Whispers in the Woods
By
Victoria Lynn Osborne
Other books by Victoria Lynn Osborne
Jason and Mortyiene Mysteries
The Student Librarian
The Bankers of Zurix
The Priestesses of Levet *
Great Wyrm Saga
Red Sails in the Morning
Whispers in the Woods
By
Victoria Lynn Osborne
NOTE: If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “Unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictiously.
Whispers in the Wood Book one of “Firemountain Chronicles.”
Copyright ©2017 by Victoria Lynn Osborne
Cover by Jack Hoyle
Published by Azure Spider Publications LLC
1051 NE Pepperwood
Grants Pass, OR 97526
www.azurespiderpublications.com
Library of Congress Control Number: 2017900010
ISBN: 978-0-9974621-5-9
ISBN: 978-0-9974621-6-6 ebook
First Edition February 2017
Printed in the United States of America
This book is dedicated to my friend Barbara Hutchinson we’ve been through a lot and will go through more
Acknowledgements:
A book like this cannot come into being without the help of many people family and friends. I would like to thank Sue Schroeder, Megan Blatel, and Paige Klaus for being my beta readers. They really do help me keep things on track. I would like to thank Jack Hoyle for the wonderful cover. Also I have to thank The Coin Pursuers for making me laugh, and the Rogue Author’s guild for continuous cheering. A shout out to Frances Osborne for her on going support. I especially want to thank the citizens of Washington State and the rainy climate for giving me the inspiration for this creepy little city. I really do love Washington State I lived there for years and this is a loving tribute to that wonderfully progressive state.
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
Prologue
She walked down the lines of the battlefield in a desert of what had been ancient Persia. A long blond braid ran down her back and hung past her waist. She studied the battlefield with gray eyes the color of early morning just when the black of night had faded out but before the blue of the day. She was tall, much taller than any other woman and many men. Her stride was longer than most men’s, and she towered over others when she paused next to them.
What was important was the way she studied the battle. She was adorned in breastplate, and girth loops ran around her waist forming a skirt that covered her to mid-thigh. The armor, however, was not made of leather or metal, but out of gold light. The armor bent the light around her so that she was invisible to the men and women that fought in the battle. Sparks of light flared as bullets struck her armor. Bracers and greaves grew and contracted on their own, covering her thighs and arms. No weapon created by man could harm her, but she sometimes wondered if the great nuclear weapons, those devices of mass destruction that could change matter into energy, would destroy her.
This was a modern war, and she looked for someone who would be worthy. However, the nature of the war and the weapons used made it hard. Streams of thought flowed from the soldiers as she walked down the lines. On the American side, images of the twin towers, and the underlying lack of trust for the nation’s leaders. They fought for their families, wives and lovers. Occasionally a soldier would be faithful; he would fight for his wife and his country, looking for vengeance for an attack that happened near the start of the millennium, but those numbers dwindled as the war continued.
As she walked down the line a bullet from the opposing side found its target, an American soldier. It was a lucky shot through the throat. Red blood bubbled with every breath the soldier took. Next to him his comrade called for a corpsman. She created a spear of golden light in her left hand, and with a flick of her wrist she threw her spear into the young man and ended his suffering. He calmed, and his eyes glazed over while his comrade tried to stop the bleeding. When the blood stopped bubbling, she moved on, and released his spirit to its afterlife. She could not take him. The spear of light had left no mark, and no one would know that she had ended his life and given him freedom from pain.
She circled around to the other side. The men who fought the Americans were not as well equipped, but they were defending their home and their way of life. For them this was a Jihad, a religious war. Where they came from, men respected each other's property. It was unheard of to sleep with a married woman; the punishment for both would be severe.
They hated Americans and their swaggering arrogance. Americans had lorded their way of life over everyone. Their ways were forced on other cultures, whether the people wanted it or not. It grated, the way their women walked around uncovered, exposing their beauty to everyone, how the women soldiers would spread their legs for anyone. The sacred vows and bonds of marriage made no difference to them. Now the Americans had come, and invaded their country. They forced their decadent American ways on their home, their culture. The woman looked for someone worthy in this group, but again, they did not follow the ancient laws of honor. Everything was done at a distance, nothing was up close and personal so you could look into your enemies’ eyes and see the light dying in them. She knew that again she had not found what she was looking for on this battlefield.
At the edge of the field, she stopped again and stared over the skirmish. Hidden in shadows cast by rocks and hills, things flitted unseen by mortal eyes. They whispered hatred and fear into the ears of those on the field. The shadows spurred on more vicious combat by spreading lies and half-truths. These things hated humanity and their time had come. The world had changed, and now they rose to their zenith in power. They crept out, drawn by the strong emotions, and played on them and with them—unseen, hidden, and unworldly.
A bunch of them joined together, whirling in a maelstrom of shadows.
What’s happening? the woman thought.
From the shadows a giant figure stepped, carrying a great two-handed axe and clothed in shadows. The jotun stood in the middle of the battlefield. Shadows curled around its feet, keening in ecstasy.
The woman summoned her sword into battle.
“Stop,” a voiced echoed in her mind. “Now is not the time.”
She turned her gaze to the sky. A bright white light streaked across and disappeared in a blaze like a small nova. A war was coming and her kind would be in the middle of it again. This was the beginning of a time of change. She hoped that people would put aside their differences, the seeds of hate that filled them with rage, and see the truth of what was happening. She looked one last time at the battlefield and the jotunn. The shadows now swarmed over both armies, keeping the war alive. With a deep sigh, she knew she could no longer remain neutral.
She spoke into the empty space, her voice echoing an ancient horn from centuries past. “Door,” was all she said. A shimmering door of golden light appeared before her. She turned the handle and walked into the black space beyond the thresho
ld. After the door closed it vanished and the area was clear as if nothing had been there.
Chapter 1
Dinah Steele rubbed the back of her neck. Next to her, Vince Carlton took out a bottle of Tylenol and offered her one. She shook her head.
On the stage, her candidate, Phylis, was addressing the rally. This presidential race was volatile. On the one side was a man, Caleb, who got into more trouble every time he opened his mouth. On the other side was a woman, Phylis, whose opposing party was terrified of her. In the great history of the United States, Dinah felt that this election would be forgotten.
Out of the corner of her eye a shadow flowed over the rear of the Tacoma Dome. She turned to face it. It reared up behind a cameraman, its eyes glowing orange. Her brow furrowed as she stared at it.
It slid into the cameraman and his eyes glazed over as he turned the camera to Dinah.
What the fuck? Why is he photographing me?
A man at the front of the press box lifted his head. He craned his neck, studying the room. He locked eyes with Dinah.
She jumped and squeezed Vince’s arm. “Who’s that?”
Vince followed her gaze to the strange reporter. “That is Don Hatchett from the Firemountain Tribune.”
“Never heard of them. How did he rate such a prime spot?” Dinah studied the squat man.
Don was dressed in a tweed sports coat with patches on his elbows. Around his neck was an ancient camera with a large flash. He smirked at her and turned back to the candidate’s speech.
A black light flowed from the lens of the camera while the camera man’s eyes glowed. The black light flowed into Phylis on the podium. She grew taller, her voice more charismatic. From her mouth black notes of music flowed. They burrowed into the ears of the rally members. The cheering swelled.
Vince sat up straighter and soon joined in the applause.
Dinah gasped. All around Vince’s head she could see black notes sinking into his ears. He applauded louder.
She batted at the black notes that floated around her. Shadows detached from the ceiling and from the shadows of the Secret Service men assigned to protect the candidate.
They swarmed over the audience at the rally. Don took a hipflask out of his briefcase and took a long drink. The shadows left him alone and he breathed a sigh of relief.
Dinah stopped writing on her steno pad. “What is going on?” she whispered to Vince.
Vince turned and smiled at her. The normally open and friendly smile was changed to a leer of disdain. “She is marvelous, she makes so much sense.”
Dinah looked over at Don. The swarm of shadows and notes had fled, though they still hovered about her. Don held up his hip flask like a toast.
The speech ended to rousing applause. Dinah shoved her notes into her black leather Samsonite briefcase. Now would be the meet and greet for the reporters and the presidential candidate.
“Has anyone told you you have the most amazing blue eyes?” Vince whispered as he fell in step next to her.
She smiled at him. His cologne intoxicated her. She let her arm brush up against his. She hadn’t felt like dating or even hooking up with someone ever since she’d broken up with her old boyfriend Logan. She had worried a bit, since the Huntzbergers owned so many newspapers and the competition for jobs was fierce.
Her time of covering the campaign had garnered much attention, and already papers were sending in offers. Even Logan’s father, Richard, had sent her an offer.
The buffet in the meet and greet was supposed to be Pacific Northwest in style, but, after having been to dozens of them, they all felt the same to Dinah. She was part of the press corps that followed the candidate and even flew on her private jet.
She made a beeline for the wine, and picked up a glass of chilled white.
Vince joined her but ordered a scotch neat and sipped the drink.
“Tell me about the Firemountain Tribune. What do they do that gets them in such a prime position?” she asked, her reporter instincts kicking in.
Vince shrugged. “I’m not sure. They are a squirrely lot. They keep to themselves for the most part.”
Don had made his way to the buffet table and was smearing salmon mousse on his bagel.
“I’m going to talk to him,” Dinah announced.
Vince shrugged and sipped his drink. “I need to talk to Phylis anyway, see if I can set up an interview with the candidate for the Seattle PI.” Vince left Dinah and weaved through the crowd toward the cluster of people surrounding Phylis.
Dinah approached Don. He shoveled food in his mouth which dribbled on his stained tie. The scent of cheap alcohol oozed from his pores.
“I know you saw them,” he said without preamble.
“Did you see them? Did you see the notes?” Dinah was stunned.
“I always do, though I must admit I haven’t seen the notes. I have just seen the shadows.”
“What are they? Where did they come from? Why am I just now able to see them?”
Don spread more mousse on his bagel and took a bite of it. He chewed thoughtfully and studied Dinah. “I wouldn’t know where to begin. But I think I should take your card. Emery will want to meet with you.”
“Who is Emery?” Dinah fished out a business card and handed it to him.
“The editor. Don’t worry, he is harmless. As for the rest of your questions, that is a long, long story, and one we won’t have time for here.” He took out his wallet and handed Dinah his business card. “Contact me, email me, I will try to answer your questions, but I think you need to come to Firemountain to get peace of mind.”
“Can you at least tell me why?”
“It is the mountain, Mount St. Helens. It opens the minds of people who are sensitive. The proximity to the volcano gave you second sight. Now that you have seen the shadows, you won’t be able to escape them. You will come to Firemountain eventually just to find answers.”
With that the strange man melted into the audience. Vince returned to Dinah and slid an arm around her waist. “She is amazing,” he murmured in her ear.
Dinah shrugged. She liked Phylis, liked what she stood for. The opposing party should be worried about this charismatic woman.
“Let’s get out of here,” Dinah whispered. “Show me something of the Puget Sound before I have to leave.”
“I thought you’d never ask.” Vince guided Dinah to the coatroom where they retrieved their jackets and left through the staff entrance.
***
Next stop on the tour was San Francisco. Dinah looked forward to getting away from the Pacific Northwest. Not only did she now see the shadows around Phylis, but she also spotted them on street corners. Drug dealers and pimps had huge shadows that dominated their personalities.
A silver light gleamed feebly inside of Phylis, trying to fight off the shadows. But it flickered, bordering on the dangerous. Phylis still spoke of family rights, women’s rights, and that the wealthy should pay their fair share of taxes.
As Dinah sat in the press box, a shaft of green light pierced the shadows surrounding Phylis. Shocked—she had never seen green light, only white and black—she followed the beam to a woman in the rally.
The woman wore a peasant blouse and a blue floral skirt. Her hair was long and the color of flame and fell down her back to her waist.
She held up her finger, pointing it at the candidate. For a brief instant the silver light within Phylis flared brighter, drawing on the power of the green beam.
Another player on the field, Dinah thought. She made a note of it. Ever since Tacoma she had seen shadows and light play on her candidate, but it had so far always been black and white.
She rose and weaved through the standing throng of supporters who applauded the latest statement from the candidate. The strange woman’s eyes were closed, and she had a small piece of wood clutched in her hand with a single crystal at either end.
The woman opened her emerald green eyes. She looked Dinah up and down. “Merry meet, I am Alana.”
“Um, hello…” Dinah extended her hand. “I’m Dinah Steele. I am with Phylis’s press corps. I wanted to know what you think of the campaign.”
“The campaign is very polarized. But Phylis is the obvious choice. She is more in tune with the majority of the United States. Even white men are seeing that she is the better choice.”
Dinah pointed to the five-pointed star pendant. “What is that? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“I am Wiccan. I follow the path of the mother goddess. One of the reasons why I support this campaign is if the other guy wins… Well, he has it out for Muslims, so what would happen to us witches under his administration? Would he throw away our religious freedoms the way he is trying to throw away Muslims’ right to their belief system?”
“Do you actually support Phylis, or are you just against Caleb?”
“Oh, she is not perfect. I try to give her energy through spells to strengthen her campaign, because it would be a disaster if Caleb wins.”
“I never thought much about Wiccans. Are there many of you?” Dinah smelled a story here. What would happen to the smaller religions if Caleb was so against one of the big three, Islam?
Alana shrugged. “We are the fastest-growing religion in the country. Already we have been accepted and mainstreamed in many places like the military. I would hate to see another inquisition in the twenty-first century.”
Dinah leaned forward. “Do you see things?”
“What do you mean see things?” Alana replied.
“Shadows, white light, black light. Do you see things around the candidates and important people?”
Alana sighed. “That is just superstition. It has no basis in fact. Magic is more like a ritualized prayer and sending out good thoughts to the universe. We don’t see devils or consort with them. We aren’t that kind of witch.” She squared her shoulders and glared at Dinah.
Whispers in the Woods (Firemountain Chronicles Book 1) Page 1