Eighth Note (Fire Ballad Book 1)

by Kimberly Adams

  Copyright © 2013 by Kimberly Adams

  All rights reserved. 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 publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons or things, living or dead, locales, or events is purely coincidental.

  EIGHTH NOTE (FIRE BALLAD SERIES, BOOK ONE)

  To my Isabelle

  who wanted me to make it scary

  And when you gaze long into an abyss

  The abyss also gazes into you.

  - Friedrich Nietzsche

  Prologue

  December 2013

  “Once upon a time, there was a king. He was your grandfather, and I killed him. But I’m going to tell you the story of why I did, and hopefully, you won’t think that Mommy is evil.”

  Perry raised her eyebrows at me, soothed by my comforting tone as I rocked her in my arms. The glider and ottoman were usually occupied by my husband, Will, and his beloved daughter. Perry was absolutely, one-hundred percent Daddy’s girl and insisted that he put her to bed each night.

  But Will had school conferences until at least nine PM, and my one-year-old daughter was beyond exhausted.

  Curling a dark, auburn tendril of her silken hair around my fingertip, I gazed down into her heavy blue eyes. A light sprinkling of freckles appeared to be drawn on her cheeks by an artist, and her long lashes kissed each pale brown speck slowly, longer with each blink.

  “Thousands of years ago, your grandfather Troy lived in a castle in another world. The castle of Icepond was ruled by the young king Troy because his own father died in battle when the prince was only twelve.”

  “Mumm,” Perry murmured, and I grinned at her. Kissing her fingertips, I sighed as she traced my lips.

  “Hush, Pea. Mommy’s got the floor.”

  I twirled my fingertip in the air, and the nursery was filled with the melodic twinkling of a music box. The song was her favorite, something I’d mixed together with Somewhere Over the Rainbow and Someday We’ll Be Together by Diana Ross and the Supremes.

  “Anyway. He was almost eighteen, and it was time for King Troy to get married. A marriage was arranged between him and a beautiful princess from a neighboring kingdom. Princess Mina came to meet Troy, and they fell deeply in love.”

  I couldn’t help but scowl at the thought of my mom and Troy together.

  “Mina went home to her castle to prepare for the wedding. When she returned to King Troy, she didn’t love him anymore. Instead, she loved his knight, Sir West. Papa,” I added, and Perry smiled.

  “Papa,” she repeated.

  “Try to follow me, Pea, this gets confusing.” I admonished with a small breath, and she squinted and giggled as I blew on her forehead. “Mina thought that West was killed in a terrible shipwreck. She turned to the king’s brother for comfort… Prince Leo. And, well, Prince Leo is actually Uncle Logan, and he kind of swooped in like a douchebag and took advantage of Mina-”

  “Please tell me that you did not just say the word ‘douchebag’ to our baby.”

  Will’s voice drew my attention to the darkened nursery doorway, and I smirked, turning back to Perry.

  “Sorry. Logan… got busy with the queen.”

  “Not a vast improvement, but better nonetheless, love,” he murmured, crossing to press a delicate kiss to my lips. He added one for Perry, but she was already starting to drift into her dreams. “I must shower. Please, continue.”

  Watching my sexy as hell husband move to the hallway, I focused on Perry again, sorely tempted to put her in her crib and join him in the shower

  “Mmm,” she whispered, her thumb settling firmly into her mouth, and I listened to her suckle.

  “Sir West returned, having magically survived the shipwreck. Troy found out that his queen had not only been with Leo, but also with West, and he sentenced them all to death. A teeny bit of that was my fault, but let’s not focus on that.”

  I heard Will snort with laughter from the hallway.

  “Anyway… West’s father, Asher, was a powerful wizard. He is your great-grandfather. He created a prophecy to save Mina and West. West was cast immortal, but because there is an alter consequence for every act of great magic, Troy was also cast immortal.”

  “He was too late for Mina and Leo’s bodies, but he managed to enchant their souls. Their immortal souls would be born again and again, and immortality would find them through reincarnation. You’re sound asleep, but I’ll just keep going, because I know as soon as I lay you in that crib and go make out with Daddy, you’re going to wake right up.”

  She gave a small sigh around her thumb, curling more fully into my arms.

  “West had to find Mina and have a child with her, because their child was prophesized to save the world. That’s me, by the way, and not to spoil anything, but I totally did save the world. Both worlds. I’m that amazing.”

  “And modest,” Will murmured from somewhere near our bedroom, and I rolled my eyes.

  “West had seven chances to find Mina, make her love him, and create their child. But Troy and Leo were hunting her to kill her, because their child living meant Icepond would be destroyed.”

  “Every time Mina was born, West and Troy were tattooed with coordinates on their arms that led them to her. It became a race to see who could find her first, either West to save her, or Troy to kill her.”

  I heard the shower turn on.

  “Troy, and Leo, found Mina and killed her. Six times. West failed six times to save her, and he knew that the seventh life was his last chance.”

  I omitted the part about Troy and Leo also killing me, their unborn child, because I couldn’t bear the thought of what my parents had gone through. Not now that I had Perry.

  “In the last life, West got smart. He planned. He set out to find Mina early, while she was still young. When he found her, her name was Roam, and he was her high school history teacher. She was only seventeen, which sounds like a hot story, but since we’re talking about my parents… ew.”

  She responded by completely closing her eyes.

  “He planned to tell her about the prophecy and the lives, and to make her his partner in finding a way to save the world… instead of falling in love with her and losing her… and their child… again.”

  “Well, my mom was really smart. Roam wasn’t at all what he expected. Their love only grew more powerful over the years, and as soon as West touched her, he knew he couldn’t lose her. Not this one. He loved Roam more than any of the other girls in the other lives… and he was determined to save her.”

  Shifting Perry in my arms, I gingerly stood up, carrying her to her crib. “A lot happened between them, and Troy did find her. Ultimately, I was born, and after a gi-normous battle in Icepond, Mommy kicked everyone’s asses with magic and killed Troy. Now West and Roam live happily ever after seven hundred miles away in Ohio, and their constant public displays of affection are nauseating. But sweet. The end.”

  I tucked the white, tattered unicorn into her one hand, letting her suck her thumb with the other.

  “You don’t have to know all that, Pea. All you have to know is that we are immortal, and though we can’t die, we can feel pain. I’m going to protect you. I was born with magic, and my grandfather says I passed it to you… though you haven’t shown us what you can do yet.”

  The music stopped on a c
hord that I wasn’t satisfied with, and I pushed it one more measure.

  “Oh, and one more thing… your Daddy is Troy’s son, and he is the rightful king of Icepond. Daddy did a nice thing for Mommy and let us live here on Earth, in North Carolina where I grew up. Uncle Christopher stayed to reign in the other world. But someday, Mommy’s going to be queen again. And someday… so will you.”

  Six Months Later

  Chapter One

  June 2014

  “Please.”

  “No.”

  “You like applesauce.”

  “No!”

  I puffed at a red curl, narrowing my eyes and staring her down. “Listen, sister, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”

  She pursed her lips, stuck her tongue out, and blew an applesauce raspberry in my face.

  “Ugh!” I tossed the spoon down to the highchair tray, throwing myself backwards in the kitchen chair. When I heard the key in the door, I quickly sat forward again and repositioned the spoon with a giant smile plastered on my face. “Aren’t you the sweetest? Good girl!”

  “Daa!” Perry pumped her legs, kicking me in the knee, and I fought a grimace as Will tossed his keys and phone to the table by the door.

  “Princess Pea!” He responded as he always did, completely ignoring the applesauce and oatmeal covered mess on her face and tackling her with kisses. “Are you being good for your Mommy?”

  “No!”

  “Hi.” I nudged his leg with my foot. “Can I request first kisses from now on?”

  He grinned, squatting down to me as Perry snatched the spoon from my hand. “Why? Are you jealous, love?”

  I twisted my lips and wrinkled my nose. “No, you’re covered in baby food, and you’ll get me all gross.”

  “And?” He kissed me, just I knew he would, just as he always did. His mouth smelled like the mints he kept in his car, and his lips tasted like applesauce.

  I raised my fingers in the air. “I’ll clean you up.”

  He caught my hand before I could wave it slowly above my head. “Eva, no magic. Not in front of Perry.”

  “I was just getting a napkin,” I lied, feigning hurt while I reached for the paper towel roll. He sighed, bowing his head for a long moment before raising his eyes to mine.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “How was the last day of school?” I ignored his apology, moving to the sink to wash my hands. He taught music at Oak High School, a subject that was universal in both our worlds.

  “Blissful.”

  “I sense sarcasm.”

  “Ah, Eva. I am thankful that your father provided me with the credentials for this teaching position, but these children are… ill-behaved. Bored. The day moves torturously slow.”

  “We’re American teenagers. We’re a generation of bored.”

  “We?” He chuckled. I knew he was referring to my twentieth birthday that had just passed in December, and I shrugged.

  “Right. They.”

  When I turned around, he held our eighteen-month-old daughter in his arms, planting silly kisses all over her face while she giggled. “Come, Pea, let’s play. Mommy needs a moment,” he glanced back at me, and I furrowed my brows.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing, love,” he kissed me again before carrying Perry to the living room.

  I leaned against the sink, staring at our kitchen table, trying to determine what exactly my problem really was.

  I was married to a man who absolutely adored me, and we had a beautiful daughter (filled with my stubborn temper.) We lived in a quaint little beach house, complete with white picket fence, and owned a tiny piece of the Atlantic shore.

  And I was bored.

  A little more than a year ago, I’d saved the world. Kind of hard to top that.

  My immortal life was the product of a prophecy cast long ago in a war between two worlds. After a huge battle in another world, in the kingdom of Icepond, I returned to Earth with my husband and my daughter. Will was the king there, and he gave up the throne so I could come home and live in the world that I grew up in. We left my brother Christopher to reign over Icepond as their king.

  When I left North Carolina for Icepond, it was 2024. After the battle was over and the prophecy was broken, we were sent back in time to 2012.

  My dad created our identities when we returned to North Carolina, and we were strangers to the world around us. We kept our names, but social security numbers, educational histories, medical histories… everything was fabricated. A lie. Or the truth, I didn’t know the difference any more.

  My grandfather was a powerful wizard who, with the help of my magic, cast us all immortal. Thanks to my Grandfather Asher’s spell, we all would stop aging at twenty-seven years old. Will was born over seventy years ago.

  And now, I was a twenty-year-old stay at home mom with a hot music blog and a shameful addiction to Pinterest.

  “I was thinking about visiting my brother this weekend,” I called, listening to Perry’s little xylophone as she and Will took turns with the mallet.

  “I believe he will become self-conscious if we constantly check in on him.”

  “Not to check in, just to visit.”

  “He will not see it that way. Green, yellow, blue,” he sang to her as he hit the colorful bars.

  Will’s voice was baritone, smooth, and when he sang, he touched something deep in my body that I couldn’t explain- directly through my ears and down my panties, I’d told him once, and he’d only rolled his eyes and grinned at my lewd description.

  Perry watched him intently, accepting the mallet to imitate his movements.

  “I’m gonna go work on my blog.” I took two stairs at a time in our bungalow, trying hard not to slam the office room door behind me. A swift, double rap sounded in the walls, and I cursed. The aged pipes whined and knocked constantly.

  Will had picked out the old house as a project, something he and my dad could work on together to bond. When my parents moved back to Ohio with my new baby sister, Lydia, Project Bungalow Bonding was put on the permanent back burner. I guessed it was for the best; my dad would never be completely okay with Will because he was Troy’s son.

  Whether he admitted it or not, I knew.

  The laptop screen came to life as I shimmied the mouse, and I decided to go to Facebook first.

  Grinning, I accepted a friend request from Justin Timberlake that included the message love your blog- and your hair ;-).

  My smile widened, and I drafted a quick return message.

  Thanks. Love your taste.

  I had many fans and famous followers, and I was told it was because I was an honest bitch with no ulterior ass-kissing motives. My blog, Fire Ballad, was hugely popular, and already I’d interviewed an awesomefest of singers- Danny Hutton of Three Dog Night, Mike Ness of Social Distortion, Pink, Adam Levine… the list kept growing, and according to the message I’d just received, Justin Timberlake would be next.

  My dream, though, was to finally meet Ben E. King, my favorite singer of all time.

  I loved music in any and every form, and that, combined with my internet access, extensive knowledge of the industry, and fucking boredom, my blog stats were phenomenal.

  Waving my hand in a slow circle above my head, I began an “Ode to Justin Timberlake” playlist, starting with Cry Me a River.

  Since I was very young, I learned that I controlled some elemental frequency in my brain that allowed me to play and manipulate music with just my mind. My sister, Violet, used to call it my Mindpod, but I preferred to think of my brain as a DJ booth. I understood frequency long before I learned to talk, and could direct the waves of sound, amplitude, and length without even comprehending what I was doing.

  I heard the bathtub as another message popped up. Perry was giggling as Will blew on her bare belly, and I smiled at the sound of their laughter.

  Eva Anastasia, your post on nineties alternative rock pissed me off. Call me.

  Grinning at my fat
her’s message, I fired off a quick response. Was it the comment about a ménage trios with Hootie and Kurt Cobain?

  He was typing. Allow me to copy and paste. “Live sounds like Counting Crows fucking Red Hot Chili Peppers against a dumpster in a dark alley.”

  I laughed. Haha right on, Dad.

  Jesus. I’ll explain to you why you’re wrong about Live later. Kiss my granddaughter for me. I’m going to wash out my brain.

  Kiss my sister for me. Tell Mom I love her.

  Love you, babe.

  The next two hours disappeared quickly as I responded to several messages. It was after nine when Will tapped lightly on the closed door.

  “I told you that you don’t have to knock,” I called, and he twisted the doorknob. He wore only a white bath towel around his hips, his shoulders and chest still gleaming from his shower.

  My husband was the epitome of perfect. To me. I mean, of course he was perfect, he married me. He was 6’1” to my 5’3”, massive in muscle and strength but evenly proportioned from head to toe. He came from a world where physical activity was a natural part of the day, and there wasn’t a McDonalds on every corner.

  His dark brown hair was cut in just the way I liked, longer at his forehead with sideburns touching the stubble on his jaw. He skipped shaving that morning, and I knew that was for me; I loved when he’d kiss my back while dragging his prickly chin over my shoulder blades.

  My thighs clenched at just the thought of his lips on my back.

  The baby monitor in his hand crackled once as he lowered it to the desk.

  “I thought you’d join me in the shower.”

  “I didn’t know you were in the shower. I was playing music, I couldn’t hear.”

  He stared at me for a long, uncomfortable moment. I didn’t miss his chastising tone, and I hated when he talked to me like that.

  I bit my lip, turning back to the computer screen.

  “Are you coming to bed?”

  “In a little while. It’s your turn to get up with Perry tomorrow, right?”

  He moved between me and the desk, and I had to back against the chair to look up at him. “I must speak with you. I require your attention, so let me know if I must send you a text.”