Table of Contents
Lantern: The Complete Collection
Copyright Notice
Books by Chess Desalls
Praise for the Lantern Novellas
Lantern (Lantern, #1)
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
Beacon (Lantern, #2)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue
Torch (Lantern, #3)
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author
LANTERN
THE COMPLETE COLLECTION
Lantern ~ Beacon ~ Torch
Text copyright © 2017 by Czidor Lore, LLC
All rights reserved in the collective work as well as each individual work.
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 the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except for noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
First Edition: 2017
Lantern © 2015, Czidor Lore, LLC
Beacon © 2017, Czidor Lore, LLC
Torch © 2017, Czidor Lore, LLC
Individual titles edited by Stephanie Parent
Cover composition by Paper and Sage Design
LANTERN: THE COMPLETE COLLECTION is a collective work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed in this collection and in each of the individual stories are used in a fictitious manner and are the products of the author’s imaginings. Any resemblances to real persons, living or dead, or to actual events are unintentional.
Books by Chess Desalls
Novels
Travel Glasses
Insight Kindling
Time for the Lost
Novellas
Glistens
Wrapped in the Past
Lantern
Beacon (Lantern #2)
Torch (Lantern #3)
"Lantern is a ghostly tale with a difference which I thoroughly enjoyed and recommend."
Readers' Favorite 5 Star Review of Lantern, Hilary Hawkes
“Serah is a character you cannot help but root for.”
“A wonderful, wonderful read!”
Readers’ Favorite 5 Star Review of Beacon, Melissa Tanaka
Prologue
Fingers trembled along the grains and splinters of a broken leg.
“What was that obnoxiously loud crack?” yelled a voice muffled by sounds of approaching footsteps.
Jared’s eyes prickled with tears. He blinked rapidly as he picked up a fallen piece of pine. He rubbed the space above where his knee had once been, tracing along the leather straps that held the other half of the leg in place. A scowl of pain marred his face. He’d fallen hard this time, somehow managing to twist his prosthetic underneath him and snap it in half.
“Well, what now? Must you ruin everything?” A young woman with the same dark eyes as Jared glared at him. She wiped soiled hands across an apron patched with rags. Her lips puckered when she noticed the broken leg. “I cannot pay for a replacement. Enjoy thumping about on the one leg you have left.”
“Moretta—”
She snorted before stalking out of the room, extending and exaggerating each step taken with her two good legs.
Jared gritted his teeth as he lifted himself from the floor. Pain lanced from his ankle to his knee. He knew he shouldn’t have been running, but he had to strengthen his good leg if he was going to be useful to anyone. Moretta had taken care of him long enough. She wanted a husband, and Jared was tired of hearing that he was the reason she couldn’t get one. He had plenty of theories why Moretta had no offers, which he was sure she would learn for herself. Once he was gone.
“Two days,” he muttered. “If I’d lasted two more days for my apprenticeship with Machin to begin, I could have avoided this altogether.”
The walk to Machin’s cottage would be a long one. Jared decided to busy himself by building a crutch from scrap lumber and metal screws. He hobbled to his workbench and rolled up his sleeves. His arms were muscled and strong from hammering and cutting wood. His inventiveness and ability to work with his hands had impressed everyone in Havenbrim, except for Moretta. Jared was sure these skills were what convinced Machin to hire him for the position. Machin had also called him an intelligent young man, which was news to Jared given Moretta’s frequent declarations of his stupidity.
Jared’s lips stretched into a lopsided smile. All remnants of pain, both mental and physical, faded at the prospect of getting to learn how to read and write. If he caught on quickly, Machin would teach him figures as well. As if these opportunities weren’t enough, Machin had promised he would make Jared whole again. Jared assumed that meant a high-end prosthetic, something part machine that could flex and bend just like a real leg. Until then, a crutch would have to do.
Lost in daydreams of a brighter life, Jared worked on the crutch through mid-meal and supper, ignoring Moretta’s howls and insults as he carved and shaped a simple length of wood into a work of art. After tightening the screws and smoothing a rough patch with glass paper, Jared set his handiwork aside. With a sigh, he dropped his head forward and to the sides to loosen the tightness in his neck.
Hungry, he wiped his hands on a towel before pulling from his pocket the last piece of fig cake wrapped in paper. “This will have to do for tonight,” he said to no one in particular as he munched the cake. There was no way he was going to ask Moretta to heat up week-old pottage; and the rats, he noticed, wouldn’t eat it cold. Jared chewed slowly. The fig cake had been a gift from a girl in town who he’d assumed pitied him for his infirmity. He’d no clue she’d been flirting—that the batting of her eyelashes was meant to make her look attractive, not to hold back tears of pity.
While readying himself for bed, Jared flinched in surprise when he realized the broken end of his prosthetic was still attached to his thigh. He unbuckled the leather straps and tossed the contraption aside before settling onto the mattress laid out near his workbench. “Two more days,” he murmured as he drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 1
Five Days before Halloween
Tori smiled as she watched her brother bounce across garden stones to avoid touching the grass with his shoes. It was his new favorite game since arriving at their grandmother’s house.
Absently trailing her fingers along the curls and bends of a wrought-iron bench, Tori looked up past her brother at the eighteenth-century plantation, renovated many time
s over until it resembled a haunted mansion. The main building was huge with gables topped with neo-gothic spires. Multiple levels of porches looked out across gardens and walking paths leading to the woods. Leaves flecked the surrounding lawns with yellows and reds, filling the air with the spiciness of autumn.
Tori sucked in a breath when the toe of her brother’s shoe caught the edge of a stone.
“Kimmy!” she yelled out, just before he landed on his stomach, his fleece jacket adding a smear of blue to the mix of colors. “Careful, come here.” She wrapped her arms around the boy to soothe him before the surprise of falling wore off and turned into a tear-fest.
His given name was Kenneth; his toddler pronunciation of the nickname Kenny had always morphed into Kimmy, and so the name stuck. He squirmed in her arms but smiled in that way she knew meant he didn’t want her to let him go.
“Are you ready for Halloween?” she said, looking into his giant blue eyes.
“Candy!”
Tori laughed. “That’s right, we’ll get lots of candy this year. Everybody’s going to love your costume!”
Last year’s lady pirate and parrot ensemble had been a bust. Kimmy, dressed as the parrot, had refused all forms of candy, insisting that parrots only wanted crackers.
Tori’s friend Shawna had been horrified at the idea of dressing up in matching costumes with a sibling thirteen years younger. But Tori thought it was kind of cute. She loved having a brother. She’d waited so long. There would have been a sister between her and Kimmy, but her mother had miscarried. Her parents weren’t the only ones who’d been devastated. Besides, Tori wasn’t proud, especially where candy was involved.
“What are you dressing up as this year, Kimmy? You remember?”
“A candy bucket.”
“That’s right,” Tori laughed, tapping his nose. Halloween was only a few days away, but she’d had a year to prepare their costumes and coach Kimmy. She’d even designed her own homespun version of a lollipop princess from one of Kimmy’s board games. Operation Candy had to be a win.
“Kimmy! Tori!” called a voice from one of the porches.
“Yes, Grandma?”
“It will be getting dark soon. You should bring Kimmy inside.”
“Okay, be right there!” Tori took Kimmy by the hand and led him up a walkway from the garden to the house. The floorboards underneath a canopy marking the entrance creaked just like in old haunted houses she’d read about. This is going to be the best Halloween, she thought as she opened the door and stepped into a room with floor tiles curling with leaves, braided twists, and diamonds.
“I haven’t been here since I was your age,” she said, raising three fingers toward Kimmy, who lifted three fingers back. Smiling, Tori scooped the boy up in her arms and flipped him behind her so he could ride piggyback. “That was thirteen years ago. Everything feels familiar, but I can’t remember any of it.” She studied the staircase that rose from the entryway and split into two sides, one veering off to the left and the other to the right. “Phew,” she whistled. “This place is crazy big.”
Tori found her mother and father snuggled before a fireplace in a room that was way too large to be a normal living room. It was like someone had built the house around a ski lodge. “Comfy?” she asked, grinning.
“Hey, Tori baby,” said her mother. “Was Kimmy behaving out there?”
“Yep,” she said, prying the boy off her back. She twirled him while making airplane sounds before dropping him on her father’s lap. “Grandma was just worried that it was getting dark outside.”
“Not worried,” said a voice as a woman rounded a corner, her hands filled with a tray of mugs. She peered at Tori over her eyeglasses. “My property is as safe as can be. Your grandfather saw to that. It’s just that Kimmy is young and will need to go to bed soon.”
Out of respect for the matronly presence of her grandmother, Tori nodded. Behind the glasses—trifocals with bone-white frames—her grandmother’s eyes were a deep blue, like Kimmy’s and their father’s. Tori and her mother both had eyes of dull hazel. Both sides of the family had dark hair, everyone except Kimmy, who had blond curls.
Tori beamed as she accepted a mug of steaming cocoa. She inhaled its sugary sweetness before taking a sip and sitting down. Her chair, high-backed with claws carved into its armrests, gave her a slight thrill.
Grandma’s property is as safe as can be. That didn’t sound fun; the hugeness and creepiness of the house had so much potential. But her grandmother’s self-assessment provided an opportunity. “So, if it’s safe, can I go back outside for a walk? There are a lot of grounds to explore, and we’re only here for a few days.” She gave her parents her most angelic smile. “I brought my favorite hiking boots. Please?”
“Okay, baby,” her mother said, running her fingers through Kimmy’s curls. His eyelids closed halfway. “But don’t stay out too late, avoid strangers, and if ever in doubt—”
“—scream fire and run back to the house. Yes, Mom, I know. I’ve been babysitting Kimmy since the day he was born. I can handle it.”
Her father smiled. “We trust you, hon—it’s just the crazies out there in the world,” he said, thumbing toward the door. “That’s who we’re worried about.”
“I said that it’s safe, Carl. As long as she stays on the paths, she’ll be fine.” Tori’s grandmother bobbed her head in disapproval, her white curls plastered in place, as she collected the mugs and set the tray on a table. She pulled a lump of knitwear from a chest wedged next to the fireplace. “Here, take this sweater with you. The most danger you’ll run into out there will be the cold when the sun sets. Go on now, have fun.”
“Thanks, Grandma.” Tori had noticed her grandmother’s indignant look as she’d reminded everyone of her property’s safeness. It was as if her grandmother wanted someone to go out there, to enjoy what she and her late husband had spent their lives building.
Once outside, Tori tied the sleeves of the sweater around her waist. Her long-sleeved flannel was warm enough for now, buttoned up over her T-shirt and jeans. Thick socks lined her boots.
A fresh breeze skimmed across her cheeks. It felt good to be outside. As much as she loved her brother and her family, being alone every so often helped her to recharge.
Chapter 2
Tori strolled along the paths, passing different types of gardens. Some were filled with flowers and hedges; others were modern combinations of rocks, gazing balls, and small pools teeming with fish. She ran her fingers along a gate that surrounded rows of evergreen seedlings.
“Grandma’s property doesn’t seem to end,” Tori murmured. I wonder who takes care of all this. She hadn’t seen a soul inside or outside who wasn’t a family member, excluding the cemetery, which she had yet to visit. During the drive over, her father had explained that the plantation had once produced tobacco. Since the renovations, the crops from the nearest fields were replaced with recreational gardens and other aesthetic features. Tori’s grandmother continued her husband’s tradition of renting out the remaining property to local families and owners of Christmas tree farms.
“Maybe everyone’s gone home to their families for the night.” Tori traced her steps back toward the house, suddenly fearful of getting lost. Twenty minutes later, convinced she’d taken a wrong turn, she untied the sweater from her waist and pulled it over her flannel shirt. Her teeth chattered as light from the last rays of sun faded. Well, it’s finally getting spooky, I guess.
Tori squinted. “Maybe if I find a light,” she mumbled, “that will give me a hint as to the direction of the house.”
The path she was on now roughened with each step. Before long, the walkway became overgrown with weeds and crabgrass. This can’t be right. She looked back over her shoulder. There was no light from the direction from which she’d come, but at least the path was smoother. Surely it would lead to a better route.
She stepped to the right, ready to turn around, when a twinkle of light stung her eye. She blinked, certain t
he twinkle had been in the direction she’d already been walking. As she stepped back around, her eyes focused on the source of the light. It came from somewhere farther away, beyond the overgrown path.
Tori quickened her pace. The light glowed more brightly—appeared larger—as she neared its unknown source.
She stopped, breathless, before a lantern. It hung from a pole and creaked as it swayed in the wind. Looking more closely, she noticed the lantern was made of metal and glass. Electric, maybe? Automatic with a light sensor? She was certain her grandmother wouldn’t have a solitary light in the middle of her property. It made no sense. She sighed, wishing she’d found a porch light instead.
As quickly as she’d feared that she’d become lost, she was enveloped by a calming presence, as if someone else was there. But the grounds were empty and quiet, echoing the darkness. No one was there, no one she could see.
“Impossible,” she whispered. It must be a ghost. “Hello?” she called out, “Is anyone there?”
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