“Anything.”
“Leave. Run away.”
“No. Not until you’re better.”
Jenna’s eyes sprung open. “Ien. Please. If you’ve ever cared for me, even a little, you have to do this.”
Her agitation grew, along with her pain. She swallowed hard.
“But—”
“Please, Ien.”
Her words settled around him. She had always been there for him. Even now, in the end, she was still sacrificing everything for him.
“I can’t leave you, Jenna. Not now.”
Jenna took a deep breath and stared at Ien, looking straight to his soul. “I love you, Ien. Do this for me. Do this…”
Her head flopped to one side as her last breath left and her body went limp. There was no twitching. No fight. Only death. Complete in its finality.
Ien’s tears doubled as he clung to Jenna lifeless body, rocking her back and forth. James and Kiera stood over them, crying.
“James. Kiera. Where are you?” Mother’s voice carried on the wind, surrounding Ien. “James?”
“You have to go, Ien. Now.” James nudged Ien.
His grip on Jenna tightened as he kissed her forehead and gently laid her to rest on the ground.
“If you stay, she’ll have you committed. She won’t have a choice.” James reached out a hand to Ien. “If you run, you may have a chance.”
“Why would you help me now? After everything.”
“You’d do it for me.”
Ien nodded at James before turning to Kiera.
“Go, Ien. Leave.” Kiera tried to smile, her lips refusing to comply. “Please. While you still can.”
He grabbed her hand, a pang of longing lodged in his throat.
“James…Kiera…”
“You’re out of time. Go.” James took Kiera’s hand.
And Ien died a million times.
Go, Ien. Go now.
Jenna’s voice eclipsed all other thoughts.
He ran away from the stables and into the forest, a fresh symphony of voices screaming around him.
36.
“But I have lov’d with such transcendent passion,
I soar’d, at first, quite out of reason’s view,
And now am lost above it”
~John Dryden (All for Love, act 2)
~~
Six months later
The dream always starts the same. Fire and ash rain from the sky as the world around me shatters, tossing me backwards into the heat. My skin ignites and all I can hear is my scream. Darkness and pain come next, followed by silence.
No longer cold or lonely, it comes as relief, a moment of respite in a sea of chaos. I cling to the emptiness now, thankful for each moment.
A time with no voices and no memories.
A time when I understand what I’ve become.
A time when I am whole and unbroken.
Such moments are transient, never lasting as long as I need them to and I’m forced to wait for fate to bring another harbor of peace.
Days tumble forward and I leap from silent moment to silent moment. The time in between is a blur, one too horrific to remember.
I don’t deny the reality of my monstrous existence now, don’t pretend I can have a normal life. There is no normal for someone like me. I see a world that doesn’t exist, hear sounds that are not there. Reality and illusion have woven themselves so tightly in my thoughts it is impossible for me to distinguish them anymore.
So I’ve stopped trying.
I wander, now, away from my hopes and dreams; away from my nightmares. I cannot stay near the ones I would hurt—not after Jenna.
Jenna.
I can hardly think her name without the memories of her death haunting me. The sound of my name on her lips. The feel of her hand in mine. The weight of her body as she breathed her last breath.
She gave her life for me, and through her I found the truth I’d been searching for, a truth I never really wanted.
Kiera’s song is the only thing that binds me to the world anymore. It guides me through strange cities and over the ocean. It leads me away from my past and protects me from my future.
It imprisons me.
~~
Weary and broken, I travel through London. My father is nowhere to be found. Ghosts haunt me as I move through cities and country sides. Sister Anne and Erik travel with me some days, their voices still swirling through me.
You can still find Kiera, they urge.
Don’t be weak.
Take her back to you.
I can’t listen to them, no matter how much I may want to. I can’t risk believing the lies again.
Road after road I travel, determined to find some measure of peace. Knowing there is no peace for someone like me. The apparitions follow me on my journey, shadowy figures that leave me no respite. They are relentless in their pursuit, determined to exact retribution for my life. Bathed in fire, they force me to relive the explosion, this time following the shadowy figure I have all but forgotten; a myth created by my thoughts.
Down a new cavern we travel, through a church, a conservatory. I follow the path this phantom leads, through building after building, past alleys and streets, meadows and forests. People pass, scarcely aware of my presence. They speak in unfamiliar tongues and I assume they are nothing more than products of my broken thoughts.
The path winds through a corridor and under a large building. Music wafts through the ceiling as I travel down, down, down, into a watery maze of stone halls and secret rivers.
The cloaked figure urges me forward, tethering me to him with an invisible cord.
Who are you?
He stops at the entrance to a cave, pointing. Music swirls up from the rivers and walls, as though the very place was alive with the notes echoing around me. I inhale the stale air and find a peace in this place.
Home.
The figure stands, waiting. Its face is fully covered in shadow. And yet, I suspect I know this phantom.
“You’re the one that started the fire.” I swallow hard, trying to calm my welling fears. “Both fires.”
The figure nods.
“Because of you, Jenna is dead? Kiera is gone?”
Again the figure nods.
“I need to know.”
The shadow nimbly slides the hood down. Bits of sinew and ligaments hold the face together. Bone protrudes through hard, scorched skin.
His face is my own.
The master of my demise, the one who composed it all…
Is me.
There is comfort in this truth I have somehow always known. I am not surprised or scared. I sit on the damp stones surrounding my cave, music starting through my thoughts. I play the stones, hearing every note through my mind. The song changes as a violin joins in the melody, steering the music into a new realm.
A girl materializes in front of me, but not the one I expect. The one I need.
Blond hair. Soft brown eyes. And a kindness in her smile that I don’t deserve. “Play with me, Ien. Forever.”
Jenna’s voices reaches in to my soul and there is no way I can refuse. Not now. Not after everything.
“Forever,” I say, starting a new song.
One just for her.
Jenna.
Acknowledgements
“The story I am writing exists,
written in absolutely perfect fashion,
some place, in the air.
All I must do is find it and copy it”
~Jules Renard,(“Diary” – February, 1895)
Writing a book is unique journey, one fraught with dangers and exhilaration. Fortunately, I had amazing people to accompany on this journey and help me find the story written in the air.
My publisher Compass Press, including Heather McCorkle and Elle Horne – I have no words to properly express my thanks. You believed in this project when few others did. For that I will be forever grateful.
My CPs, Elana Johnson and Ali Cross – you breathed oxygen
into my lungs when I was ready to give up and forced me to write when I knew I couldn’t. Thanks for helping me find Ien’s voice and put it on the page.
My writing partners and CPs, Michelle McLean, Danyelle Leafty, Gretchen McNeil, Amanda Bonilla, Sarah Bromley – thanks for reading and rereading, reassuring and helping me fine tune the story I plucked from the sky.
My Beta readers LK Gardner-Griffie, Heather McCorkle – thanks for bringing a fresh view to my pages and encouraging me in more ways that I can express.
My “special” pre-release readers, Brooke H. DelVecchio, Sylvia Hientz, Tiffany Mahaffy, and Shelly Smith – you found the little errors that escaped everyone else and brought confidence when I needed it the most.
The online community of writers, bloggers, readers and friends – all of you helped me navigate through the hazards and scale the mountain. Thank you for the support, the fellowship and the friendship – I am a better person because of you.
To the foundation of my life, Dirck, Fabiana, and Erika – your daily sacrifices made the writing of this book possible.
And finally, to my mom – the emotional framework of this book was discovered as I grieved her death. Even in her passing, she has continued to inspire me toward bigger and better things.
~ Christine Fonseca
About The Author:
Critically acclaimed nonfiction and YA Christine Fonseca is dedicated to helping children of all ages find their voice in the world. Drawing on her expertise as an educational psychologist, her nonfiction titles address issues of emotional intensity, resiliency and giftedness. In fiction, she explores the darker aspects of humanity and delivers Gothic thrillers that you on a rollercoaster ride of emotions.
Christine lives in Southern California with her husband and daughters. When she's not helping adolescents deal with the transition to adulthood, or spending time with her family, she can be found sipping a skinny vanilla latte at her favorite coffee house, writing her next book. She can be found on her website, or on her blog.
Table of Contents
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
Table of Contents
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
Transcend Page 20