Into the Other (Alitura Realm Book 1)

by J. K. Holt

  Prelude

  Tess was barely five the first time the strange occurrence happened, having found herself locked in a dark closet. She pressed her back against the wood paneling, scrambling in the darkness for the feel of something familiar. Her hands met thread-bare clothes and her breaths came in short, stifled gasps.

  Her tormenters, brothers, taunted from the other side of the door.

  “Big baby Tesssss,” one hissed, mouth pressed against the door jam. “All afraid and alone, Tessss.”

  Giggles, and silence. Then a whisper, barely audible- “Are you still alive? Don’t die or the bugs will eat holes through your eyeballs.”

  The sobs escaped of their own free will, though she tried to stay quiet, ignoring the cloying smell of sweat-stained garments. She felt for the letter on the floor, her shaking hands searching, searching for the talisman, for some hope in the darkness. Those precious words from her father, promising to come for her. The very same words that had drawn the twins’ ire when read aloud at the kitchen table just ten minutes previous. Tess had managed only one well-aimed kick before plummeting head-first into her current solitary cell.

  Whenever she began to calm herself, they would kick on the door, shrieking gleefully at her renewed wails. When that action lost all novelty, they increased the abuse, the older brother threatening to find a gun and shoot breathing holes through the door for her. Her fear intensified, magnified, but Tess finally found the will to remain quiet. Even at five, she had learned that fear made her a target. Be strong, and don’t give in to it. This was the only way to survive.

  She closed her eyes, concentrating on her hiccupping breaths, breathing in, breathing out, trying to ignore the image of a door cleaved open by gunshots, of her small body, torn open. Breathing in, breathing out. In, out, and they’ll go away.

  In, out. Pretend you can’t hear them.

  In, out. In, out.

  After a lifetime, the goons became bored and left Tess to her sorrow. She slumped against the wall and finally allowed the sound of her own lamenting to fill the dark void around her. She was remarkably, singularly alone. She wondered if a person’s body might split apart from pain, pushing apart from the inside until it burst from the pressure.

  She dared not attempt to open the door, though the constricting darkness of the space threatened to consume her. She feared they had not truly left, that it was just one more cruel trick.

  Tess was paralyzed by the indecision. And it was in this exact moment of despair that it happened.

  Tess willed herself somewhere, anywhere, else. Anywhere at all but here.

  Anywhere.

  The piece of Tess that clung to the will to survive made the wish, from the deepest well of her consciousness. It left her there, that wish, quite of its own accord. It bounded into the ether before being echoed, changed, and then returning to her.

  Tess remained in the closet- she felt the dingy carpet under her knees and watched the grainy light filter beneath the door through the blur of her tears. But she felt the promise of elsewhere as strongly as she’d felt anything- the caress of a warm breeze, the tingling sensation of sun upon her face. The hint of sounds, swirling around her in a calming embrace.

  Slowly, the pain became bearable. The elsewhere held her, suspending the worst of her isolation, soothing her with a strange cadence of belonging. Tess didn’t, couldn’t begin to understand it, but she kept her foot in that elsewhere as long as she could, until, an hour later, her foster father found her and scooped her up and away, pulling her back, into the somewhere that was here.

  The brothers were sent away two days later.

  The second time it occurred was three years later and also, quite coincidentally, began with a letter, the first to arrive for Tess in over six months, an eon of radio silence for any eight-year old. By this time, Tess was living with a sweet young pixie of a foster mother named Maggie. She hoped she could stay with Maggie until her father was ready for her- Maggie was gentle and spoke to Tess like a grown-up; when she hugged Tess, she felt like a warm blanket on a rainy day.

  The letter, handed to her upon her arrival home from school, was odd- the scrawling on the front, barely legible, didn’t look like her father’s loping cursive, but who else could it be from? And certainly now, this time, he would promise to come and would come. Tess had been patient, and she’d behaved, remembering to say please and thank you, cleaning up after messes and avoiding fights. She would be rewarded. The mythical figure that was her father would arrive, apologize for the delay, and wrap her in his arms, never to be parted from her again. She’d imagined it for so long that it felt like kismet.

  But the strange letter was from someone who claimed to be a “friend of your father’s”, addressed her as Dearest Tess (how odd!), and was sorry, so sorry to write to her with such news.

  Jim is dead, it read.

  Tess felt her momentary elation plummet, her disappointment keen. Where could he be? Why had he not yet written? And who is Jim?

  Tess took the note to Maggie and attempted to explain “I don’t think this is for me. Can you send it back, please?” Tess held it out, anxious to be rid of it.

  “Well, now, kiddo, let’s just see what the problem is.” Maggie sat on the kitchen tile next to Tess and scanned the letter once, twice, as a weariness settled her deeper into the floor and her hand found Tess’s quite by chance. Tess gripped the hand, squeezing it slightly, realizing in that moment that she should also be sad for quite another reason. After all, someone named Jim was dead, which was terrible.

  Maggie settled her soulful eyes on Tess then, held her firmly, and explained in fumbled words who Jim was.

  Tess was confused.

  She remembered tilting her head, waiting for the words to make sense. Catching onto a moment of clarity, she jumped in, explaining simply, “Oh no, Maggie, Jim can’t be my dad. Whoever this man is, he’s dead. See?” She’d nodded eagerly, pointing at the letter, waiting for recognition that Maggie couldn’t provide.

  The realization dawned in pieces, unabashedly trampling her understanding of the world. With it, a behemoth weight settled firmly on Tess’s heart, seemingly the only thing that kept her from floating away into chasm of nothingness that opened all around her. She was aware of Maggie’s arms, mumbled words of comfort, but found no solace. There was none for her here, not in this world, a world in which her father no longer existed.

  She was an orphan now. No one alive loved her. No one ever would. This… this was her fate.

  And then it happened. Tess closed her eyes and, without much effort, began to go away. She fumbled for the thread of comfort that she had found years ago. It came to her when she called it, and she tumbled towards it.

  This time, she lost her anchor, lost track of Maggie, and felt the else crowd in. Men yelling, the sound of water lapping, the taste of something salty in the air. She pushed towards it, kicked her legs and felt a squishy substance give way beneath her feet, felt the pulse of a world not her own welcoming her.

  She was pulled back quite harshly, though she fought it, opening her eyes angrily to a face filled with fear and disbelief. Maggie’s face.

  “Are you alright? Tess?” Maggie’s grip was iron hard. “What just happened, sweet? You…. faded. I swear to God, you…you just….what happened, Tess? Just tell me what happened.”

  She ran her hands up and down Tess’s body, searching for something she didn’t seem to find, grasping her as if she might fade again, hands shaking.

  Tess shrank away, crying. “Just let me go. I need to go. I can’t be here anymore.” She shuddered from a sob. “I can’t… please…”

  Maggie’s lower lip began to tremble, but she bit it h
ard between her teeth and took a deep breath. Her eyes took on the determined look of a person intent on overcoming her fear, and she leveled her gaze at Tess.

  “You can’t go away, baby girl. You can’t ever do that again. I’m not sure what it was, but never again. Never. Again. Do you understand?”

  Tess began to whimper, curling into herself. Maggie shook her then, quite harshly, and Tess gasped and pulled away. Maggie released her just as quickly.

  “Tess, I don’t mean to frighten you. I know you’re hurting, and I want to help you with that as much as I can. But you can’t ever do that again, okay? Stay here, with me, okay? I’ll help you make this better.”

  As if anything ever could.

  “Oh Tess,” Maggie murmured. She’d picked up Tess then, put her in pajamas, and brought her to bed while Tess cried, numb to anything outside her grief.

  Maggie lay with her, stroking her hair late into the night, whispering promises to Tess, a few filtering through to Tess’s consciousness.

  “As long as I am here, I’ll keep you safe, Tess.”

  Fingers in her hair, tugging out the tangles.

  “I’ll give you a home. I’ll fight for you.”

  A soft brush on Tess’s cheek.

  “I promise.”

  Maggie curled her fingers through Tess’s, her hands warm and soft.

  “I don’t expect you to believe me, but I’ll prove it. Just give me time.”

  Tess knew that only a fool would trust a promise like that again. And Maggie was not Tess’s father. Could never be Tess’s father.

  Which turned out to be only one of Maggie’s many strengths.

  Maggie was present. She was kind, and attentive, and thoughtful, and patient. Maggie was fun, and silly, and full of life. And as the days, weeks, months passed, Tess felt a delicate tendril of hope attach itself to her heart.

  When Maggie told Tess that she loved her, it strengthened.

  When Maggie adopted Tess, it became real.

  And over time, Tess changed her mooring, tying her happiness to Maggie, daring to trust that she had finally found her home.

  She never again wished to be anywhere else, and the elsewhere place drifted away with the tide, becoming part of the sepia-toned memories of childhood that Tess would take out later, turn over, but never quite fully remember.

  And Maggie kept another promise that she’d made that first night, to herself, long after Tess had fallen asleep, her even breathing a superficial balm to Maggie’s own soul. Maggie never told Tess what she’d seen happen in that moment that Tess had tried to leave, though it was a picture that stayed in her own head as fresh as any memory can be, unfaltering as the years passed.

  Chapter One

  Present day

  Tess studied the grave marker, squinted her eyes until the words ran together, opened them again.

  Margaret Mae Landry, it read, the polished stone reflecting the cobalt autumn sky, ethereally illuminating the words.

  The engraving itself refused to waver out of spite. Tess shifted position, though the gnarled tree root remained unyielding no matter how she sat upon it. It felt like a metaphor for her life recently.

  The chill of the earth was beginning to leach through her flats; she should have chosen more sensible shoes before she’d left the house.

  Tess frowned. “I’m finally reading Moby Dick. I’m not that far into it, but so far it’s ridiculously boring, Maggie. Deathbed book recommendations really should be better thought out.”

  She picked at the brown grass around her feet. “And I broke up with Eric. I was starting to dread hanging out with him, which didn’t seem like a good sign. Besides, I don’t need him.”

  I just need you, her heart cried.

  Tess was procrastinating. She knew it, and she suspected Maggie knew it.

  She wiped impatiently at her eyes, and blurted it out quickly before she lost her will. “So, I don’t think it’s going to work with the Hogans.”

  She pictured Maggie, waiting hands on hips for a weak explanation to follow, and glanced away. The wind rustled the dead leaves clinging to the treetop above and fat drops of water from the previous rainfall fell onto her face, mingling with her tears.

  “It’s Mrs. Hogan who’s the problem. He’s never home. I think he’s afraid of her. She’s like a Stepford wife or something, just going through the motions of being a human being. I’m mean, her hair’s always perfect, which is highly suspicious. Plus, she drags Cara all over the place, acting like she’s some perfect mom, but all she really wants is people to see how much she loves Cara, you know, like for her own validation. And I think that’s why she’s so bitter, ‘cause I see her for what she is.”

  She’s never going to be me, Tess. No one is.

  Tess shook her head at the truth. “I’ve tried. Honest, I have. I just... I don’t know, I can’t make it work.” She dropped her head in her hands at the admission.

  You can do this without me, kiddo. You have to.

  “I don’t know how.” A whisper.

  Then figure it out. You’re smart, you can adapt. If you want to.

  “I hate you.”

  The hollow words held no venom.

  I love you back, kid.

  Tess slid onto the ground and placed her hand over Maggie’s name on the marble, tracing the cold quote etched below.

  “In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.” Albert Camus, Maggie’s favorite philosopher.

  Tess understood that the words were there for her, but she could not feel their meaning today. Truth be told, she hadn’t felt them in a long time.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  The aging red sedan parked across the street caused Tess’s gut to clench in anticipation as she neared the house, retreating into her hoodie like an outmaneuvered turtle. Mrs. Hogan had threatened to call him, but Tess assumed she was bluffing again. Evidently she’d finally found Mrs. Hogan’s breaking point. She smiled despite her fear and used the shot of pride to calm her nerves.

  Cara was playing in the yard, wearing short sleeves in the forty degree weather. She’d abandoned her jacket near the fence and was attempting to climb into the low-lying tire swing that dangled haphazardly from a slender maple. Tess grabbed the jacket as she jogged over to her.

  “Tess, hi! Wanna push me?” Cara called, displaying a smile peppered with the dark spaces of recently retired teeth. One of the holes looked new.

  “Sure, but coat first.” She managed to help Cara shrug it back on before asking, “Did you lose another tooth there, kiddo?”

  “Yeah! I pulled it out this morning. You’re the first to notice.” She beamed as Tess helped her get one leg, then the next into the tire.

  She tucked Cara’s wispy blonde hair into the jacket and gave her a push. Cara pumped her legs, squealing as her arcs gained height.

  “Does your mom have a visitor?” Tess asked, feigning nonchalance.

  “Yeah. I think he came to see you though.” Cara wrinkled her nose as she swung past Tess. “He smells funny.”

  A combination of coffee breath and cheap aftershave, if Tess recalled correctly.

  “Are you in trouble, Tess?” Cara asked as she flew past.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Mom’s mad at you. She told that man you can’t stay here anymore.”

  Well, crap.

  Tess shrugged. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll go in and talk to them, and we’ll figure it out.”

  “Promise?”

  She hated making promises.

  “I’ll do my best, okay?”

  The straining bough above her head made a slight cracking sound, and Tess decided swinging was over for the day. Amidst Cara’s whines, she abruptly stopped the motion by grabbing the rope, burning her hand as it yanked hard against her palm.

  She swore softly before pulling Cara out of the swing. “Let’s go in. You can get some snack,” she said, marching the child up the porch steps and into the decadent house. She
rubbed her palm against her jeans to numb the sting and took off Cara’s coat before pointing her in the direction of the kitchen and cutting her loose.

  Cara careened off the furniture like a demented pin-ball before disappearing through the swinging doors, followed by a shriek that could only mean the she’d discovered cookies. Tess smiled briefly before turning her attention to the issue at hand.

  She knew where they would be.

  Ticking her chin up a couple notches and attempting to stand as tall as her five-foot six frame would allow, she strode through the living room towards the back of the house, running her good hand through her chestnut hair, detangling the few knots she could find as she went. The entrance to the parlor room loomed. She approached and surveyed the scene.

  Mrs. Hogan faced Tess, the sun of late day blocked by the high back of her floral print chair, creating a voided space of shadow in which she resided. Tess didn’t need to see her clearly to imagine the flawlessly coifed hair and the perfected air of studied worry, which anyone but a very casual observer could see straight through. Mr. Verdin’s full head of dark hair peaked out above the sofa, on which he had taken up residence. He turned at her entrance, his pockmarked face set in its trademarked neutral expression.

  “Hi, Mr. Verdin.”

  “Ah, Tess,” his deep voice resounded, louder than was necessary in a room of this size. “Nice of you to find your way back home.”

  “We were worried, you know,” sniped Mrs. Hogan.

  She fully entered the room and chose the only unoccupied space, a deep leather chair that stuck out like a sore thumb, the one concession Mrs. Hogan had made for her husband when decorating the space. It surrounded Tess in cooling comfort as she pulled her legs into a hug and placed her chin on her knees. “I told you I was going out,” she said.

  “And I told you that you were not allowed out, as you may recall.”

  Tess studied her fingers, attempting an image of subservience. “I just needed to walk a little, that’s all. I get suffocated sometimes.”

  “Suffocated. I suffocate you.” Mrs. Hogan sniffed.

  “Not you, specifically. Just, this,” she indicated the room with a wide swing of her hand. “I’m sorry. I wish it wasn’t so hard for you to understand.”