by W. J. May
“I doubt I’ll be seeing you in the morning. Dad has plans to be up and out with you before breakfast. He’ll take you in to the train on his way to work. So, I’ll see you at school. I’m really sorry about all this. Are you okay?”
“I guess I’ll have to be.”
“Goodnight, Simon.”
“’Night, Argyle.” There was nothing good about it.
Chapter 10
Simon and Argyle’s father rode in silence to the station the following morning. It was obvious the older man was still plenty peeved, and it halfway crossed Simon’s mind he might well end up in a ditch on the side of the road rather than at the station if he provoked him.
Instead, he remained silent and stared blankly out the window, wondering how Beth was. He could only hope she would be okay. He imagined her reading his note and hoped it would give her some comfort, but he would have no way of knowing, he supposed. Once at school, he’d find a way. He wasn’t giving up. Simon Kerrigan didn’t give up on anything. Ever.
At the station, he grabbed his things and waited, Argyle’s father standing nearby to make sure he got on the train – like he had any other choice.
He didn’t acknowledge the older man as he boarded the train. He never planned to see or speak to the bastard again. When he got his tatù… he’d make the score even.
The remaining holiday crawled by between his return to the nearly-empty school and Argyle’s arrival. Simon was on pins and needles to know how Beth was doing, and if their father had calmed down now that he had left. The last thing he had meant to do was cause her trouble. How could something so simple go so horribly wrong?
“Simon!”
He jumped at the sound of Argyle’s voice in the hallway. He turned toward him, closing the distance between the two of them in just a few steps. He tried to contain his questions, but he just couldn’t. “How’s Beth? Is she okay? What’s going on with her?”
“Whoa, whoa. It’s good to see you, too, buddy.”
“I’m sorry, Argyle. Of course it’s good to see you. I’ve just been so worried about Beth. Your father didn’t take his anger out on her, did he?”
“Me da calmed down after you left. He refused to talk about it, even went as far as to forbid your name in the house.” Argyle glanced down before sighing. “Beth hasn’t spoken to him since you left.” He dug around his backpack. “Here, she sent you a note.”
Simon snatched the folded paper from Argyle before he barely had it out of his bag.
“I’m going to go drop my things in my room and I’ll be back to check on you.” He hesitated a moment before hitched his bag over his shoulder. “I hope the note’s a good one, mate.”
“Thanks, Argyle.”
“No problem.” Argyle disappeared down the hallway.
Simon found a quiet corner window at the top of Joist Hall and sat down on the bench beside it to unfurl the note in his hand.
It was written in neat, heavy handwriting just as beautiful as Beth was.
He let out a shaky breath, terrified the words on the paper would break his heart.
My dearest Simon,
Thank you for leaving a note for me. I’m sorry for my father’s behavior & wish I could change how he has treated you, but I’m afraid it’s beyond my control. Or anyone’s. He’s being ridiculous.
I know we can’t see each other for a while, but there’s no reason we can’t keep in touch until we can find a way. I’ve written my address at school on the back of this note so we can correspond. They don’t let us accept phone calls here unless it is family, but Argyle calls me once in a while and if you happen to be around… What they don’t know won’t hurt, right?
Argyle gave me your address at school already, so even if you don’t write me back, I’m going to keep writing you in hopes that you change your mind. I know what you said in your note, but perhaps you have reconsidered, given the trouble it could bring to you defying my father to stay in contact with me. I don’t think you meant those words. I think you wrote them out of a sense of duty.
I’m sending this note with him so that I know definitely that you got it.
I’m glad I met you, and you will always be on my mind. We have a connection that is unique. Nobody can break that. I’ll be sixteen in a few months and nobody, not even my father, can stop us from being together then.
I’ve never felt like someone was destined to be with me, but I felt it with you immediately. It is as if we have always known one another. I can’t see us as only a passing winter romance, as Argyle has told me he thinks we were. He just doesn’t know how strong the connection between us is. Perhaps one day he will meet someone he feels the same way about, and then he will understand.
I have no intention of letting my heart let you go. Neither time nor distance can separate those who are truly meant for one another. I believe that and I know you do, as well. Please don’t let this feeling fade. We can overcome whatever obstacles fall in front of us. Know that you have my heart and you always will, just as I know that I have yours. I never want to lose that.
I love you, too. I always will.
Yours,
Beth XOXO
P.S. Are you getting a tattoo? Argyle was mumbling that you were going to get one when you turn sixteen. Please don’t make it a picture of me. That’s kinda weird. Lol.
THE END
The Chronicles of Kerrigan Prequel
Question the Darkness Book II
By
W.J. May
Copyright 2016 by W.J. May
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual person, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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Copyright 2016 by W.J. May
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The Chronicles of Kerrigan Prequel
Christmas Before the Magic
Question the Darkness
Into the Darkness
Fight the Darkness
Alone the Darkness
Lost the Darkness
The Chronicles of Kerrigan
Book I - Rae of Hope is FREE!
Book Trailer:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gILAwXxx8MU
Book II - Dark Nebula
Book Trailer:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ca24STi_bFM
Book III - House of Cards
Book IV - Royal Tea
Book V - Under Fire
Book VI - End in Sight
Book VII – Hidden Darkness
Book VIII – Twisted Together
Book IX – Mark of Fate
Book X – Strength & Power
Book XI – Last One Standing
Book XII – Rae of Light
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Blurb:
Learn how it all began … before Rae Kerrigan.
The sins of the father are the sins of the son.
What did Rae’s father do that put fear in people’s eyes at the name Kerrigan?
Simon Kerrigan is a bright kid. He likes to ask questions and push adults in their way of thinking. He’s falling for a girl he’s been warned to stay away from. Tempted by forbidden love, he also must face the biggest challenge of his life: receive a tattoo on his sixteenth birthday.
This ink is going to give him a supernatural ability unlike anyone before him. When secrets of the past begin to reveal themselves, he questions everything he’s ever known.
Pressure from Guilder Boarding School and the Privy Council only confuse Simon more as he struggles to find himself.
How hard will he have to shake the family tree to find the truth about the past?
The Chronicles of Kerrigan Prequel is the beginning of the story before Rae Kerrigan. Christmas Before the Magic is just the beginning (but not the end...)
Chapter 1
It was finally happening. After all this time, it was finally happening.
Simon Kerrigan held his breath and watched as the glowing red numbers on his digital clock switched from eleven fifty-nine to midnight. For a second, he couldn’t even look. He just pulled in a silent gasp as his eyes snapped shut. He should take his time, after all. There should be some kind of moment of silence. Of ceremony. He hadn’t waited sixteen years for nothing.
Screw that—I want to see it!
With a childlike giddiness that was most unlike him, he pulled out the flashlight he’d stashed beneath his pillow, and rolled up the arm to his long-sleeve pajamas. He wasn’t worried about his roommate—the seven-foot-tall colossus snoring on the other side of the room. Appropriately named Brick, the man had what had to be the most boring tatù in the world: the ability to amplify sound. Needless to say, this level of mundane mediocrity perfectly epitomized his entire personality, or lack thereof, and Simon was confident that even if he did happen to open his eyes and look over, he wouldn’t have the wherewithal to know what was going on.
Sound amplification, he scoffed as he eagerly rolled up his sleeve. Lamest ink ever. And I swear, he practices with his snoring. Mine’s not going to be anything like that. Mine’s going to be...
Nothing.
No mark. No inkling. Not even the start of something.
He blinked and double-checked his watch. It matched the time on his digital clock. Sighing he dropped back down on the bed and tried to will the ink art onto his arm. If he thought about it hard enough, would that make it show up? He sighed and let his eyes close. Maybe if he just relaxed and tried to sleep, it would come.
He just wanted a strong tatù. Something he could use. Just as he felt himself drift off, he jolted and sat upright. I want my mark to be…
He stopped short as he stared down at the shimmering design that had magically laced its way across his skin.
...different.
Different was perhaps a bit of an understatement. Simon didn’t think he had ever seen a design so unusual. Nor had he heard any of his professors mention it as a possibility. And he would know. There wasn’t a student at Guilder who paid more attention to the variations and limitations of ink than he did. By this point—halfway through his second year—he was kind of known for it. The brain. The loner. The odd boy from the odd family who kept to himself save for his one loyal friend. And now this. Yet another thing to set him apart from the horde. Yet another distinction between him and the rest of the unwashed masses.
Not that he minded. In fact, he couldn’t have been more pleased.
Most kids in high school, even a school as strange as the legendary Guilder Boarding School, prized homogeny above all. By instinct, teenagers craved normalcy. Even teenagers gifted with superpowers living in a secret society somehow all wanted to be the same.
But not Simon.
His freedom lay in his power. He had always known that. Since long before the ink appeared on his skin. His tatù would go on to define him.
Now, if he could just figure out what it was…
It was a man, that much was clear. But a man with a slightly blurred face, as if the ink had smeared to exactly the point where you couldn’t make out his expression. In one hand dangled an old-fashioned clock, while the other was stretched out with what looked to be some kind of shimmery ray shooting from it.
First guess, he figured it might be some kind of magician.
It was cool, that much was certain. Undeniably cool. In fact, the longer he stared at it, the more Simon was hypnotized by the very sight. Like Narcissus gazing at his reflection in the pool, he sat there for what had to be hours—twisting his arm this way and that, flexing the muscles so as to see the mysterious man from every angle.
Not a magician, he decided as the clock struck two. The clock ruled out a magician. But surely some kind of sorcerer. A wizard maybe? No, not a wizard. Nothing so common as that. This had to be something else. Something like—
“—a warlock!” he whispered aloud, casting an automatic nervous glance at Brick, although the kid never missed a beat in his snoring.
Yes, a warlock.
He grinned to himself as he flipped over onto his back and held it up to catch the light of the moon. Best night ever. Better even than that night he’d spent in Scotland over winter break. The night where he’d kissed a raven-haired beauty under the light of the stars.
A slight frown flitted across his face, and he lowered his arm to his side. Well, maybe not better than that. He wasn’t sure anything could be better than that. Just…different.
Yes. Different. Like him. Like his new tatù.
The arm came back up with a happy smile, angling automatically to catch the light. Just wait until his school friends got a load of this. His smile turned abruptly smug as he pictured the look on one particular face. Wardell’s. If the boy had a first name, he’d never bothered to learn it. In fact, he made it a habit not to get to know any of their names, only their ink. It was a testament to how much of a pain in the ass this particular guy had been that Simon knew his last name at all.
Sure, Wardell thought he was the king at this school. With his flashy fox ink, good looks, and a rich family, he’d been a natural choice. But now all that was about to change. There was a new king in town.
The warlock.
The second Simon thought the name, he instantly banned it as a moniker. His best friend Argyle had clearly been forcing him to read too many comic books, and his imagination was running away with him. But that didn’t change the fact that Wardell was going to have to step aside. He didn’t imagine that stupid fox running up his arm could do too much against a one-of-a-kind tatù like the one Simon had now. He would quite simply have to put the insufferable jock in his place.
Like an intoxicating dream, the mental image floated through his head.
Wardell—walking unassumingly across the grass, surrounded by his usual group of friends.
Simon—striding boldly out to meet him, surrounded by no one, needing no one.
Wardell—saying something flippant and rude like usual, not realizing the consequences.
Simon—slowly raising his arm.
In the quiet dorm room, he copied the exact gesture he saw on the warlock, extending his fingers to their fullest extent and imagining the same kind of liquid light pouring forth. What happened next was of particular satisfaction.
Wardell—flying through the air in front of everyone, landing in a puddle. Or mud. Or both.
Serves the bastard right…
<
br /> But then, as quickly as the gloating mental image flashed through his head, it disappeared with a start, leaving Simon feeling rather cold in its wake.
One-of-a-kind tatù, huh? On second thought, they didn’t really care for that sort of thing at Guilder. Sure, there had been a few sensational cases over the last few decades, but they had either been snatched up by the Privy Council, or had discreetly disappeared. Either way, they were usually never seen or heard from again.
Turned out that as extraordinary as this secret world of theirs was, the geniuses running the Privy Council, and Guilder for that matter, were as homogenous as the teenagers. Prizing talent as long as it stayed strictly within its specified guidelines. Encouraging power as long as it was limited, and put to their own personal use.
The arm came down again as Simon turned to stare out the window with a worried frown.
Suddenly, he wasn’t so sure he wanted to go showing off his tatù after all…
* * *
The next day, Simon picked out his clothes carefully before setting out for classes. Brick had already left by the time he got up—off to lift weights at the gym or some other absurdity—so he was able to prepare in relative peace.
Thankfully, the springtime weather was still cold enough that no one would think his long-sleeve shirt layered with a long-sleeve sweater was at all unusual. And given the fact that he’d made absolutely no friends, save for Argyle, and never shared any personal information about himself, there was a good chance that no one even knew that today was his sixteenth birthday.
Yes, everything will be fine, he thought as he pushed open the door to Joist Hall and set off across the grass, heading towards Professor Lanford’s history class. I’ll just keep my head down, and—