When a facility for psychically-enabled youth rescues a young girl, it finds itself haunted by the darkness trailing her.
Excerpt
Prologue
She curled into a tight little ball to quiet the hurt of her empty stomach. Her bruised back protested and she stretched out slowly trying to find the place where both would be eased.
Once again the monster dwelling within her had called down violent fury. She had no memory of its coming; she only knew it had shown itself by the pain left in its departure.
A tear escaped, rolling obliquely across her cheekbone and dropping onto the bare mattress. She clenched her eyes to stop any more. She must keep her horrible secret and tears were tattle tales.
Gingerly, she turned towards the wall. She slipped her hand under the thin mattress to touch her hidden companion. She dare not draw the tiny orca whale out. He survived because no one knew of his existence.
When her fingertips rested against his cool vinyl skin, she closed her eyes. She tried to travel to the safe world she had created in a corner of her mind but there was no strength to make the journey. As desolation consumed her, she begged to ride with her friend into a vast ocean of oblivion and sink to a place where she could never feel and never be found.
Her silent cry of hopelessness echoed through the rain swept January night, summoning those who mind the darkest hours. Invisible, they came to watch with her and intercede for her.
Chapter 1
He sensed a child in great distress in his sleep. He struggled toward consciousness seeking to respond but was sucked back into the womb of dreams. There he floated down nearly forgotten passages to the place where whales breached.
It had been so long. Even when he was drowning in grief’s riptide and had implored them, they resolutely kept their distance, swimming away beneath the surface of his memory.
But now they were there, their haunting song calling him back to the Sound. He was running”¦running over the rocky shore, pleading with them to stay.
The hollowness under his feet told him he was once more on the dock. “Wait, oh, please wait,” his heart beseeched. “Forgive me and wait.”
Her great black and white head rose above the water, majestically riding the waves, as her wise eye searched for him. Minowah, beloved matriarch, opened her mouth in pleased recognition. She clicked her greeting and dipped from sight.
He dropped to his knees, his upturned hands reaching after her in supplication.
With a roar of rending water, she rose, arcing her tremendous body against the sky. She left her message in the spume of her return to the sea. A face…a young face formed in the cascade of sunlit droplets; the spray falling like pale hair.
Drifting deeper than dreams, he clung to the image. Minowah had called for him. He would not betray her a second time.
The face was waiting for him as he edged into wakefulness. He lay still, gathering the remnants of his dream. It had the feel of a mandate. He breathed slowly seeking clarity. None was forthcoming.
Noises from downstairs began to seep into his awareness. He heard water running, youthful voices in escalating volume and the rattle of pans in the kitchen. Spirit Wind Ranch was waking.
As he opened his eyes to the early morning darkness, Boomer felt the itch of irritation rising in him. He wondered why if the Universe wanted him to act on something, it couldn’t just come out and say so in plain terms instead of sending him on some blamed abstruse scavenger hunt. It seemed a damned inefficient way to get things done. He thrust the covers back and grumbled off to the bathroom.
Showered and shaved, he came downstairs, automatically tracking the smell of freshly brewed coffee. He sidestepped young bodies shambling toward the dining area in various degrees of wakefulness.
Harley was at the stove flipping French toast on the large griddle while shaking a huge cast iron skillet filled with sizzling sausage when he entered the kitchen.
Boomer filled the mug waiting by the coffeemaker. Sipping, he stared unseeingly out the window. Who, where, when, why? The questions circled the image remaining stubbornly at the center of his thoughts.
He was only peripherally aware of Carlita thrusting her pottery teapot under the instant hot water tap and turning it on. When the pot filled to overflowing he noticed she, too, was staring out the window, her lips pressed into a thin line. He reached out and shut the water off. The action startled her back into the present. She stared at the forgotten teapot.
“Something on your mind?” Boomer asked.
Carlita sat the pot on the counter. “Mal sueños. Bad dreams. I hear a niño crying in them. My heart hurts at the sadness in the tears.”
It felt as though a celestial finger flicked him on the head. “Did you catch that?”
“Yeah, I caught it,” he mentally answered. “We’re on a mission here. We’re going to do some unknown thing for someone we haven’t met who is someplace we haven’t found for reasons we don’t know at a time we haven’t a clue about. Sum it up?”
The thought flashed into his mind he would be farther along the path of intuiting guidance if he wasn’t quite such a smart ass.
Escalating giggles from the dining area snagged his attention and he moved to the doorway of the kitchen. The kids were watching two chrome topped syrup pitchers moving fitfully down the long table apparently of their own accord.
“Come on, Katy, don’t let Ralph beat you,” Brandy squealed as one of the pitchers moved slightly ahead.
“Are we playing with our food again, people?” he asked.
Instantly, the pitchers stopped moving. Then one of them began to nudge forward until it was a spout past the other.
“Yea!! Katy wins,” Brandy said.
“Hey, that’s not fair. Boomer said stop,” Ralph whined.
Boomer shook his head. “No. I asked if you were playing with your food again. Katy listened correctly and used the fact that I didn’t specifically say stop to win.”
Ralph reached across the table and speared a sausage link on Brandy’s plate, eliciting a sharp “Jerk!”
“I listened,” he said around the sausage he stuffed in his mouth.
“Maybe, but you didn’t process it. Remember, it takes total integration of all your senses to support your abilities,” Boomer answered.
“Ralph’s still operating on a 286 chip while everyone else is up to a Pentium,” Jesse said as he maneuvered off the bench with his used plate and utensils.
“Eat my shorts,” Ralph shot back.
“I think we’re going to get some more kids, Boomer,” Dylan said as he followed Jesse to drop his dishes in the tub. “I saw them last night in my sleep.”
“It’s too late in the year for anybody new to come,” Alix said.
The boy shrugged as he rolled up the sleeves on the man-sized Oregon Ducks sweatshirt he adored. They bunched like manacles around his young wrists. “I know but I saw “˜em. I think one’s a boy. I couldn’t really see the other too well. It was kinda like they were in a shadow or something but I know someone’s coming so you better get Jesse to clear his junk off the empty bed in our room.”
“Like I’m the only one with stuff on it,” Jesse said.
Boomer stared at Dylan. It was quite obvious someone or something had been very busy during Spirit Wind’s nocturnal hours. Three tollings in, he glanced at his watch, less than an hour. The significance of whatever they were being called into was very clear.
He refilled his coffee cup and headed to his office. It was time to tune in to Channel Universe.
Aimee was already seated in front of the ranch’s business computer inputting numbers from a pile of bills stacked beside the keyboard.
Boomer went around his desk and shoved debris aside to set his cup down as she finished and clicked off the program. She stacked the papers together, slipped them into a manila folder and, standing, placed them in the file drawer.
“Done your card yet?” Boomer asked.
Aimee shook her head. “Just getting to it.”
Boomer watched Aimee pull the binder she used to record her tarot readings out of the small bookcase next to the desk. With her notebook open and pen at ready, she opened the left hand drawer of her desk to retrieve the small silk bag she kept her cards in.
“Oh, that’s weird,” she said as she stared into the drawer. “That’s totally weird.”
The tone of her voice brought Boomer out of his chair to look. All he saw was a single card lying face down on top of the bag. He looked at her questioningly.
“A card has been pulled from the deck,” she said.
He shrugged. “So?”
“So I didn’t pull it. In fact, I decided it was time to clean my cards last night. I put them in order and put a crystal in the bag to clear them. I haven’t touched them since.”
“Maybe one of the kids was fooling around.”
“If so, I’m ripping their arm out and beating them with it. They know the rule of nobody touching anyone’s personal tools.”
Aimee reached in and carefully slipped the bag out from under the card. The top was still tied shut. “That’s my knot,” she said as she studied the bag. She untied it and turning it down, she shook out a small crystal. She held it up for Boomer to see then set it aside. She pulled out the deck, fanning them out. “In order just like I left them.” Setting them next to the crystal, she picked up the single card.
She placed it on the desk; then turned it over. The Justice card stared up at them. She retrieved her deck and quickly flipped through the major arcana. “It’s mine. But how?”
Boomer straightened up. “Maybe the question isn’t just how but why.”
“Okay, why?”
“Don’t know.”
“Want to hazard a guess?”
“Nope.”
“Yet another enlightening conversation,” she said as she picked up the deck to replace the card.
“Mind leaving that out?”
She glanced at him then carefully centered it on her desk before slipping the rest back into the bag and returning them to the drawer.
“Do not touch it,” she said sternly. “I do not need your disorganized vibrations messing up my cards.” She shot a meaningful glance towards his desk as she left.
Boomer stood staring at the card letting all the concepts and ideations of the term justice play through his mind. They triggered nothing. Sighing, he went back to his chair and picked up his coffee.
When his hip tickled, he realized he hadn’t turned his cell phone ringer on yet. He hitched it off his belt.
“Boomer. It’s Meredith.”
“Easy Rider, how’s it going?”
“I got new wheelchair. Zero to three miles in a heartbeat.”
“Oh, oh. There’s a speeding ticket in your future now, girl.”
“Speaking of futures, how about me seeing another kid in yours?”
His senses pushed up a notch. “What you got?”
“A kid who talks to animals.”
“Lots of kids talk to animals. Since when is that a juvenile offense?”
“It is when you steal the animals.”
“You know our stand on delinquency issues, Meredith.”
“The kid’s not a delinquent. He’s a good kid, top student, bright as all get out, and, except for the incident before me now, he’s never been in trouble of any kind”¦not even getting sent to the principal’s office.”
“So give him a scolding and ground him for a couple of weeks.”
“Let me give you some of the background. One of the teachers at his school had a couple of iguanas and a turtle in the classroom. She assigns students to care for the animals. Unfortunately, she injured her back and has been out. The substitutes weren’t monitoring the situation. Our boy claims he heard the iguanas crying because they were hungry and thirsty from two classrooms away. The turtle also had a cough from dehydration which he hears. He tries to tell the sub but she blows him off. So after a week or so of listening to the animals suffer, he stays behind one day, sneaks into the room and grabs them.”
“And gets caught.”
“Not exactly. He takes them to a pet store specializing in reptiles. They confirm their neglected state, turn it over to the Humane Society which, then cites the school.”
“And all hell breaks loose.”
“You’re good at this psychic stuff, you know.”
“So what do you want from me?”
“I want you to be at Juvenile Court three weeks from tomorrow to talk with the kid’s parents about him coming to Spirit Wind. If they agree, we send him home with you and expunge his record.”
The silence stretched as Boomer thought about Dylan’s words. Meredith broke it.
“Boomer, I know it isn’t your customary method of accepting students, but I’ll vouch for this kid. He’s got some pretty special abilities but right now the school thinks they’ve been harboring a covert delinquent who’s bogusing up the animal talk thing to get out of trouble. They have told me an incident like this will not happen again”¦heavy on the not. It is their plan to require counseling and so on to convince him he really can’t talk to animals, ergo crush his abilities. The alternative is we pitch him to you and give him a safe haven to develop his unusual communication skills. So what do you say?”
“Three weeks is just about enough time for the boys to uncover the extra bed. I’ll be there.”
“Thanks, Boomer. See you February 8, 8:30 a.m.”
He flipped his phone shut and hooked it back on his belt. As he rose from his desk to refill his coffee cup, he caught sight of the Justice card on Aimee’s desk. “Okay, now who’s being a smart ass?” he asked it.
A whisper came back. “He’s not the one.”
Read more about Monster Child and L. Lee Shaw HERE.
Copyright 2008 L. Lee Shaw. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
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