Lacing Shadows

by Tina Smith

  I glanced overhead at a passing plane. “During these last few days, I’ve seen the worry in her eyes.”

  “As for us, once I return home and testify against my mother, I am going to demand that my father change the law so I may announce our union. My people will want to know what side of the impending war we will be on, especially when they learn who my intended is.” His grip tightened around my fingers.

  “Do I have to make a decision?” I gulped. Nana had arranged for special teachers to come three days a week for instruction on fae life and history, combat training, weapons handling, and blocking spells. My prince was also teaching me royal court politics too. Would I learn what I needed in time?

  “Yes. You have your family and you have me. We will help you.”

  “I feel like such a newb. Are you sure you want to marry me?”

  Lacon nodded, cupping my chin with his hand, drawing my view to his. “I’ve known since the first time you slipped your little hand in mine and invited me to see your tadpoles by this lakefront.” His stare had the ability to reach deep inside me and not only take my heart but also scoop up my soul with it.

  “Don’t ever doubt your worth to me. I need you. I’ve always needed you.” He wrapped his arms around me, resting the side of his face on top of my head. “I can’t believe the things my mother has done just to keep us apart. We missed out on years of memories. Selfish! She was incredibly selfish.”

  I gripped his arms, letting him know we’d always support each other no matter what.

  “Father has various forces—witches, warlocks, shifters—searching for information, for answers. We don’t fully know what our Queen was up to. Where are the humans she stole from your world? She used Liat, stroked his jealousy of me until he was blinded by it and had his men attack me. But my mother gave the order to kill me, her own child.” His voice broke off, as it had the last few times he’d spoken about his maleficent queen.

  The sun began to shift and a chilly wind increased. I shivered against it.

  “Oh, Holly Bear, you’re cold. Let’s go back.” Lacon stood up, releasing me. He stared off into the trees, nodding once.

  We walked back to my snowmobile as branches swayed.

  “I wonder what your mother is preparing for this evening’s meal,” he said, slipping onto my seat and patting the space before him.

  “Let’s go find out,” I giggled, settling in. “I bet whatever it is, it’s fit for a prince.”

  Lacon’s groan was muffled by the wind. I had to get in my digs to make up for all those lame Holly Berry jokes, didn’t I? I started the engine realizing just how much I missed Chewie following me.

  Epilogue

  “So this is it?” I stood on tiptoe, my lips inches from his.

  Lacon leaned back against the same weeping willow where we’d first met. Dressed in his royal travelling clothes, the replaced outfit similar to the one from our first encounter, I feasted my eyes on him one last time.

  “It is only temporary, my flower. Mother’s trial shouldn’t last long with your recording of her guilt.” He had gained a few pounds from eating my Mom’s food these past six weeks. Nana thoroughly spoiled him with her rich desserts.

  I was also back to normal. I kissed him, shivering in my jacket. A fresh coat of ten inches had fallen overnight. “We can see each other in our dreams, right?”

  Lacon told me the dreams I’d had of a strange guy that first night after he’d arrived were actually him. One of his fae talents was the ability to jump into other people’s dreams. A little creepy, but he reassured me he only used such “nocturnal trips” for political reasons when he needed to persuade someone’s way of thinking.

  Nodding, he smiled. Such a gorgeous man, and he was mine. I now understood why I’d never clicked with other guys. I’d already met the one for me when I was five.

  “I will return as soon as I can.”

  I hugged him, placing my hands above his weapon belts. “I cherish our time together.” Giggling, I realized I was speaking like him.

  He chuckled, caressing my hair. “We will have so much more soon. Are you excited for school?”

  I shrugged. “I guess. I’ll know more people, so that’s good.”

  My new Alaskan Husky puppy and Christmas present from Lacon, yelped at us. I picked him up in my arms.

  Lacon scratched Obi-Wan under his chin. “Don’t drop your guard. No matter where you go. We must not forget that Queen Narci disappeared with Solidago and the kidnapped pregnant human into the Shadow Lands. They are planning some form of revenge. My guards will watch over you and your family wherever you go.”

  I put Obi-Wan down and clutched Lacon’s coat again. “We’ll be ready this time. In both realms. I’m not letting anyone else take my memories ever again.”

  When he wasn’t stressed or worried, Lacon looked like he did at this moment—happy. Deep down I knew most of it was due to our finding each other again. Now that I had my memories restored, I was complete. I remembered my mixed heritage, my days shared with Lacon when he visited, and our friendship.

  With one more hug, we pulled apart. My eyes glistened. I scrubbed the corners, not wanting to cry in front of him.

  “Take care, Holly. I love you.” He kissed my forehead.

  “I love you, my Prince.” He loved it when I called him that. “See you soon.”

  He turned, pressed his palm against the willow’s trunk, and let the door begin to spin. First a small spark, growing larger and larger still, red and orange flashes, until it became a circular comet on fire. When the portal was large enough for him to step into, he did. Before he closed it, he faced me and smiled, mouthing one final “Love you.”

  And then he was gone.

  But I knew he would come back for me. As for now, I would go on with my regular life. Classes at the community college, hanging out with my friends, spending time with my family, raising a puppy.

  The nights belonged to my prince.

  Humming a Death Cab for Cuties song, I stuffed Obi-Wan into the front of my jacket and headed back to my snowmobile. Among the trees, I saw shadows shake and move with my every step. I waved and called out a greeting to Lacon’s guards, smiling when I heard a chorus of “Good afternoon, Princess-to-be Holly.”

  Living this new secret life, things were pretty great. I’d rescued an injured fae prince, we’d fallen in love, and in between I’d found my true self.

  The End

  Laurie Treacy is a fantasy, paranormal, and contemporary YA and NA romance writer. A graduate of Marist College, she lives in New York's picturesque Hudson Valley with her husband, three children, and various pets. When not book blogging, she’s a proud Whovian, loves reading, photography, frozen Goobers, and watching anime. A member of the SCBWI and RWA, Laurie has several short stories published in anthologies and is working on some novels.

  https://www.laurietreacy.com/

  https://www.readergirlsblog.com/

  https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/bookjunkie806

  © Copyright 2014 Laurie Treacy

  The Unspoken Truth

  Lee Ryder

  Prologue

  I have always been aware of a world beyond ours. I grew up in a home that had been in my family since the eighteen hundreds. The spirits of my family that had gone before us occupied it. Nobody could see them, except me.

  When I was five, I saw my first ghost. Her name was Amy, and she wore a funny dark blue sailor dress. Amy and I played together with my dolls. When I asked her where she lived, she always looked sad, and disappeared soon after. I never thought much of it, because she was always around. I thought she was one of the neighbor children. Then one day my mother found a box of old family pictures in the attic, and in one of the pictures, I saw a familiar face. Amy was standing together with a man and woman I did not know. She was wearing the same funny sailor dress. My mom noticed me looking at the picture, and asked me about it. I told her about my little friend Amy, and how she looked like the girl in the picture
. My mother grew very quiet, and her face paled. I was worried I had hurt her. She put the box of pictures away, and told me to go play.

  Later that night, I heard my father and my mother arguing. It angered my father that my mother would even think about talking about matters of the supernatural. He said that he was a devout Catholic and if my mother spoke of this in public the church would find out and take away his position as Deacon. My room was right above the living room. There was a heat register in the floor that I could look through to see my parents at night when I got scared. It also let a warm yellow light into my room, so that I would never be alone in the dark. I sat against my bed crying as I heard my father rail about how it could be seen as possession and I could be excommunicated and taken away from them.

  The next morning, my mother made me my favorite breakfast; blueberry pancakes. I thought it was odd because it was a Thursday and my mother only made pancakes on Sundays after we got home from church. As I drank my chocolate milk, my mother brought out the picture of Amy again.

  “Lena, sweetheart,” she began. “You said you knew this little girl?”

  “Yes, mommy,” I answered. “She comes over to play with me.”

  My mother’s face wore the same grave look that she had before. “Honey, you can’t play with this little girl. She’s been dead for a long time.”

  “No, mommy!” I insisted. “She comes into my room and plays with me.”

  My mother looked down at the picture thoughtfully. “You remember Grandma Rose, honey?”

  I nodded.

  “Well Amy was Grandma Rose’s sister. She died when she was seven.”

  “I don’t understand, mommy.” I said. “She’s not dead. She lives next door.”

  My mother took me onto her lap and explained to me that our house had once been a mortuary. My great grandfather, who was Amy’s father, owned it. She told me that there had been an epidemic of smallpox and even though my great grandfather had used sulfur to purify the house, Amy had contracted the disease and died.

  “Well if Amy is dead, why can I see her?” I asked.

  My mother explained that sometimes people in our family were closer to the other world because we lived in a mortuary, and that sometimes that world would cross into our own. She said we were closer to death than most people were, and that when you are that close to death, sometimes death has a way of changing you.

  After my mother told me about Amy, I never saw her again. I did not understand what my mother meant, or why Amy went away. As I grew up, I forgot that conversation. I thought it was crazy talk. It was not until years later, that I discovered the full meaning of what my mother had said.

  The night my father died, I was sitting in my bedroom doing my homework. My father was out of town on a business trip, and my mother was downstairs doing her nightly crossword puzzle. It was the day before my seventeenth birthday, and my father had promised he would be back before the party.

  I was reading Jane Eyre for my AP English course, and I looked up with a start. My father was standing in my doorway. He was soaking wet, which was weird, because it was not raining.

  “Daddy, you scared me.” I said.

  “Sorry, pumpkin,” he said sitting down next to me on the bed. “I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday.”

  “Daddy, don’t be silly, tomorrow is my birthday.” I said. “You can wish me happy birthday in the morning.”

  My father looked at me sadly. “I’m sorry, honey, I have to go.” He said standing up. He kissed my forehead, and then he walked out of my bedroom.

  I ran downstairs to find him to see what he meant. “Mom, did you see Daddy?”

  She gave me a confused look. “Honey, you know Daddy’s traveling. He’ll be in late tonight.”

  “No, Mom he was just in my bedroom.” I said stubbornly.

  “Honey,” Mom began, but three sharp raps on the door cut her off.

  I followed her to the door and there were two police officers standing there. My mother let them in and offered them some coffee.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Abrams,” One of the officers began. “I don’t know how to tell you this.”

  My mother began to cry. The officer led her to a chair and knelt down in front of her. “Mrs. Abrams, the plane your husband was on went down in a storm over Lake Erie earlier tonight.”

  I remember screaming so much that the other officer grabbed me and took me to my room. About a month later, we buried my father’s ashes.

  After that, I wanted to learn everything I could about the paranormal. I began researching everything I could about the spirit world. When I had read every book in the library around the corner from my house, I requested books from other libraries. After I exhausted all of those resources, I started going to the local colleges and reading their books on the paranormal.

  When I went on to college, I studied Parapsychology. I met my future husband Jackson in the library of our local community college. He was standing in the Psychology section looking utterly confused. As I walked up to speak to him, I saw my father standing at the end of the aisle smiling at me. That was when I knew that Jackson was the man that I was meant to be with.

  Now, six years later, I am a consultant with our local police department working on cold cases with Jackson’s father Samuel. Being twenty-two, I am the youngest consultant on the payroll. It helps to have friends in high places. Jackson likes to have me close by so that he can keep me safe when I’m investigating cases and I’m happy that he’s there protecting me.

  Chapter 1

  I have investigated thousands of cold cases where a ghost was involved. It is strange how the ghosts are attached to the items in the evidence boxes. I feel very strange picking through the boxes with people looking over my shoulder. There is one woman who has been begging me to take her case forever. For some reason she can travel throughout the precinct and has been following me for months. Her name is Jessica Clayton and she is one of the coldest cases in the book. I have read her file more than a hundred times and I found out:

  Jessica Clayton was a mail order bride who came to the territory in 1860 just at the beginning of the Civil War. Her husband to be was a high-powered man working with the railroad. He owned the construction company that laid the track in the territory. He was a vicious man who treated her like his property. He did not allow her to leave his house or go anywhere without him. She fell in love with one of the chefs from his kitchen. It was a scandal because the man was a colored man named Barnabas Stokes. He was not a slave because Steven Clayton did not keep slaves. He paid his workers. The truth was he paid the colored workers, Irish workers, Russian workers, Chinese workers, and anyone who was not as American as he was, what he thought they were worth. The colored, Chinese, and Irish workers were paid the least, as he saw them as dissenters for their “ungodly” ways.

  Jessica feared her husband, he was abusive and a womanizer. Everyone knew, including Jessica, that many of the female workers in their home were also Steven’s lovers behind closed doors. She was a trophy wife and she knew it. Jessica was a piece of eye candy on his arm to dispel rumors, and keep his social standing intact.

  I looked up to see Jackson standing in my doorway with a bag from In and Out Burger, which is one of my favorite places for lunch.

  “Hi, Sweetie!” He said coming in, kissing my forehead, and putting the bag on my desk. “You hungry?”

  “Absolutely!” I answer closing the file and slipping it into my drawer. Jessica’s story would have to wait for later.

  “So working on the Clayton case again?” Jackson asked coming into my office and giving me a quick peck on the lips. A pleasant warmth spread throughout my body. This happened every time he was near me. His presence always sent shivers down my spine.

  “Yes, and no.” I answer. “She visited my dreams again last night.”

  “I know,” Jackson, says looking at me. “You were crying in your sleep.”

  “Why didn’t you wake me?” I asked.

 
“I did. You were so out of it you didn’t remember.”

  “I love you, you know.” I said smiling up at him.

  “I know.” He said kissing my cheek. Then he started to giggle.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I just got ketchup on your cheek, sorry.” He choked, dabbing at my cheek with a napkin.

  I play punched him and said, “Really, officer, has no one given you lessons in chivalry?”

  “Chivalry is dead.” He said laughing.

  “Chivalry is dead.” Steven said as Jessica waited for him to open the door for her. She gave him a venomous look and stomped into the house. He grabbed her roughly by the arm causing her to cry out. “Don’t give me attitude, girl. You’re my property.” He growled. She yanked her arm away from him and stormed upstairs, slamming her door behind her and locking it. She examined her arm, which was already turning purple from his tight grasp. She quickly grabbed her valise from inside the closet and began throwing clothing into it. Damn him to hell!

  “Lena!” Jackson’s voice breaks into my reverie. I snap back to reality looking at him with tear-filled eyes.

  “Where did you go? Are you okay?” He asked taking both my hands in his, concern furrowing his brow.

  I looked up to see Jessica standing in front of my desk. “She’s here.” I whispered.

  “Who?” Jackson asked looking around.

  “Jessica,” I answered quietly.

  “What does she want?” He asked. “She’s just a missing woman, a runaway bride; isn’t she?”