Copyright © 2017 by 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.
Published by Black Feather
An imprint of Eternal Ink Publishing
Cover Design by Katie Jennings
First Edition: February 2017
This book is a work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
ISBN-13: 978-0692833254
ISBN-10: 0692833250
Other Books by A.D. Trosper
RAVEN DAUGHTER
Unveiled
Betrayed
Inherited (coming 2018)
BOUND:
Bound by Time
Bound by Legend
DRAGON’S CALL:
Embers at Galdrilene
Tears of War
Ashes and Spirits
A New Beginning (short prequel)
For my husband and children who never fail to support and encourage me; my parents who never doubted I could do anything I put my mind to; my writing buddy, Stacy; A.R. Crebs for all of her patience in teaching me to use Photoshop; Ashley for her beautiful soul and for answering tons of questions; and my awesomesauce editor, Karmin.
Chapter 1
I sat alone in the room, listening to the machine follow my mother’s weak heartbeat and tried not to think of what came next. Of the arrangements that would need to be made soon. Of what I would do once Mom was gone.
I’d turned eighteen three months ago, just before my mother spiraled into this. It would be the last birthday I had with her. The warm memories of that day, when Mom seemed like she was getting better, ran through my mind. I held them close like the treasures they were. At least Victoria was a year and a half older than me. As hard as this was, we were both legal adults, we wouldn’t have to worry about a foster care system tearing us apart.
Even so, I tried not to contemplate the future as I stared at the wasted form that was once my beautiful, vibrant mother. The woman who always looked so much younger than her age, cooked a big breakfast every Sunday morning, who was my anchor in a world I didn’t feel like I belonged in. The woman cancer was stealing from me.
Breast cancer. You always hear about the survivors, see the pink ribbons everywhere. Mom wasn’t going to be a survivor. When an aggressive form of it took hold of her five years ago, she’d fought it and won. Then it came back. This time, it had no intention of letting her go.
I shied away from those thoughts and focused on the monitors. As long as those were all going, Mom was still there, in some form at least. I wasn’t ready to lose my mother, to face my first year of adulthood without her.
Most people would probably find the monitors annoying. They weren’t. They recorded every precious moment of Mom’s life. They became the center of my world. Just like the whiteboard on the wall across from the bed with my mom’s name, Miranda Collins, the names of her nurses and any notes about her. As long as her name stayed on that board and the monitors kept going, everything was okay… as okay as they could be.
A television was affixed to another wall. I could have watched whatever I could find on it, Mom certainly wasn’t interested. My cell phone, a Christmas gift from Mom, lay ignored in my purse. I could cruise the internet, stream movies, or listen to music on it. None of it held any attraction for me.
A nurse came into the room, her smile full of compassion as she asked me how I was holding up and checked my mother’s vitals. I told her the same thing I told everyone, even Victoria. I told her I was fine. As far as they were concerned, I was. Victoria knew me well enough to know better, but she never pushed, for which I was grateful.
I adored my sister, even if she could be annoying, but I could never connect with her. We were different in ways I didn’t fully understand. Victoria seemed to fit in easily everywhere she went, the popular one in school. Unlike most popular kids, though, she wasn’t the snobby type. She believed everyone mattered.
I, on the other hand, could never seem to find a connection with anyone other than Mom. It was like there was something in my DNA that made people shy away. The only people who took notice of me were the occasional bullies. While Victoria had friends to lean on during all of this, I was on my own.
Mom never made friends easily, either. Like me, she didn’t make connections. We’d lived in the same house for eight years; it was telling that no one ever dropped by to see how she was doing.
It wasn’t that Mom was a horrible person. People just seemed to avoid her the way they did me. Obviously, she’d made a connection once, since my sister and I existed. It couldn’t have been a deep one because whoever our father was, he’d disappeared when my mom was two months pregnant with me. She refused to speak of him.
Sometimes, I wondered if he’d been abusive or something terrible. Anytime we tried to bring him up, she would go pale, a grim expression on her face. She told us not to waste precious time thinking of him. I couldn’t help doing that now. Who was he? Why did he leave? Was he some monster?
My thoughts were interrupted by the quiet entrance of my sister as she slipped into the room and settled into the chair next to me. Even exhaustion couldn’t mar her tall, golden-haired beauty that was so unlike my short, black-haired self.
I figured she must have gotten her height and perfect looks from whoever our father was. It wasn’t that I didn’t like the way I looked, in fact, most would call me pretty. I just didn’t have that airbrushed, cover of a magazine look that Victoria managed without even trying.
In silence, she handed me a candy bar and a soda. I smiled as a way of saying thank you. The cold from the can soaked into my hand. I made no move to open it or the wrapper to the food.
Victoria sighed. “You have to eat, Josephine.”
I glared at her for calling me that instead of Jo, but said nothing because she was right. I popped the can and opened the wrapper to the chocolate-covered caramel and nuts. As if by some strange agreement, neither of us spoke. We just ate our snacks, our attention focused on Mom.
Most young women my age were watching what they ate, counting calories, and trying to stay away from carbs. Not me. With an extremely high metabolism, I could eat a ton without worry. It was nice in its own way. It was also another thing that set me apart. One of the few things I had in common with Victoria.
Another nurse came in a while later; I’m not sure how long it had been. I stopped looking at the clock a long time ago. When she asked how we were doing, Victoria’s answer was thick with tears. My eyes remained dry as I answered, once more, that I was fine.
I kept my answer short and sweet. My default setting was to keep things to myself. With no close friends, I wasn’t used to sharing with anyone other than Mom. Even with her, I quit the first time her cancer showed up. I couldn’t bring myself to bother her with any of my issues when she was fighting for her life. There was enough on her plate without me adding “weirdly dysfunctional daughter” to it.
As the sun sank ever closer to the horizon, I went down to the cafeteria with Victoria. The pale blue walls of the large space were supposed to be soothing. As we moved through the line with our trays, I couldn’t think of anything that would make this place soothing. For me, the place was a precursor to death.
After we sat at a small table near the edge of the room, I stared at my tray with a total lack of enthusiasm. I didn’t feel like eating, but knew I needed to. Poking at the strange, protein-like
substance that was supposed to be chicken-fried steak, I wished for a lower metabolism. One that didn’t make me weak and shaky if I didn’t eat enough.
Making a face, Victoria stabbed her fork into the odd, gray-covered lump in the corner square of her tray. “What is this supposed to be?”
I considered the lump on my own tray for a moment as the clatters and conversation of the busy cafeteria swirled around us. “I think it’s supposed to be mashed potatoes with gravy.”
“At least the pudding looks good,” Victoria said hopefully.
“It’s applesauce.”
“How does applesauce end up looking like that?” Victoria shoved the offending substance around in its little space on the tray.
I gestured toward the walls with my fork. “It’s a hospital, Victoria. I think it’s required for their cafeteria workers to go to an anti-culinary school or something. Besides, it’s not all bad. The dinner roll looks like it’s made of actual bread.”
Victoria pointed at the square of red Jell-O. “They got that right.”
I rolled my eyes. “Probably because you only need to know how to boil water in order to make it.”
“Possibly. I’m sure they are just doing their best,” she said, bravely scooping a bite of the mashed potatoes and gravy.
Leave it to Victoria to give them the benefit of the doubt. I didn’t bother to argue with her, it wouldn’t do any good. She always did that, with everyone. Never believing the bad in them until it smacked her in the face. Even then, she would forgive them or feel sorry for them. Sometimes, she truly irritated me.
In the end, my hunger overrode my fear of the food and I managed to choke it all down, even the unnatural applesauce. At least I could count on the soda actually being soda. I rarely drank it before all of this, preferring tea. However, I quickly learned to never trust the tea here. I’m not sure how one screws that up, but they managed.
When we were done, we walked toward the elevators that would take us back to Mom’s room. I stepped into the car and closed my eyes for a moment, trying to pretend I wasn’t in a hospital. Unfortunately, that smell, the one unique to hospitals, was forever in my nostrils. I abandoned my attempt at mental escape.
It was confusing because I desperately wanted out of there, to never set foot in a hospital again. At the same time, I never wanted to leave because I knew when I did, it would be without my mother.
The atmosphere of the room felt different, strange, when we entered. My eyes quickly sought my mother. She was still there, the machines still recording her vitals. I’m not even sure why they left the monitors on. A DNR order resided in her chart. It didn’t matter if she flat-lined, there would be no effort to bring her back.
Tearing my eyes away from her inert form, I scanned the room. It was empty except for the three of us, yet I swear I sensed other people. It left me feeling edgy as I took a seat in one of the chairs and Victoria settled in the other.
Neither of us spoke. I don’t think we knew what to say. I didn’t know if Victoria could feel it, but instinct warned me that Mom was slipping away. I drew my chair closer to the bed so I could take one of Mom’s frail hands. Her skin was dry, paper-thin, and cool against mine. I wanted to yell at her, demand she fight harder. I wanted to scream at her, ask how she could leave me alone in this world. I wanted to sob and beg her to stay. I didn’t do any of it.
I hadn’t said anything to her since the day before when she told me that nothing was as it seemed, to trust no one, just before lapsing into a coma. I didn’t even get a chance to ask her what she meant before she closed her eyes, leaving me with only monitors to tell me she was still alive.
Victoria moved her chair so she could sit on Mom’s other side. We sat quietly, each holding one of her hands. A nurse came in at some point and asked Victoria how she was doing. The nurse didn’t bother to ask me, I guess she gave up getting anything other than the word ‘fine’ out of me.
Time ticked forward, the nurse came back more frequently. It seemed as if the night dragged, the clock showed only about an hour had passed since we returned to the room. I glanced at the large window. The lights outside the hospital reflected in the rivulets of rain that ran down the darkened glass. I thought briefly of shutting the curtains, but made no effort do so. If I let go of Mom’s hand, she would leave. It was an irrational feeling, though not one I could get rid of.
I laid my head on the edge of the bed, my eyes on the clock. This whole time I’d barely looked at the thing. Now I couldn’t take my eyes off it for reasons I couldn’t explain. The monitors went flat. There was no sound, no warning, no last gasp of breath. Just a quiet leaving.
I let go of Mom’s hand, backing away from the bed as a couple of nurses came in, followed by a doctor. There should have been tears in my eyes, but there weren’t. Only a heavy lump in my throat that made it hard to breathe. Victoria stood across the room, her eyes swimming with the tears I couldn’t shed, her face ravaged with grief.
The same sorrow that washed my sister’s face rose up like a wave that would crush me if I let it. I squashed it down. Not now, not in front of these people. I couldn’t bring myself to look at Mom’s body. So I cast my gaze around the room, desperate to look at anything else. That’s when I saw them.
A dark-skinned man with deep brown eyes, and a girl who looked to be about my age, with a long mess of bright red curls, her blue eyes wide. Dressed in long black cloaks, they definitely didn’t work for the hospital… then there was her. My mother, her wasted, translucent form stood next to them. I felt weird, lightheaded, like I somehow balanced between two places.
My mother used to tell us tales of people who dressed in black cloaks and came for the dead. But…they were tales, nothing more. Right? I looked back at the man. Though not young like the girl, he didn’t look old either, maybe mid-to-late-twenties.
“Who are you?”
He froze, staring at me. Then his eyes nearly bugged. What was his problem?
The nurse nearest me looked askance at me as if she thought I was losing it. I was about to ask again who they were when the man said, “You can see us?”
I shot him a glare. “Duh.”
My gaze wandered to my mother…maybe I was losing it. Could I truly see her spirit?
I glanced at Victoria, who stood in the far corner next to a nurse, and gave her a questioning look. She nodded, her gaze fixed on the two cloaked figures and our mother, ignoring the nurse who was attempting to comfort her.
When I turned my attention back to the man, his eyes were narrowed at my sister before they came back to me. “I have to go now. However, I will return. I must speak with you. It is of the utmost importance.”
“Speak with me about what?” The nurse gave me another strange look. What, was I not supposed to talk at all while they took my mother away? It was better to focus on Cloak Guy than on Mom’s body.
“Your father, for one thing.”
That got my attention. “My what?”
He put his finger to his lips in a shushing motion. “Another time. Not here.”
The man and girl walked past me, the girl staring as if I had a third eye or something. Mom trailed in their wake. I opened my mouth to demand the guy stuff his “another time” up his ass and tell me what he knew of my father right now.
My demand died on my tongue as Mom paused, reaching for my hand. It passed through mine with an icy brush of air. She stared into my eyes with all of the love I’d always known she had for me. She turned and gave Victoria the same look.
Then she was gone, disappearing into the hall behind the two cloaked figures. Who were they? Was my mother’s spirit following them? Or was it just coincidence? My mind reeled from too many questions. I wanted to assign something fantastic to Cloak Guy and his companion, but my practical mind shoved such silly thoughts away.
I staggered against the wall as dizziness swamped me. Trying to steady the world, or maybe just my brain, I ignored the nurse who now hovered anxiously over me asking if I was all
right, and stared at Victoria, who was also having trouble standing.
What just happened?
The nurses were certain we were both too overcome with emotion. And, once past the weirdness we’d experienced, Victoria wept with a vengeance, further backing the nurses’ assumptions.
When we finally left the hospital, I drove home while Victoria took the passenger seat. Her tears continued to fall. I stared dry-eyed out the windshield, focusing on the wet road and the rain-streaked October night lit up by the lights of San Francisco.
I didn’t want to think about Mom’s death or the fact I had seen her ghost, felt her ghost. So I concentrated on the strange meeting with the cloaked figures. What did the guy know about my father? I tried to fit Cloak Guy into some role at the hospital and failed.
Weariness weighed heavy on me. I gave up trying to understand any of it as we pulled into the driveway. I shut the car off, staring at the small white house, its outline smeared by the water running down the windshield.
With a hitched sigh, Victoria opened her door and climbed out of the car. I finally followed, uncaring of the cold rain that soaked my hair. I’d just reached the small, covered side porch when the hairs rose on the back of my neck. It felt like something was watching me. I turned slowly sweeping my gaze over the front yard and the group of trees that ran along one side of the house.
I thought I caught a glimpse of gold in the shadows. When I looked again, it was gone. Giving myself a mental shake, I walked into the house, shut the door, and tossed my keys on the kitchen counter. We never used the front door, had never even unlocked the deadbolt since moving in, instead preferring to use the side door that led into the warm, homey kitchen.
Neither of us spoke as we passed through the kitchen and headed up the stairs to our rooms. A small landing at the top was bracketed on three sides by doors. The one in the middle led to the bathroom I shared with my sister. When we reached the top of the stairs, we turned opposite directions, Victoria into her room, me into mine.
Unveiled (Raven Daughter Book 1) Page 1
