Elsabeth's Dance: A Shoalman Chronicles Story (The Shoalman Chronicles)

by Kira Decker

  “How long ago were you here?”

  “Almost a century and several lifetimes ago.”

  “Could you restore it?”

  Rockshoalman stilled. He could. But did he want to? This belonged to the past. Then again, so did he. “I…”

  “This is where you met her, isn’t it? Elsabeth?”

  “How did you…”

  Wide eyes stared over his shoulder. Kyrissa rubbed at the goosebumps breaking out across her arms. “I think…I think I just saw her.”

  Rockshoalman’s breath caught. Spinning, he searched the darkness. Lamplight threw dancing shadows on the gold-fleck marble. Cobwebs thicker than cotton candy fluttered in the evening breeze. Silence. Disappointment left him feeling foolish. Her spirit still lingered within this place, but had he actually expected to see a ghost?

  “You have been listening to the villagers too much.” A chill whipped in through the broken roof and he shivered. “Maybe we should go.”

  “Why did you come here, Robert?”

  “I told you. I need to decide what to do with the place.”

  “Really? That’s what you’re going to go with?” A hand hitched on her hip, Kyrissa cocked one eyebrow. “You know you’re a terrible liar.” She gathered his hands in hers. Warmth surrounded him. “What’s the actual reason?”

  How could he explain? How could he tell Kyrissa he needed to say goodbye to a ghost before he could ever wholly open his heart again? She knew about Elsabeth. Well, most of the story. She had needed to understand his reluctance, his guilt about loving her, even though Elsabeth had died several lifetimes ago. He turned to look out the windowless gaps in the wall. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he grasped the worry stone, the carved symbol on one side rough against his thumb.

  “It is an insane idea.”

  Strong arms wrapped around him from behind, her chin perched on his shoulder. He leaned into her touch.

  “After everything I have seen, demons and dark immortals, mystical auras and angelic singing, ink that can heal or kill—not to mention my own ability to kill people with my paintings—you think anything you tell me is more insane than all that?”

  He snorted. “When you put it that way.” Turning and enfolding her within his arms, he couldn’t help comparing Kyrissa’s physical and mental strength to Elsabeth’s gentle support and guidance. They both possessed an aura of power that anchored him in the storm that was his cursed immortal life—each saving his soul a century apart from one another. Where Elsabeth could quell his broody moods with a glance, Kyrissa called him out verbally. Could he release that part of his heart that lived in the past to Kyrissa?

  Rockshoalman heaved a strained breath out. “I came to say goodbye. However, I am unsure of how to do so. This place…” A lump lodged in his throat. Loss and guilt twisted at his heart, yet happiness and love fought back. “Do I leave the past behind for good, destroy this place, or remember the happiness by restoring the manse so that others might also experience that joy?”

  “You came to ask her,” Kyrissa stated, a soft smile on her face.

  Rockshoalman shrugged. “I told you it was insane.” Pulling her tighter against his chest, he started swaying.

  “What’s that tune?”

  He stared at her. “What tune?”

  Kyrissa hummed the song. Music from his memory. His pulse raced even as he held his breath. The music was only in his head. Wasn’t it?

  “Sound carries up from the valley. I could hear the villagers singing earlier.” Even as he tried to explain the improbability away, he too heard the strains of music. “It is not possible.”

  Kyrissa cocked her head to the side, walking over to a window. “Robert.” She turned to look at him. “The sound isn’t coming from outside. It’s here, in this room.”

  The sweet perfume of peonies grew more intense as the moon crested over the edge of the missing roof. A beam of moonlight pulsed through the ancient chandelier crystals, sending dancing fairy lights over a corner of the darkness. Gold glinted above a pale blue shimmer. Kyrissa inhaled sharply behind him.

  A figure stood silent, frozen in time.

  “Elsabeth.” His whisper fogged the frosty air in front of him.

  “You see her too?” Kyrissa moved closer and grasped his arm, but her voice held no fear.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Good. Means I’m not insane.” Kyrissa took a slow, deep breath. “Guess I get to add seeing ghosts to that list I mentioned earlier.”

  The visage curtsied, then danced across the ballroom floor. A white mist followed the ethereal figure, creating a proper dance in the clouds. Rockshoalman’s heart hammered against his ribs as she neared. She held out a dainty hand in greeting.

  He came to talk to her, positive her spirit remained because of the flower in the barren garden, yet never expected Elsabeth would manifest to him like this. Rockshoalman stood frozen. “What do I do?”

  “What did you do when you first met her?” Kyrissa asked.

  “I kissed her hand.”

  “Well.” Kyrissa gestured to the outstretched hand hovering before them.

  “But she is…” Did Elsabeth know she was a ghost? “How would that work?”

  “I assume the same way a kiss always works,” Kyrissa’s tone mocked. He threw her one of his famed glares, which as usual, just had her fighting more amusement. “It can’t hurt to try, can it?”

  She had a point.

  Rockshoalman bent at the waist, lifting his hand to raise the delicate, ghostly fingers to his lips. A tingle of energy, not unlike that of his first meeting with Elsabeth, caressed his mouth. The shock of the sensation had him stepping back. Guilt washed over him. Had she never met him, Elsabeth might have lived longer. “I should have protected you. If not for me—”

  Tendrils of energy stopped his apology as she placed two fingers over his lips.

  “I am sorry,” he whispered.

  The image smiled and shook her head. Both hands covered her heart, her smile bright and joyous.

  “She loved you, Robert. That’s all that mattered to her.”

  The ghost pointed to him and then to Kyrissa before bringing her hands together. Pressing her finger to her lips, she blew kisses to them both. Joyous laughter, a sound he had not heard in ages echoed as the figure danced away, dissolving into a thousand sparkling flecks of moonlight.

  “Wait.” Rockshoalman rushed over, but she had disappeared. He spun in the moonbeam, searching, but even that faded as the moon rose higher. “What do I need to do? You did not tell me.”

  “I think she did.” Kyrissa bent down to retrieve an item from the floor. A small pink peony. One that matched the flower in his lapel.

  Elsabeth’s favorite.

  He stared at the bloom and remembered the bouquets that filled the manse and lined every archway. Laughter and music had lifted the spirits of all the guests, both young and old, and happiness filled the manse that night. A happiness he yearned to enjoy once again.

  “Maybe this was her way of saying goodbye.”

  “No.” He took the flower and tucked it in Kyrissa hair. “This was her reminding me how to live.” He kissed Kyrissa deeply, pulling her into a tight embrace. Breaking the kiss, she wrapped her arm about his waist, laying her head on his shoulder. One last glimmer of blue-tinged moonlight hovered before him.

  Adio, Elsabeth.

  Much as Elsabeth had done the first night they met, the fading spirit broke down the remaining walls around his heart. Letting his final bit of guilt dissolve into the moonlight, Rockshoalman bid farewell to his first love and welcomed Kyrissa into his heart for the rest of eternity.

  “I see why you loved her.” Kyrissa wiped away a single tear from his cheek. Her own eyes misty in the dim light. “I’m glad I got to meet her, although no one is going to ever believe me and Mandy will be so pissed she wasn’t here to get a picture.”

  “I was here and I am not sure I believe it.”

  Kyrissa looked around. “Is she g
one?”

  Rockshoalman closed his eyes for a moment. Gone was the darkness and despair he first felt upon entering the grounds. Only serenity remained; the ghosts of the past finally at peace. Opening his eyes, love washed over him. “She is at rest.” He placed a hand over his heart. “But she will live on.”

  “You’re going to restore the manse?”

  “Yes. For her and for you.”

  “Good. You know, once you restore this place, it would be a superb place to hold a wedding.”

  “Is that so?” Rockshoalman could almost hear the gears of design spinning in Kyrissa’s head as she looked around. She respected his need to reclaim the past, but always added her own artistic flair to any restoration project they developed. He grinned. This place would be theirs together; past and present reshaped for the future.

  Kyrissa grinned at him, her eyes a deep amorous jade. “How long do you think the restoration will take?”

  “Depends on who wants to get married here. If you are talking about Mandy, eons.”

  Kyrissa laughed. “And if I had someone else in mind?”

  Rockshoalman smiled, nuzzling her hair and drinking in her perfume along with the delicately sweet scent of the flower over her ear. Might he finally have his answer? He chuckled, realizing he already did.

  “As soon as that someone wants.”

  He would restore the house to its former glory in Elsabeth’s memory. Her presence no longer graced his side, but she would be forever in his heart. Past and present no longer had to be separate; the two forever entwined within this place.

  He missed Elsabeth, but thanks to her dance, he would never dance alone again.

  WHO IS KIRA DECKER

  Being the youngest of five kids, my oldest sister introduced me to the wonderful adventure books offered at a very young age, and I haven't finished the trip yet. Only now, it's my own characters leading me through sword fights, growing pains, supernatural beings, and of course, love of a happily ever after ending.

  I am an avid reader of Science Fiction, Fantasy, Adult, NA and YA. The characters I had knocking around in my head since I was young decided they wanted someone to tell their story. Thankfully, they chose me. The journey has been an exciting one. I managed to find a critique/writing partner who thinks like me (the world will never be the same) and who pushes me to new levels in my writing. I love to let my characters lead me where they will, but she managed to sneak in a little bit of plotting into my writing toolbox.

  I have wonderful supportive husband and three great kids who give me as much time as they can to devote to writing. The cat however demands my lap time and won't take no for an answer.

  When not writing, I have acted as a volunteer parent coach for my daughter's cheerleading - only holding my breath once in a while when she does new flying stunts - watch my youngest son delve into computer programing and build amazing Lego inventions, and help my oldest son navigate his own adventures in adulting (Yes, I use him as research for my NA stories). I even decided to gain certification as an Emergency Medical Technician (EMT), a goal I have had since high school.

  My loving husband encourages me in everything I do. He is my go-to-guy for historical facts about weapons and warfare tactics, as well as, my devil's advocate in my world building (No I do not have sparkly zombie werewolves in my world, dear). He is such a source of love and inspiration that romance always find its way into my stories.

  After all, he is my Happy Ever After.

  I adore the ride my characters take me on and

  I hope you enjoy my stories as much as I love writing them.

  WHERE TO FIND ME

  Want to follow my adventures and get updates on my writing projects? Follow me on your nearest Social Media.

  Twitter @kiradecker

  FaceBook: Kira Decker

  KiraDeckerBooks

  Instagram:KiraDecker

  Goodreads:KiraDecker

  I love to hear from my readers.

  Email: authorkiradecker @ gmail .com

  Liked what your read?

  Reviews are precious gifts to an author. Let me know what you think by leaving a review on your favorite book site.

  Also By Kira Decker

  Amazon Page: Kira Decker Page

  TRANSCENDENCE – Academy of the Dead Anthology © 2020

  Young Adult, Supernatural, Paranormal

  High School - Where exams are killers and so are the students

  Starting over at a new high school is never easy, especially senior year, but for Dean Eldritch it’s way better than the alternative—jail. With his twin sister, Samarah, and the help of Jynixis “Jynx” Jaehne, a feisty player in this new school, maybe this time he can get through the year without killing anyone.

  Ghosts haunt Dean—ones only he can hear and see—as he struggles to overcome his past failings and guilt. A process made more difficult when Jynx turns from a potential ally into a complicated witness to his death filed crimes.

  When Dean realizes Samarah could be trapped forever, Jynx offers him a choice. Help Jynx pass her final exams or she sends him to jail for murder and Samarah never escapes.

  For at Transcendence, if you fail, you die.

  Also available writing as Toni Decker

  Amazon Page: Toni Decker Page

  The Shoalman Chronicles Series - New Adult, Paranormal Romance/Urban Fantasy

  The original world of the Guardians and the Immortal they protect

  Images Eternal © – Book 1

  If Images are worth a thousand words, hers sing a thousand Eternal songs

  Shoalman Immortal © – Book 2

  Falling in love was never supposed to part of the picture

  Dark Ink Embrace © – Book 3

  His gift connects them. Her touch unlocks their fate.

  White Ink Surrender © – Book 4 (Coming Soon)

  Sneak Peek

  at

  TRANSCENDENCE

  by

  Kira Decker

  Part of the

  Academy of the Dead Anthology

  Available now on Amazon and FREE in Kindle Unlimited

  Chapter 1

  Ever see a ghost?

  Most people would answer no. Most people weren’t Dean Eldritch.

  The ability to see, and in his case, hear ghosts would probably be interesting if it weren’t for his twin sister, Samarah. Her constant interference and incessant bubbliness with the whole idea took annoying to another level. One he currently wasn’t in the mood to deal with.

  “What do you think the new school will be like?” Sam twirled around him, delighted with the adventure.

  “I don’t know.” Dean adjusted his backpack to the other shoulder, shuffling along behind the other kids walking towards an institutional white, two-story building with slate grey metal windows.

  “Not much to look at.” Sam sneered and crossed her arms. “I thought Mom and Dad said this was some special elite school.”

  “I said, I don’t know. It’s school. The same sucky classes and teenage drama as any other school.” Dean raked a hand through his short, brownish hair. A new school meant he was starting over. Again. At least it wasn’t jail.

  His deep sigh plumed in the crisp winter air, creating a fog as ethereal as his ghosts. He snugged the leather jacket tighter around his neck against the chill. What had his parents said? A fresh start. A clean slate without all the emotional baggage for his senior year of high school. Yeah right. Baggage traveled with you. His was just more transparent.

  “What classes do you think we’ll have?”

  “We?” Dean stopped short. Two students hurried by but paid him no mind. “Are you seriously going to be in all my classes?”

  “Why not? I can be the fun one, and you can be your normal broody self. You know, the mysterious new guy with some dark cloud hanging over him.” Sam imitated a doom cloud over his head. Dean flapped his hands to make her stop.

  “Promise me you’ll be quiet. I have enough crap going on without you r
unning your mouth and getting me in trouble.”

  “Promise.” Sam mimed zipping and locking her mouth before throwing away the key. Dean rolled his eyes. She would never last. She never did.

  A bell rang in the distance. Dean joined the rush of students entering the front entrance. A mild electrical charge zapped him as he passed the threshold, while Sam let out a string of muttered curses behind him.

  “Oh, don’t mind dubbie. You get used to it after a while.” A girl pushed open the next set of doors ahead of them and held it open for him to pass.

  “Thanks. Um, who or what is a dubbie?”

  The girl side-eyed him like he’d asked the stupidest question on the planet. “The dybbuk barrier. You know, to protect us. We all just call it dubbie because it has a life of its own.” She laughed. Dean smiled but missed the joke.

  “You must be new.”

  “Yeah.” Dean shuffled his feet. “Moved here last week.”

  “And you got in here as a senior?” Her gaze inspected him from head to toe as if he had mutated in the past few minutes. “Wow. You must be good.”

  “I can hold my own.” Dean raised his chin and squared his shoulders. His sister’s presence hanging behind him swelled his confidence even more.

  “I bet you can. Come on, I’ll show you where the office is.” One more quizzical look, a half-smile, and the girl spun on her heel to stroll through the large open atrium.

  “After that look, I’d say she wants you to hold more than your own,” Sam whispered in his ear.

  “Shut up.”

  Sam chuckled. “This will be fun.”

  Horror show was more like it. Just like the rest of his life.