The Light of Redemption

by Natalie Damschroder

  Table of Contents

  THE LIGHT OF REDEMPTION

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  THE LIGHT OF REDEMPTION

  NATALIE J. DAMSCHRODER

  SOUL MATE PUBLISHING

  New York

  THE LIGHT OF REDEMPTION

  Copyright©2018

  NATALIE J. DAMSCHRODER

  Cover Design by Syneca Featherstone

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Published in the United States of America by

  Soul Mate Publishing

  P.O. Box 24

  Macedon, New York, 14502

  ISBN: 978-1-68291-724-4

  www.SoulMatePublishing.com

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  This book is dedicated to my stepmother,

  Patty Jacobus,

  whose hometown inspired Pilton.

  Harmony Wilde couldn’t have existed anywhere else.

  I miss you, Patty.

  Acknowledgments

  I am blessed to have the ability to work with amazing people throughout my writing journey. There are those I could thank in every single book, because they’re there to support me, cheer me on, and bolster me when things get rough. They know who they are and how I feel because I tell them constantly.

  For The Light of Redemption in particular, I must thank Tracey Amey for answering all my silly little questions about librarian habits and terminology. Any errors are probably me making stuff up for the sake of my story and should not reflect on Tracey, who was patient and awesome.

  In one scene, Harmony references The Empowerment Plan and their EMPWR coat, which is a water-resistant and self-heating jacket that can be converted into a sleeping bag. The non-profit organization is dedicated to helping the homeless, and at the time of this writing had distributed thousands of coats across 50 U.S. states, 10 Canadian provinces, and many other countries, saving lives and reducing health care costs. To learn more or to make a donation, please visit http://www.empowermentplan.org/. (And thank you to The Empowerment Plan for giving me permission to name them and their coat in my book!)

  And finally, thank you once again to Debby Gilbert, for giving my superheroes a home and being a joy to work with.

  Chapter 1

  Nights in a small town like Pilton, Ohio, didn’t always make it easy to be a superhero.

  The sweet-scented breeze teased a loose strand of long hair out from under my hood. I tucked it back into my braid and sighed, balancing carefully on the edge of the fence separating the grocery store from the residential area behind it. My foot scraped as I shifted, a tiny sound that nevertheless echoed in the extreme quiet. Not that there was anyone around yet to hear me.

  The chain link dug into the soles of my shoes, and despite the hours of yoga and strength training I did, my muscles would cramp if I held this position much longer. I flexed my fingers, palms warm and ready, and held my focus when my mind wanted to wander. They didn’t tell you how much boredom there was in superheroing.

  The breeze shifted, now carrying a sour hint of the garbage collection behind the store. A bag rustled, and I tried not to think of the critter that was probably moving it. It was as likely to be a kitty as a rat, but I didn’t want to know which. Something clattered behind the bookstore, and I flinched but took care to turn my head slowly to look down the alley. Nothing moved in the corridor behind the row of brick buildings that made up the downtown shopping district.

  And then whispering voices came around the corner, followed by two bulky people. The May evening was cool, but not cool enough to require the heavy pants and big jackets these guys wore. As I watched, the one with the backward baseball cap handed a plastic bundle filled with something white to the other guy and accepted something in return. That was all I needed.

  The alley wasn’t supposed to be this dark. Baseball Cap—a.k.a. Josh Delewis—had done enough business here that I was surprised he hadn’t noticed. He chuckled to himself and counted his money, not watching the buyer walk down the alley toward the main street. I flipped the light energy I’d collected before their arrival toward the mouth of the alley. Under my will, it expanded from my hands into a wall of light. The buyer yelled and fell backward as he was cut off from the street. Josh whirled and gaped, then spun back around, looking for Eclipse. Looking for me.

  I leaped lightly to the ground and sucked back a little of the light. The buzz of it in my hands and forearms made me shiver a little. I formed it into a ball and shot it toward Josh’s face. He screamed and ducked. The ball followed, shattering in sheer brilliance right in front of his eyes. He collapsed, his hands covering his face, his yells and moans echoing off the brick walls. I left him for the moment. He wasn’t going anywhere.

  As I headed down the alley, I slipped my cell phone off my belt and sent a text to the police dispatcher’s e-mail account. I’d already keyed in the details, so I just had to hit send. I shoved the phone back onto my belt and caught hold of the buyer’s collar. He’d climbed to his feet and was trying to squeeze past the edge of the light barrier. I thought he was one of the high school students Josh reportedly sold to regularly, someone who would be cowed by my presence and the shock of getting caught.

  I thought wrong.

  The buyer wasn’t a lanky high-schooler, but a man. Short, but solid and heavy. I knew because he put all that weight behind the punch he threw at my face. My cheekbone exploded in pain, lights ironically flashing behind my eyes, and I landed on my back with a whoosh.

  “Not so tough now, are you, Eclipse?” my attacker gloated. A mistake. My ability to manipulate light energy may seem kind of wussy. It didn’t protect me from physical harm. But it wasn’t the only thing that made me a superhero.

  In seconds, I was upright, the energy from the wall sucked back into my hands. He came at me again. I dodged and quickly sent half a dozen small balls zinging around his head. He tried to back up and stumbled over a cardboard box. The lights spun faster and he fell, disoriented.

  Before I coul
d corral him, something slammed between my shoulder blades. This time I went to hands and knees, both scraped raw on the rough asphalt. Dammit. Josh. I’d given him too much recovery time. And now he was running for the mouth of the alley. Sirens echoed from the other direction, a few blocks away. The police were responding to my call, but they weren’t going to get here before Josh got away.

  Worse, they would get here before I got away.

  I groped for the remainder of my light energy, losing track of what was where for a crucial second. Josh had almost reached the sidewalk.

  And someone else appeared in front of him. Someone, like me, dressed all in black. Unlike my stretchy catsuit and hood, he wore a leather jacket and cargo pants, his face hidden only in the shadows cast by the buildings and the lack of street lamps. He threw out his arm and clotheslined Josh, whose feet flew up before he slammed to the ground on his back. Josh moaned but started to roll to his feet. Mr. Clothesline picked him up with one hand, walked a few steps, and heaved him toward me. He landed in a heap at my feet, at least twenty feet from where he’d started.

  I didn’t have time to stare or consider what I’d just seen. I retrieved the light and separated it into two ropes, wrapping one around the buyer’s wrists and ankles, the other around Josh’s. The sirens screamed now, very close. I stood, contemplating. Mr. Clothesline didn’t move, apparently studying me just as closely. Then he faded back into the shadows and I leaped the fence, heart pounding.

  Pilton had another superhero.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Hold still,” Angie ordered.

  I winced as she dabbed an antiseptic-soaked cotton ball on my cheekbone. I hadn’t realized the punch split skin until I got into my house and pulled off my hood. I’d bled enough that the fabric stuck to the side of my face. I could have cleaned it myself, but Angie would have laid into me about that. She hadn’t known my secret until a year ago but delighted in being my unofficial sidekick. After the fact, because she wasn’t a kick-butt kind of woman. She preferred being the nurturer, doctoring wounds and documenting take-downs.

  “You know,” I told her, “this used to be easier when I had to doctor myself.”

  “Stop being such a baby.” She dropped the cotton ball into the trash next to the vanity in my bathroom and eyed the cut. “Well, the bruising looks like it will be minor. Makeup will cover it. But the cut’s gonna scab. You’ll need an excuse.”

  “Great.” I stood and repacked my first-aid kit while she gathered the rest of the trash. “I hate when this happens. It looks exactly like someone punched me.”

  “Come on, Harm, no one would ever put it together. You’re better than Clark Kent.” She snapped off the bathroom light and tugged me toward the kitchen. “Let’s get a brandy. I think you need one.”

  It was true that I had a built-in disguise. My name was a punchline. “Harmony” suited the librarian in the flowing skirts and conservative blouses who wore her long wavy hair clipped back most of the time. I looked sweet and safe, Angie told me. But people often shortened my name to Harm, which made them laugh because no one believed I could commit any. My last name, Wilde, was even funnier. My last wild adventure had been the fifth-grade field trip to the Columbus Zoo. It was a perfect disguise for Eclipse, whom no one but Angie knew about.

  “I do appreciate your help.” I grabbed a bottle of brandy out of the pantry while Angie got down a couple of snifters. “Even if you are a sadist.”

  We settled on the couch in the living room and Angie poured a little brandy for each of us. I eyed the clock. “You should go home. It’s late.” I didn’t have to open the library until ten, but her tearoom/diner opened early.

  “No way, I want to hear about this guy.”

  I sighed, unsure I should have mentioned him. I knew what I’d seen, knew no normal guy could have heaved Josh as he had. Whether or not the man had ever been an active superhero, he had the power to be one. Angie might try to explain it away, and I was too tired to argue.

  “There’s nothing really to say. I didn’t get a good look at him.”

  Angie sipped. “Do you think he’s a local?” She answered her own eager question. “No, can’t be, we’d know. He’d have done something before. Gotta be new in town. But why would his type come to a small town like Pilton?”

  “That’s a dumb question.” I waited while she focused on me and realized what I meant.

  “Well, you were already here, weren’t you? No reason for anyone else to come here, not if they plan to be a superhero.”

  As a librarian, I love fiction of all kinds. But small towns tend to be . . . let’s say, unrealistically idealized. Pilton had all the problems of the big city. Gangs, drugs, murder, burglary, vandalism, domestic violence, all took their turns on the front page of the Daily Reporter. We also had a chronically short-staffed police department and not enough funds. There was plenty for a superhero to do.

  But there wasn’t room here for two of us, especially if this guy didn’t stay secret. Most of them didn’t. I kept up with news about them all over the country. It was a bit more than a hobby—I called it professional interest, fed by my research librarian training and curious personality. Angie called it obsession.

  “I would think a superhero who wanted to go small-town would do his homework, at least.” I swirled my brandy and let the sharp aroma fill my senses. “He’d read about Eclipse in the local paper and then look somewhere else. Obviously, this guy didn’t do that.” What was his goal? He could claim the capture of those two tonight. I hadn’t watched to see if he took off, lingered unseen, or stayed to talk to the police. Maybe he was a drifter, or someone passing through, and would go completely unnoticed.

  “So he’s probably someone new in town. Who do we know? There are the Baldersons and the Marikuntes.” She ticked them off on her fingers. They were both families who’d escaped Columbus, the most common new residents we got.

  “I don’t know, I can’t see a father hanging out on the street after midnight.”

  She waved a hand at me. “Just because you have perfect parents doesn’t mean they all are. He could be a long-time superhero who moved to the suburbs because of his kids and couldn’t give up the game. Prowls at night, looking for trouble.”

  I shook my head. “I’m on the prowl, and I never saw him before.” I went out a couple nights a week. What I encountered depended on what had been happening around town. If Simon published an article in the paper about burglaries, the burglar’s area became my prowling grounds. If the police scanner mentioned a domestic disturbance, I kept an eye on that house. When I had no hints of a target, I moved around downtown and some of the bars, keeping an eye out for problems. If he’d been around for any length of time, I’d have seen him. “Besides, this guy was too tall to be Mr. Marikunte, and Balderson is, um, more portly.”

  “So he’s got to be really new.” Angie yawned. “I guess I’ve hit my limit. I’m going home.” She stood and stretched. “Dinner at Millie’s tomorrow? We can talk about hunky guy some more.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “I didn’t say he was a hunk.” Excitement still glittered in Angie’s eyes, and her dark hair fluffed around her head. Well after one in the morning, and she looked ready to party. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

  “Okay.” She patted the top of my head. “Don’t forget to put more antibiotic ointment on that cut tomorrow.” Then she was gone.

  I wasn’t sure how long I stayed on the couch, not really drinking my brandy so much as occasionally wetting my lips with it. No matter how I tried to reassure myself, I knew this wasn’t a one-time thing. This guy wasn’t just passing through and happened to be in that alley after midnight and happened to have enough strength to throw a two-hundred-pound man twenty feet.

  He could be a relocated superhero, or one who never really used his powers before and thought he’d test them out in a smaller,
less obvious venue than the usual big city. He might hide his abilities, or flaunt them.

  Either way, it would have an effect, for good or bad, on Eclipse. Either way, everything was about to change.

  ~ ~ ~

  “She blasted a hole in the side of the grocery store!” one of the boys at a table near my counter claimed.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” the girl next to him scoffed. “She shoots balls of light. She can’t blast holes in walls.”

  I listened to the group of teenagers who were supposed to be working on their history project while I checked out Mrs. Vrabel. Checked out her books, I mean. Not her. She was ninety-five and not my type. I wondered if I could blast holes in walls. I’d never tried it. Never had to, and it wasn’t like I spent a lot of time figuring out ways to destroy things. But theoretically, with enough concentration and velocity, the light energy could be powerful enough to blast through solid matter.

  “Still, that would be cool though, right?” The chief of police’s son, Scottie, leaned forward, awe in his voice. “What if she can, anyway? We don’t know. No one ever sees her, hardly.”

  “Two weeks for the books,” I told Mrs. Vrabel, “and one for the movie. You can renew that once.” I tapped the bare pecs of the hero on the cover of the video case and winked.

  She blushed, but snatched it off the counter and shoved it into her bag. “Don’t get smart with me, young lady. I know perfectly well how long I can keep these out. Been coming here all my life, haven’t I?”

  “That’s what you tell me!” I grinned when she hmphed and waddled away. But then I had nothing to distract me from the kids, who were now hissing at each other about whether or not Eclipse could make things dark as well as light them up.

  I had mixed feelings about hearing myself talked about that way. I hadn’t started being Eclipse for fame. If I wanted that I’d have done it in the open, and probably a lot sooner than five years ago. I’d had the ability nearly my whole life, but hadn’t seriously considered using it until one of Pilton’s deputies was killed. Someone had tried to rob the jewelry store. The deputy on patrol had seen the flashlight, and the person had shot him in the chest when he realized he was blown. The deputy shouldn’t have been on patrol alone, but the force had had budget cuts and there was no one to fill in for his sick partner, which meant no one for timely backup.