The Fire Ghost (Phantom Elements Book 2)

by Jennifer Campbell

  Out of the Fire

  More Phantom Elements

  The Water Ghost

  Out of the Fire

  Carved in Stone

  October 2017

  Phantom Elements

  Out of the

  Fire

  Jennifer Campbell

  Big Blue Press

  Oklahoma

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, without written permission of the publisher. Big Blue Press is an imprint of Scarlett L Press.

  All Phantom Elements books are works of fiction. Names, characters, places, or incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, any businesses, or locations is entirely coincidental.

  Big Blue Press books are available for special discounts when purchased in quantity for educational use or fundraising. Find more information at www.bigbluepress.com

  .

  ISBN 978-0-9982452-9-4

  12 11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 15 16 17 18 19 20/0

  Text copyright © 2017 by Jennifer Campbell

  All rights reserved. Published by Big Blue Press

  Printed in the U.S.A.

  First Printing, 2017, Big Blue Press

  For Noah and his buddies.

  Chapter ONe

  Colonial Massachusetts, 1712

  Eva Glass stared out the dirty, single window of the cottage, as the late October leaves fell from the river birch trees surrounding their land. She shivered and added another small log to the fireplace. Her father, John Glass, would be home any minute. She stirred the stew in the small kettle over the fire, thankful that her father had gotten a rabbit the day before. Their farmland was rich and had yielded a good crop of potatoes.

  Eva called to her sister, Minnie, to pull some turnips from the garden. They were her father’s favorite and she wanted him to be in a good mood when she told him the news. She doubted he would be as happy as she was about the announcement, but still, she mustered all the courage she could summon.

  “Minnie, girl, told ye to bring some turnips!” Eva called out the back door to her sister. Times were hard in the colony. Many people had died last winter. Disease and famine had swept through their small village. Eva’s mother and two brothers died of the fever and Minnie had barely survived. Eva brushed back an auburn curl and tucked the stray hair under her bonnet.

  Eva’s mind drifted back to Titus, the blacksmith, who had brought tea and herbs, braving the blizzard to cross the frozen forest with rations. He used his carpentry knowledge to mend their roof. He had helped her father dig her mother and brothers’ graves and Titus had carved their headstones. They stood behind the woodshed, marking their final resting places.

  Eva Glass was sixteen and many suitors had come to ask for her hand in marriage, but Eva could only think of Titus. He was tall and broad shouldered, with curly, black hair and a gleaming smile. She could hear the ring of his hammer from a mile away, as she walked through the woods to visit him. He always had a surprise for her. Some days he would pick wild strawberries for her, or have a small piece of fabric from the fur traders to the north.

  Eva was madly in love, and when Titus had told her that he wanted to ask her father for her hand in marriage, Eva wept for joy. She was expecting her father back at any minute to tell him what Titus was coming by to ask.

  Minnie finally brought the turnips. Eva washed them in the basin, chopped them up, and added them to the stew. She nearly cut herself with the cleaver, startled by the pounding hooves of her father’s horse.

  “Good evening, Father,” Eva greeted him at the door, taking his hat, coat, and musket. Her father sighed heavily, and sunk down in a chair at the small wooden table in front of the fireplace. Eva’s heart began to pound. She hoped he would be receptive to the idea of her marrying Titus.

  “I got another rabbit,” Thomas Glass said with a weak smile.

  Eva nodded and went with her father to care for the horse, and to put the rabbit carcass in the shed, where the Glass family butchered their meat.

  After their chores, Thomas, Eva, and Minnie sat down to supper. Thomas prayed over the meal and they began to eat. Eva noticed her father smile at the turnips in the stew, but a hint of sadness clouded his eyes.

  “Titus is going to come by after church tomorrow,” Eva said, her voice shaking slightly.

  Her father lowered his eyes. He stopped eating and shook his head.

  “No, Eva. He isn’t,” Thomas Glass said.

  “What do you mean?” Eva asked, panic creeping through her.

  “He isn’t going to ask to marry you. I already told him, no.”

  “Why?” Eva’s heart hammered in her chest. Titus was a good man. He had saved their family during the starving time. Eva couldn’t understand why they couldn’t be married.

  “I already told Prospero Phillips that you would marry him.”

  Upon hearing the mention of Prospero’s name, Eva collapsed into the chair. Minnie shook her head frantically and ran out of the cottage, sobbing. Eva couldn’t catch her breath. She couldn’t see. Her vision blurred at the edges.

  Prospero Phillips was second in command to Governor Dudley, and one of the richest men in the Massachusetts colony. He was also one of the worst. During the starving time, he had hoarded food and supplies for himself and was known to illegally seize lands and property. He was known to accuse innocent people of witchcraft to gain control of their fertile farmlands.

  “Why?” Eva sobbed.

  “You know why,” her father said, simply.

  Eva knew why. Prospero Phillips would accuse the innocent of witchcraft to seize their lands. However, Eva wasn’t innocent.

  Clutching her apron, she ran out into the cold. Eva fell to her knees and sobbed, pounding her fists on the leafy, autumn ground. They would burn her at the stake if they knew her secret. Her mother carried the secret before her, and at only nine years old, Minnie was starting to show the signs of the family curse.

  Eva cried into her dirty hands, her tears forming muddy streaks on her palms. She remembered the first time she displayed the signs of the curse. She was the same age as Minnie was, now. At nine years old, she set a pile of dry wood aflame, just thinking about the warmth that a fire would bring.

  A year later, she found she was able to move things, objects in the cottage, just by envisioning them sliding into her grasp. The next year, she would catch whispers of conversations during the silence of church. She realized she was reading the thoughts of the villagers. She was terrified to tell anyone, until the day she saw her mother light a candle with a glance across the cottage.

  “I can do that, too,” Eva said, startling her mother.

  Martha Glass was relieved to have another witch in the family, but swore her daughter to secrecy. If the colonists had any idea that there were real witches among them, the witch hysteria would be far worse than it already was.

  Eva sobbed behind the woodpile until she was a heaving mess. She wanted to scream into the forest. She felt her life with Titus slipping away. He loved her. She knew it. She could hear his thoughts.

  Eva’s anger was a hot ball of energy in her stomach. It burned and she had to release it. She focused on the axe, wedged squarely into the stump by the woodpile. She focused her blazing anger on the blade and seconds later, sent it sailing into the forest. The axe flew with lighting speed and landed squarely into a large, twisted walnut tree. The wood cra
cked and the tree split in two, each half falling apart onto the floor of the forest. If anyone asked, she would blame it on a lightning strike.

  Chapter 2

  Moving to Tulsa, Present Day

  Ashley Nirran watched the world blink by, out of the back window of her mom’s red smart car. On the narrow streets of their old Boston neighborhood, parking was a nightmare. They were able to park the tiny car across the street from their renovated townhouse, when most people had to park blocks away.

  Most days, Ashley and her mother, Megan Nirran, walked the city. Her dad, Patrick Nirran, was a pharmacist at the drug store down the street, and her mom sold healing plant oil blends in her online shop. There was no need to own more than one car. That all changed the night her parents sat her down, and ruined her life.

  Ashley could remember the night in gross detail. She was kicking her soccer ball along the sidewalk, bouncing the ball against the rough, brick stoops in front of the townhouses that lined the street. She said goodnight to her neighbors, older gentleman sitting outside in light flannel coats, playing cards, and she bounded up the four steps to their front door.

  When she swung open the patterned, stained glass door, a spicy fragrance wafted toward her. Her mom was making chicken curry, with the creamy cashew sauce Ashley fell head over heels for on their most recent trip to India. Tonight must be a special occasion, but Ashley couldn’t think of what it could be. She had gone to school, and to indoor soccer practice after that, but nothing out of the ordinary. Her mom was pouring mint tea into tall, metallic glasses, resting on bamboo placemats.

  “Hi, sweetie,” her mom’s white teeth gleamed, as her grin widened on her pale skin. Megan Nirran had the same long, wavy, auburn hair as her daughter. Ashley even had her mom’s ivory complexion and light, grassy green eyes. Her mom used to call her “mini me” and dress Ashley up, just like her. Those days had been gone for a while, but they still wore matching necklaces, passed down from her grandmother.

  “Hi, Mom,” Ashley greeted her mom with a quick kiss on the cheek. She flung her soccer bag down the stairs to the laundry room in the basement and bounded up to the second floor of their narrow townhouse to take a shower. She was singing along to her iTunes, when the sound of the front door slamming made her jump, knocking all six bottles of shower gel off into the bottom of the bathtub. Her mom always made fun of her for having so many bath products.

  After she had finished showering and changing, she jogged back downstairs to trip over a slew of boxes with shipping labels plastered all over the sides. As she surveyed the living room, she realized that there were dozens of boxes crowded in with the furniture.

  “What’s all this?” asked Ashley, confused by the storehouse in their living room.

  “They were supposed to ship the supplies to the new building in Tulsa,” her dad said, startling her. Patrick Nirran usually worked until late into the night on Thursdays. It was always just her and her mom. Her mom had set three places at the table, she realized.

  “Why Tulsa? What supplies? And, why are you home so soon?” Ashley asked.

  Her Aunt Patricia lived in Tulsa, Oklahoma, on a unique and slightly unearthly downtown street called Brady. It was filled with restaurants, interesting little shops, art galleries, a museum, and a small theater. One of her aunts on her mom’s side of the family, Patricia Freya, owned Valley of Ashes, a small book and curiosity shop.

  “Well,” her dad shrugged and smiled, “your mom has had an interesting opportunity fall into her lap.”

  “It was a happy coincidence,” her mom blushed. “Your Aunt Patricia sent me a letter last week. The storefront next to Valley of Ashes suddenly became available. The owner moved her jewelry shop to another location, and the Freya family trust was able to get it for a steal!”

  Megan Nirran was practically squealing with delight. She knew her mom had wanted her own essential oils and natural medicine shop for years. Her mom’s three other sisters, Cynthia, Camille, and Louisa, were scattered across the country and all owned small, interesting little shops. Her dad’s job at the 24-hour pharmacy had forced him to work long hours and late nights. Rent on a storefront here in Boston was outrageously expensive, so she could see why the new shop in Tulsa seemed like a good option. That didn’t mean she was happy about it.

  “But Mom! Dad? You can’t be serious,” Ashley had wailed. “All my friends are here, and I can’t leave school in the middle of the year!”

  “Sweetheart,” her dad put his arm around her shoulders. “Your mom has wanted her own shop for a really long time, just like her sisters. We’ve been looking forward to the move to be closer to her side of the family. Your Aunt Patricia is there, and downtown Tulsa has one of the best charter schools in the state. Besides, lots of kids switch schools in the middle of the year.”

  “But, what about my friends? What about soccer?” Ashley pleaded.

  She wasn’t getting anywhere. It was like someone had brainwashed her parents. She knew she was fighting an uphill battle. The boxes of supplies for the new store were already jam packed into the living room.

  “You’ll make new friends. Plus, Tulsa has a great competitive soccer team, and they’re holding tryouts next week,” her mom smiled, as if she had solved all of Ashley’s problems, like magic. “I’m sure you’ll have more new adventures than you can stand.”

  Ashley groaned as she remembered that night. Miles and miles of endless wheat fields flashed before her eyes. Then came the fields of cows, grazing in the sun, and then more wheat fields. She let out a big sigh.

  “We’re almost there,” her mom chirped, with a smile to match the clear, bright, prairie sun.

  “Great,” Ashley pushed her lips back into an artificial smile.

  Her mom was wrong. There would be no new adventures, no new friends, and no new city. She was going to stay in her room forever and nothing was going to stop her.

  Chapter 3

  A New Girl in Town in an Attic Bedroom

  Ashley stared into the dark space as she paced up the wooden stairs, just off the second floor hallway. Their new apartment was located on top of the shop. The bottom portion would be her mom’s new store, Witch Hazel Naturals. The second floor housed the open kitchen, living, and dining rooms, as well as her parents’ bedroom and bathroom.

  Part of the upstairs attic had been converted into a bedroom, with its own attached bathroom. There was a sliding door which led to the other part of the attic, still used for storage. The movers had already loaded boxes into the attic and all of Ashley’s furniture into the bedroom.

  “It’s an attic,” Ashley moaned to herself, since no one was listening.

  Her mom and dad were downstairs, excitedly planning where the shelves and tables in the shop would be placed. Her dog, Pickle, was snooping around the kitchen for any bits of dropped french fries from their lunch. Ashley was all alone.

  She decided to make her bedroom as comfortable as possible, since she promised herself she was never going to leave the confines of the renovated attic. It was just one of her ways of silently protesting the injustice of the cross country move.

  “What’s this doing here?” Ashley asked to the empty room, as she grabbed the gilded edge of a frame. The painting was a portrait of her Aunt Eva. Her mom only called the girl in the painting her Aunt Eva. She was really a series of great aunts, a few times removed. According to her mother and the ancestry website, they were related to Eva Glass, a girl famously burned at the stake for witchcraft in colonial Massachusetts.

  A small shiver traveled up Ashley’s spine. She felt sorry for the poor girl. According to the historical documents, she was only a teenager when the governor of the colony had her arrested and sentenced to death.

  Ashley thought the saddest part was, that Eva was innocent. There was no such thing as witchcraft. She was wrongly convicted and died for nothing but the hyster
ia that had plagued the colony.

  Eva’s green eyes stared at Ashley from the painting. Her waistcoat was a simple, earthy gray, and her blouse peeked out, a cream tone, which contrasted with the rosy shade of Eva’s high cheekbones. Her auburn hair was twisted into a bun, the same as Ashley’s hair was now. Some things never go out of style, Ashley thought to herself.

  She ran her hand over the frame of the painting. It radiated warmth in the cool, drafty attic. Ashley assumed that it must have been sitting in the sun. She couldn’t explain it, but she felt her breath being sucked into the painting as she held the warm wood of the frame in her hands. She exhaled and closed her eyes.

  Smack

  “What was that-” Ashley’s hands stung as she dropped the painting. The corner of the wooden frame hit the floor and an entire chunk splintered off.

  “No!” Ashley wailed into the empty attic. That was a priceless antique, older than the United States Constitution. Her mom was going to kill her.

  Her eyes scanned the attic, and finally landed on the object that smashed into her hands. Who could kick a soccer ball that high? She was on the third floor.

  “Hey, sorry!” a voice shouted up from the street. Ashley stuck her head out of her open window. To her surprise, a girl stood in the middle of the street. She was athletic looking, with dirty blonde hair tied back into a sporty knot.

  “My bad,” the girl waved and shouted up to Ashley. “Is my ball up there?”

  Ashley scanned the room. She was panicked. She knew she was going to be in big trouble for the broken frame. She squeezed her eyes shut and focused on the missing piece of wood melding back into the frame.

  “Hello?” the girl in the street shouted.

  Ashley opened her eyes and rocked back on her knees into her heels. She scampered on all fours to touch the wood of the frame. The corner piece was back on the fame, like it had never been dropped. Ashley blinked hard at the picture. She couldn’t have imagined breaking it.

  Ashley turned her head to the soccer ball lying on the floor. The girl wasn’t going to leave without the ball, so she might as well throw it down to her. Ashley picked up the ball and looked out the window.