Mortals: Heather Despair Book One

by Leslie Edens

  “Thank you,” I whispered in his half-materialized ear.

  He settled into a transparent state, arm draped over me, and we watched Bellum stalk about, kicking clouds.

  “Aren’t you afraid to answer to him?” I whispered.

  Emmett shook his head. “He’s not the only spirit deity. I answer to Lady Mystery.” He tugged at my arm. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “What about the All?” I whispered, as we crawled through the mist. “Don’t you answer to the All?”

  Emmett stuck out his tongue. “The All’s a lazy has-been. Moldy old spirit god who disappeared a hundred years ago, on permanent vacation. Nobody cares about the All anymore. ‘Cept Bellum. Come on.”

  He was combat-crawling toward a large, spinning hole, waving me forward encouragingly.

  “Come on, Aether. Just down here,” he said.

  “Aether!” The voice boomed.

  I froze. Emmett, inches from the portal, stopped, a look of horror on his face.

  The Bellum stood above us, a new staff in his hand, his mouth hanging open with hunger.

  “That’s your spirit name. Now I remember you.” Bellum’s long face nodded down at us. “And Emmett. My little black-and-white friend. Could it be?” He looked at me, then squinted at Emmett. “Is this your girlfriend? Answer me.”

  Emmett turned pink. Shaking his head, he tried to push me toward the portal. But I wasn’t leaving him to face this monstrosity.

  The Bellum looked uncertain. “You’re so weak and scrawny.” He kicked at Emmett, poked him with his staff. “You’ve got some nerve, though, for a mid-level spirit. One way to find out who you are. Face my wrath!”

  The staff whirled, and the purple electricity fired out of it in bolts, hitting Emmett’s transparent shape again and again. Emmett flailed backward but did not resist. He sprawled out flat, gasping and flickering. He looked over at me, his black eyes sad, but resolute.

  “Go,” he said. “I can handle him.”

  “No, you can’t,” I said, reaching for him. When did he get so brave?

  Bellum blasted him again, vicious rips of purple spectricity. Emmett’s head lolled back. His form twitched and flickered helplessly. Then pop! He was gone. Like a light bulb that had gone dead, his energy disappeared, his shape disappeared. He wasn’t fading out or hiding this time. He’d disappeared completely.

  “No, you can’t!” I screamed.

  I grappled around in the space where he’d been, felt nothing there. Not even the scent of lightning. Gone forever. That sunshine smile, and those deep black eyes. What had he done but defend me? I could still remember his touch, his arm on my shoulders, his essence holding me safe. But he was gone.

  I turned on the Bellum. I stood up.

  “You can’t,” I said and touched the Bellum. I spoke his name. “Bellum Omnium Contra Omnes. I summon you. You will release Emmett Groswald Cornelius St. Claire Marie-Claude Juan Rodriguez Gabriel Lysander Tippetarius Zetian O’Toole Carlisle Fitzhugh!”

  My hands tingled, and the tingle became a crackle. And the loudest POP of all time shook my eardrums. Stars spiraled before my eyes. My empty arms filled with—his cool shape, shifting black-and-white. He slumped against me. Out of thin air.

  Before us, where the Bellum had stood, now only purple mists flickered. I ran my fingers through them, felt them crackle. Mystified. I had wanted Emmett. But how that took out the Bellum . . .

  My head spun, and the dizziness made me stumble. I collapsed to the gray grass, Emmett’s limp form tumbling with me. We lay next to the portal, too weak to reach it. I touched his unconscious face. As my vision blurred and my consciousness ebbed away, I saw one of his black eyes snap open. I gazed into it and felt myself falling deep into that black well, from where I would never escape.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Victory Hard Won

  Hot red light. It seared my eyelids, seemed to burn into my eyes. I groaned and rolled away. Beneath me, creaking.

  “She’s back! Heather Despair!” said a squeaky voice.

  I cracked one eye open, saw a pink blur. I blinked a few times. When I opened my eyes again, bright blue eyes gazed into mine. Not Emmett’s. I gasped air, croaked, tried to speak.

  “Trenton?” I said.

  “She’s back! You guys!” Trenton hopped up and down, and my surroundings hopped with him. My surroundings that were increasingly looking like a round eye-shaped window, overhead view of the bus . . . and this creaky cot under me.

  “Teardrop trailer?” I said. “Oh, crux. Was it all a dream?”

  Just as I was wondering if any of it really happened, Oskar came in, followed by Lily. They hung over me, mouths pursed, frowning.

  “She looks so pale and weird,” said Lily. She lowered her face to mine. “Her eyes!”

  “I see,” said Oskar, his frown very grim. “Can she talk?”

  “Why don’t you ask me?” I said. Grinned. Though my throat was very dry.

  I grappled to sit up, they helped me, and Trenton brought me some water.

  “Paranormals,” I said, after drinking. “What’s happened is incredible. We are involved in a battle for the safety of the worlds. All of us are on the front lines—the first ones they’ll go after. That means we must be very vigilant, and we must become very good at what we do.”

  “What do we do?” Trenton’s mouth formed an O.

  Lily shook her head, mystified. “You got me.”

  But Oskar nodded. “You made contact with the other side. They told you about the spirit battle.”

  “It’s everyone’s battle,” I said, slurping more water. “I just fought a major part of it. I defeated the Bellum.”

  “The who?” Trenton looked to Oskar, and so did Lily.

  “Universal evil,” said Oskar. “Who the Coterie stands against.” He turned away from me, stared out the overhead window, at the bus. “But it’s not our battle. It’s not a mortal battle, Heather. That’s a spirit world problem. You can’t have defeated the Bellum. Only the All can do that. Whatever you think happened, it was probably a spirit illusion.”

  I looked down at my ragged clothes, that smelled slightly of Dead Town mold. They were all black, too. Where did this long dress come from?

  “I fought him. He went down,” I said stubbornly. But I knew Oskar was probably right. How could I have defeated Bellum, just like that? Maybe I knocked him back a bit, but destroyed him? Pretty unlikely. “Well, I disappeared him, anyway. How’d I get back here? Where’s Emmett?”

  Trenton looked more and more bewildered. “We found you lying in the old school bus. Alone.”

  “Completely alone,” Oskar confirmed. “No spirits, no mortals, no one named Emmett. Whoever that may be.”

  Lily yawned. “We’ve been up searching most of the night. I was afraid, you know, that it was like with Sam . . .”

  “Sam!” I smiled. “He should be with our dad right now, at the Vic. But the Doctormans were after them.” I grabbed Oskar’s arm. “We need to help them.”

  “Take it easy. If they’re at the Vic, Max and Art can take care of it,” said Oskar. He took a Smartphone from his pocket and snapped a picture of me. He showed it to me.

  My pale face and black eyes stunned even me. “Oh, my All. I’ve gone Emmett,” I said. I held up my arms, watched the black lace sleeves billow. “Look at this dress. This is no illusion.”

  Trenton tsk-tsked at me. “Tell me honestly, Heather. When did you go Goth?”

  Oskar laughed and ruffled Trenton’s hair. “It’s that ring she’s wearing. It carried over some aspects of the spirit world.”

  “How do you know about spirit artifacts?” I asked, clasping the ring to me.

  “Max explained that as the heir, you might require one.” Oskar held up my hand, admiring the huge black stone. Everyone gasped and oohed and aahed.

  “It’s an engagement ring!” Trenton sighed. “I’m so envious!”

  “No, it’s not like that at all.” I blushed furiously. Leave it to Trent
on to say that. “This is the Ring of Esperance. Emmett gave it to me to focus my power.”

  “Ooh, a token of his affection.” Trenton pointed to my ring finger of my left hand, where the Ring of Esperance was firmly implanted. “You do realize, that’s the finger where the engagement ring goes. If that’s not an engagement ring, what will you do when you want to really get engaged?”

  I groaned. “Lily, is he right?”

  I held out the large, sparkling ring, so gaudy and uncomfortable. I had to wear this thing for life?

  “I don’t claim to know a lot about it. But Heather, I think he may be right,” said Lily.

  Great. Not only did I have to wear this thing, but I’d require a very understanding husband. One who didn’t mind me wearing a massive rock on my finger in place of a wedding band.

  “He put it there on purpose,” said Trenton. “He wants to claim you before any other guys get wind of your charms.”

  “Wha—?” I said. Trenton could say the weirdest things sometimes. “Emmett’s a spirit. He’s dead. He can’t claim me or get engaged or whatever.”

  I kept getting hotter and hotter, because what if he could? I imagined him standing at the altar in that stiff black suit with the high collar, curls neatly parted, smiling sunnily. There I was in my long wedding gown, which in my imagination was black for some reason. He took me in his arms, he pressed his lips to mine . . .

  “Heather!” Oskar clapped his hands at me. “You look exhausted. Get some rest. I’m asking the Coterie what our next move is.”

  He tapped his phone. It went black and he shook it.

  “No need for that. We’re here,” said a voice.

  While we gaped, three shapes melted through the wall. Three familiar shapes: Max, Valente, and Cousin Art. Trenton screamed. Lily sat down on my cot with a thump, staring.

  “Good great cruxing All,” said Oskar. “You are spirits!”

  “Technically, Max and Valente are haunting ghosts,” said Cousin Art. “But yes. We’re dead. I thought you knew that about us, Oskar. You knew the Four met their end.”

  “I was beginning to suspect,” muttered Oskar.

  “We chased off those Doctormans. Able and Sam are safe inside the Round Room,” said Max. He dusted off his hands, like it had been a fine fight.

  The three old men bobbed there, half in and half out of the trailer wall, in various states of ghostliness. Max looked the most lifelike, for despite levitating, he appeared solid and did not glow. Valente appeared the least alive: flickering, his texture staticky, he emitted the occasional moan. And Cousin Art—well, he was Cousin Art. Covered in weird scarves, floaty, but who could tell beyond that?

  Lily stood up and latched on to one of Art’s scarves. She started unraveling, while he grinned at her from between the layers. When she’d gone around five times, Art’s thick black hair showed. Another five times, and his chin showed below his smile.

  “It is you!” She pulled off his sunglasses. “Uncle Arturo! Why have you been keeping up this disguise?”

  Arturo winked, his bright brown eyes now evident for everyone to see. He appeared a lot more uncle-like now, a hearty-looking Hispanic man in his forties, his smile warm and genial. He removed the winter layers. Now dressed in a white shirt and jeans, he held out his arms to Lily. Lily embraced him, shivering with the cold.

  “I’m sorry I had to deceive you, mijita,” said Arturo. “It was necessary to evade the Turned Against. They think I’m in the far dimensions, but I escaped and came back.”

  “We all came back,” said Max. “Even Able. Valente and I never really left. We watched over the young ones, and we waited for the day. The day we could bring back the Four. The day the Coterie would rise again!”

  I stood up and shook all three of their ghostly hands.

  “This is that day!” I said. “I fought the Bellum, and if I didn’t destroy him this time, I’ll do it in times ahead!”

  The old-man ghosts gave a collective cheer.

  “Fantástico!” said Valente. “Such brave!”

  “Maybe you did destroy him,” said Trenton in a tiny voice. “Maybe we don’t have to do anything.”

  “We’re all going to do something. I’m in charge of ecto-proofing,” said Lily quickly.

  “Ah, your chosen companions,” said Max. “Oskar, aren’t you excited? You’re getting a promotion. You will now be a full-fledged member of the Coterie!”

  “Uh, sure,” said Oskar. He looked from Max to Arturo to Valente with uncertainty. “But I thought the spirit war—isn’t that just a spirit concern? We mortals can’t get involved in that.” He sounded shaky. “Bellum can’t even attack mortals, so how does it concern us?”

  “Can’t? Or won’t?” said Arturo. He looked down his nose at us. “I think you’ll find Bellum quite capable of inflicting damage to mortals. How do you think we Four got ended? And if Bellum can’t do it, he finds someone who can. The Doctormans, for example.”

  “The Doctormans!” I bolted up, moved for the door. “Are you certain you stopped them? Take me to Sam and Dad!”

  I swayed and had to lean on Arturo’s freezing cold arm.

  “You’re pretty weak yet,” he said. “You must have fought one cruxing good fight.”

  “He tried to get their names. My friends. I didn’t give them,” I said.

  His smile upon me was proud. “Of course not. Heather would never betray the Four. But you should rest now. You’re exhausted. I give you my word, your brother and father are safe.”

  “I want to see them.” I huffed and puffed, trying to pull away from him.

  I stepped outside the teardrop door. Red-and-blue flashing lights stunned me. I stepped back inside.

  “What are the police doing out there?” I demanded.

  “Oh,” said Lily. “We forgot about that.”

  Trenton coughed and cleared this throat. “I might have called them.”

  “Sweetness!” said Oskar, making Trenton turn red. “You never call the police in a paranormal investigation! That’s rule number one!”

  “I’m sorry.” Trenton hung his head. “We thought—well, okay, I thought—Bruce tried to kill Heather with a junk avalanche. And that he’d hidden her body in the laundry room. I saw this movie once . . .” Trenton pushed his hands into his hair, holding it by its curly blond roots, his teeth gritted at the horror of his imagination.

  Lily said in her calmest voice, “It might not have been the most logical conclusion to assume a murder investigation was in order. I suspect you elaborated a tad bit on the phone with the police.”

  Trenton sighed and his head sank even lower.

  “A tad bit,” he said.

  “It’s okay.” I flung the trailer door open. “I’ll take care of it.”

  The old-man ghosts hovered inside the trailer, transparent.

  “You four go on. This is a mortal concern,” said Max. “We’ll meet up with you at the Vic.”

  They faded away, until nothing but a slight haze remained.

  I stepped boldly out of the trailer, went forward to confront the police. After all, if I could fight the Bellum, this should be no sweat.

  “Come on, you guys,” I called.

  They trailed after me, Oskar the paranormal expert, Trenton the wanna-be investigator, and Lily the mad scientist inventor, our version of Q. And me. Heather Despair. Their fearless leader. Except . . . maybe I could use some advice.

  I wiggled the Ring of Esperance on my finger. If you call me, I must come.

  Not yet. I had some mortal concerns to tie up here first. Then . . . I imagined his wide, sunny smile, the way he called me “Aether,” those well-dark eyes I could get lost in.

  I marched across the sand lot, toward the cluster of blue-uniformed police standing before the double-wide. I waved and smiled. But I admit, my eyes strayed once again to the golden cloud castles in the skies up above.

  The End

  OR IS IT?

  Heather’s adventures continue in

  P
ORTALS: Heather Despair Book Two

  Go to the next page for a sneak preview!

  Chapter One

  The Return of Heather Despair

  In the pale glow of dawn, the sign Slade’s Salvage Yard blazed blue, then red, then blue again. Flashing light from the police cars illuminated the trailers, the beat-up school bus, the heaps of wood and metal. I stood in the middle of it all, wearing a long, black dress, a heavy black-stoned ring newly on my finger. Heather Despair, back in the junkyard again.

  In the junkyard around me, police roamed chaotically through the junk. Trenton, Lily, and Oskar, my paranormal-loving friends, tried to reason with a determined police detective. Trenton kept waving his hands around, his blue eyes wide, his curly blond hair getting more and more disheveled as he ran his hand through it. His boyfriend, Oskar, was the exact opposite. The picture of calm, he stood aside, suave and handsome, with his perfect auburn hair and muscular build. Then there was Lily, my punk librarian friend. Her black hair streaked with pink, her huge glasses, her argyle sweater of the day—she lectured the detective like she was his commanding officer.

  Behind them, my mother, Shirleen, still in her pink bathrobe, cried into her hands. My stepfather, Bruce Slade, scowled at me.

  “She ran away, and that’s the last time I’m telling you,” he said to a police detective who was attempting to get a statement. Bruce squinted at me. “She didn’t like having to follow house rules.”

  “From the looks of things, your stepdaughter wasn’t even living in the house,” said the detective.

  I stood calmly in the middle of it all. After what I’d been through—fighting the evil Bellum in the spirit world—what was a little police drama? The detective left off questioning Bruce and approached me, a notepad in one hand, his head tilted curiously.

  Far back in the junkyard, a thundering crash sounded. The police drew their guns and crouched down, reading for anything.

  “Get down!” The detective pushed Trenton and Lily to the sand. He gestured for the rest of us to follow suit. Everyone dropped to the sand.

  Almost. Bruce ignored him. So did I.