Bound by Time: A Bound Novel

by A. D. Trosper

  Time knows no bounds when you are tested to your limits…

  Isobel Moore is looking forward to spending her summer break alone while her parents are overseas. But when she returns home from college she discovers it’s no longer the welcoming place it used to be…and that something sinister now resides within.

  As Isobel begins to question her sanity, a mysterious neighbor moves next door with plenty of his own secrets…and Damien DeLuca has the uncanny ability to always show up when the unexplainable happens.

  Now Isobel must unravel a past that tests her limits and everything she thought she knew—before the darkness kills her.

  Book one in the Standalone Bound Novels

  BOUND BY TIME

  Copyright © 2014, 2016 A.D. Trosper

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published by

  Silver Spirit Publishing

  ISBN-13: 978-0615986753

  ISBN-10: 0615986757

  Also By A.D. Trosper

  Dragon's Call

  Embers at Galdrilene

  Book One

  Tears of War

  Book Two

  Ashes and Spirits

  Book Three

  Tales From Galdrilene

  A New Beginning

  The Bound Series

  Bound By Legend

  Book Two

  Children’s Books

  The Legend of Christmas Magic

  Multi-Author Collections

  In Creeps The Night

  Featuring "The Loop"

  A Winter's Romance

  Featuring "Mid-Winter Celebration"

  Thank you to my husband

  who not only supported my venture into

  a new genre but also kept coffee

  in front of me and

  reminded me to eat when

  this story demanded to be written.

  To Maria at AllExperts

  for all of her help with the

  Latin in this book.

  To my mother

  for reading the first draft

  and encouraging me.

  To my kids

  for letting me disappear into

  my computer and

  being patient while I wrote this.

  To my beta readers

  who took time out of their busy

  lives to read it and make great suggestions.

  To Blue Harvest Creative

  for the beautiful cover,

  interior design,

  and everything you do.

  She was too young to be there. Yet she stood at the front of the crowd, drawn to the man’s death. The mix of people screaming vile curses intermingled with the weeping of those already mourning him. The sounds surrounded her, enveloped her. The man, however, knelt perfectly still in the face of his own death—his eyes locked with unwavering calm on his executioner.

  The blow came swift and hard. The man glowed golden-white just before his head separated from his body, and blood sprayed across the paving stones.

  She watched, her insides churning, as the head rolled a short distance and came to a rest. Its empty eyes regarded the crowd. Blood seeped across the pavement. She tried to step back into the throng as the warm wetness began to pool against her bare feet. Her thin arms pushed at the people behind her in vain. She no longer wanted to see this, had to get away.

  A strange clinking sound echoed against the stones. Reluctantly, she looked back. A woman draped in robes knelt next to the headless body. Her hands held glass vials, and she carefully filled them with the dead man’s blood as smoky darkness seeped from his body in tiny tendrils.

  She watched, frozen. The woman looked up and made eye contact with her. The blood was for her, though she didn’t know how she knew this. Finally, a small break opened in the crowd, enough to allow her petite form through. She ran through the streets. Her heart pounded as strains of dark laughter followed her.

  Isobel jerked awake, a strangled cry caught in her throat. Her heart raced as she frantically clawed at the bed. Gradually, she realized she was safe; it was the same dream that had plagued her the past six years. She rolled over on the narrow bed and worked to free her legs from the twisted sheets.

  The rising sun turned the sky outside the window to pearl gray. She stared at the familiar corners of the room while her heart rate came back to normal. A glance at the other bed showed her roommate, Amelia, comfortably asleep. Lucky her. With a sigh, Isobel swung her legs out of bed. Might as well get up; it wasn’t as if she would find any further rest. If she was lucky, she’d beat everyone to the showers and enjoy some hot water for a change. Then she could start packing.

  Isobel threw the last of her things into a plastic tote and glanced around the shoebox-sized room. Her twin bed, now stripped bare, lined one wall. Her roommate’s bed, still covered in rumpled blankets, lined the other with their two small desks crammed in-between. The morning light from the window spilled across the desks from its perch in the wall above them.

  Her eyes roamed the room. She felt a pang of regret; after she left she wouldn’t get the chance to see Amelia until August. Isobel examined the crammed closet and the dresser one last time for anything she may have left behind.

  As she turned back to the assortment of boxes, many of them the plastic kind that would slide under the bed, the sun pouring through the window caught her eye. Isobel stared at the golden light gleaming off the desks and the reaching square it made across the thin carpet. As the hairs on the back of her neck stood up she shivered. It wasn’t the window; it was the way the sun shone through it.

  Energy hummed in the air and washed through her veins as the golden light separated into different colors. Isobel closed her eyes and worked to build her mental blocks back up, pushing the energy away.

  She shook her head and looked away from the window, trying to ignore the foreboding that wormed its way into her heart. She needed to stop this nonsense. Isobel rubbed her arms as she focused on the boxes again. She hadn’t felt anything and that was it. She was not her birth mother.

  The cell phone lying on the bed rang, making her jump. What was wrong with her? She shook off the lingering unease, grabbed the phone and glanced at the caller ID before she tapped the screen. “Hi Mom.”

  “How’s it going? Are you sure you don’t want us to drive up and get you?”

  “I’ll be fine. Besides, unless you planned on towing my car, I’d still have to drive.” Isobel smiled at the slight tone of worry in her mother’s voice.

  “True. But you wouldn’t be alone on the road. Maybe we should come anyway.”

  “Mom—” Isobel tossed a few last things into the tote. “You wouldn’t even have time to get here. I’m just about to leave. I can handle the drive—it’s only eight hours.”

  “I suppose,” her mom relented. “I’m just not comfortable with an eighteen year old girl on the road alone for such a long distance. It isn’t like when I went to college; things were safer then.”

  “Because nothing bad ever happened in the stone age. Wait—” Isobel laughed. “Did they even have colleges back then? How did you avoid the dinosaurs?”

  “Ha, ha. Very funny, young lady.” Isobel heard the warmth in her mom’s voice.

  Time to change the subject before her
mom suggested storing the car Isobel had bought three months ago and waiting for them to come get her. “How’s the remodeling going? Will I still recognize the place?”

  “Oh! You’ll never believe what we found.” Her mom’s voice grew animated. “A few weeks ago your father and I went for a drive, and we came across an auction. We decided to see if we could find anything unique. It’s so beautiful.” Her mother paused to take a breath. “We bid on a gorgeous stained glass window.”

  Isobel glanced at the simple paned window above the desk. “A window, huh?”

  “It’s perfectly round. A stunning circle of color. It has to be really old, although it’s in perfect condition. They’re installing it on the landing today. Just wait until you see it. You’re going to love it.”

  “I’m sure I will.” Isobel tore her eyes away from the window—the uneasy feeling settling in her stomach again. “Hey, Mom. I have to go. I still need to get all of this stuff down to the car and say goodbye to Amelia.”

  “All right, honey. We’ll see you when you get home…” A long pause then, “Are you sure you don’t want to stay there and take summer classes to get ahead on things?”

  “I’m sure. I think I can handle having the house to myself for the summer.”

  “I guess it’s really too late to change plans now, still…”

  “I have to go, Mom. I love you.” Isobel rolled her eyes.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Love you too, sweetie. See you tonight then. Call us if you need anything. And don’t text while you drive.”

  “I won’t. Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  Isobel ended the call and tucked the phone into her purse. Elizabeth was overprotective, but Isobel didn’t mind. Although not her biological mother, she was the only mother she had.

  Amelia swept into the room, graceful and beautiful as always. She wore an ivory T-shirt, a bright contrast to her rich, dark skin. “Was that your mom calling?”

  Isobel smiled at her best friend. “Yeah.” She lifted her long, thick mahogany hair off her neck and fanned her hand at the sheen of sweat. “You know how she is. Convinced I’m going to get carjacked or I’m going to run off the road while texting or something.”

  Amelia laughed, rolling her dark eyes. “Yeah, because there are so many carjackings around here or where you’re going. It’s not like you live in New York. You don’t even live in Savannah. I doubt there’s ever been any real crime on that little island thing you live on. Still,” her friend stopped to consider, “better than not caring.”

  “I guess. How much do you want to bet you’re going to get a call just like that from your mom when you get ready to leave tomorrow?” Isobel teased.

  “I’m not laying money on that one.” Amelia shook her head and held up her palms. “I know better than that. I have no doubt I will get an hour long lecture from both of my parents. I don’t think they’ve really accepted the fact that I’m an adult yet.”

  Isobel picked up the first box. “Want to help me carry all of this junk down?”

  Amelia grabbed a box. “Lead the way oh possible carjacking victim,” she said dramatically and laughed.

  It didn’t take long for them to pack everything into Isobel’s small, four-door car. After wedging the final box into the backseat, Amelia turned to her, a hint of worry in her dark eyes. “You’ll be okay, won’t you?”

  Isobel shook her head as she pulled the car keys out of her purse. “Not you too.”

  “I’m not talking about carjackings or flat tires or wrecks.” Amelia paused as if considering her next words carefully. “I know you don’t like to talk about it—”

  “Then don’t bring it up.” She held up her palm toward her friend. “I can’t do this.”

  “Isobel, your gift is getting stronger. I see these things. I was raised around it. If my grandmother could see the aura around you right now…” Amelia narrowed her eyes. “There’s danger in it.”

  “I don’t want to hear about it. After what happened to Rihanna, I just can’t embrace that kind of thing.”

  “And yet you do embrace it occasionally.” Amelia shook her head.

  Isobel gazed past her friend at the thick trees beyond the parking lot. Her fingers trailed across the silver pendant hanging around her neck. “It just happens sometimes. I don’t have any control over it; the energy is just there. It’s not like I ask for it.” She turned her eyes back to Amelia. “If I allow whatever this is inside me to go further… I—I can’t die for it like Rihanna did.”

  Amelia hugged her. “I’m not saying you have to. What happened to your birth mother was tragic, but it doesn’t mean it’s going to happen to you. Whatever it is, I can see it struggling to come to the forefront. I don’t think you’ll be able to deny it much longer.” She stepped back and smiled. “Please promise you’ll call if you need me.”

  A warm rush of love for her friend filled her. She’d never had a friend like Amelia. Isobel was really going to miss her over the summer. Isobel laughed and wiped away a tear. “Sure, you’ll just drive like a bat out of hell to get from Louisiana to Georgia.”

  Amelia’s face grew serious. “If you needed me, I would. You shouldn’t be alone through this.”

  Isobel gave Amelia another quick hug before sliding into the driver’s seat and shutting the door. She fastened the seat belt and turned the key. The small car purred to life, the air conditioning vents blasting hot air into the car. The condenser kicked on and the air immediately began to cool. Isobel plugged her phone into the stereo and tapped her playlist. As music flooded the car, she waved one last time and turned the car toward the road.

  Damien stood and watched Isobel through the thick trees. At one point, she seemed to look directly at him. Her green eyes were easily visible to his enhanced senses. He tore his gaze away to watch the area around her. He didn’t think she was in any danger yet. But he couldn’t take the chance. He stayed until the car drove away and then followed it.

  Isobel turned the volume up once she was on the highway hoping to drown out the thoughts in her mind. Power had killed Rihanna. Not the kind of power witches practiced. Rihanna had innate power; energy that had flowed into her, through her. And, according to her father, it had allowed her to do things most people believed belonged in the realm of fantasy books and movies. And she had passed the gift to her daughter.

  Except it wasn’t a gift. It was a curse. Gifts didn’t make mothers forget there were more important things than power. Gifts didn’t keep mothers away from their daughters so much that they barely knew each other or steal mothers away from twelve year old girls. Gifts didn’t make a father refuse to speak of it or acknowledge it was happening to his daughter.

  Gifts were people like Elizabeth who took a lonely, angry and somewhat lost thirteen year old into their heart and treated them like a real daughter. Elizabeth, who made sure there were pictures of Rihanna on the upstairs landing even if Isobel never wanted to look at them. Elizabeth, who always reassured her that her birth mother had loved her dearly because it would have been impossible not to.

  Wiping away the tears that pooled in her eyes, she turned up the volume and focused on the road, determined to put all of that behind her. Why should she care about a woman who had carelessly thrown her life away without a thought for the daughter she left behind? One who couldn’t be bothered when she was alive to spend any time at home.

  Isobel lost herself in the music as the hours passed and the highway unfolded.

  The sun sank low in the western sky when she finally turned down her street. Situated on an island in the web of rivers and creeks between Savannah, Georgia and the coast, the street boasted large two-story houses set back from the road on oversized lots. Trees lined both sides of the road with only occasional breaks, their moss-draped limbs hanging over it. Many of the houses were barely visible through the screens of greenery.

  Isobel’s father had moved them to the island from the Midwest at the start of her freshman year of high school. Isobe
l hadn’t minded. Until meeting her college roommate, she’d never had close friends that knew everything about her and the mother she’d lost. Not that she didn’t have friends on the island, but they had all drifted away.

  Golden-red bands of sunlight cut through the branches of the trees. Isobel smiled at the beauty of it. She loved everything about Georgia. The hot, sticky weather; the history; the old architecture; the trees with their moss. She’d felt instantly at home the moment they moved onto the quiet and private, upscale island.

  Her house sat on the east side of the road at the very end of the island where the road made a sharp turn before running along the southern coast. The acre of property the house rested on was surrounded on the south and east by water. Its nearest neighbor was a house that had been empty for the last three years.

  Except it wasn’t empty now. The bright red letters stickered across the realtor’s sign proclaimed it sold. Isobel tried to see through the heavy growth of trees and flowering bushes to catch a glimpse of who might have bought it. Unable to see anything more than a few flashes of the upper level, she turned her attention back to her own approaching driveway.

  The waist-high wrought iron fence signaled the beginning of her yard. At the far side, where the road made its turn, the fence ended in a short brick pillar. Isobel turned onto the long driveway that made a shallow curve toward the house set near the rear of the property. The wide expanse of manicured lawn spread out to her left. Several mature trees cast their shade over the thick grass. On her right, a wide channel of water cut close to the driveway.

  As the familiar wraparound porch came into view, she glanced at the neighboring house again. The front part of the garage was visible through the loosely spaced shrubs. The low-growing rose bushes separating the two properties didn’t hide the black motorcycle parked in front of the open garage door. As she pulled up Isobel thought she saw someone moving around next door.