Soul Inheritance

by Honey A. Hutson

  Soul Inheritance

  Honey A. Hutson

  Black Rose Writing

  www.blackrosewriting.com

  © 2011 by Honey A. Hutson

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine or journal.

  The final approval for this literary material is granted by the author.

  First printing

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-1-61296-042-5

  PUBLISHED BY BLACK ROSE WRITING

  www.blackrosewriting.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  Soul Inheritance is printed in Book Antiqua

  My sister – Lydia Hutson, a fantastic artist (love the cover art), whose enthusiasm of my accomplishments never wavered and my value as a person was recognized long before I realized it myself.

  Paul – who read and re-read and encouraged every step of the way and continues to read as the new novels are born.

  Soul Inheritance

  Soul Inheritance

  Chapter One

  Katherine brushed her long dark curls over one shoulder as she strode down the thin brown carpet toward her apartment. Digging around in a pocket she finally located the keys and pulled them out, balancing books, papers and purse in the other hand. There was a moment, as she stood before the door, that she considered not entering. Her father would be home by now, she could go there instead. Brushing the thought aside she slid the key into the lock.

  The TV blared in the living room. A sporting event from the sound of it. Her hopes that Nigel was gallivanting around with his friends had been dashed in the parking lot, when she’d pulled in beside his annoying little roadster. It had to be the most pathetic car she’d ever seen and the monthly payment, which she now made, hadn’t encouraged her to rethink that assessment. That he was glued to the TV, which she rarely bothered to watch, was no surprise.

  Stopping at the little table by the door she dropped the keys into the bowl and hung her purse on the hook. Without even glancing in his direction she bypassed the living room and dumped the paperwork on the dining room table.

  The sadness of it all was noted with a half frown before she made her way into the small kitchen to take a wine cooler from the refrigerator. The clock on the stove read eight thirty. Except for a trashcan full of beer bottles, Nigel’s – Katherine didn’t drink beer – and several dishes in the sink, the kitchen was neat and orderly. Since the nightmares began there had been many nights spent cleaning. There was almost nothing left to organize or sort or scrub in the apartment, car or flower shop.

  Cautiously she made her way over the shortest distance between the kitchen and the sliding glass doors that led out onto the balcony. She didn’t feel like dealing with Nigel and with any luck the game would last well into the night.

  The warm air of late summer caressed her face as she wrapped thin, tired hands around the railing. The apartment building overlooked Garrett’s Bluff and that was part of why she’d chosen one on the fifth floor. While Katherine didn’t care for heights and was deathly afraid of flying there was a certain degree of satisfaction to be had in looking out over a town she and her father had overcome. There had been a time when they’d lived on the ‘other’ side of town, where the low income housing and tiny shacks were located. As a child she’d endured teasing and bullying for not belonging to the ‘in’ crowd. Her clothes were never good enough; her shoes often had holes in them.

  Even later, when her father had opened his business and eventually moved them to a better neighborhood, she was still the outsider. Now she lived a good life, with not only a business of her own, but a chain of them. It was her turn to laugh. Some of her tormentors had gone off to college, lived average rat race lives with careers and families. Many hadn’t done so well. Some of them delivered goods to her flower shops. The worst of the worst was the on call plumber for her upscale apartment complex.

  Now she looked out over the glittering mini-metropolis and watched shimmering strings of lights stretch off into the distance. A commercial blared inside the living room. If only she could get that part of her life in order. The door slid open and Nigel stuck his head out.

  “Don’t you think maybe you should stop by the store one of these days? In case you hadn’t noticed the fridge is empty.” His tone was irritated and demanding. It reminded her why she’d never had children.

  “Did it occur to you that you have a car in the parking lot that I’m paying way too much for and two legs of your own?” She turned to face him. “You know, people who are trying to find a job generally go out to do it, at least to buy a paper.”

  Nigel came out onto the balcony, his demeanor softening. Sudden insecurity gripped her and she stepped back, toward the corner, allowing the maximum amount of space available between them. He leaned toward the edge, looked down.

  “Now, honey. You know it’s hard for a computer programmer to find work in this city. It takes time.”

  ‘Yea, especially when you screwed over your last employer,’ she thought, acutely aware of the distance between her and the ground.

  He closed the gap between them, leaned into her, ran his fingers over the side of her face and into her hair where he tangled them, tipping her head back. “Let’s not get testy tonight, huh?” He looked down again. “Such a nice view,” he breathed into her face.

  Katherine glared at him, pushed back. “Let go.”

  Nigel backed off, took a few steps back toward the door. “You just need to relax, doll. You know, I could do all that paperwork and stuff for you. Hell, I could help run the shops. Then you wouldn’t have to work so late.” He walked back into the living room, plopped back on the couch, beer in hand.

  Katherine leaned on the rail, took a moment to gather fraying nerves. She watched him run long, muscular fingers through shoulder length brown hair, saw his blue eyes flash as he grinned to himself over some secret thought. Nigel was six foot two to her five foot six and twice as strong. It wouldn’t have taken a lot for him to shove her right over the rail. The only thing stopping him was that it was too obvious. No one would think she jumped. She shivered, then smiled to herself. If he ever did get too greedy the joke was on him. They’d never married and her will was specific. It all went to her father and in his absence it all went to a little orphanage run by a country doctor she’d read about in the Parade section of the Sunday paper.

  Loneliness dug its claws in as she stood there breathing in the cooling air of night. It was just wrong. At thirty two she didn’t want to keep looking. For a life, for a man that was worth sharing it with, for answers to her nightmares. Those took the forefront now as she yawned. Exhaustion was setting in, yet sleep was the last thing she wanted. With sleep came the dreams that raised more questions than answers. It was time to start looking for help. It was time to tell her father in the hopes that he could offer some assistance, or find a specialist to make them go away.

  Halfheartedly she turned and went back inside. Going to sleep wasn’t an option. The dreams had grown more violent, more intrusive. They set her on paths of thinking that she wasn’t comfortable with for reasons she didn’t know.

  As night dragged on she busied herself with the efforts of avoiding it all together. Instead she concentrated on the circumstances at hand. Nigel had become more demanding, undependable and completely unpredictable. There w
ere only hints of physical violence, but she wanted out before it got that far. It was time to turn to the only support she had, her father. Up till now she’d wanted to keep him out of it, to handle things on her own. In an effort to assert her independence she’d kept most of the information about the disintegrating relationship quiet. She was ready to fess up and ask for help.

  Exhaustion finally won. Katherine considered sleeping on the couch and even the floor. Innate stubbornness, however, would not let her do that. Grudgingly she crawled into bed beside Nigel, careful not to wake him. It was, after all, her apartment, her life and the goal was to take it back, not give more of it away.

  The sliding door stood open, letting in a slight breeze that carried the unmistakable first scents of fall. The late September heat was finally starting to give way. She concentrated hard on the feelings that evoked. Peace, serenity. Thoughts of visiting pumpkin farms with her father as a child. Memories of hay rides, hunting for just the perfect Jack-O-Lantern, leaves cascading to the ground in showers of yellow, red and orange.

  The world dissolved as Katherine followed the leaves down, down into sleep leaving all the madness behind. The city sounds, the stuffy heat, Nigel snoring. She felt herself emerging, gasping as the sensation of surfacing after being under too long overtook her, every muscle tensing, grasping for oxygen.

  Eyes still clinched, she could feel the fibrous damp moss underneath. The air was cool and damp as she sucked it in trying to feed a racing heart. The musty, decaying smells of moss, sand and forest came thick and heavy with quick, shallow breaths, giving her the sensation of suffocating. The sounds of water lapping nearby, a crow cawing in the distance, seemed sharper and closer than she knew they were. The coming of a storm hung heavy in the air. She was back at the lake. Opening her eyes she got up; brushed the sand from her jeans and lacy white blouse, shook it from her loose hair, scanning the surroundings for movement.

  Once assured that she was alone Katherine stood at the edge of the lake – watching mist rise off of the rippling water. With impatience she surveyed the forest.

  “Okay, let’s see how far I get this time. Always the same. Can’t just start back where I left off, can’t just get on with it. No, that would be too easy,” she grumbled to the night, shoving her trembling hands deep into her pockets.

  A moat of deep darkness started at the tree line, concealing all that lay beyond as a three quarters moon reflected off the water. She stayed in the open, wandering almost absently. Rounding the curve of the cove she saw lights reflected in the water. They danced on the rippling surface like Chinese lanterns set afloat, each a slightly different color, reflecting the stained glass windows whose likeness they represented. The grand old Victorian house lit the way up a simple gravel path, a long wrap around porch snaking its way around the perimeter. Three stories towered above as she found her footing, making her way up to the yawning front steps, lit on both sides by lanterns glowing from inside the mouths of stone lions. It gave the impression of flaring eyes and flaming tongues.

  “Well,” she spoke softly as she approached the stone figures. “Let’s see if I make it to the porch this time.” Pausing she reached out to the nearest lion, touched it’s cool, hard surface, patted it. “Just making sure ol’ boy.” The porch steps creaked underfoot. “So far so good.”

  One hand slid along the smooth rail. Katherine squeezed it, looking down, expecting a smoothly finished wood. Instead her grip found flesh; smooth, reptilian skin. The realization sank in as it writhed in response. Recoiling she tripped over the last step, fell against the entry way into the hard wooden door head first. Before she could regain her composure the floorboards began to give way.

  ‡

  Falling out of the dream Katherine awoke with a shudder, slipping backward, gripping for something to hang on to, finding only air. A soft warm thing coiled around her, pulling tight as she descended. There was nothing to catch her but the bedroom floor. She struggled there, thrashing to free her body, catch her breath and gather the confused fragments of her mind. The tee shirt and sweats she slept in were damp and the room was freezing as she scrambled away from the tangle of blankets.

  “God damn, Katherine. What the hell is with you?!” Nigel grumbled, sitting up on the edge of the bed, staring down at her as if he were scolding a child. “At least turn down the damn air while you’re up.” He yanked the covers she had pulled off back onto the bed. Rolling up in the majority of them he turned his back. The large luminous green numbers on the alarm clock read 3 AM.

  “At this rate I might as well get an air mattress,” she muttered, getting stiffly to her feet. “Least I won’t have as far to fall.” Glancing toward the bed she paused, “What, no smart remark, asshole?”

  Nigel only mumbled; already well on his way back to sleep. Katherine made a face and turned to the glass door with a shiver. The room was freezing, yet she knew the air-conditioning wasn’t on. Looking up she noted her disheveled appearance, her sharp features looking wraith-like in the reflection. The strong scent of rotting leaves and lake water filled the room.

  Fear seized her as something large moved in the room, it’s shape growing into a reflection in the glass.

  A figure nearly two feet taller and three times as wide as her slender frame emerged slowly from the shadows. The hairless thing had slick gray skin that glistened with a layer of water; a sculptured, almost handsome face turned its gaze to look at her. Baleful black eyes sparkled in the darkness as it moved forward into full view. It was nearly nude and without a doubt male. A pair of large pointed ears protruded from high on the sides of his head, water dripping from the tips. Not exactly animal, but definitely not human. The body was muscular, with long lean limbs, the arms ending in strong hands with curved talons at the tips of the fingers. A pair of thick, leathery wings protruded from his back. With a flurry he shook them, spraying water about like a sparrow just emerged from a bird bath. As she stood staring it moved forward, reaching for her shoulder, talons extended.

  Katherine spun around as a slick, cold finger touched bare skin. She faced only darkness as her breath made clouds in the cold air. Nigel snored as always, completely unaware. Tears filled her eyes as she covered her mouth and slunk from the room.

  “Oh God, I’m going mad. I’m losing it.” She paced in front of the bathroom door. “It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s just a lack of sleep.” Stopping abruptly she smiled weakly. “Yea. That’s it. Hallucination due to sleep deprivation.”

  She rubbed her sore hip, realized her head was throbbing. It felt like she’d run a marathon and a gauntlet all in one short nap. The bathroom light hurt her eyes as she flipped the switch on. The white walls seemed to enhance her aching head as she opened the medicine cabinet and reached for the Tylenol. The dolphins that bobbed along the tops of blue waves on the bathroom walls nearly made her seasick.

  “What in the hell is wrong with me?” Closing the mirror back she stared down at the sink, hesitant to look at her own reflection. “This is ridiculous.” She faced the glass.

  Nothing but the bright walls, the dolphin motif and her own pale face waited. Leaning on the sink she ran her hand over her forehead pushing the hair from her face. A thick wet substance oozed between her fingers. Blood soaked the edge of the hairline and the purple foreshadowing of a bruise was already beginning to show. With shaking hands Katherine cleaned the gash, tears sliding down her face.

  “I mustn’t panic. Be reasonable. You just hit your head when you fell. That’s it, you just hit something.” Even as the shaky words escaped in a hoarse whisper she knew there was nothing there to hit. The dreams were becoming more than a lack of sleep. They were becoming threatening, real in a way that she didn’t quite grasp.

  A chill took hold as the familiar eeriness of unseen eyes emerged. She threw the bloodied towel in the hamper.

  “What the hell are you waiting for? What do you want?!” she cried to the still, white wall
s, the dolphins that mocked her, the cold ceramic sink, the tear soaked reflection.

  The adrenalin rush was beginning to wear off and she found that she just didn’t care anymore. There was obviously nothing she could do about it. The couch was soft and comforting as she curled up; pulling a Dallas Cowboys throw tightly around her.

  Early the next morning Nigel came clamoring through the apartment. After making enough noise to wake the dead – and getting no response – he went to the couch and shook Katherine’s shoulder.

  “Hey, your damn clock’s been going off for an hour. If you’re not going to sleep in there, don’t set the fucking thing. It's Saturday, damn it.”

  Katherine stirred, rolled away from the sunlight streaming in through the windows.

  “Hey, don’t we have that carnival thing with your dad today?” He perked up, shifted back to the friendlier attitude he took when he wanted something. “What time do we have to be there to pick him up?”

  Reluctantly Katherine put her feet to the floor and sat up. The mention of her father gave her a reason to get up. Every year he took her to the carnival for her birthday. It happened that the same group came through in late summer at almost the exact same time like clockwork. Even when she was a child he would scrape to take her and they would spend the whole day, riding the rides, playing games and just spending time together.

  It had always been just the two of them and they’d made the most of it. She rarely thought about her mother. There was only one picture of the woman, lovingly framed and always kept in the living room. If it weren’t for that Katherine wouldn’t have known she looked nothing like her, but instead took on the traits of her father, Mitch, almost exclusively. The years had passed by quickly enough with Katherine thinking her mother had died in a car accident when she was one. It was only after her twenty-first birthday her father had filled his daughter in on the rest of the story. When she’d gone on a crusade to find him a wife to fill his now empty townhouse and even emptier days.