The Chronicles of Kerrigan Box Set Books # 1 - 6: Paranormal Fantasy Young Adult/New Adult Romance

by W. J. May

  Rae walked along the sideway to Westport Road and from there, up to the red brick front of the old building. At the corner, there was a boarded up, graffiti-covered sign that had once read “Reception”. The small paned windows above the door sported broken glass from kids throwing stones at them. She moved down the road and turned left toward the front of the factory.

  This part of the building had once been grandiose. There were six creamy white pillars that stood out against the red brick behind them. The original entrance doors had been closed off with newer red brick and fences now prohibiting people from trying to use the crumbling stairs. She jogged to the low fence entrance with the word WADE painted in yellow. Looking around to make sure no one was about, she easily hopped over it and landed softly. Riley’s cheetah tatù kicked in without conscious thought. Probably because I’m nervous.

  She sprinted across the uncut, overgrown drive staring at the boarded windows for an opening. The doors were all either locked and boarded, or bricked up. Next to impossible to break through. So much help.

  She ran along the decrepit parking lot. The long, red brick building had five, maybe six, stories. The higher windows were not boarded. Kids had taken to throwing more stones and who knows what else at the glass, and most of the window panes were broken or missing. Maybe she could scale one of the half missing fire escape stairs and try to open a window. A bottle shaped chimney caught her attention. An old wood door, with a weak looking padlock, had been built right beside the chimney. It stood mostly hidden by the large, round shape of the chimney’s base.

  A crow cawed in a tree near the chimney, as if telling her to try the door. Rae slowed her jog to a walk and shoved her hands inside her pockets. She forced her nerves to calm and switched to Devon’s tatù. This isn’t like breaking into the museum. Nobody would be here except the cops if some local thought she was causing damage. There would be no alarm system to override. Nothing of value would have been left here.

  Except for the thing her mother had left her.

  Whatever it was.

  Chapter 22

  Windows

  The door proved easy to open. Using Nic’s tatù, she pried the lock open with a paper clip from inside her backpack and slipped through; coughing as dust and dry wood filtered into her nostrils. Rae waved her hand in front of her face and squinted into the dimness. She debated leaving the door partially open, but decided it would be best to close it. If a local called the cops, she had no idea what she would say to Carter or Headmaster Wardell. Devon’s father would probably be thrilled to have something on her. Hopefully that wouldn’t happen. She didn’t plan to be there long.

  With the door closed, she switched to Devon’s tatù to see better. It didn’t help as much as she had hoped. What if she stepped on a rotting floorboard and ended up in some kiln or cellar, buried in debris? Maybe she should tell someone where she was just in case...she reached for her phone, only to realize that she had left it in the console of Julian’s car. Crap! She grimaced. She had to admit, this was not a well-thought out plan. Of course, she was not exactly helpless. If I do get stuck, it’s not like I can’t use my mental tatù to contact Jennifer or whoever I need… as long as I’m not passed out or something. That wasn’t a pleasant thought.

  She rubbed her fingers, Molly’s tatù automatically flicking into action. Sparks flicked from her fingers and she thought back to the night she had seen Devon and nearly heaved an electrical ball at him. Concentrating, she made the ball again and held her hand up by her shoulder.

  Light reflected off the walls, showing weird shaped shadows, sparkling spider webs and bits of pottery and dust everywhere. The floors looked a lot sturdier than she had imagined. “Good,” she whispered. She headed slowly down the hall toward where she figured reception would be.

  Large worktables built into the floor still stood in rooms. Broken, unfired and unpainted pottery lay piled up in places as she walked. She imagined the place full of painters and potters and smiled. For some reason, she pictured it all in black and white. Like an antique photograph.

  She nearly stumbled when a thought struck her. She had seen pictures of the room before, and the bottle ovens. Her mother had shown them to her. Rae quickened her pace as she realized the first image she had, was the bottle oven, then this room. Her mother had shown her pictures in order.

  Like a map. She round a corner and found a set of narrow wooden stairs. Her mother had been in this photo with an older man. That photo had been in colour. Rae’s heart raced with excitement. She couldn’t believe this weird sense of déjà vu was actually happening. Somehow, her mother had given a probably five-year-old Rae, this picture map, knowing she would use it.

  Rae checked the stairs and made her way down another labyrinth hallway. She opened doors to several rooms that must have once been offices, but none of them seemed to hold whatever she was looking for.

  She turned around and headed down the other section. A large oak door caught her attention. The door was wider than all the others in the hall, and had a rectangular mark at eye level, obviously where a door plaque had once been. Rae reached up with her left hand and touched it.

  “Art Room,” she whispered, seeing the brass plaque that had once been there inside her head. Another picture clue. Rae reached for the knob before she realized, that too had been removed. She kicked the door with her foot to see if it would open. It protested with a groan, but slowly creaked, as the hinges moved for the first time in ages. Rae pushed again, until the opening was wide enough and then stepped through.

  She let the little ball of light fizzle out. She didn’t need it. Windows, with beautiful tiles surrounding them, cast warm light from the setting sun. Another door on the far side stood partially open. Shelves with rusted paint cans and brushes were visible.

  Probably a storage room or supply closet. She strolled to the middle of the room and twirled slowly around picturing the room with drawings, easels, a large mahogany desk, potters tables and other supplies that artists would have needed to design figurines and test paints. She knew exactly what it had looked like, even down to the little whimsie figurines and tiles being painted the day her mother had taken the photo.

  Déjà vu again.

  Her head swung to the windows, and the beautiful tiles surrounding them. Third window. Her legs moved toward it before her head told her to go. She ran her fingers over the amethyst purple, emerald green and sapphire blue tiles that still held their lustre in the face of so much neglect. Third row. She dropped her backpack to the ground and crouched down to trace the third tile from the bottom on the left. It held fast. She moved to the other side of the window and counted to the third row. That tile also stuck fast against the cement, or whatever had been used to set it.

  She paused when she noticed the third tile in stuck out just slightly. She tapped one corner and noticed it shift slightly. Tapping harder she jumped when it fell to the ground face down.

  The tile stayed intact. Rae flipped it over and was disappointed to find absolutely nothing on it; no written clue or anything taped to it. Not wanting to ruin the beautiful window, she turned to push it back into its place, and gasped.

  A key lay wedged into the spot where the tile belonged. Using her nails she managed to pry it loose. She replaced the sapphire blue tile and stood closer to the dirty window glass to get a better look at the key.

  It looked like it belonged to a lock box or something. It wasn’t super antique old, but definitely not a car or house key either. She turned it over a few times and squinted to try to see it better. The sun had set and the last rays of light were little match against the grime layered window glass.

  Time to go, anyways. Rae stuffed the key in her back pocket. The secret code back in the dorm hidden behind the miniature cabinet would tell her more. She just needed to get back and figure out what the rest of the symbols meant.

  She was halfway across the room when she realized she had left her backpack by the window. She walked back and slipped it ov
er her shoulders.

  She turned around and jumped back when the silhouette of a man by the door scared the crap out of her. Hand covering her mouth, she barely managed to hold back a scream.

  Kraigan.

  Chapter 23

  Doors

  She realized that she probably should be scared. Instead, all she felt was anger. Deep, seething, fiery-hot, fury.

  Kraigan held a crow bar, smacking it menacingly against his free hand. “I’m sick to death of you, Rae.” He stared at her with murder in his eyes. “You’re the thorn in my side that needs to go.”

  Rae met his glare with mutual feeling. “I’ve done nothing to you! You created this mess yourself. The Privy Council freakin’ frees you, and what do you do? Instead of running, you bloody come after me!” Had he followed her since she left Guilder? He hadn’t been in the room when she found the key. She felt certain of that. He must have slipped in when she turned to grab her backpack.

  Kraigan scoffed as he made his way around the room toward her, staying close to the wall. “You’ve done nothing? First, I end up at Guilder, and have to put up with you. Then, just when I have the chance to rid myself of you, Fate steps in and saves you with those stupid, hidden doors in the Oratory.” He shook his head, his entire body ready to pounce if Rae even twitched. “I only had one thought while in that cell. You...dead.”

  One hand behind her back, Rae began to form a ball of lightning. She paid no attention to it, her body automatically switching to the tatù she needed. It grew hot against her skin, but did not hurt. “Does it suck to be without your power?” She smirked, imagining she looked like her father, and also knowing exactly what her mother would think of her at this moment. The thought undermined her anger, giving her a bit of focus. She tried to make her face unreadable. “I didn’t ruin your life. You had a choice. It’s not my fault you let our father’s anger consume you.”

  “He hated you!” Kraigan roared.

  Rae clenched her hand and the ball fizzled out. She refocused and began forming it again, stalling for time. “How do you know? How much time did you spend with dear ol’ daddy? I grew up with him. He tucked me into bed at night, read me stories, and played with me. If he hated me, why didn’t he kill me himself?” It was at that moment that several details clicked into place in her mind. She sucked in a sharp breath when she realized she had been the leverage her father had used against her mother. Just a pawn in one of his plans. The knowledge neither hurt, nor affected her much. She had never particularly wanted to connect with him, not since she had learned he was the monster of the Tatù world. However, the realization did also give her insight into his strategy. He had wanted her alive, to see her tatù and learn what she would be able to do with it. She smiled at Kraigan as she said the final thought out loud. “He never wanted me dead.”

  Kraigan’s face burned crimson red. “Yes, he did!” His shoulders rose with each angry breath he took.

  Rae slowly shook her head. “You’ve been jealous of me since you were a child. You wanted to be the first born.”

  “I was!” Kraigan jabbed at his chest. “I’m the son! He wanted a boy. I’m the first male born!”

  “You’re not the first.” Rae actually felt sorry for Kraigan. He, too, was just another pawn in her father’s schemes. “I am, and you will never replace me.” Rae tilted her head and stared at him. The knowledge swelled inside of her, giving her power. “Who do you work for?”

  Kraigan blinked and stared at her. “What?”

  “You’re with the Xavier Knight’s aren’t you? Do they want me dead?” By the way his eyebrows furrowed together and his face turned another shade of red, she knew she had hit a nerve. “There’s no hit out on me, is there? You’re the one who has the personal vendetta against me. The Xavier Knights want me alive. You don’t even hate the PCs. You just hate me. I took your father, your family, even your tatù. I took everything away from you.”

  A deep, guttural growl erupted out of Kraigan’s throat. He raced toward her like a bull charging a matador. “I never lost my tatù, you idiot.” He raised the crow bar high over his head with both hands.

  Rae threw the lightning ball at him and began to run toward the door she’d come through to find an exit. Her body automatically running through tatùs to find the best one.

  She watched in horror as Kraigan easily ducked away from the burning yellow and blue ball she’d thrown. It hit the ground and burst into flames. Fire? The old, dry wood floorboards cracked and snapped in protest from the heat and fire.

  The flames spread quickly, as if rushing madly to steal the wood and air. They raced toward the door Rae was heading for. The flames licked up the doorframe and door.

  She stumbled as she changed direction and used Jennifer’s tatù to race to the other side of the room to the only other door. Smoke filled the air. Rae covered her mouth and nose to avoid inhaling it. Kraigan seemed unphased. He laughed as he chased after her. He was a madman.

  Something tangled underfoot and she lost her balance. Pain shot up her leg from her ankle as she tumbled to the floor. The crow bar flew across the room and landed in the fire. Kraigan had thrown it at her feet and caught her dead on. At least she’d sent it flying out of reach as she fell

  Using her healing tatù, she focused on her ankle and tried to push herself back up. The sprain heeled but the healing ability disappeared as Kraigan grabbed her and wrapped his hands around her neck. He dragged her away from the heat of the flames into the middle of the room.

  She clawed and struggled against him. Using Riley’s tatù, she used the cheetah strength to force his hands off her throat. The fire had made a square around them, trapping them in. “You want me dead,” she rubbed her neck, “but you’re stuck here too. You’re going to end up killing yourself as well.” She heard sirens far off. As she felt Riley’s tatù disappear, she immediately switched to Jennifer’s. They were the closest match at the moment but she had a slight advantage, until Kraigan stole it from her.

  Kraigan coughed and stepped back from her. Smoke streamed heavy above them. He bent low to try to avoid inhaling it. Ironically Rae didn’t taste the smoke or feel it in her lungs. She still lay on the ground and assumed it was the best spot to be.

  She rolled onto her stomach ready to sprint for the door. She froze when she realized she had ended up nearly in the fire. Yet it didn’t burn or hurt. She felt its warmth, but no hotter than a bath. She glanced down at her foot and lurched to the side. Her foot had been standing in the fire! What the heck?

  Kraigan may or may not have noticed. In that freakish moment, Rae had forgotten all about him. Until he slammed her to the ground face first, his hands grasping her backpack.

  Rae struggled against him and thrashed on the floor. She managed to free herself by slipping out of the straps on her shoulders. She scrambled away from him, terrified that he had touched her and would steal her tatù.

  She waited, unable to look away from him.

  Kraigan stooped low and angrily drilled her bag directly into the flames.

  “Nooo!” Rae screamed as she watched in horror. The bag instantly caught on fire. Rae didn’t think, she ran straight after it.

  Kraigan stepped in front of her blocking her view of the bag and ready with his hands out.

  Rae skidded to a stop just out of his reach. “You idiot!” she shouted. “The journal was in there!” It was too late. She knew it. Whatever secrets were inside that book had been licked away by the flames.

  Kraigan straightened and glanced behind him.

  Rae didn’t miss the opportunity. She hissed at Kraigan, “Tell our father I said ‘Screw you’ when you see him.” She turned on her heel and using Jennifer’s tatù, sprinted through the flames. She held her breath, terrified of the pain the inferno would bring to her. She no longer had her healing tatù and if she survived, would have to bear the pain until she could mimic it again.

  She kicked the blazing wooden door apart and jumped through. The fire had started down the hall
in both directions. She panicked, unsure which way to go for a moment. Clenching and unclenching her fists she looked both ways. As she recognized the way she had come, she noticed something else. The flames danced to the movement in her hands.

  I’m controlling it? Impossible. She heard a shattering crash from inside the room. Kraigan must have broken the window to escape. He couldn’t have come through the fire the way she had. No one could. She was using Jennifer’s leopard tatù and she didn’t have a fire resistant tatù to do that.

  As she jogged toward the stairs she thought furiously. She didn’t know anyone who had this ability, and even if she did, Rae couldn’t use two tatùs at the same time. She knew that for sure. But how was she able to resist the burning?

  Flames began to reach the stairwell. She swiped her hand in the air, partially hoping it would send the blaze back.

  It did.

  It actually worked. She laughed out loud when it worked. It didn’t kill the fire but her hand was actually keeping it at bay.

  And she still had Jennifer’s tatù. Fire trucks pulled into the yard. Rae heard the fire begin to sizzle as the hoses from the trucks were turned on it. There were shouts from outside, one clearly stating that they had seen a boy jump from the burning building and race away.

  Rae didn’t wait to hear more, she tore through the abandoned building back to where she had entered on the opposite side. No one was around there yet. They were too concerned about the front part of the building.

  She forced the door near the kiln open and sucked in the cool night air. Glancing back to make sure no one was around, she raced through the shadows, scaled the fence and abruptly stopped her mad dash.

  Shoving her hands into her pockets, she tried to keep her breathing slow and walked back to the shopping market with her head down. People walked by her, too engrossed in the dying fire to pay any attention to her.