by K T Munson
Unfathomable Chance
By: K.T. Munson
Copyright © K.T. Munson 2016
The right of K.T. Munson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs, and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the writer. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
Cover art by Michal Krasnodebski.
Edited by Tanya Egan Gibson.
Dedication
For Caitlin
Other books by K.T. Munson
North & South
Zendar: A Tale of Blood and Sand
1001 Islands
Frost Burn (coauthored with Nichelle Rae)
The Gate Trilogy
The Gate Guardian’s Daughter (prequel)
The Sixth Gate
Chapter 1
“Not another one!” Henry groaned as their mother marched them through yet another church. Diana made sure not to let their mother see her roll her eyes. She wished Henry weren’t so dramatic about everything, but he wasn’t wrong about the churches—they’d been to what felt like a million of them and they all looked the same.
“This is culture, and Lord knows you need as much culture as you can get,” Mary-Ann Williams insisted in that tone that was supposed to sound patient but they all knew wasn’t really.
Meanwhile, Henry’s twin, Harry, was dragging his blue blanket and staring wide-eyed at the angels on the ceiling. Both of her brothers were at the frustrating age of ten—somewhere between being destructive forces and deranged preteens. They had blond hair like their father that sort of turfed up at the back in a charming way.
As the oldest, Diana was two years older than her brothers. Her dark wavy hair was tamed in a ponytail that bounced as she strolled through the church, as did her backpack, which was covered in glittery hearts. Like her siblings, she had big round blue eyes and pleasing features. She usually pretended not to hear—or, at least, care—when people said she was going to be quite pretty.
“Diana, darling, keep up!” her mother called, looking over her shoulder, her face determined as she marched herself, her offspring, and her camera up to the altar.
Diana sprang forward, her feet working double time across the ancient stone. They were within a castle somewhere in the English countryside; the chapel they were presently in was the size of a small mansion. Their father had a teaching conference at Cambridge because of his article on historical inventions or something or other. Honestly, Diana couldn’t be bothered to remember much besides the fact that her father was a well-known history professor.
Mary-Ann Williams had decided she would bring culture to her children even if she had to drag them through it and just hope something stuck. Diana kind of liked the old castles, they reminded her of the stories her father would read to her. During those stories, her brothers would bounce on their beds and have sword fights as though they were knights. Diana always played the damsel in distress and her father the dragon. When the dragon was thoroughly slain their mother would call them to dinner. In a way, no matter where Diana went, she was always at home in her heart.
“There’s nothing exciting!” Henry whined again, dragging his feet.
“I’m hungry,” Harry piped in.
“This is the last one,” their mother said in that same patient-but-not-really tone. “Then we can have lunch.”
“I want to leave now!” Henry insisted. He grabbed Harry’s blanket and turned to run.
“Blankie!” Harry cried out, pulling Diana from her thoughts. Her brother was highly intelligent but he needed the comfort of the familiar in this strange country. His blanket was what he needed to sleep at night and needed to function most days; Diana knew he was different than other children.
“Henry!” their mother called angrily.
“I’ll get him,” Diana said as Harry clutched his mother’s legs.
“Hurry back,” her mother said, picking Harry up. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Diana took off at a run; she could hear her brother’s laughter echoing off the walls. Whenever Henry didn’t get what he wanted, he would torment Harry. Sometimes it was fun and Diana would make it into a game, but most time she just tried to protect Harry. He could be such a crybaby and Henry was relentless.
“Come back here!” she yelled.
“No running!” someone hollered, but she hurried after her brother, who was holding the blanket above his head like a flag.
“Harry, stop!” Diana yelled again as she went hurdling around the corner.
As she rounded the turn into another hallway, she saw her brother slip into a room. She was so distracted by trying to catch up with him that her foot caught on the uneven stone floor. She started to stumble into a wall—only it wasn’t a wall in front of her. She saw herself in the reflection of a nearby mirror just before she crashed into it. She put her hands out in front of her and squeezed her eyes closed, expecting to hear glass break and feel burning cuts all over her body. Instead, her arm slapped against soft ground.
Opening her eyes she looked around and gasped. The trees above were blue, and their purple hair—which, of course, should have been green leaves—danced in the breeze. They were like those strange trees from The Lorax, only creepier. She squinted at them. Their colors also seemed to be muted in some way, as though she were looking at them through a gray veil.
Slowly getting to her feet she studied her surroundings. It appeared she was in a courtyard. Wincing at the stinging sensation, she looked down at her hand and found that it was scraped. Oddly, even her own blood seemed dulled. Behind her was the hallway that she had just come from. Diana was about to return to it when she heard a chorus of voices singing. All around her were long hallways leading away from the courtyard and mirror. When her ears figured out which hallway the sound was coming from, Diana followed it out of the courtyard and into the maze of hallways.
When she came to a new long passage, she didn’t hesitate to walk through it. Along the corridor, open archways displayed different kinds of trees. Some bore fruit, another was frozen, and one was upside down. She continued forward along the endless hallway, knowing a lot of time had lapsed, but feeling like she was being drawn somewhere as the singing grew louder. When she came across a tree that bore stones on the branches where leaves should be; the stones were black on one side and white on the other.
Diana hesitated only a moment before moving closer to the tree—even though it was dropping rocks. Most shattered into a watery substance around the base of the tree as they hit the ground. She held out her hand as one began to fall and caught it with ease. A shimmering light suddenly appeared from behind the tree. The singing started again, wafting over her like a physical force. Diana put the stone in her pocket and followed the light around the tree and through a well-hidden door at the back of the room.
Pausing a moment, she stared at the door, confused. A moment ago there had been no door. She glanced at the tree again as it cried rocks. She wanted to go back to her mother, but something was pushing her forward. Part of her wondered if this was all a dream, but she had a distinct feeling it was real. Taking a steadying breath, she opened the door and hesitantly stepped into the room.
She found herself in a strange room with a high ceiling, fine drapes, and a large circular bed. Wandering around the room touching objects in wonder as her fingers dancing over strange objects. Unlike the hallway of trees, this place was vibra
nt with color. She explored the room, looking in the closet and under the bed. After a little while, as she began to lose interest and was about to leave, a woman’s vanity caught her eye.
Pearls and rings were on display on a jewelry rack, and a strange harp standing in the corner was covered in dangling earrings and other jewelry. Her eyes focused on a strange cuff bracelet in the center. The single circular shaped gem set in an intricate golden band seemed to contain all the colors of the rainbow. Diana reached for it.
When her fingers connected with it, it seemed to come alive and jump onto her arm. Screaming in surprise, Diana ran. As she went back through the door, past the rock tree, and returned down the long hall, she kept glancing back in fear. Despite the terror gripping her heart, nothing was there. When she came to the mirror, she jumped through it and appeared back in her world.
Breathing hard, she looked down at the bracelet on her wrist and tried to take it off, but it wouldn’t budge. Hearing footsteps behind her, Diana spun around to see her mother still carrying Harry, his cheeks covered in tears. She glanced back at the mirror, which showed only her reflection, not the world beyond. What seemed like hours had only been seconds.
Diana was about to say something when an older woman marched Henry out of a nearby room by his ear. The lady was overweight and her hair was mostly white. Her face was heavily lined, and her scowl only made the wrinkles worse.
“Diana?” her mother said, setting Harry down. “What’s wrong?”
Diana thought about everything that had happened and couldn’t imagine how to even start explaining it. “Nothing.”
“Is he yours?” the old woman called down the hall.
“I am so sorry!” Mary-Ann rushed over to placate the old lady.
Diana inspected the mirror again but saw nothing special. When her mother called her name a moment later, she hurried along. With every step away from the mirror, Diana forgot the strange world. It did not take long for the memories to fad away like a dream, the existence of the bracelet with it, until nothing remained. Just as it had planned.
Chapter 2
Ten and something years later
Her pen scratched furiously across the page as the clock ticked. The sound of similar manic writing joined hers. Diana’s brown hair was bound back in a hairclip, and shorter strands hung in front of her bent head. The classroom was set up lecture style, and the tall, thin, balding teacher sat at a chair behind the desk as an hourglass counted down the time.
Diana made a flourished final period, double-checked her name was at the top, and stood up. She hopped down the rows, ignoring the glares she felt settle on her. Setting the test down on the desk drew the professor’s attention as he peered over his spectacles. Doctor Andrews was a monument to ancient teaching clichés.
“I will see you at graduation, Miss Williams,” he said, still regarding her as he turned the page of his book.
Diana turned and strode out of the classroom. She marveled at the feeling of all those students, who hadn’t worked half as hard as she did, as they glared at her while she exited the classroom. After five years of continuous and constant studying, she had earned her master’s degree in behavioral psychology. She suppressed the urge to do a little victory dance, but just barely.
When she had left her home in Washington several years ago, arriving in California with very little to her name and only a desire to understand behavioral sciences better; everything from tone of voice to body language across all cultures to conditioning fascinated her. Stanford University had offered the best program and a nearly full scholarship through the undergraduate and graduate programs. Like her history-professor father, she found people fascinating. He wanted to understand where people had come from, and she wanted to understand why people reacted in certain ways.
Diana had also hoped it would make communicating with her father easier. They had always had a bond, but her father didn’t function like everyone else. One time, when she and the twins were in high school, he was so enraptured by a thought that he went to work in his bathrobe. He hadn’t even driven there—just walked the two miles, muttering to himself like a madman. One of the twins’ classmates had bullied them afterwards about having a crazy father who went around looking like a mental patient. When Diana had confronted the bully after school, he’d shoved her to the ground. But that hadn’t been the end of it. The next week, the principal received an anonymous tip about the bully having alcohol in his locker. The twins had always been handy with locks. She’d never forget the look on the bully’s face when the principal pulled out from his locker the dusty bottle of spiced rum that she’d swiped from the back of their parents’ liquor cabinet. There had been a bathrobe hanging in his locker, too, so everyone got the message: You don’t mess with a Williams.
These days, Henry, serious and diligent, was focusing on theoretical mathematics. Harry, on the other hand, gazed towards the stars and was working on a Ph.D. in astrophysics. The only thing worse than growing up in a house with a genius, she liked to tell people, was growing up with a tag-team duo of geniuses. Unlike her brilliant brothers, she wasn’t quite at genius level, but hard work—something her mother had taught her—had gotten her far.
Despite the fact that they could understand each other, the boys were not as close with their father as she was. She was never sure if it was because they were too similar or didn’t have the patience. Regardless, she was looking forward to seeing them all when they attended her graduation later that week and celebrated a late birthday with her.
Diana was cursed with a birthday that usually fell around finals week. However, this year, instead of it falling on the weekend before finals, it fell on the weekend after. In two days she would be twenty three. The idea of being nearly a quarter century unnerved her, but it wouldn’t impact her fully for two years. In the meantime she intended to drink like she was twenty-one and party like it was the day after finals. Literally.
Making her way across campus towards her slightly off campus apartment she enjoyed the warm sun on her back. She still had to wear a light sweater because it was a cold day for June; 57 degrees. It took her twenty minutes to get to the larger apartment complex. When she opened the door to her apartment, she heard her roommate singing rather badly in the shower. If the singer Adele could hear how badly her songs were sung in the shower, she would set fire to it instead of the rain.
Diana threw her books onto the floor and flopped onto her bed. Fishing her phone out of her pocket she began to check her various notifications. She was halfway through the Facebook posts when she heard the water being turned off. Instead of jumping up or getting ready, she just waited patiently. Stella, her roommate, always took forever in the shower and then spent even longer on all the primping that came after.
A half an hour later, after a long engagement with a blow dryer and the application of a copious amount of makeup, Stella emerged. She had short hair with an inverted style and it was spiked in the back. It was bleached blond that was starting to turn back to regular blond at the roots. By then Diana had changed into a blue dress she liked and was putting in earrings. Stella was a good friend—funny, spontaneous, but a sort of dependent on men type.
“How did it go, Di?” Stella asked excitedly, sitting on the bed while Diana put the second earring in.
“No doubt I passed,” Diana responded with a smile.
“Woo!” She slapped her legs as she stood. “We are definitely partying tonight.”
“Dinner first,” Diana said, pulling on a thin sweater as Stella bound to the door. “I’m starving.”
Stella slipped on her wedge shoes, fixed the floppy bow in the middle of the strap, before opening the door. Diana followed her out, grabbing her purse. As she was closing the door, she suddenly heard music playing. She paused. It was singing, soft and sweet and somehow familiar.
“You coming?” Stella called halfway down the hall.
“Yeah,” Diana said, running back into the room and grabbing her black and white
stone necklace that she’d had since she was a child. “I am.”
Chapter 3
On the morning of her birthday, Diana sat up and stretched. Her mostly straight hair was all over the place and she had drool on one side of her face that she rubbed off on the way to the bathroom. She half showered and half slept as the water washed over her. She accidentally shampooed her hair twice because she couldn’t remember if she had done it in the first place, for once following the rinse-and-repeat instructions on the back of the bottle. Well played, shampoo bottle, well played.
Diana left her long hair down, pulled to the side and held in place by a clip. Dressed modestly in a pair of jeans and a nice tee-shirt with an even nicer cardigan, she only added mascara. When she snaked her arm through the cardigan’s sleeve, it snagged on something. Startled, she pushed the sleeve up to see a golden bracelet—one she couldn’t remember putting on—with a strange opalescent stone. Baffled, she tried to take it off, but she found she couldn’t. A knock came at the door, startling her.
“You almost done?” Stella whined. “I need to pee!”
Diana pushed down her sleeve, gathered her pajamas, and opened the door. “It’s yours.”
“Thanks!” She dashed around Diana and closed the door.
As Diana walked across the living room on her way back to her bedroom, she stopped. In their little kitchen stood a tall man in just his boxers putting coffee in their machine. He had mussed brown hair and good-sized muscles. Diana shot a glare back at the bathroom door before hurrying to her room.
“Good morning,” he called.
“Morning,” she answered briskly before pointedly closing the door.
Stella could hardly stand to sleep alone at night, and it seemed like a new man was always in and out of their house because of it. Not wanting to deal with Stella and her awkward removal of the man from their kitchen, Diana threw her clothes into the hamper and texted her friend, Melanie, she was on her way out. Making a bee-lined for the front door, she hoped to avoid talking to him.
