon.” I look at her. “I’m going to be something big, Addie. I’m going to be a part of this town. A part of this community in a way I never was before. When I’m ready, will you come? I’d feel better if there was a witch there. You know . . . just in case.”

  Placing her hand against mine, she peers down at the design on my wrist, at the tattoo she’s about to start on. “You’ve had a long, hard road, Harper. A lot of us admire what you’ve been through and how you’ve handled it. I’ll be there.”

  As she’s tattooing me, I stare at her. She’s strong, too. I may not know a lot about what I can do yet, but I see and feel the strength in her.

  “I want to be a part of what makes this town safe,” I say suddenly.

  Addie smiles. “Good. We’ll both be a part of that.”

  Nodding, I shut my eyes. My time is coming.

  Chapter 18

  Christmas Eve

  The walk-in utility closet in my kitchen makes a perfect darkroom, and I outfitted it exactly the way I need it to be.

  Landscape photography is a competitive business, but I’ve managed to make a name for myself and a decent paycheck—enough for a single woman—mainly by taking pictures no one else has been able to capture. It’s easy to get unseen shots when I’m the only person snapping pictures of the mountains and landscape around Havenwood Falls for print in magazines. Most of my photographs are labeled as remote spots in Colorado with no specific name attached.

  I’m careful not to snap shots of the shifters or other supernaturals that roam the hillsides. All of my photos have to be approved before I sell them, but I’ve been m
aking a freelance cash flow from my work since my last year in high school.

  A photographic safelight swings above my messy bun, the glow from the bulb turning the entire space red. My fingers clutch a pair of tongs, my eyes on a developing tray.

  I get a thrill from this process because everything has to be perfect. From the water temperature to the exposure duration.

  The picture I’m working on now is no different.

  From developer to stop bath to fixer to the rinse, I take my time with it. Careful. Ever so careful.

  The image that appears is exactly what I expected it to be.

  “Why do you want that anyway?” Desi asks from my feet. For some reason, he’s taken a real interest in my photography. Maybe sentient weapons need hobbies, too.

  I stare at the picture. “Because there’s nothing like framing a falling star.”

  Before me is a photograph of the mountain, pine trees and snow a backdrop to a walking wall of flames.

  Lucas.

  My falling star.

  Maybe he’ll be back. I certainly hope he returns, but if he doesn’t, he gave me something I will never forget. He gave me confidence.

  In a weird way, he also gave me purpose. He may have been the reason the archdemon Leviathan came into my life, but without the experience, I wouldn’t have discovered what I am. I wouldn’t have discovered what I can be.

  I’d be living handicapped by words and held back by fear.

  My thoughts stray to Gillian, and my stomach churns. Because of her magic, the demoness is as much my mother as my own flesh and blood mother. Two women. One evil, the other good. I am a part of both of them. One dead, the other’s fate uncertain.

  I’m not sure what that means for me now, but I’m willing to find out.

  Hanging the picture up to dry, I exit the darkroom and pull out a new cell phone from my blue jeans pocket. Cell service may be terrible in the mountains, spotty at best on a good day, but at least I’m moving into the current century with modern technology.

  Thumbing through my contacts, I click on a new name entered only recently.

  Me: Did you know that April is National Grilled Cheese Sandwich Month?

  Him: No, I can’t say I knew that.

  Me: April twelfth is National Grilled Cheese Sandwich Day. I Googled it.

  Him: Did you know that the term ‘grilled cheese’ made its first print appearance in the 1960s? I lived it.

  Me: Overachiever.

  A few minutes pass, and then,

  Him: You’re texting now?

  Me: I’m trying.

  Those two words hold a lot of meaning. Words and I may never get along. I still feel the whispers when I try to read a book or when I try to write a word, but I’m getting better at pushing them back.

  I have goals. Small ones. Each step a bigger one than the last. I started with a sentence. Next came a paragraph. Then a page. One day, I will finish a book. For now, I’ll keep listening to them.

  For now, I’ll frame my falling star and remind myself that some wishes do come true.

  Epilogue

  New Year’s Day

  It is just after midnight on New Year’s Day when Addie Beaumont knocks on the door of my aunt’s shop. I’d stayed the night with Eloise, mainly to watch the fireworks in town from the room upstairs, a storage area full of boxes and insane clutter. Eloise is a closet hoarder.

  “People should be kissing and doing, I don’t know, things other than wanting to channel entities on New Year’s,” Addie complains when I open the door.

  I grin. “This is my New Year’s Resolution.”

  “What? Using your powers?” In black denim, a hoodie, and combat boots, Addie looks ready to take on the world. It makes me wonder what kind of New Year’s resolutions she’s made.

  “To start mastering my powers.”

  “Harper’s a go-getter,” Aunt Eloise calls from the back of the shop. Pulling the hoodie up on her onesie unicorn pajamas, she waves at Addie before disappearing down the back basement stairs.

  Addie laughs. “Only Eloise could pull that off.”

  “You should have seen her on Christmas.” Locking the shop behind her, I lead the way to the reading room.

  A small lamp is the only light in the space, and I turn it on, the dim glow casting as many shadows as it does light.

  “The mortal clients must dig the dimness. It was a bitch tattooing you in this light,” Addie says.

  Two chairs rest at a small table, on opposite sides facing each other. I take one of them, and Addie takes the other. Paper and pencils rest on the surface between us.

  She looks at me, her eyes wide behind her glasses. “You’re sure about this.”

  “Are you?”

  “Fuck it, let’s do this.”

  Her words tug a smile out of me, and I place my hand on the table. A witch and a psychic summoner. That’s what New Year’s looks like in Havenwood Falls. For the two of us, anyway.

  My hand starts to tremble, and I glare at it. “I want to know more about myself,” I say aloud.

  With a speed I don’t expect, my fingers grab a pencil and move to the paper, scratching words faster than I can keep up with them. The light in the room flickers.

  Darkness. Light. Darkness.

  When it pops on again, shadows circle us, but these shadows aren’t from the dim lighting. These are the ghosts from the ridge, the specters who held down Gillian until she was taken away.

  “Holy shit!” Addie exclaims.

  The shadows start to whisper, each of them edging toward me, expectant. I know if I told them to go somewhere or do something, they’d do it. Power fills me, the feeling so strong and amazing, I have to remind myself not to abuse it.

  “Talk to me,” I demand.

  My hand continues to write. Athame. Magic. Necromancer. Artifact. This is how you became.

  Addie leans over the paper. “Athame? The one Gillian used against you at the ridge?” Her eyes narrow. “Necromancer . . . a necromancer’s athame.”

  Our eyes meet. The words don’t flow as easily as they did on Thanksgiving, and I wonder if it’s me being too cautious.

  “A necromancer’s athame. Life,” I whisper. “She stabbed my mother with it. That would explain how it saved me.”

  Addie glances at the Hell ghosts. “And how you can do this. This is fucking creepy. I hope you know that, Harper.”

  Like her, I glance at them. “Bring us the scotch in the shop,” I command.

  One of the shadows departs the back room only to return seconds later, the bottle of liquor landing on the table in front of us. We both stare at it.

  “Fucked up,” Addie mumbles. Grabbing the bottle, she opens it, upends it, and takes a swig. “Yeah, this called for that.”

  My hand races back to the paper, scribbling furiously.

  “Addie,” I breathe.

  She glances at the words, her face going white.

  “Leave us,” I cry.

  The shadows vanish, and my pencil clatters to the table. Grabbing the scotch, I take a swig. I may not understand most of what I’ve written, but I know enough to realize it’s not good.

  “I’m sorry,” I breathe. Addie takes the paper, stands, and stares down at me. She doesn’t even have to say anything. I stop her before she can. “My lips are sealed.”

  “What you just did,” she swallows hard, “it was crazy amazing, Harper. You’re right. You do have incredible power.”

  Standing, I place a hand on her shoulder. “If you need anything . . . if I can do anything . . .”

  Addie crumples the paper in her fist. “I’m going to kill that son of a bitch.”

  Picking up the scotch, I offer it to her. “Is that a New Year’s resolution?”

  “It’s something,” she says, upending the bottle once more before rushing to the front of the store. “Look—”

  “Go,” I tell her. “I understand. I just hate I’m the bearer of bad news.”

  “No, you’re the opposite of that. Y
ou’re shedding light on the truth.” At the door, she gives me a small smile before slipping outside.

  “Happy New Year’s,” I whisper, the door banging shut behind her.

  For a long time I stand at the door, my eyes on the street, my hands tucked into the pockets of a navy hoodie. Pajama bottoms decorated with cameras cover my legs. My feet are stuffed into socks and unicorn slippers. The slippers are courtesy of my aunt.

  A rumble rises down the street, headlights swinging as a truck pulls onto Eleventh Street, stopping in front of the shop. There’s something reassuring about the man I know is driving it. He’s strong in a silent, steady way that’s fortifying.

  The driver’s side window rolls down.

  My lips curve into a smile.

  We hope you enjoyed this story in the Havenwood Falls series of novellas featuring a variety of supernatural creatures. The series is a collaborative effort by multiple authors. Each book is generally a stand-alone, so you can read them in any order, although some authors will be writing sequels to their own stories. Please be aware when you choose your next read.

  Other books in the main Havenwood Falls series:

  Forget You Not by Kristie Cook

  Old Wounds by Susan Burdorf

  Fate, Love & Loyalty by E.J. Fechenda

  Covetousness by Randi Cooley Wilson

  The Winged & the Wicked by T.V. Hahn & Kristie Cook

  Alpha’s Queen by Lila Felix

  Lose You Not by Kristie Cook (Jan. 2018)

  Inked in Love by Heather Hildenbrand (Feb. 2018)

  Coming soon are books by Belinda Boring, Heather Hildenbrand, Amy Miles, Stacey Rourke, and more.

  Look for Havenwood Falls High, a Young Adult series featuring the town’s younger residents.

  Immerse yourself in the world of Havenwood Falls and stay up to date on news and announcements at www.HavenwoodFalls.com. Join our reader group, Havenwood Falls Book Club, on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/groups/HavenwoodFallsBookClub/