by K. A. Poe
Twin Souls
NEVERMORE
Book One
By KA Poe
COPYRIGHT AND LEGALITIES
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and locations are either a product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious setting. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or people, living or dead, is strictly coincidental. No part of this book may be used or reproduced without written consent from the author.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Copyright © 2012 by KA Poe. All rights reserved.
CONTACT INFORMATION
To learn more about the author please visit her website at:
http://www.kaylapoe.com
Find her on Facebook at:
http://www.facebook.com/kaylapoe
Follow her on Twitter at:
http://www.twitter.com/KAPoeAuthor
Or e-mail her at:
[email protected]
DEDICATION
To my dearest Adam – without your encouragement and assistance, this dream may never have become a reality.
All my love ~
Contents
Dedication
Chapter 01 – The Letter
Chapter 02 – Music Class
Chapter 03 – Salem
Chapter 04 – Coincidences
Chapter 05 – Midnight
Chapter 06 – Paul
Chapter 07 – Black Bears
Chapter 08 – Happy Birthday
Chapter 09 – Destiny
Chapter 10 – Denver Slayings
Chapter 11 – Twin Souls
Chapter 12 – Seeking the Truth
Chapter 13 – Denver
Chapter 14 – Mark
Chapter 15 – Home
Chapter 16 – The Raven
Chapter 17 – Final Farewell
Chapter 18 – Hunting
Chapter 19 – The Date
Chapter 20 – Poison
Chapter 21 – The Woods
Chapter 22 – 127
Chapter 23 – School
Chapter 24 – Rent
Chapter 25 – The Grave
Chapter 26 – Visions
Chapter 27 – Raziel
Chapter 28 – Recovery
Chapter 29 – Nevermore
About the Author
Contact Information
1. THE LETTER
The rough pitter-patter of rain against the tin roof caused me to stir in my sleep, but I struggled to fight it. I yearned to remain under the warmth of my thick quilt, wandering aimlessly through the dream world. But, alas, I knew reality would ease its way in and pull me out. As hard as I tried to ignore it, my eyes flew open and all memory of dreams faded away. I sighed heavily and pressed my pillow hard against my eyes, blocking out the relentless sunlight that snuck in through the creases in the blinds. Slowly, I tore away the brief shelter from the radiance and let my eyes adjust. I stumbled to the bathroom, rinsed my face and brushed my teeth before swiftly walking downstairs to the kitchen.
I was surprised to find it empty, void of any evidence that my mother had even been there fifteen minutes prior. Most mornings I would find her sitting at the quaint glass table, pressed up against the far wall, sipping a quick cup of coffee before she rushed off to work. My mother didn't hold the greatest job title in the world, but the money was sufficient enough to pay the bills and to feed us. She worked as a zookeeper at the local zoo and had been in that same position for as far back as I could remember. My father isn't even worth mentioning. After I turned six he became absent in my life, beyond the occasional postcard from wherever he happened to be at the time. During a mid-life crisis he decided that “living his life to the fullest” was more important than his ten year marriage, not to mention his six-year-old daughter. Now he spent his time traveling the world with his much younger girlfriend, Melissa. I hated to even think of her, though I had never even met her.
As I thought over my mother's unexpected absence, I plucked a porcelain blue bowl from the cupboard and poured a generous amount of cereal and milk into it before sitting at the vacant table. My eyes were instantly drawn to the white, perfectly folded note that lay against the transparent surface. Sprawled across the paper in my mom's unmistakable handwriting was my name: Alexis.
I wasn't sure why, but something deep down told me that this couldn't be good. Something was wrong, and this letter was the only way I would find out just what it was. I swallowed hard as I lifted the crisp paper and unfolded it. Panic welled up inside as I read the first sentence.
'Dear Alexis, September 8, 2012
This isn't easy for me to say, and it won't be easy for you to hear either.'
Part of me didn't want to continue reading, but my eyes betrayed me as they went along down the paper.
'The house has been put in your name, and I have left an envelope on the counter beside the coffee pot where you will find enough money to support yourself for at least the next three months. I will send you more as needed. Do you remember Mark? The man who offered me the job in Denver? I know how hard it was on you when you heard that we might have to move, and I decided that this might be easier. I will be making twice as much there as I was here, and won't have any trouble paying for you to stay home. Mark and I are moving in together.'
My forehead creased as the last words sunk in. Mom had a boyfriend, and I didn't even know about it...
'You are not alone, Alexis. You have your friends, and your Uncle Paul is still in town if you need someone. I didn't want you to sacrifice your school life and your friends just so that I could live a better life, with a better job, and a better man than your father ever was. I won't be that far away if you ever need me.
Forgive me.
Love,
Mom'
My head was spinning as I set the letter down. I accidentally knocked over my cereal bowl as I scrambled to run back upstairs. It didn't matter anymore – my appetite had dissipated. I pushed open my mother's bedroom door and my jaw dropped in shock. While her bed remained intact, covered with frilly pillows and bright colored blankets, her dresser was empty of most of her belongings. The oak jewelry box that held all of the beautiful necklaces and charms I had been so envious of was no longer there. I went through her drawers. Each one was empty. How had she escaped so quietly, without me knowing it?
I sat on the edge of her plush mattress, my head in my hands as I tried to understand what was happening. Mom and I were never incredibly close as she spent so much time at work – and I guess hanging out with Mark – but I would have thought she would have had the decency to sit down with me and discuss the situation before abandoning me.
Through the creases of my fingers I could see the red digits on one of the few remaining items in her room. On top of the dresser sat her alarm clock, and I could distinctly see the shapes of each number: 9:45. I immediately jumped up from the bed and ran to my room. I was late for school! I grabbed my book bag, pulled on my shoes, snatched my car keys from the kitchen counter and rushed through the front door.
I grimaced when I noticed the windows on my silver Alero were rolled down and the rain had undoubtedly found its way into the car. Remorsefully, I eyed the empty spot where my mother's van would have been parked, then opened the driver side door to my car. I was hopeful that school would be a big enough distraction to keep my mind off of the haunting thought of being abandoned by m
y mother. The overwhelming urge to stay home, retreat back to my bed, and spend the day crying the hours away was almost too tempting. School wasn't a great importance to me, but I hoped that seeing my friends might help me pull through.
Shaking away the unwelcome thoughts, I discovered that my suspicions were unfortunately right - the seats were drenched. After pulling off my gray fleece hoodie, I dabbed the moisture off of the steering wheel then draped the clothing across the seat. Once situated, I closed the door and quickly rolled up the windows and started the ignition. Some classical music piece came streaming through the speakers and I smiled. I found it relaxing, but I wouldn't admit that to any of my friends at school.
2. MUSIC CLASS
Driving to school didn't take long – it never did – where I lived was for the most part a tiny speck of a town. My family had resided in Willowshire, Colorado for many generations. According to my mother this had been where my great-great-great grandparents grew up. It had once been nothing but forest, mountain and rivers until a small group of people began using the area for cattle farms. From there, the little valley nestled between Silverton and Telluride slowly developed into what it is today. Although small in comparison to most towns, we have our own small shopping center with an old movie theatre, a grocery store, and of course - schools. In the last couple of years the town has started to develop more and more, and yet somehow it manages to hold onto a lot of what makes the town beautiful. The snow-capped mountains in the distance tower over the town, and much of the forestry continues to exist throughout. Willowshire holds a small population of maybe 3,000 people, and it is uncommon to meet someone you don't recognize.
As I turned into the school parking lot, I switched the music station to something more recent. Whatever the song was, I didn't like it. Being late, the high school parking lot was full and I had to park away from the building. In my rush, I had forgotten to bring an umbrella, so I carried my book bag over my head as I sloshed through the puddles on my way to the school doors. Fortunately, the water wasn't deep enough to soak through my shoes. I rushed through the front doors, my sneakers skidding slightly on the linoleum floors. The front hall was empty, aside from the janitor – Mr. Leary – who was mopping up puddles and muddied spots. I apologized earnestly for making more of a mess as I ran to my English class.
The teacher scolded me for being late, shaking her head as her gaze followed me to my seat. Her name was Mrs. Donovan, and she was by far my least favorite teacher, which was unfortunate because it was my favorite subject. She was a middle-aged woman with spectacles that reminded me of those you would see on a little old lady.
It took me a few minutes to realize what the assignment was, but once Mrs. Donovan said the name 'Poe' I was instantly on board. It was the first time Edgar Allan Poe's works were brought up in this class, and I was a big fan so this caught my attention. We were supposed to be reading The Raven and I realized I didn't have a book with me.
I raised my hand sheepishly.
“Yes, Miss Hobbs?” the teacher said coldly.
“I don't have a book,” I replied, and noticed everyone had turned to stare at me. My cheeks instantly grew red.
“You can read from my copy,” she waltzed over to my desk and flopped the worn book onto the wooden surface.
“Thanks,” I said meekly and began flipping through the volume until I found the right page. I had become engulfed in the story, unaware of how quickly time was passing. I jumped when the bell rang and reluctantly put the book down.
“We will continue reading next week, Miss Hobbs,” Mrs. Donovan said as she pried the book from my hand.
“Right,” I mumbled and noticed that the classroom was deserted aside from us. I rushed out of the room and headed toward biology. I barely paid any attention to what was happening as the teacher droned on about heart vessels and other things I didn't care about. Next was lunch, and I was beyond excited to get out of the classroom.
The cafeteria was packed full of students. After gathering my tray of food, I walked slowly toward my usual table. Sitting there were my two closest friends, Jason and Karen.
Karen was your typical teenage girl – she loved to shop, to flirt, and to gossip. Somehow, however, we got along. We had known each other since we were toddlers, and lived as neighbors for nearly ten years before my mom decided to relocate to my current house. She was tall, stick-thin, with green eyes and perfectly straight, long blonde hair that she always wore in braids or a ponytail.
Jason, on the other hand, was somewhat different from the typical high school boy. He was smart, but I wouldn't classify him as a geek. He enjoyed sports, but I wouldn't consider him a jock, either. He had a love for literature, art, and most of all – partying. Jason was almost a jumble of every high school stereotype put into one body. We had been friends for almost as long as Karen and I had. We met in kindergarten, and the three of us became inseparable. While some girls considered him highly attractive, he was just another guy to me, possibly because of our close friendship. He was slightly shorter than Karen (which I often teased him for), with a slight muscular build. Every member of his family had the same dark brunette hair with the faintest hint of a golden highlight; his hair was chin-length and wavy towards the ends. His eyes were a shade of brown that reminded me of milk chocolate.
“Hey, Alex,” Jason said with a grin, until he noticed my disappointed expression. “What's wrong?”
“It's nothing,” I said quietly, but knew he would pry it out of me one way or another.
“I'm not letting you off that easy,” he objected.
“Fine,” I eyed the food on my tray before pushing it away, “mom left.” I tried to stop myself from falling apart as I spoke the words out loud for the first time.
“What?” Karen piped in, having previously been distracted by one of the boys across the room, which was typical for her.
“She took the job in Denver I was telling you about last week,” I studied their faces, “don't worry. I'm not going anywhere.”
“Where are you going to live?” Karen frowned, wrapping her arms around me in a sympathetic hug. “You can come stay with me if you need to. My parents have always said you’re welcome to stay whenever you wanted to.”
“No, it’s okay,” I said, my disappointed look evolving into a half-hearted smile. “She gave me the house.”
“You have your own house?” Jason gaped.
“I guess so,” I grinned. “She's paying for it, too.”
“Wow...” Karen whispered.
“So, when is the first party?” Jason smirked.
“I don't think I’ll be throwing any parties any time soon, Jason.”
“C'mon...I'll do all of the work!” he pleaded. “I'll make the invitations, provide the food...you just have to provide the location!”
I laughed. “I'll think about it.”
My appetite finally came back and I was able to down a pudding cup before the bell rang again.
“I'll see you two in gym,” I waved as I walked off to music class.
My friends knew I was in music class, but as far as they were aware I hated it. Music was my passion, but I had my doubts that anything would ever come from it in terms of a career. Simply listening to a piece of classical music, or inventing my own, was enough to make me happy. Unfortunately, my mother could never afford to buy me a piano of my own, so most of my practice was done at school. There was also a period of my life where I took part in piano lessons, but after my father left I lost interest in it as well as many other hobbies. After a few years, I came to realize that Desmond wasn't returning and I had to carry on with my life and rediscovered my joy of playing. I don't know why I felt so compelled to keep my love of classical music a secret. Maybe I was worried my friends would tease me for it, as they had done with other students. I walked briskly into the class, excited to practice on the piano again. I had been improving greatly and I was looking forward to getting my fingers on the keys.
To my despair, we had a su
bstitute teacher who didn't appear to have a clue what he was doing.
“Mr. Collins won't be in today,” the teacher announced when the class was seated. He had a bulging round belly and pants held up by suspenders. His head was round, with a very evident receding hairline. “My name is Mr. Knotts, and I will be filling in as best as I can, but I must apologize ahead of time – I am usually the astronomy teacher and have never touched an instrument in my life.”
“Then what do you expect us to do today?” The words came out of my mouth before I had the chance to stop myself. This wasn't uncommon for me, and I had been scolded on the habit far too many times – enough that I should have learned by now to keep my mouth shut.
“I-well...” the sub stuttered, ignoring my rudeness, and his puffy cheeks reddened. “I suppose you can just, play whatever music you want until the bell rings,” he replied with a shrug of his thick shoulders.
The class laughed, myself included. I shrugged and walked over to one of the pianos – there were two of them in the classroom, as well as a keyboard. The one I selected had obvious wear to it, no doubt donated to the school by an employee or some sort of foundation. This was usually the one I chose to play on, something about it lured me to it the very day I began this class. I placed my hands on the keys, feeling comfortable and at ease as I gently ran my fingers along them. I played an unfamiliar tune, something that simply came to me as my fingers did their magic. I noticed that everyone had their eyes in my direction, and I stopped abruptly.
“That is magnificent,” someone said beside me. I could distinctly hear what I thought must have been a British accent mingled in their voice, “If not a tad melancholic,” they added.
“Um, thank you,” I blushed.
“Whose was it?”
“My own,” I said quietly, almost wishing I had stuck to something well known to avoid the attention. Then I looked up, astonished by what I saw. Sitting next to me on the bench was a student I had yet to see before in this class...or in the entire school, for that matter. He had a pleasant smile that ceased to fade as he stared at me through pale blue eyes. He came into full focus – short, shaggy black hair that fell across his pale face, a long-sleeved burgundy V-neck shirt that hung loosely against his thin body, black slacks and a brilliant smile. His appearance was very unfitting for this school...maybe he was dressed for a meeting with the drama club after school or something.
