www.EvolvedPub.com
Copyright © 2012 Michael Dadich
Cover Art Copyright © 2012 Mallory Rock
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Edited by Lane Diamond
eBook License Notes:
You may not use, reproduce or transmit in any manner, any part of this book without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations used in critical articles and reviews, or in accordance with federal Fair Use laws. All rights are reserved.
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only; it may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return to your eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or the author has used them fictitiously.
Dedication:
For Jenna and Jax; when they smile my heart is whole.
Table of Contents
Dedication
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
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Glossary
Acknowledgements
About the Author
What's Next?
More from Evolved Publishing
"Your world will be over soon, won't it, dear Bianca?"
The cloaked creature rasped out the syllables one at a time, and each sound pushed Bianca closer toward the cold stone floor. Moonlight splashed across the room from a wall of windows. Even if she could have yelled, no one would have heard her. Pain made her dizzy.
As the assault on her consciousness raged, she struggled to her feet against the heavy stupor overtaking her body. Her limbs shook. The long table in front of her provided only a moment of support before she collapsed upon the solid oak board.
Her vision blurred from the pressure, and a murmur gurgled from her throat as she tried to call out to the Assembly members hunched in their chairs. The maroon wine spilled across the table told of their downfall. Were they unconscious or dead? She couldn't begin to guess. Her goblet remained almost untouched.
"How easy this was...."
The din of his words made her gaze upward, where a hood surrounded his darkened features. Screams echoed in her head, though no sound broke from her lips.
He knelt beside her and whispered, "Dear Bianca." His hands caressed full chunks of her raven hair, and he started pulling the strands through his fingers.
Horror traveled down her spine and numbed her. She felt the escape of fainting descend upon her, fogging her mind; how she wanted to drift off and shun the maddening fear. Yet he would not let her. She tried in vain to pull away, but his power over her was too great.
"Don't." She must have said it aloud because his grip tightened and he jerked her head back, forcing her to look at him. She gasped as he pulled the cowl away.
Her tormentor had a pallid complexion and a high forehead. Long, wiry auburn hair framed his narrow face, at the center of which sat a nose snubbed like a snout. It was the piercing glare of his eyes that caught her, though. Their intensity made her skin crawl.
"Malefic," she mouthed, her breath releasing in a terrified wheeze.
He loosened his grasp and eased her to the floor. Then he stepped over her body and slithered to the head of the table, admiring his handiwork.
Bianca's legs and arms stiffened. Malefic oozed power, and as she watched him, her mind reeled. What had led to such laxness in their security? Where had he come from?
We were betrayed, of course, she thought, as unconsciousness bid her closer to blackness.
Malefic turned and glared into her eyes, a sneer twisting his expression into a grotesque mask. "The Aulic Assembly is mine." His harsh voice pulled her to the brink. "Father will be pleased."
Shelby Pardow sat across the table from the beast. Her cereal rested on her tongue like paper, and she melted the particles to avoid any crunching. She planned every movement she made. Were it possible, she'd escape the beast without exchanging a single word with him.
Her father, Byron, had barged in from his night out. At eight o'clock that morning, the sickening-sweet scent of alcohol and cigarettes remained on his breath.
She needed to be cautious; after he drank gin, the devil possessed him. She glanced up at his rumpled clothes, haggard expression, and gray stubble along his jaw. His depression had worsened since Mom abandoned them.
He munched a slice of cold pizza left over from dinner earlier that week. His behavior turned her stomach sour. She needed him—well, except when she needed to avoid him.
Dang it all. How did I forget to set the iPod alarm last night?
The beast glared at her from across the table. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure, missy?"
The beast only called her "missy."
"Nothing, Dad. I just wanted to see you before I left for the library."
Her sweet reply was countered with a snarl. "Oh, really? Or did you oversleep before you cut out to your precious book cave, huh, missy?"
She took small bites of cereal and kept her eyes locked on the blue, flower-patterned bowl. Usually he ignored her when she did not look at him. She hoped today would be the same.
"Answer me!" the beast roared, jarring the table and sending her saucer crashing to the floor. The beast had consumed him.
Shelby winced. Maybe it believed she was her mother. Everyone always said she resembled Samantha.
She glimpsed her father in the beast's face. He scanned the ground with remorse, and for a moment, she thought he might return after all. Hope, however, was shattered.
The alcoholic creature rose with a howl.
Trembling, she stood and backed away. Her foot slipped on the cereal and milk now layering the slick linoleum, nearly tumbling her down.
"Look what you've done now, missy!" The beast growled as he whirled around the table and grasped her by the neck.
Her heart throbbed and her legs buckled.
"I'll teach you to respect food, missy. Children are starving in this world, some even here in town. Now you eat that food, missy. You eat it right off the floor."
"Daddy... please...." She managed to choke the words out in between gasps for air, and she sniffled in fear. On the ground, the dish wobbled and skidded a few feet.
"Go
ahead, missy."
Shelby obeyed. Salty tears ran down her face to blend with the flavor of linoleum, low-fat milk, and cereal.
The second he gave an inch, she'd race for the front door. He'd never follow, but even if the beast did, Mr. Dempsey, the kind librarian, would protect her. She'd run straight to him.
The disgusting tang of the floor, and a sudden silence, snapped her back to the moment. The beast had let up, so Shelby stopped licking at the ground and eyed him.
He sauntered to the kitchen sink, poured a tall glass of water, and began chugging it.
Without delay, she got to her feet and charged to the front door. She ripped the deadbolt open, sped down to Bounty Lane, and ran toward Main Street, where the library waited. Houses flashed by, each fronted by a lovely yard, fenced in and tidy.
The beast did not follow.
Shelby halted, shivering in the morning sun, then doubled over and dry heaved. Sweat rolled down her brow and her hair clung to the back of her neck. She wanted to erupt into tears, but she sucked in a lungful of air and shut her eyes, forcing herself to calm down. Everything would be okay now, but she had to remember to set her iPod before the beast came home.
Shelby touched the back of her sore neck. Tears welled in her eyes.
What will I do if the beast never leaves?
She leaned against the rough brick wall of a store. Main Street spread before her with people bustling about their business. Children screamed and ran from a candy shop in droves, sweets in their hands.
Exactly what I need, she decided. Something sweet to wash away the dusty linoleum.
With a wad of money stuffed in her jean pockets, she strolled down the street to the drugstore that sold her favorite drink. She stepped in, but no one stood at the register.
How predictable. Someone made a spill in one of the snack aisles, and Mr. Goodman is mopping up.
She called to him, "Hey, Mr. Goodman! Buying milk!" and left the exact change on the counter for the bottle of strawberry milk.
She swilled the ice-cold beverage down, soothing her throat and rinsing the gross linoleum taste from her mouth, and walked to the exit with empty bottle in hand.
Daddy would be back in the afternoon. And she would talk to him. He'd declare his resolve never to drink again, and profess his never-ending love for her. Everything would be fine. It had to be.
Shelby tossed the bottle in a wastebasket and stepped out onto the street. She scanned both sides of the avenue, though she knew he hadn't followed. Her body still shook from the beast's attack. No sign of it on either side of the boulevard. She closed her eyes and exhaled. Confident, she strolled to the library.
The beast may not have even realized she'd left yet; her friends had nicknamed her "ninja girl" for a reason. She'd escaped again, though not without some harm. She rubbed the back of her neck, trying to let it go. Her father would never hurt her, but the beast.... That's what had done this to her.
The important thing was she'd managed to get away. "Par for the course," she said to no one.
Shelby arrived at the Rutherford B. Hayes Library, longing for its air conditioning and calm setting to cool her sweaty brow and dampened tee-shirt. She ascended the stairs and breezed through the entrance, where a wash of cold air enveloped her. She paused at the front counter and stretched her hands up over her head, reveling in the cool tranquility of her sanctuary.
Mr. Dempsey gazed up from his notebook, twirling a pencil. In his mid-fifties, he was a sweet man, though stern when necessary.
Shelby's mind drifted to the time a surly gang of boys ignited the library trash bin with matches. Mr. Dempsey stopped them as soon as he spotted the punks, barking at them like a drill sergeant. The thugs hesitated only a moment before bolting. Her confidence in him swelled after that. The gang had intimidated her friends many times over the years, but never after that.
"Top of the morning to you, young Shelby. Have you been running track? Don't tell me kids run track in their jeans these days." Whenever he spoke, he gave her his complete attention. He brushed some eraser residue off his crisp blue chambray shirt and khaki pants while maintaining his gaze.
"Aw, no, Mr. Dempsey, a crazy old stray over on Bounty Lane interrupted my path. I got a li'l nervous and ran over to Main. Hot outside." No reason to tell him the embarrassing truth. Anyway, private persons didn't share things that were... well, private. "Any of the computers open yet?"
She inquired as a matter of courtesy; computers were always open this early in the day.
"Take your pick of the four in the back right. I shut off the ones on the left 'til this afternoon to save power. Have fun and stay off the restricted sites."
The routine soothed her. She felt at home here, as if coming in and saying hello could be as normal as waking up and brushing her teeth. She grinned. Mr. Dempsey always reminded her that not all adults yelled at her or threatened her.
"Of course, Mr. Dempsey." Shelby glided to the back and slid into a cubicle. She flipped on the computer to study a site referring to magic spells she intended to use to cure her father.
An odd sensation raced up her spine, and she shuddered at the electric tingling. Without making an effort, she grew more alert as she peered at the screen. A dialogue box appeared with a clang.
She jolted. How bizarre. I haven't even signed onto the instant messenger.
It was different from other windows she'd seen, with a rainbow-colored border around a glowing box. Yet the sender's identity remained hidden.
She ran her fingers through her dark hair, her right leg rocking up and down.
You are needed.
Perplexed, she spied over her shoulder at the silent library. She stood on her chair and inspected the other cubicles nearby, but all of them sat empty, the computers still off. Maybe a virus had infected this machine.
"Is anyone here? I'm having a problem with my computer."
No answer. Her attention shifted to the glowing note. It was probably harmless.
She sank back down. "For what?" she typed, and hit the enter button.
At once, a sharp clang signaled another message.
The balance is in their favor.
Your Kin is our savior.
As she is missing,
Biskara is hissing.
An ancient evil has come.
Save us from thralldom.
Please answer our plea for help.
Did she know anyone named Biskara? It seemed vaguely familiar. Shelby had many friends on the Internet, most of them girls her age, in tenth grade. Some of them preferred quirky nicknames, so Biskara could have been one of their handles. Someone was probably playing a joke on her. Sometimes they did that to one another for simple fun, but this was just weird.
She typed, "How?" and hit "send."
A clang and a note followed.
File down the aisle to the storage room.
We will be there to greet you soon.
Mr. Dempsey might know what the message meant, or at least he could check its validity. She knew where the storage room was; last summer, she and some other kids had helped Mr. Dempsey clean the dark cavern. It was little more than a creepy closet near the back of the main section of the library. One glaring light hung with a cord in the middle of the gloomy antechamber. Just the thought of searching for that cord, in the dark by herself, sent chills down her spine.
A voice disrupted her thoughts. "How are we doing today, Miss Shelby?"
She jerked back from the monitor and gasped. "Mr. Dempsey."
"Oh, I'm sorry, Shelby. I didn't mean to sneak up on you. My silence is a curse sometimes. I thought I heard you call out."
"I did. I did." She tried to calm her panting. "Look at these messages, Mr. Dempsey. That one said they need help against an ancient evil."
She took a deep breath as Mr. Dempsey studied the dialogue box. Unlike the beast, he always listened to kids.
"Hmm, the storage room? I was just inside not twenty minutes ago, and nobody else is here except you
. The O'Connor boys and some of their friends left right before you arrived, and that's been the traffic this morning. I suppose we ought to investigate, eh?"
"I do believe so." She relaxed, relieved to have his company.
She followed him over to the storage room. The entryway was solid oak, like all of the other doors.
Mr. Dempsey turned the handle and pushed it open. "Is anyone here?"
Silence.
He proceeded to the hanging light while Shelby tentatively strode behind him. A strange, damp chill hung in the air—colder than air conditioning should have made it. She shivered and rubbed her arms as goose pimples swelled over her flesh.
Mr. Dempsey tugged the cord, but the bulb did not turn on. He pulled the cord a few more times, but still no light.
"The bulb must be out. I have extras at the front desk in the bottom drawer. Why don't you grab one, Shelby?"
"Sure, Mr. D."
She turned and shuffled toward the door, which whirled shut with a bang. Shelby gasped and her heart jumped. Without light from the entrance, the room went pitch black.
"Mr. Dempsey?" she cried out.
"Geek!"
"Loser!"
Zach Ryder halted and peeked around the corner of the school hallway. The final bell had rung almost ten minutes ago, and the tiled halls loomed empty. Well, mostly.
Four massive brutes shoved one of Zach's friends into the row of metal lockers. One grabbed Adrian by the cuff of his shirt and walloped him.
Adrian whimpered. His small hands flailed in an attempt to cover his face.
Zach's guts churned. If he tried to assist, they'd pummel him. But he couldn't just hide. He and Adrian had known each other since third grade.
Zach glanced around in hopes of finding a teacher. No one appeared, and the teacher's lounge was on the far side of the school. If he bolted for aid, Adrian would be a bloody mess by the time he returned.
The fire alarm across the hall caught his attention. The little red box never looked so inviting.
Without hesitation, he scooted over and tugged the white handle. The bell reverberated down the corridor. He turned back to glimpse the bullies scrambling, yelling, "Fire drill now? Let's beat it before teachers get down here. We'll finish with you another time, wimp!"
The Silver Sphere Page 1