AMELIA AND JACOB MUST JOURNEY TO THE PAST TO RETURN TO THEMSELVES
Copyright © 2016 Sarah M. Cradit
Cover Design by Sarah M. Cradit
Editing by Kathy Lapeyre
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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. 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.
Follow the links below for more information on each title, as well as purchase links for all vendors.
Crimson & Clover Series Prequels
The Storm and the Darkness | Shattered (novella)
The House of Crimson & Clover
Volume I: The Illusions of Eventide | Volume II: Bound (novella) |Volume III: Midnight Dynasty | Volume IV: Asunder |
Volume V: Empire of Shadows | Volume VI: Myths of Midwinter | Volume VII: The Hinterland Veil | Volume VIII: The Secrets Amongst the Cypress | Volume IX: Within the Garden of Twilight
La Famille Lagniappes (Character Bonus Stories)
Flourish: The Story of Anne Fontaine | Shame: The Story of Jonathan St. Andrews | Banshee: The Story of Giselle Deschanel
Crimson & Clover Lagniappes (Bonus Stories)
St. Charles at Dusk: The Story of Oz and Adrienne | Surrender: The Story of Oz and Anasofiya |
Fire & Ice: Remy and Fleur Fontenot | Dark Blessing: The Landry Triplets | Pandora’s Box: Jasper and Pandora Broussard |
The Menagerie: Cyler| A Band of Heather: Colleen and Noah | The Ephemeral: Autumn Sullivan
Box Sets
Lagniappes Collection I | The House of Crimson & Clover Boxed Set Volumes I-IV | The Prequels | Lagniappes Collection II
And many more to come…
"Cradit’s words flow in prosaic candor like a melody of the ages: pronounced, patient, lingering, and beautiful.”- Dionne Charlet, New Orleans Examiner
"Her (Cradit's) talent for creating atmosphere rivals Daphne du Maurier. This is modern Gothic with fierce smarts. Can't say it enough. I loved this book."- Christopher Rice, New York Times Bestselling Author of The Heavens Rise
"It takes a great writer like Cradit to weave the threads of so many characters into an enjoyable story. I have no doubt that the name Cradit will one day be associated with the echelon of gothic fiction writers, namely Radcliffe, Blackwood, and Rice."- Becket, Bestselling Author of The Blood Vicicanti and Assistant to Anne Rice
"Sarah Cradit's writing is tight and masterful. Her keen sense of how to pace a book and her ability to use just the right language to express the desires, fears and hopes of her characters is flawless."- Ionia Martin, Vine Top 100 Reviewer, Readful Things
"Cradit does an incredible job of building suspense. It's a slow, moody, edge of your seat suspense with a palpable sense of foreboding. This atmosphere kicks the book off and slowly escalates as you sink deeper into it."- Julie Whiteley, Clue Review
"The books are well written, the plot flows so quickly that you reach the end of the story well before you are ready and without realizing how much time has gone by since you were enchanted, committed and flung into the world of the Sullivan's, Deschanel's and their friends. You become a part of their lives as you are reading the books and think about the characters long after you have finished reading the book."- Stephenee Carsten, Nerd Girl Official
"The writing is top-notch, the story gripping and fast-paced, and the character development incredible. I will be impatiently awaiting the next installment."- Teri Polen, Books & Such
Never miss a single moment in the lives of these ancient, powerful, cursed families…
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The Secrets Amongst the Cypress occurs primarily in antebellum Louisiana on the cusp of the Civil War, an event in history that would dramatically change the South and its people, forever.
I have always taken great interest in this period and the effect on both the South and the rest of the nation. I’ve devoured book after book, both fiction and non-fiction. My passion for this era in history is what fueled the Deschanels’ rich lineage from the start, and I was excited—if not a little scared—to dive into this period with both feet.
On my regular visits to Louisiana, I’ve toured many of the plantations, some more than once. My best friend and I make an annual pilgrimage to Oak Alley, where we stay for several nights and “immerse” in the geography (of note to readers… Oak Alley is only a mile from my fictional Ophélie). I’ve noted the unique customs of this brief period in history. Reading journals and diaries from the time, I worked to get a grasp of their vernacular and speech patterns, which were not so very different from ours now (minus the slang and strange colloquialisms of our internet youth).
My aim with this story is to provide you, the reader of this series, a deeper glimpse into what the world of Charles Deschanel and his family would have been like before the war, and how their contemporary lives and decisions informed the Deschanels of the present. I’ve alluded to it for seven books, and now their world has come to life in full color. The beauty and scars alike.
Most of all, this is Amelia and Jacob’s journey, which is essential as we near the culmination of the elusive prophecy that has guided our protagonists for several books.
I hope you enjoy the story, which is both a foray into the past of Crimson & Clover, as well as the engine that moves us into a new, exciting phase of the present.
For Holly
My muse
“It’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.”-
Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland
“He was part of my dream, of course -- but then I was part of his dream, too.”-
Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass
Amelia
Holger’s patience eventually ran out, and the three of them found their way to shore.
When their contact wasn’t at the rendezvous point, he pushed on, toward Farjhem, driven by what seemed less a concern for Amelia and Jacob and more a fear of something far larger.
They trekked across the dark fjords, cold and shivering, Holger fearful of using a portail for reasons he wouldn’t explain.
At first, Jacob tried to envelop Amelia in his jacket, but eventually, the gesture got in the way of convenience, and she shrugged him off, venturing forth behind their leader.
Early into the morning, he stopped, looking at the twin glaciers with something between fondness and fear. “Farjhem,” he whispered, though Amelia could see nothing other than more icy landscape.
Holger took them to a safe house, as he called it. Turning to the others with dread, he pleaded with them to wait there and hold still while he investigated.
“Is this where we meet Birger and Astrid?” Jacob asked though he and Amelia both knew the answer.
Holger didn’t respond. He turned toward the glaciers again, with trepidation. “I’ll return as soon as I can. Don’t move!”
The small home with the red roof and stucco siding was cold and dark. Amelia shivered. Jacob found a blanket and wrapped it and his arms around the two of them, and they sat in silence.
Something is very wrong, Amelia ventured first.
“I wish we could see what he sees,” Jacob replied, out loud. Of course, they were alone. No need for their secret voice.
“We don’t need to. Something awful happened in Farjhem.”
“Your seer’s voice still off the charts?”
Amelia nodded against his shoulder. “Forget my seer’s voice. Holger wouldn’t react this way if things weren’t way off plan. Did you see the way he looked at Farjhem?”
“We can’t stay here,” Jacob concluded. He stood, stepping toward the window, toward the foreign land they couldn’t see with their eyes. “Tell me what you sense, Blanca.”
Amelia closed her eyes, drawing on the visions that had come in waves since they’d entered the North Sea. “Ana in danger. Death, lots of death. Lots and lots of death.” She looked at her husband. “I am not sure how much of it’s true, but something is very wrong.”
“I don’t need to be a seer to know that,” Jacob agreed. His gaze traveled outward, waiting for Holger to return. He turned to her. “Birger and Astrid aren’t coming.”
“No.”
“A terrible event has happened, and we chose to follow this path.”
“Yes.”
“I’m not letting anything happen to you again, Amelia. I won’t watch another person harm even a—”
“Jacob—”
“I didn’t do enough. I was terrified he would kill you, and I let it go too far—”
“Jacob, stop! That’s not true. Neither of us would be alive if not for you, and—”
“I want to try time dancing.”
Amelia turned her head and faced the door as if Holger might waltz through. “Holger will be back any minute.”
Pressing his forehead to hers, he said, “I’m not okay with wondering what comes next. I can’t risk losing you.”
You won’t, she wanted to promise, but stopped short of saying the words. It would take so little to crack the shell protecting her mind from thinking and feeling. And though she couldn’t see where their host had ventured, she could very nearly hear the screams of the suffering resonating through her head.
“You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“I don’t need to,” he told her. “The Earth responded to me when I needed it most, before. It will again.”
“I’m not so certain. Where will we end up? It could be worse than here, and what if we can’t get back?”
“Amelia, I really don’t have the answers. I wish I did. As long as I’m with you, I don’t care. If we stay here…”
She buried her face against his chest in response. Jacob’s arms tightened around her. His power, a force known to her only in name before, pulsed in the atmosphere around them as he gathered the energies, seeking the Earth’s help.
Amelia closed her eyes and put her trust in her husband.
Outside the safe house, screams escalated, filling the air with terror. The smell of burning—bitter, not the comforting scent of a campfire—traveled toward them, though their eyes couldn’t see the source of the flames.
Farjhem is burning, Amelia realized, pressing her face into Jacob’s chest as he focused on pulling them out of danger. She prayed Holger would find his own escape and forgive them for not keeping their promise and staying.
“Hold on,” Jacob whispered. His grip tightened. One moment, the air around them was still and pungent. In the next, they had the sensation of being whirled through a vacuum canister. Amelia’s skin stretched tight against her bones as if it might peel from her frame should the gust grow any stronger.
She dared not open her eyes. What remained of her lucidity might float away with the swirling wind.
The gust stopped, and the smell of fire faded to the pleasant scent of saffron and other exotic spices.
“Open your eyes. Blanca. Look!”
Amelia did as Jacob asked. She backed slowly away from his arms, taking in the sweeping view of Ophélie from Brigitte’s Garden. The topiary and flora were low to the ground.
“I don’t know how, but I got us home,” Jacob said in awe as he knelt, grabbing a handful of earth. The rich dirt sifted through his fingers.
Amelia frowned, glancing toward the Big House, and the missing Belvedere. The rooftop feature had been an addition, not built with the house. Turning left, she noticed the fresh coat of ivory paint on the newly constructed garçonierre.
“Not… exactly,” she replied, as she added together the visual cues. “Jacob, I think—”
“The birthday festivities are starting!” a young blonde woman in a low-necked, corseted evening dress declared, sashaying toward them. Her skirt rustled over the top of the cage underneath.
Standing before them, the young girl scrunched her brows in perplexed study. “Why, look at you. Are you a guest of my father’s?”
Jacob gaped, speechless, his gaze traveling between both women.
“Ah… uh, yes,” Amelia asserted, tucking her shaking hand behind her. “We—”
The woman’s face lit up. She clasped her hands together. “Oh! You must be from London!” She artlessly fingered the stitching on Amelia’s riding coat. “Tell me, is this the current fashion for ladies?” Not waiting for a response, her words continued to pour from her mouth in an excited gale. “My brother brought me the finest corsets from Paris when he went on his Grand Tour. He completely neglected London!”
“A shame,” Amelia said with a polite smile, biting her tongue to hide her disorientation… and her decidedly different accent.
“Come, gather inside! You can tell me all about London after the dance when the men break for cigars and brandy.”
“Yes, thank you,” Amelia said in her most accommodating voice. Then the young girl turned, with a practiced motion, lifting her skirts as she made her way back toward the Big House.
“Don’t recognize her?” Amelia asked her husband, still staring down the path toward the house. “I thought you were an expert on the Deschanels.”
“It can’t be.” His jaw went slowly slack.
“Oh, it is. That’s Ophélie, and today is apparently her birthday. The place isn’t crawling with Union soldiers, so I’d guess we arrived before the war… which puts us around 1859 or 1860, judging from her age.”
“Jesus,” Jacob whispered, rubbing his face with the edge of his palms.
“Actually, I think it’s the goddess you should be appealing to right about now,” Amelia mumbled with half a smile. Her face creased in concentration as her mind struggled to catch up with everything around them.
Jacob was too stunned to tease back. “What do we do?”
“When you closed your eyes and asked for the help, did you specifically wish to take us home?”
“Not really. What I asked was to get out of danger.” He scratched his head. “I didn’t think that far ahead. I should have focused on somewhere specific. Should we try again?”
Amelia scanned around her family’s plantation and beyond, toward the river… teeming with commerce, brimming with life full of hope… before war would tear it apart.
With all her heart, she wished she could go back to her own moments of peace before her world had been torn in two.
But her scars were her own, as Ophélie’s would be hers. All of Amelia’s family owned their hurts, bravely and with a resolve that defined them.
“No. We were sent here for a reason,” she said after a considerate pause. Everything that’s happened up to this point has been for a reason. From the moment we stepped onto the plane, to the child I refused to have but was gifted me anyway, despite our precautions. Even Baldur’s vicious attack has significance.
“What could be the bloody reason for this?” Jacob’s incredulous eyes scanned the garden and the slave cabins in the distance, still used for that purpose.
“Hell if I know, Donnelly,” Amelia replied, her sigh as confused as her thoughts. “But I suppose we’ll find out.”
She held her arm out and Jacob took it with a lazy, slow
smile. “The situations we find ourselves in, Blanca.”
Indeed. Circumstances great and terrible, Amelia thought. But at least together.
“Síoraíocht, Mo mhíle stór,” Jacob whispered, as they made their way toward the future past.
Finnegan
One Week Later
Anasofiya’s heart was a series of dark tunnels, despair painting the walls in haphazard patterns. Finn would meander those halls for the rest of his days, scrub clean the pain, warming her from the inside out.
As she stood before him, hand laced with her son’s, ready for their next adventure, Finn no longer feared the road ahead or the forks in it. The past might haunt her, but he would be her light in the yawning darkness.
“Are we ready?” Finn asked his son and wife, linking his hands in theirs to complete the circle.
“We are,” Ana replied.
“Affirmative,” Aleksandr chimed in.
Finn smiled thinking about the two halves of his heart, the only true purpose he’d ever known other than navigating the endless sea. Around him, they stood, and would always stand. “I have no guarantee this will work, but this is Aleksei’s idea, so it has to be a good one, right?” He winked at his son.
Aleksandr blushed and lowered his gaze. “Amelia and Jacob have been gone for, what, a week or two? They could be anywhere, even if they came here first.”
“We’ll keep trying until we find them,” Anasofiya said with confidence. “However long that may be. A vow is a vow. And Amelia is my cousin.”
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