Forest of Dreams
Page 25
I head-butted Westin with the ridge of my eyes hitting his nose. The crack of bone echoed as I shoved my elbow into Devin’s gut. Kane laughed again.
“I’d like to meet whoever did,” Landers laughed. “Or maybe I wouldn’t. So what’s with the black doors you keep seeing?”
Westin backhanded me, knocking me into Devin. “Just stop fighting, girl!” he yelled.
Abruptly, Landers was there in my head. Gideon says not to go through the black door, he shot at me, an arrow of urgency that impaled my brain. Don’t go through the black door!
I stomped on Devin’s foot and ducked forward, reaching through my own legs to yank his leg. I jerked hard once, and he went down hard. Then when I came back up, I swung my good arm at Westin. He caught my fist and snarled again, “Stop, before I beat the crap out of you!”
Don’t listen, came another voice in my head. It was equal parts imperative and frantic. For God’s sake, don’t listen! Gideon said not to go through the black door.
Westin shoved me, and I fell over Devin as I went. The arrow in my shoulder was hit once, causing spots to appear at the corners of my vision. I had to keep fighting. I had to keep going. I needed to go back. I wanted to get to the firefly pixies. I wanted to get back to help Delphine and Zizi and all my other friends. I wanted to see Landers’s handsome face again and see if it was really true. I wanted, but down in the deepest marrow of my bones, it was more than want. It was a desperate, overwhelming need. I needed. God, how I needed.
Just as I threw myself through the black door, a single word resonated in my head that made it spin. NO! it said, and I knew that it was Landers again. It was then that I realized I had done exactly what I wasn’t supposed to do.
“What the hell is that?” someone suddenly cried out. It took me a second to realize that it was Kane.
The flashlight had stopped spinning, and the solitary beam had stopped on something about five feet away from me that looked a lot like a black hole hovering in midair. It vibrated, and the edges blurred away as it slowly pulsated. Everyone froze for a moment, and stared at it. I knew that they had never seen anything like it before, but I had.
Westin couldn’t look away from the black thing as I scrambled to my feet. I clutched the backpack and realization was like a rock dropping on my head from a very high place.
Looking up and backward, I realized I was standing in the same church that I had been imprisoned in in San Francisco. Without hesitation, I twisted my body and ran for the exit. It was the same door at which I had last encountered Theo. It represented liberty and choice in a way that I had never felt before. I could get out. I could find the code keys that I desperately needed to obtain. I just needed to go where they would be located. I wanted that with all my heart. People would die if I didn’t do that. The firefly pixies would die. The good people that I now knew would die. Landers would die.
The dark grove hadn’t brought me here.
I had.
– Not the End –
Look for Ruins of Dreams. Coming soon!
A Word from the Author
Where do I start?
I didn’t mean for this novel to be a cliffhanger. I just realized that the material was going to become a very long book, and I didn’t want that, either. Consequently, I decided to turn it into two. You readers shouldn’t be waiting long for the conclusion to this, Ruins of Dreams, because as soon as I close the doors on this one, I’m working on that one.
Grateful thanks to all the important people in my life. My husband always gets a top spot. I can’t tell you how many questions I asked him about the PRP and how a 1970s security site might work. Then there’s our daughter, Crescencia Rose, who puts up with more than I can say while her mother is writing. Thanks to Mary Bates, my erstwhile editor and freelance proofreader of ebooks, printed material, and websites. Contact her at mbates16@columbus.rr.com if you need something of that ilk. I’m very appreciative that’s she’s back in action after several family issues, and I’m truly grateful that her family is doing better. Thanks to Deranged Doctor Design for the cool covers. (Love the way Lulu looks.) If you have a need for graphics their link is: http://www.derangeddoctordesign.com. Finally, thanks to all the diehard readers. I couldn’t do this without you. You obviously rock!
Sincerely,
Caren
About the Author: C.L. Bevill has lived in Texas, Virginia, Arizona, and Oregon. She once was in the U.S. Army and a graphic illustrator. She holds degrees in social psychology and counseling. She is the author of Bubba and the Dead Woman, Bubba and the 12 Deadly Days of Christmas, Bubba and the Missing Woman, Bayou Moon, and Shadow People, among others. Presently she lives with her husband and her daughter and continues to constantly write. She often leaves Easter eggs in her stuff just to see if anyone notices. For example, once she got caught skipping with two friends and got carted back to high school in the back of a police car. (Good times…but man was her mother mad.) C.L. Bevill can be reached at www.clbevill.com or you can read her blog at www.carwoo.blogspot.com.
Other Novels by C.L. Bevill
Mysteries:
Bubba and the Dead Woman
Bubba and the 12 Deadly Days of Christmas
Bubba and the Missing Woman
Brownie and the Dame (3.5)
Bubba and the Mysterious Murder Note
The Ransom of Brownie (4.5)
Bubba and the Zigzaggery Zombies
Bubba and the Ten Little Loonies
Bubba and the Wacky Wedding Wickedness
Bayou Moon
Crimson Bayou
Paranormal Romance:
Veiled Eyes (Lake People)
Disembodied Bones (Lake People)
Arcanorum (Lake People)
Death Twitches (Lake People)
The Moon Trilogy (Novellas):
Black Moon (The Moon Trilogy 1)
Amber Moon (The Moon Trilogy 2)
Silver Moon (The Moon Trilogy 3)
Cat Clan Novellas:
Harvest Moon
Blood Moon
Crescent Moon
Hunter’s Moon
Shadow People
Sea of Dreams
Mountains of Dreams (Dreams 2)
Forests of Dreams (Dreams 3)
Ruins of Dreams (Dreams 4) Coming soon
Suspense:
The Flight of the Scarlet Tanager
Black Comedy:
The Life and Death of Bayou Billy
Missile Rats
Chicklet:
Dial ‘M’ For Mascara
Urban Fantasy:
Deadsville