The Broken
Page 43
"Mrs. Kidacki? Are you there?"
At last, Mrs. Kidacki said, "Those were not people, Lincoln. The rest is something you will need to discuss with her."
"Where is she? How am I supposed to talk with her if I can't even find her?"
"She has been in touch with you, Lincoln. But know this: because she loves you, she will stay at a distance until she knows for sure that it is safe for her to return."
Link remembered the mysterious messages he'd been receiving. Was it possible that his mom had been Jim Jim? Then he realized the other implication of Mrs. Kidacki's words. "What do you mean 'until it is safe to return?' Is she still in danger? Are we in danger?"
"Oh, Lincoln, we are all in grave danger. Do not think for a second that you are safe just because Raythuse is trapped. There are others. There will always be others. The Broken are not the sort to give up...ever." There was a loud crash followed by a bone-chilling scream. "Mrs. Kidacki? Are you there? Mrs. Kidacki? What should I do? Mrs. Kidacki?" There was no response.
The line was dead.
Epilogue
The autumnal chill had fallen swiftly upon the cozy town of Peaceful Meadows. The once-beautiful plots of flowers and well-manicured lawns had all withered brown from cold, a casualty to the oncoming winter. Bare skeletons of tall sycamores and oak trees stood like sentinels guarding the town, like majestic kings from another age. Under the covering of newly fallen snow, the only remaining vestiges of natural color were a few rotting pumpkins left over from Halloween.
The cold winds that always seemed to ratchet up the closer it came to Thanksgiving whipped about the houses with a variety of sounds and frequencies - high-pitched whistles and low moans, sometimes melodic and at other times discordant and dark. And on this one night while Link and his friends were busy reveling in the joy they felt, knowing they were alive and among friends at a time when everything seemed right with the world...it watched. After alighting upon a spindly branch, high above the snowy rooftops, a solitary raven looked on intently as the unsuspecting Hartkins family merrily feasted below.
The bird shivered as the meager remains of its feathers did a poor job of buffeting him against the treacherous chill of the evening air. Miserable, but alive, the bird squawked. Then it launched itself into the frozen clutches of the night, waiting for the right time to return and free his master, the right time for revenge.
Acknowledgements
I want to say a special thanks to all the people who made this book a reality. My wife Tara and three sons have supported my quest to follow this ridiculous dream of writing books for years. I'd also like to thank all of my friends, family, and students for graciously listening to my stories and serving as my faithful beta readers. From my patient parents, all the way to my amazing principal, Don Stump, I have been truly blessed by all the encouragement I've received along the way. Lollie, Krippa, Britta, Susan, Linda, Kim, Jane, Sarah, Shannon, thank you for helping me edit. Lastly, I would never have published anything, if it weren't for the tireless efforts of my good friend, Dale Johnson. He designed my covers and did all the formatting out the goodness of his heart.
Being an indie writer generally means doing a hundred other things to help ends meet. Most of us have families and fulltime jobs. So if you enjoyed this book, please do me the greatest of honors by taking the time to rate it. We may not have the hefty budgets of large publishers to promote our stories, but we do have something even more powerful. We have all of you amazing readers. For this reason, the last people that I would like to thank for making this book a success are you, the readers. Thank you for helping me spread the word.