“That makes sense; it wouldn’t hurt for us to get to know each other over time as I get acquainted with my new life.” He pulled out one of the high-backed chairs and sat down.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, thank you. I’m still getting used to standing on this new leg. My muscles never ached inside the lantern.”
Tori pulled up a chair next to him. She sat down a little too quickly; her knee bumped the metal prosthetic. “Sorry,” she murmured self-consciously.
“No need to worry. I didn’t feel it.”
“Really?” She reached out a fist to tap the outline of the leg through his clothing. The solid metal made a clicking sound against her knuckles.
Jared clasped her hand in his. “Bumping the metal casing from the outside feels like nothing. But I can sense the gears inside and the sensation of a foot resting on the floor. This, too, will take some getting used to.”
Tori stared at the hand that held hers. The tug of unanswered questions niggled at the back of her mind. “Can you tell me something about when you were inside the lantern?”
“Yes, I remember most of the time I was there. What would you like to know?”
“What happened to you that night I came to visit and the lantern wasn’t lit? Not the first time, but the night when a heart was drawn in the condensation.”
“That was a difficult night,” he said, squeezing her hand. “But you made it better. I was depressed, worried that I’d never escape the glass prison. I blamed Machin, I blamed Moretta, I blamed myself… I came close to blaming you for finding me, for making me aware of feelings and life. You introduced me to a life that I desperately wanted to join, to be a part of. I needed to find a way to out—to find you, in case you never came back. And yet you came back.”
“You knew I was there?”
“Yes, I felt you were near, but I was too weary. I’d lost too much hope.”
“Is that why the lantern was unlit?”
Jared’s eyes filled, tortured with pain. “I felt your hands on the globe and the pain in your voice when you called to me, but I couldn’t do anything about it. The best I could do was draw you that heart.”
Tori smoothed a loose curl from his forehead, something she’d been wanting to do since she sat down. “You felt all that? Do you remember me taking the lantern back to my room that night?”
“I remember every moment you were near. I couldn’t always see you, but I knew you were there.”
Tori flinched, remembering what he’d overheard from inside her room—her mumbling to herself and to the lantern. It would take a while before she would shake the embarrassment of that. “What happened when I came back to my room to get you? The lantern held an ordinary flame. Was that still you?”
“Yes. You’d returned again; I was feeling better, but I guess I wasn’t all there yet.” He puckered his brow, looking unsure whether he’d explained himself correctly.
Tori lifted her chin. “What was it about the moonlight tonight? Why was it needed to bend inside the glass? How did that set you free?”
“It was a feeling, a guess. Machin taught me that moonlight is light bent from the sun. I didn’t fully understand it then; but the feeling grew stronger when you hung me outside from your grandmother’s porch. The moonlight reminded me of the light Machin used to open the lanterns, of the brightness trapped inside. I didn’t understand it then, but I do now. An explanation would take time, months of studying combined principles of metallurgy and refraction, the bending of light. Thank you for trusting me. You and Machin— Both of you saved my life.”
He pressed his palm to her cheek, smoothing away remaining traces of confusion and doubt. Tori thought of the tiny hand inside the lantern, fingers stretching wide to match the touch of her fingertip. Here, his hands were larger than hers, warm and real. His fingers interlaced with hers as their lips pressed together in a kiss.
Epilogue
Machin sat in a workshop, crowded with gears, goggles, and glassware brimming with froth and steam. Lanterns hung from the ceiling, their dazzling beams cutting through the shadows. Large lanterns, small ones, and some made of paper cluttered tables and shelves. Dust covered the spaces between the globes.
“All have brightened, but will none burn out tonight?” Machin coughed out the scratches in his voice as he puttered about the room, pressing an eye to the lanterns, one by one.
Startled by a flickering behind him, he turned around. His wrinkled lips smoothed into a grin as he walked toward a lantern whose light began to dim. The light faded from inside an exact copy of a lantern that hung near a plantation in a faraway place known as Virginia. But not too far away; his methods had revealed strong connections between life and light.
“Ah, ripe and ready to move on.” He mopped his forehead with a moth-eaten rag. Bulging eyes blinked behind a pair of goggles as he focused on the lantern. “I’m sad to see you go, Jared. You were one of my favorites.”
Machin smiled to himself and watched as the light faded and wavered one last time before dissipating completely.
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to Stephanie Parent for once again providing her fantastic editing skills. A huge thank you to all the awesome readers for spending time in my story worlds. May you have a life of endless blessings and a Happy Halloween.
Authors Bio – Chess Desalls
Chess Desalls recently authored the first two installments of the YA time travel series, The Call to Search Everywhen.
She's a longtime reader of fantasy and sci-fi novels, particularly young adult fiction.
When she's not reading or writing, she enjoys traveling and trying to stay in tune on her flute.
Website ~ Newsletter ~ Amazon ~ Facebook ~ Twitter ~ Goodreads ~ Tumblr ~ Pinterest ~ Instagram ~ Blog
Other Books by Chess Desalls
The following books are available in e-book, audiobook and print editions. Find copies on Amazon, iTunes, Barnes & Nobles and Audible. You may also ask your local bookstore or library to place an order.
Travel Glasses (The Call to Search Everywhen, #1)
Calla Winston’s mobile devices sit in a corner of her room, covered in dust. Weeks ago, she shared photos and laughs with her best online friend. Now, after having felt the sting of betrayal, she prefers being hidden and friendless. She equates privacy with security and technology with pain.
Then she meets Valcas, an otherworldly time traveler who traverses time and space with a pair of altered sunglasses. When an ethereal being knocks Calla to the ground near her family’s lakeside cottage, Valcas uses the Travel Glasses to help her escape. He offers his further protection in exchange for a promise. Intrigued by Valcas and the possibility of time travel, Calla accepts. That is until she learns that his search for her was no mere coincidence.
Calla sets off on her own, taking the Travel Glasses with her. Torn between searching for her estranged father and reuniting with the rest of her family, she tracks down the inventor of the Travel Glasses in hopes of discovering more about Valcas’ past and motivations. The Travel Glasses take Calla’s mistrust of technology to all new levels. But without them, she’ll never make it back home. With Valcas hot on her trail, Calla hopes to find what she’s looking for before he catches up.
Insight Kindling (The Call to Search Everywhen, #2)
Calla faces charges against her for changing the past. Her use of the Travel Glasses resulted in the creation of two writings that affected the lives of Edgar, the inventor of the Travel Glasses, and Valcas, their prior owner. Now Calla must explain her actions before the Time and Space Travel Agency.
The hearing does not end well. The travel commissioner finds Calla guilty as charged and forces her to choose between two harsh penalties. Despite the risk of becoming lost herself, Calla accepts a dangerous travel mission that may help her find her father. She teams up with a group of talented travelers. While working with them, she soon discovers that she has a special travel talent of her own.
&nb
sp; Pursued by the sentient being of white light that’s been tracking her father’s bloodline, Calla fears her newfound talents may not be enough to protect her and her teammates before they complete their mission.
Book 5: Cloak of Echoes
By CK Dawn
Copyright © 2015 by CK Dawn
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author recognizes the trademarks and copyrights of all registered products mentioned within this work.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Cover Art: Kellie Dennis at Book Cover by Design
Dedication
To my editors Joseph Howe, Celine Fowler, and my ultimate die-hard beta readers, your never-ending support and encouragement mean the world to me.
And to my fans and Cloaked Crusaders, to put it mildly, y’all rock!
Prologue
Letter Writing
Rachel Kincaid looked up from the letter she was writing and stared at her baby girl sleeping soundly in her crib. Stay small as long as you can little one. The shadows may be real, but we still have time. Rachel felt a tinge of guilt patter out of her heart and into her throat. Emma was an absolute blessing, but her arrival had changed everything. Rachel was used to keeping secrets from others, even from her loving husband, but now those secrets wouldn’t be hers alone to keep. They would be passed on to her innocent daughter. All Rachel wanted was a normal docile life for her daughter for as long as she could give it to her, but plans had to be put in place. She looked at the letter in her hands and shook her head.
Just then the wind kicked up and whistled through the nursery’s open window. The young mother got up and rushed to the window to close it. Lightning struck the ground in the distance and illuminated the entire sky for only a fraction of a second, but it had been enough. Rachel’s attention and head snapped to the end of the alley as the thunder cracked in the darkness. Out of the corner of her eye she saw it. An out of place shadow shifted and slithered away rattling and vibrating with power. You can’t have her, she thought. You will never have her!
Rachel’s emotions must have stirred Emma. Even while sleeping the newborn sent out soothing thoughts to her that filled Rachel with an empathetic warmth that she dreaded. The comforting sensation had been instinctual in her daughter from the moment she was born and was the cause for Rachel’s concern. She went to the crib and touched Emma’s cheek reassuring the sleeping babe that everything was okay.
The thunder must have woken her husband. Rachel could hear his footsteps just outside the nursery door. Robert peered in and whispered, “You girls okay?”
“We’re fine,” Rachel whispered back.
“Coming back to bed?” he smiled.
“In a couple more minutes.”
Robert yawned. He’d been working double shifts in preparation for Rachel’s maternity leave. “Let me know if you need anything, my love.”
“I will, my love.”
Robert shut the door and Rachel heard him walk back down the hallway to their bedroom. Should I tell him? It was the question Rachel struggled with even before they had married. Sighing, she picked her letter back up, sat in the overstuffed nursing chair, and began writing again. She couldn’t help the tears that fell as she signed it and placed it in a manila envelope. Pulling out her phone she glanced at Emma again before sending out a long overdue text. ‘It’s done.’
Sanity Fading
Emma Kincaid tried to scream but no sound escaped her throat. She gasped for air in the barren desert surrounding her but the atmosphere was too thick to breathe. Her brown hair floated all around her, framing her face like a halo. Then she remembered she didn’t have to breathe here. The air’s gelatinous texture was heavy enough to write in. Mesmerized, she traced scrolling patterns into it with her fingers then erased them and traced more designs into the translucent air. But something in the back of her mind was warning her to keep moving. With hands outstretched in front of her, Emma pushed through the atmosphere blindly. Everything was alien to her here, even the orange dirt that ground between her teeth seemed foreign and bitter.
She searched the gel trying to find a way out as invisible hands tightened a grip around her neck. Emma’s flesh was being peeled away from her bones strip by strip. Pieces of her skin weren’t being ripped off quickly like a Band-Aid; something was methodically removing and savoring each morsel. A monstrous, contented cackle echoed off the jagged cliffs high above. Emma followed the sound and was instantly transported to a cave within the tallest peak. Teetering on the cliff’s ledge she watched the creature that had become all too familiar to her now. It sat on a throne made of bones and skulls plucking things from the air and consuming them. It wore black armor that clung to its emaciated bones like a liquid skin. The flowing edges of material that touched the ground were frayed. Ravenous beasts cowered at its feet clawing at its armor for attention. The creature looked at Emma and plucked another morsel from the air. With each bite the creature took, Emma weakened. As the horror of being devoured sank in Emma threw herself off the precipice and bolted upright in bed.
Emma sucked in a breath as she tried to slow her heart rate. As the nightmare faded she quieted the alarm that had apparently been going off for the last five minutes. She got out of bed and rushed to her window shutting out the chill that had enveloped her room. Emma swore she could see her breath as she struggled with the latch. Her dad must have opened it during the night. Emma never left it open anymore. Her nightmares had made her paranoid. So even though their New York apartment was ten stories up she kept her window locked tight. Thinking of her dad, Emma concentrated on her surroundings. Good, dad’s still asleep, she thought rushing to get dressed.
With breakfast made and her dad waking up, Emma grabbed her backpack and yelled at her father’s closed bedroom door. “Bye, dad.”
His bedroom door creaked open and the disheveled man poked his head out. “Try and have a good day at school today okay, honey?” Robert Kincaid said and looked at his daughter with the sympathetic expression he always seemed to give her now.
“I will. I love you, dad.” Emma said, planting an artificial smile on her face for him before heading to their front door. She often wished she could have a genuine smile. Emma couldn’t remember the last time she really smiled or felt happy.
“I love you too, honey.” Emma’s heart threatened to burst as he matched her forced smile. She was sure she would have been convinced he was letting go of his worry over her if it weren’t for her recent ‘emotional radar.’
As soon as Emma closed the front door to their apartment her earbuds went in and her hood went up, creating a cocoon of solitude against the bombardment of people’s feelings all around her. Her father’s emotions were the worst. Ever since her mother had died in the car crash, Robert Kincaid’s emotions had almost overwhelmed Emma. He didn’t have to do or say anything, Emma simply felt his pain and grief, almost as if she were an empath. Over time, the intensity of his emotions lessened as he made his way through the grieving process. Unfortunately, other people’s feelings started to seep in and her dad still had a lot of grieving left to do. Soon after, Emma could feel everyone around her. She thought maybe she was going crazy with grief herself, but it had been over two months since her mom passed away and the sensations were not dissipating. They had only grown stronger. Emma had just learned to turn the volume down as it were by distracting herself with other things. She cranked up the volume on her music and prepared herself for a long dreary day of high sch
ool.
Emma cut through the alley that her father specifically told her to avoid, but she couldn’t help herself. It took fifteen minutes off her walk to school and kept a lot of the random passing cars’ occupants out of her head. The anger coming off some New York drivers scared her more than any dark alley ever could. Pressing her earbuds further into her ears, she cloaked herself from all the echoes of emotions that radiated down to her from the towering buildings above and went deeper into the belly of the short cut. The dark shadows of the alley cast a gloomy grey hue onto the slick pavement reminiscent of how Emma felt. Shiny on the surface, but dark, dreary, and damaged in the crevices where most people never cared to look. She desperately missed her mother, the one person she thought she could talk to about what was happening to her, but Emma was alone. Her father seemed to be okay on the outside, too, but experiencing his feelings first hand day in and day out, Emma knew that he felt lost and helpless without the love of his wife, Rachel. Some days it seemed the only thing that kept him going was his commitment to Emma. That was a heavy burden for a seventeen year old to be privy to, or anyone for that matter. Knowing that her father was willing to give up on life if she wasn’t around was brutal. So every day she shut down her own emotions and put on a smile for her dad and every day he became a little more like himself.
Darkness Echoes: A Spooky YA Short Story Collection Page 30