The Legend of the Lost Child E-Book

Annie O'Connell

• Herausgeber: WS
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Serie: Codex Chronicles
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Seitenzahl: 654

Beschreibung

Book Two of the Codex Chronicles

Leseprobe

The Legend of the Lost Child

Book Two of the Codex Chronicles

Annie O'Connell

Copyright

Copyright © 2022 Annie O’Connell

All rights reserved

First Edition

It is not legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part

of this document electronically or in a printed format.

Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the author’s

imagination and have no relation whatsoever to anyone’s name or

names. They are not inspired by anyone known or unknown to the

author, and all incidents are based on the author’s imagination.

ISBN 978-8-9870710-0-7 (paperback)

ISBN 978-8-9870710-2-1 (hardcover)

ISBN 978-8-9870710-1-4 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America.

Dedication

To Ms. Reynolds.

You introduced me to the arts as my music teacher in elementary school.

Now, you have been instrumental in helping me shape the next part of Jace's life.

The hours you have dedicated to helping bring this next episode to fruition have been invaluable.

Thank you!

Contents

1.

The Long Road Home

2.

Return of the Lost Child

3.

Lions, Tigers, and Bears

4.

The Run

5.

The Bite

6.

Emerald Creek

7.

First Day Jitters

8.

The Dimple

9.

Fight or Flight

10.

Surprise

11.

Meet the Volks

12.

Soul Flare Rod

13.

Witches, Wolves, and Bears

14.

The Arc Heard Round The Creek

15.

Threat on the Horizon

16.

Clearing my Mind

17.

Answers

18.

Losing My Mind

19.

Savior in the Snow

20.

Friends Till The End

21.

Mission Impossible

22.

Beauty or Beast

23.

Life and Death

Chapter one

The Long Road Home

Iwatched as the miles between my friends and I added up. There was a longing to run back to them, mixed with the excitement of my new life with the family I thought had died twelve years ago. As I relived the past few weeks in my head, I wondered how so much had changed in such a short time. Somehow, I had gone from an orphan with no friends to having my parents back, a girlfriend, a best friend, and the closest thing to a big brother. Mix in that I am part witch and part werewolf, and it would leave even the sanest person’s head whirling.

As I spun around in my seat, I rested the back of my head on the headrest and glanced around the van at the mishmash of people crammed in it, but couldn’t help but experience a void where my aunt and uncle should be. Although they had set into motion twelve years of pain and suffering for my family, they had been the only parents I had known, and their not being here was bittersweet.

“You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders, kid,” George Barlow said from a few seats in front of me, jarring me back to reality.

Not knowing exactly how to answer, I shrugged as I resumed my diligent scenery watching. Next to me, and taking up the rest of the bench, was my German shepherd, Buddy, who lifted his head momentarily to examine me. Content that I was not in imminent danger, he dropped it before rolling onto his back, kicking into me and shoving me tighter into the farthest end of the seat.

“Take all the space you need,” I teased as I rubbed his belly, hearing a small grunt and long exhale.

“You want to move?” my father asked as the corner of his lip lifted, seeing Buddy’s position.

“Nah, it’s ok. He’ll likely just follow me to that row,” I said.

An awkward silence fell over the van again as the adults slowly turned back in their seats, everyone except for a large male with long, auburn hair and matching beard. Not wanting to acknowledge Kelly’s stares, I shifted awkwardly in the seat, which earned a series of grunts from Buddy as he tried to maintain his position. I met Kelly’s green eyes, which seemed full of concern, leaving me squirming in my seat.

“You miss them. You’ve got a great pack and I know you’ll see them again.”

My eyebrows rose as I stared at him, somewhat dumbfounded. Although I had limited time with him, I had never taken Kelly for a sensitive soul. Based on my initial encounter, he came across as more of the act now, think later type, and the thinking part seemed to be optional most of the time. This go get ’em attitude had led him and one of his den mates to falsely imprison my friends and me. With a quick shrug, he turned back in his seat as he added, “Plus, you have that whole mind-link thing with them going for you.”

Still somewhat shocked, I almost missed his subtle nudge to connect with my friends. Although I am still not sure how I had done it, I’d accidentally created a bond with them after being kidnapped, allowing us to communicate telepathically. A smile tickled the corner of my mouth as I turned inward, searching for those bonds that helped to rebalance me when life seemed off.

In my mind’s eye, I saw our connections as different colors that protruded from my chest, with each color representing a different person. The thick chords represented my parents, with a warm goldenrod symbolizing both my fathers, while a deep lavender stood for my mother. My friends’ chords were thinner and varied in color, usually based on their current mood. Regardless, they always seemed to glow brightly, like beacons calling out to me.

Allowing myself to drift inward, I sensed the warmth of white run up my legs as it enveloped my body. Instantly, I relaxed as I watched the three chords beaming brightly. Picking up each tether, the energy from them gave me a sense of peace, knowing they were all safe. I lingered on the tether that glowed with a pale-pink hue, knowing it was Izzie. Still unsure if they were aware of when I checked, I let go and pulled back to reality. As I opened my eyes, I saw all the faces in the van watching me.

“Are they still there?” my mother asked with a smile on her face.

As the heat filled my cheeks, I tried to force a smile back, unsuccessfully.

“They won’t forget you. Especially after all you have been through,” she added.

“I promise you will see them again. We just need to make sure you are safe first,” my father added.

Nodding, I dropped my head back again as I turned to the window. I didn’t want to be this person, but I had my life turned upside down worse than ever before. It was like someone had placed everything in a giant mixing bowl at high speed and dropped various parts of it into different bowls with no regard for its consistency or evenness. Everything that had made sense for the past twelve years was now wrong, and trying to reconcile it in my brain had become more difficult than I thought it would be.

“We’re almost at Millstone Landing,” Mitchell announced from the front seat.

Buddy jumped to attention next to me as he tried to pace in the tight space.

“Good timing. It looks like someone needs a potty break back there,” my father teased while Buddy gave a small yip in agreement.

As we pulled up to the large wooden structure, the size of it took me aback again. Although their pack referred to it as a cabin, the structure was far from that. The front of the building was massive, encompassing three stories with a large, covered area for guests to arrive under an oversized awning that rose two stories high. Suspended in the center hung a large antler chandelier, which I had missed the first time they forced me into the house.

The front of the house contained two massive doors with intricate designs carved into them. No longer fearing for my safety, I could now fully appreciate them. The left door held a scene of wolves running in the forefront through a wooded area that extended across to the right door. This door contained a road that wound in an upward design, ending toward the top with a howling wolf on its apex and a full moon surrounding it.

Millstone Landing gave the sense of entering a five-star man-cave resort. Large stairs flanked the foyer on either side, curving upward to a hidden landing above us. Just beyond was a large sitting room, which held multiple oversized leather chairs facing an enormous stone fireplace and theatre system. Past the sitting area was a floor-to-ceiling window that opened out onto the mountainside scenery. Drawn to it, I took in the expansive view of the brilliant fall colors speckling the majestic mountainside.

“I can watch this view all day,” a voice spoke up from behind me, causing me to jump slightly.

Next to me, George was staring out at the scenery, avoiding eye contact.

“It’s even more beautiful than the last time I was here,” I said.

Frowning, George finally glanced over at me before turning back to the view. As he cleared his throat, I noted a hint of red rising along his collar, , although it never reached his face.

“Err, yes. It was still early in the season and the leaves had not fully changed.”

“I was also a bit more distracted,” I teased.

George’s eyes widened slightly as he turned to me, which caused me to chuckle.

“I think a more Southern welcome is due this time around,” George answered as he straightened his shoulders.

“As long as it doesn’t involve the cage and idle threats, anything will be an improvement,” I added.

“No threats this time, and definitely not that room. You are a guest here,” my father announced as he grabbed George’s shoulder, causing the large man to gulp visibly.

“Of course! Now let’s get you fed and your pup walked,” George announced as he dashed to the kitchen, leaving me and my father by the expansive window.

“How are you doing? I know the last time you were here was not under the best of circumstances,” my father asked with concern in his eyes.

“I’m ok,” I said as I looked down the hallway to the room Marcus, Brian, Izzie, and I had all been captives in.

I was seeing the house with fresh eyes, without the fear and apprehension attached to it. With another glance down the hall, I felt a pull to see the room where we had spent so many hours waiting for what we thought would be my demise. It was also in that same room we had realized there was a connection between us that had not been there before.

“Actually…can I see the room again?” I asked hesitantly.

“Are you sure?” my father asked, concern etched in his face.

A knot grew in my throat as I nodded before looking back down the hallway.

“George, is the cage open?” my father asked.

A panicked George shot his head around the corner of the kitchen and looked almost like a gopher popping its head out, searching for the predator that had been stalking him. Seeing his face caused my father and me to laugh.

“He just wants to see the room again. No one is going to be locked in.”

Relief washed across his face as his features relaxed and the color returned.

“It should be empty and open. I’ll have Mitchell go with you. He’ll have a spare key if it’s needed.”

George’s head disappeared behind the wall, where we picked up the hushed voices of George and Mitchell. Turning back to the view, my whole body relaxed and, for that moment, it was as though I was a normal fifteen-year-old on a small vacation with my parents. Appreciating the warmth of the midday rays blanketing my face and torso, I took in a deep breath and closed my eyes until the jingling of keys from behind us broke my meditative state.

As I turned, I met Mitchell’s eyes as he cocked an eyebrow and gave me a crooked smile.

“Did you forget something in there?” he asked.

“No. I just want to see it with fresh eyes. If that makes sense.”

Mitchell shrugged as he led us to the room. With a quick twist of the knob, the door clicked and he pushed it open. Standing in the doorway to the last place I spent extended time with my friends, my head seemed to sway as the memories from that night rushed back. Drawing in a deep breath, I steadied myself as I walked in.

Along the right wall were two full beds and a worn-out nightstand between them. They had mounted a TV across from the beds, which seemed to be there more for show, since we had never found a remote for it.

I made my way to the window where we had spent much of that night, trying desperately to see around the van that had brought us to the house. Looking at the wood-paneled walls, I remembered Brian taking in the room’s design after Mitchell had explained how it was actually a metal cage embedded within thick concrete and adorned with dense hardwood to add a decorative touch. To enhance the security, the glass was bulletproof, and the door was lead-lined, containing industrial-grade locks on it. Typically, rogue werewolves spent a night or two here until they calmed down. That night, they were still trying to determine which one of us was the threat, so we were all locked in.

Scanning the perimeter of the window, I found an indent in the hardwood and ran my hand over it as I remembered the frustration at our situation that had caused me to punch the wall, leaving a crater in its wake. Creating a fist, I matched the indent with my hand and stared at it as I repositioned my fist over and over within the depression, still in shock that I had produced such a blemish on the wood.

“You did that?” my father asked.

I nodded without turning to him or Mitchell, who was still in the doorway.

“That’s very impressive. What is this, hickory?” my father asked Mitchell.

“Yes. We were going with durable and attractive,” Mitchell said as he came to stand next to us.

“Looks like he added quite the dent to your collection of scars in here,” my dad added as he scanned the wall.

As he assessed the damage, Mitchell shot me a glance out of the corner of his eye while he continued his examination. Finally clearing his throat, he turned to walk back to the door.

“We fix nothing in this room unless it seems to degrade the integrity of it. These wounds help to let the next inhabitant know that the room is impenetrable, and they are better off just sleeping it off.”

I nodded as I walked to the bed closest to the window and sat on its edge as I pulled the pillow up to my nose. Breathing in deeply, I could still smell the delicate aroma of vanilla and roses from Izzy’s shampoo. I placed the pillow on my lap and hugged it tightly as I rested my chin on it, wishing Izzie was there in its place. I was getting lost in the thought of her,when my father gave a quick cough. Standing, I nearly dropped the pillow and fumbled to catch it before placing it back on the bed. Behind me came a small chuckle and I turned to glare at Mitchell.

“How about we go see what George has cooked up for us?” my father suggested with an understanding expression on his face.

Relieved that he helped avoid the awkwardness of the previous few moments, I took any suggestion and ran with it.

“I think he made some pan-fried catfish,” Mitchell added.

Smiling, I followed the duo to the door, turning around once more to take a last glimpse at the room before closing the door, literally and figuratively, on that chapter of my life.

In the kitchen, a conglomerate of men surrounded the large wooden table, filling their plates before heading back to the various parts of the house like scurrying bees inside a hive. Near the head of the table sat my mother, leaving the head seat for my father, who took it without question. I chose the seat opposite my mother as George and Mitchell filled in a few of the surrounding seats, leaving the far end of the table accessible to the men who continually filtered into the room.

“So tell me about Emerald Creek. It has quite the reputation with the para community,” George started, attempting to fill the silence.

“I don’t know about a reputation,” my mother answered with a chuckle.

“What is the para community, and why does Emerald Creek have a reputation there?” I asked.

“Para is what many paranormal beings call themselves. As far as Emerald Creek, it is the only place I know of where most fae groups are living peacefully in one area,” George answered.

“They also glamored it to hide from the rest of the humans,” Mitchell added enthusiastically before he regained his rogue facade.

“Someone said a human could walk right through it and not even realize they were in the center of the town,” Kelly added from the doorway.

Chuckling, my mother nodded. “Yes. Something like that.”

Listening to the men beam about my future home left me curious to learn more while I looked at my parents, waiting for a further description.

“What does he mean by fae? Is it all fairies on the land?” I asked nervously, wondering if I should know the terminology.

“Fae can refer to all paranormal beings, although most think of the fairy-folk alone when they use the term,” said my father.

“So, then I am part fae?” It felt awkward to think of myself in this new light.

“I guess in the broadest of terms, yes, but most identify with their para side,” he continued.

“But I have two para sides. Which do I consider myself?”

There was a pause in the room as everyone seemed to contemplate my question.

“Both. There is no need for you to choose one. You are unique and should embrace both sides of who you are,” my mother chimed in.

“So, what is it like there? Emerald Creek?” I asked.

“It’s a rather large community now, with different groups scattered throughout. Initially, it comprised just Deagen, your father, and me, but over the years, we gained many lone wolves looking for a place to call their own. Although your father never forced a pack mentality on them, it eventually formed naturally and has flourished. After many years of being a wolf pack, we had a large bear community request to join us when their leader stumbled upon our encampment,” she continued.

My father chuckled, saying, “Karl was so confused until he realized your mother had hidden us behind a cloaking spell. He smelled and sensed us, but could never find where we were.”

“How did he get in, then?”

“We sensed them too. Deagen had been watching from afar and eventually approached them. After talking to Karl, we realized they needed a place to settle down off the grid. We invited his group to join us and discussed the specifics of their stay in Emerald Creek. They’ve been there ever since,” my father explained.

“You actually played a vital role in helping us come to an agreement,” my mother added.

“Me? How old could I have been?”

“Just shy of your third birthday,” she noted with a smile.

“You seemed to sense the tension in the house and continually kept entering the office. Initially, we would try to send you out, but you kept sneaking back in. Although you said nothing, you kept trying to crawl into Karl’s lap. He finally rewarded your persistence when he succumbed to your tiny demand. Without hesitation, you scrambled up and positioned yourself on his legs and leaned forward onto his chest, grabbing his face with your little hands. Initially, you just stared at him, but eventually, you started mushing his face around as though trying to find it under the beard,” my father said with a chuckle.

“What was I trying to find?”

“We never figured it out. Karl thought his beard fascinated you. But it may have been his scent. Being a bear, he smelled different from the rest of us in the creek until that point,” my mother answered.

Imagining the younger version of myself assaulting the large bear leader caused me to laugh, and I felt a kindredship forming with this mysterious land. The thought caused me to pause. This was not a strange, new place. Emerald Creek is where I came from. It was my home, my actual home. But just as quickly as my heart lifted, the thought of my aunt and uncle flashed in my head and my heart sank. They were the reason I no longer remembered this place, causing anger to bubble to the surface as I considered all my parents and I had missed out on.

“You feeling all right, kid?” George asked uneasily.

The large man, who could have doubled as the Brawny paper towel mascot, was nervously shifting his attention from me to the light fixture above us, which was now swaying slightly.

“The last time you got upset, I wound up upside down before being dropped on my head!”

Remembering the image, I calmed myself and smiled at the two men before I stood to slow the orbit of the chandelier.

“I was afraid for myself and my friends that night. I thought you were going to hurt us. To be honest, I didn’t realize I could manipulate the wind like that until then. I’m sorry I hurt you, but I would do it again if I were in the same position.”

“I’ll remember that,” George answered with a slow nod as he glanced back at the now motionless chandelier.

“So what other groups are in Emerald Creek?” I asked, trying to normalize the tension in the room again.

“I’m losing track. Let me think. We have witches, and a multitude of were-folk, including bears, wolves, tigers, a jaguar, hyenas, and a few foxes. A recent migration of elves joined, and there are also a few types of fairies, mostly astrial and solarian.”

A surge of electricity ran through me at the recollection of the fairy types being the same ones as my aunt and uncle. Before we had separated, they revealed that my aunt had been an astrial, or moon fairy, and my uncle a solarian, or sun fairy. Their species each prefer different parts of the day, but they had defied the odds and spent the better part of a century as a mated pair.

“Like Uncle Roman and Aunt Cora,” I announced, instantly regretting using the names I had grown to know them by.

Next to me, I noticed the muscle in my father’s cheek clench repeatedly as he gripped his hands into fists before releasing them.

“I-I mean Nick and Sophia,” I corrected as my shoulders dropped.

Prior to being kidnapped, Nick and Sophia had been my parents’ best friends. After they took me, we went into hiding and changed all our names. Nick became Roman, Sophia became Cora, and I went from Christian to Jace. Since being reunited with my parents, it has been a point of discontent between the three of us. Understandable; they can only see me as Christian, but I know myself as Jace, and don’t want to lose that part of who I am. To avoid having to pick a name, everyone has come up with various nicknames for me to avoid having to choose one or the other.

My mother, watching both my and her husband’s reactions, tried to find a balancing point.

“Yes,” was all she said before she continued reviewing the inhabitants of the creek.

“We have many other fairies and I believe pixies, but have lost track of them as they seem to decide amongst themselves who stays and who goes within their area. They are very private and, most times, you won’t find them or their homes. To be honest, they will only reveal themselves if comfortable enough to do so.”

I sat mesmerized by the multitude of species I had never known existed prior to a few weeks ago.

“Would you look at that? The day is getting away and you still have at least twelve hours left on the road. Why don’t you stay here tonight and start fresh tomorrow?” George suggested.

My parents exchanged an uneasy glance before looking at me.

“Are you ok with that?” my father asked.

Initially, I felt my back stiffen, which caused my parents to do the same. But seeing their reaction allowed me to reevaluate the request and I relaxed as I reminded myself that I was a guest.

“Sure. As long as I have a different room this time,” I teased.

“Absolutely! You can even have my room,” George offered nervously.

“It’s a suite with a spare room attached on the top floor, away from the rest of the house. So you will have privacy.”

“We couldn’t put you out like that,” my mother answered.

“Nonsense. To have Luca Volk and his family staying anywhere other than my quarters would be insanity,” George retorted.

My father’s position in the supernatural world still left me in a state of wonder. Although he had not set out to do it, by creating Emerald Creek, he had established an almost god-like persona everyone seemed to be drawn to, but also feared. My mother had explained his need to keep the peace required him to be stern with the rules and regulations of the creek. This visage seemed to have spilled over to those outside the community as well, judging by the actions of the Millstone Landing pack.

“Kelly, can you grab their bags and bring them upstairs?” George asked.

Kelly jumped to attention as though someone had shot him in the rear and he quickly disappeared behind the wall to retrieve our stuff from the van while we made our way to our new accommodations.

When George had said his quarters were private, he wasn’t kidding. The main room encompassed most of the third floor and had very large wooden planks along the walls and vaulted ceilings, with the wood beams exposed for an added effect. In the center of the far wall stood an enormous, king-size bed with a large chandelier made of antlers hanging above it. Chuckling, I wondered if George had received a deal on them, since they seemed to be repeated so often throughout the house.

On the wall opposite the bed was an immense window that extended from the floor nearly to the ceiling. There was an ornate detailing of stained glass at its apex, which cast a whimsical light show that danced across the floor as the sun began its slow descent.

The decor was in tones of deep burgundies and rich greens, and seemed to match the flannel shirts George liked to wear. Across from the bed was a large, river rock wall with a built-in fireplace that looked through to a room on the other side. The last time I was in this room, I had been exhausted and still in shock at seeing my parents for the first time and had missed that. Crouching down, I tried to peer through the opening of the fireplace where I could see another room.

To the right of the fireplace was a set of double barn doors that opened to the bathroom. Inside, they replicated the river rock along a wall that extended from the ceiling to the floor with a large, clawfoot bathtub positioned atop it. The most impressive feature was the waterfall, which emptied somewhere behind the tub.

As I did the last time I was in this room, I tried unsuccessfully to search under the tub to determine where the water was draining to. A large skylight encompassed a major part of the room and bathed the room in the warm glow of the late afternoon sun.

Next to the tub was a glass enclosure with multiple spigots extending out of various positions from the remaining three walls.

Moving past the tub, George walked through a second door, which opened to the room I had seen beyond the fireplace. They decorated it similarly to the main room, but it seemed to act more like an office than a bedroom. In the far corner stood a massive bookcase with a large extension desk that appeared to be made of mahogany. Positioned behind the desk sat a large, executive wingback rolling chair in deep-burgundy leather. Opposite the desk was a huge window with a seat nestled within, overlooking the back of the house. Along the posterior wall was a queen-size bed with a billowing comforter in a patchwork of delicate browns and greens, and a plethora of pillows atop it.

Allowing my inner child to come to life, I walked over to the bed and turned, dropping backwards onto it as the mattress melted around me. Almost immediately, the tug of sleep hit as I tried to stifle a yawn.

“Looks like you need a nap, if not a good night’s sleep,” my mother teased as she watched.

“The bed is so comfortable, it’s hard not to want to fall asleep immediately.”

Following my lead, my mother turned and dropped back next to me, letting out a small sigh as she sank into the bedding as well.

“I hope our bed is this comfortable,” she teased George.

“It’s even better,” he proudly chimed in.

“Is there anything you need?” my father asked me as he extended a hand to help my mother up.

Lying there, I took a quick whiff of my shirt and winced. As I sat up, I looked to the bathroom and remembered the amazing infinity shower and smiled.

“I think I’m going to clean up before I lay down, if that’s all right?”

“Mi casa es you casa,” George stated incorrectly, causing me to cringe slightly.

Smiling, I wanted to correct him, but decided against it. I then imagined Izzie’s mom wide-eyed at both the incorrect verbiage and accent, and let out a small chortle.

After my parents left, I walked into the bathroom and found a fresh towel and toiletries on the vanity. Undressing, I made my way to the shower and examined the sea of knobs while I tried to remember how George had shown me to use it the last time I was here. With some tinkering, I successfully turned on the shower and basked in the gentle warmth of the water as it rushed over my skin, allowing the events of the past few weeks to wash away.

Once back in my room, I snuggled into the bedding as I stared up at the wooden beams above while a smile crept across my face. Rolling over, I stared out the window at the magical fall scene outside and wondered what my friends would say if they knew my current location. Then I remembered I could talk to them and felt a rush of excitement fill me.

Rolling onto my back, I allowed myself to sink into my cocoon of white. At the center of my chest, the tendrils of light in brilliant blue, green, and pink pulsated as though they were calling me. Cautiously, I tugged on them, like I was ringing an internal doorbell while I waited for a response.

“Hey, Jace! Long time, no hear. What has it been? Five hours?” Marcus teased.

“Something like that. I thought you guys would enjoy hearing where we stopped to stay the night,” I baited.

“Oh no, you’re not back at Millstone, are you?” Izzie asked in a panicked voice.

Smiling, I answered, “Yes, but this time I am in a suite next door to my parents.”

“I hope they’re treating you better than the last time we were there. Hospitality is definitely not their strong suit,” Brian answered in a mildly irritated tone.

“Well, it was after they realized whose kid you were,” Marcus teased.

“Definitely better than the last time. They fed me, and only caused me to bring forth one small windstorm.”

“Oh, great. I’m glad they’re keeping to their roots. How bad did you leave the house?” Marcus asked.

“Firmly planted on its foundation. Only the chandelier swayed slightly,” I joked.

“What are you guys up to?” I asked.

Izzie giggled, “Right now, I’m watching Brian trying to look natural as Zoe is staring at him.”

“Of course you would think this is funny. I’m surprised you haven’t figured out how to loop your sister into our mental conversations yet. It would definitely make my life a thousand times easier!” Brian announced.

“How are your families?” I asked.

“They don’t seem to remember anything that happened. My parents think you moved two weeks ago, but are otherwise completely normal,” Izzie announced.

“My mom and aunt Lilly didn’t remember what happened either, but Aunt Lilly guessed that there was something amiss when we got back. She cornered me and made me spill the beans about our adventures. We decided not to loop Mom in, for now. But having Aunt Lilly in on it helps keep me feeling sane,” Marcus answered.

“Zoe and Alyssa definitely suspect something is up. They vaguely remember splitting up, but remember nothing after that. I give it hours to days before they tackle one or both of us to find out what is going on,” Izzie guessed.

“Brian has gone silent. Has Zoe attacked him already?” Marcus teased.

“No, but I’m having trouble listening to her and you guys at the same time.”

Izzie burst out laughing within my head, which brought a smile to my face.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Zoe just pounced on Brian and has him pinned, demanding he fill her in on what is going on.”

“You could save me!” Brian pleaded.

Imagining the petite frame of Zoe, Izzie’s older sister, pinning Brian caused me to laugh out loud. Although he outweighed her by at least one hundred pounds and had close to a foot on her, Zoe was feisty, and would never be the damsel in distress.

“And miss this? No way!” Izzie chortled.

“Aww, man. Now I want to watch it. Do you think it would be weird if I just showed up?” Marcus asked.

“Yes!” Brian and Izzie answered simultaneously.

“Can I please have my brain back? Pretty please? With sugar on top?” Brian pleaded.

Now laughing hard enough to earn a stitch in my side, I calmed myself enough to answer.

“I’m actually getting ready to lie down anyway. Thanks, guys. I really needed this.”

“Good night, Jace. You should lock George, Mitchell, and Kelly up in the cage,” Marcus suggested.

“Tempting, but I think they earned their forgiveness rescuing me from Iabriaria.”

“Ok, I guess we’ll let them slide this time. But remind them of your exceptional powers a few more times. Just to keep them on their toes,” Marcus added.

“I’ll think about it.”

“When you get a new phone, give me an actual call. So that we can talk…without company,” Izzie hinted.

The heat in my cheeks grew as I made a mental list to get a new phone as soon as we were in Pennsylvania.

“Definitely! I’ll let you know when we arrive,” I answered.

“I’m pretty sure we’ll know. You still transmit your emotions pretty well,” Marcus reminded me.

“Whatever had you angry left me in deep water with Zoe when I threw a pillow at her for no reason,” Brian answered.

Izzie laughed. “I had enough brains to go to my room when I sensed it coming.”

“I don’t have a room here, remember?” Brian retorted.

“You could have gone out to the garage,” Marcus suggested.

“I don’t know what would have been worse. Walking away from her mid-kiss or throwing a pillow at her head,” Brian said, exasperated.

“I’m going to venture a guess that the pillow was a poor choice,” Marcus teased.

“Ya think? I’m still sporting the red mark on my cheek from it.”

“I will try to keep my emotions under control for the rest of the night. I’m going to bed now. Talk to you all tomorrow,” I assured them.

“It’s Saturday. Don’t connect till at least noon,” Marcus chimed in.

“I won’t.”

I allowed the internal bonds to release as I relaxed and opened my eyes to the warm glow of the fireplace that my parents must have started while I was talking with my friends. Sitting up from my bed, I looked out at the inky sky that was highlighted with the various shades of muted reds, yellows, and oranges down below. I then tried to peer through the fireplace to see where my parents were. Unsure if they were busy or possibly downstairs, I lay back on the bed and closed my eyes, preparing to fall into a hopeful, dreamless sleep when there was a knock on my door.

I opened my eyes and sat up to see my mother peeking her head through the door.

“Are you going to sleep?” she asked shyly.

“Yes, I was about to close my eyes. Is everything ok?”

Stepping into the room, she smiled as she approached the bed, sitting next to me.

“It’s been twelve years since I tucked you in. I know you’re too old for it, but at least being able to give you a hug before you fall asleep…” Her voice trailed off as she looked away.

I saw the pain and realized the need in her voice, so I scrunched further into the sheets and stared at her until she met my eyes.

“What?” she asked uncertainly.

“I’m ready.”

“For what?”

“For you to tuck me in.”

Her face lit up and I caught the hint of a tear cross her eye as she gathered the sheets and tucked them in tightly around my arms and legs. Before she stood, she leaned down and kissed my forehead gently.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

“Good night, sweetheart.”

Turning, I watched her walk toward the bedroom door that separated the two rooms, where my father stood, smiling.

“Goodnight, Dad,” I called to him.

“Goodnight, son.”

Chapter two

Return of the Lost Child

Iwoke to the gentle warmth of the sun washing across my face like a tender kiss, warming my whole body. As I opened my eyes, I could just make out the sunrise over the distant hills as it illuminated the rainbow of colors in the foliage below. Sitting up, I noticed the fireplace was no longer glowing and peered through the partition to see my parents’ bed was empty and already made.

Wiping my face, I stood and prepared for the day before heading down to the main landing of the house. As I opened the door, I caught the wonderful aromas emanating from the kitchen, wafting their way up to the third floor, and felt my stomach growl in anticipation of the feast below.

Looking at the bags on the floor, thoughts of the next leg of our adventure settled in. As I moved through the room, there was a surge of excitement, like an electric current had come to life inside me and I found myself more eager to return to Emerald Creek and fill in the missing gaps of who I was and would become.

In the kitchen, they’d set the table much as it had been yesterday, with bodies filtering in and out as they grabbed their meal, only to disappear down various corridors. My parents and George were deep in conversation and had not detected my entering, as I was likely lost in the constant motion of the room. Grabbing a plate, I loaded up on the basics before returning to the seat I had the night before.

“How did you sleep?” George asked with slight trepidation.

“Amazing. I don’t think I even dreamed,” I answered as I stuffed a piece of bacon in my mouth, causing my mother to giggle and George to relax.

“We’re planning on leaving right after breakfast. Darryl is filling the van as we speak,” my mother said with a smile.

I nodded to her with a mouth full of food, causing her to smile again.

“We will let you know when we get home and can set up accommodations for you to visit then,” my father told George, seeming to answer a conversation I had missed.

“I’m looking forward to seeing Emerald Creek and will be waiting for your call,” George answered.

By the time we had completed our meal and made our way to the van, I was ready to resume our adventure without so many people mixed in with us. As we left the driveway, we waved to Millstone Landing and its inhabitants.

“That was extremely generous of George to let us stay there last night,” my mother suggested.

“It was the least he could do, considering everything that happened the last time we were there,” my father noted.

Creasing her brows, my mother nodded while she seemed to search my father’s face before turning back to Buddy and me.

“I have an idea. Let’s play a game. We have almost twelve hours before we are home. This will help to pass the time,” she started.

My father looked at her and I saw his eyebrow lift at her suggestion.

“You have never been one for car games. What game were you thinking?”

“Sort of like twenty questions. What better way to get to know each other than to ask?” she beamed.

Smiling, I answered, “I’m in!”

With a slight shake of his head but a smirk on his face, my father turned in the seat to better see the both of us.

“How do you want to start?” she asked.

“I guess we should start with the basics and go from there?” I suggested.

Nodding, she seemed to ponder the first question.

“Ok, I’ve got one. What is your favorite color? I’ll answer first: green.”

My father smiled with a small snort. “No, it isn’t.”

“I think I would remember my favorite color,” she answered indignantly.

His smile widened as he observed her before answering.

“No, your favorite color is closer to a turquoise or a light teal.”

My mother opened her mouth as though she were about to argue and closed it as a smile spread across her face.

“Okay, okay. I guess that is more accurate. Well, smarty-pants, yours is red,” she countered.

Smiling, he turned to me.

“How about you?” she asked.

Without hesitation, I blurted out, “Blue. Any tone, really. But definitely blue.”

“Interesting and good to know. Maybe we can stop and pick up paint to add some color to your bedroom. Right now, your walls are a stark white,” my father said.

“We didn’t know how to decorate it, so we chose a blank canvas for you,” my mother continued.

“How about your favorite season?” my mother asked as she spun further in her seat, positioning her arms on the edge of the backrest.

“I have always had a soft spot for fall, especially in areas where the leaves change,” I answered.

“Your mother and I are both winter people, which is a good thing, considering where we live. It comes pretty early and can last well into the spring.”

“What are your favorite treats?” I asked.

Both seemed to ponder the question for some time before answering.

“I would have to say cheesecake,” my mother answered.

My father smiled, “You first.”

“Brownies. I could eat a whole batch by myself!”

“I thought you were going to say that. They are mine as well.”

“How would you know I was going to say that?”

They exchanged uneasy glances before speaking.

“I heard you think it before you said it.”

My face slackened from his response, and I understood what people meant by jaw-dropping.

“What do you mean you ‘heard’ me think it?”

Shifting in his seat, he seemed to search for the proper phrasing.

“Ever since you called out to me in Iabriaria, I have been picking up on you, talking in my head. At first I thought I was imagining it, but you have done or said what I heard too many times to discount it.”

“Can you too?” I asked my mother.

She shook her head. “No. It seems to be only your father. I only pick up on your emotions.”

“Are you sure you can?” I asked, half-curious, half-terrified.

“There’s one way to find out,” he said with a slight cock of the eyebrow and a tilt of his head.

“Challenge accepted,” I thought, and waited for his response.

My father let out a hearty laugh.

“Challenge accepted? Really?”

Again, I felt my jaw drop and could no longer think or speak. How much had he picked up? What had I thought? Waves of panic bubbled to the surface and I was unsure if I wanted to vomit or wish myself into a coma to prevent my thinking of anything.

“Easy, easy,” he said with his arms partly outstretched as he waved them up and down, trying to calm me.

“I’ve been getting pretty good at blocking what I don’t want to know or what I don’t think you would want me to know.”

My eyes frantically shifted between my parents as I tried to plan a coherent sentence. Thankfully, they both sat there, patiently waiting.

“Can other werewolves do this?”

“Yes and no,” my father started.

“In times of distress or when we are in wolf form, I can pick up on what they are thinking, but they are sending their thoughts to me. Yours seem to come, whether or not you want them to.”

I felt as though I was at the precipice of a roller coaster, staring down the first large drop, anticipating the momentary free fall and flip in my stomach. My mother grabbed hold of my hands and the small hurricane forming within me slowed to a gentle breeze.

“This is not a bad thing. You have a unique bond with your father. If I had to guess, you have many unique traits, and we have just barely scratched the surface.”

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath before opening them again.

“How much do you get?” I asked, somewhat dreading his answer.

My father chuckled and his cheeks blanched slightly before the color rose again.

“You are a typical teenager and your brain is constantly going.”

I waited, unsure what he was about to tell me, and tasted the bile that had risen in the back of my throat.

“I can confirm you did not dream last night, because it was the first time I could rest and not be on constant guard to block your thoughts,” he said with a smirk.

“That often?” I asked in a near whisper.

“That often,” he affirmed.

Sitting back against my chair, my brain whirled with a million thoughts at once. Looking up, I met my father’s eyes and caught the quirk of his lip and entertained lift of his eyebrows. Immediately, I tried to make my brain stop, which was more like throwing the emergency brake on a Ferrari going one hundred miles an hour. It left me with a pounding headache and a jumble of thoughts.

“This is part of why we need to be in Emerald Creek,” my mother said.

“We know you have this connection with your father, but we’re not sure about anyone else. I want you to have ways to protect yourself while we help you learn all you are capable of,” she started.

With both of them observing me, waves of panic rushed off me like a tide crashing into a jetty.

“What are some things you like to do to calm yourself?” my mother asked, which momentarily distracted me.

“Are we playing the game again?” I asked as my head continued to spin.

“Not at the moment,” she answered with a chuckle. “But it is a good question.”

“Um. Listening to music and playing Castel Core.”

“What is Castle Core?” my father asked.

“It’s a video game that allows you to be a mythical character in a fantasy world. Izzie and Marcus also play, and we have a cohort together there.”

My mother chuckled at my description with a twinkle in her eye. Reading the entertained expression on her face, I had to smile.

“I guess it sounds like the world I now live in.”

“Maybe just a little,” she smiled.

“What type of character are you in this fantasy world?” my father asked.

“Actually, a wizard.”

My mother beamed as she made a fist and pulled it in tight as though her team had just made the game-winning goal. “Yes!”

“Seriously, Callista? Maybe a werewolf was not an option,” my father argued.

Watching their debate made me laugh before I answered, “Actually, it is.”

My father’s eyes widened in mock indignation. “And you didn’t choose it?”

“I wanted something I could hide. My character doesn’t even look like a wizard. Most people mistake me for a regular human or a bounty hunter.”

“Why did you choose to be hidden?” my mother asked.

A frown crossed my face as my jovial mood departed like a flock of birds leaving their nest.

“It was closer to what I was like in real life. Because of all the moves, I never really made friends and when I tried, I always felt like I didn’t belong.”

“I don’t think you will have that problem at Emerald Creek. There are all walks of life there, and none of us fit in with the normals,” my mother answered reassuringly.

I used to be normal, was all I could think as I petted Buddy, who was sprawled widely across the back seat and somewhat crushing me in the corner again. As the thought crossed my mind, I winced as I glanced up to meet my father’s face, which was etched with concern at having heard my thought.

“It’s ok to be angry about all of it. This was not the life we intended for you, but we’ll try to bring normalcy where it is possible,” he said as he tried to give me a reassuring smile.

“Normalcy. I don’t think I ever had it. My avatar in the game mirrored my own life without me realizing it. I was hiding in plain sight. Most didn’t know what I was and left me alone. The occasional creature that figured it out put little credence in my abilities and just passed me by. It helped me to survive and thrive in the game because they always underestimated my powers.”

A smile crept across my father’s face.

“I think most people will learn quickly that you are a force to be reckoned with. But, until that point, we need to help you cultivate those skills.”

Spinning around in her seat, my mother called up to Darryl, “Where are we now?”

“About midway through North Carolina.”

“We have quite a way to go,” my mother sighed.

Smiling, I watched as the foliage on the trees seemed to adopt the color scheme of fall the further north we drove. I leaned my head back against the headrest as the weight of my eyelids increased. Not wanting to be rude, I shot up in my seat and opened my eyes wide to my mother, smiling empathetically at me.

“Sweetheart, you’re tired. Close your eyes. It will also help to pass the time.”

“But your game,” I argued.

“We have the rest of our lives to get to know all the details about each other. Rest now.”

With my head resting back, the monotonous scene of trees intermingled with the occasional sign lulled me into a peaceful sleep. The only thing to wake me up was a stillness in the van and Buddy’s wet nose nudging my cheek. As I opened my eyes, I saw that I was nose to snout with Buddy, who was giving a low whine as he paced in the back seat.

“What’s up, boy?” I asked with a stretch as I looked around.

We had stopped at a gas station, but my parents and Darryl were nowhere in sight.

“They must be inside,” I reasoned with Buddy.

Sitting attentively on the seat, he anxiously offered his paw with the occasional whine, causing me to smile.

“Nature’s calling that strong, huh? Okay, let’s go for a walk,” I suggested, causing my overgrown fur ball to bounce around in the back seat as I fought to clip his leash on.

As I opened the doors to the van, a blast of arctic air slammed into me, sending a deep chill through my body. I pulled my coat tighter and glanced back at Buddy, who seemed to assess the temperature as well before he barreled out of the van, racing toward the patch of grass next to the building. Gripping the leash tighter to prevent him from breaking loose, I was half-dragged across the lot to his desired destination.

I arched my back, trying to loosen the muscles as I inspected the clearing and took in the mid-afternoon rays, basking in the warmth it provided between the gusts of icy wind.

“Feel like stretching your legs?” I asked Buddy, who turned and cocked his head to the side at the question.

Walking around the perimeter of the building, I noted the cars flying past the centrally placed rest stop and I wondered where we were. Toward the front of the building, I noted many motorists moving in and out of the store while others shivered at the pumps.

As we moved toward the back of the building, I saw that the movement had slowed and seemed to disperse until it was just Buddy and me walking through a somewhat deserted part of the lot. At its back edge was a large patch of trees that were densely packed, making it difficult to see within. As we passed, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, which caused me to stop my forward movement.

Buddy seemed to sense it as well and stopped, looking into the brush and emitting a low growl. I glanced at the front of the building but could no longer see the van, while the crowds of people looked more like small ants running in various directions. Next to me, Buddy’s growl intensified as his posture dropped into a defensive one, causing me to turn back to the wooded area. I swallowed hard as I leaned forward, trying to make out what we were sensing.

“Help,” I heard a faint female voice calling from the brush, causing me to shoot to attention, unsure if I’d heard something or not.

I found myself uncertain which direction to move and glanced over my shoulder again, hoping to see my parents. Next to me, Buddy’s haunches raised as he bared his teeth. I was unsure how to interpret my dog’s behavior, considering that someone was calling out for us. I tried to calm him again as I looked deeper into the brush, trying to determine who had beckoned when I heard it again.

“Jace, please help me.”

This time the voice was very clear and sounded like Izzie. I stopped suddenly and looked at Buddy, whose opinion on the voice had not changed.

“Hello! Who’s there?” I hollered into the brush as I moved closer, although Buddy was furiously pulling back on the leash.

“Come on, boy. Someone needs us,” I tried to reason with him.

“Help me, Jace! I’m trapped,” the voice spoke again.

I stared into the tree line, perplexed by what could have trapped them when I felt my head sway, leaving me feeling dizzy. Grasping at my temples, I tried to balance myself as I looked deeper into the wooded area, which seemed to create a tunnel effect straight toward a central point I could not make out yet.

“Where are you?” I asked as I squinted, feeling like I was on a boat caught in a turbulent sea.

“You’re almost at me. Just a little closer,” the voice urged.

It was around this time that the world around me seemed to stop its movement, leaving me and the being in the bushes in a world unto ourselves. Although I could sense Buddy next to me, I was no longer aware of what he was doing. Whatever was in there seemed to have taken control of my legs as I marched forward. I knew as I proceeded I should not continue toward the tree line, but could not stop myself. I continued my advance, sensing the bile rise in my throat at the loss of my body’s control.

As I reached the edge of the wooded area, my arm extended as a pair of eyes began glowing like two fireflies suspended in midair. Transfixed by its appearance, I watched as they swayed back and forth in a hypnotic rhythm, calling me to them although it was no longer speaking. Behind them, I could hear movement and wondered if there were more in the woods or if it was just the set of eyes dancing for me.

Continuing to watch, I felt a peace coming over me, as though everything would be better if I would just move closer. Around us, the world had dissolved away and my desire was only for the glowing orbs in front of me.

I needed to touch its face and brush away the darkness that was covering it. The eyes were so beautiful, like two emerald gems cascading a brilliant shower of green out and around it. With an overwhelming need to see the face behind the eyes, I reached my hand out.

“Yes. That’s it,” the voice said in a near hiss, which seemed odd, although not enough to stop me.

I reached my hand out and lifted my leg, about to take an irrevocable step into the unknown. Instantly, there was a searing, white-hot pain in my calf that caused me to break out of my trance as I turned to look at my leg. In front of me, there was a loud sound, like a mix between a scream and a hiss, followed by the breaking of branches as the trees shifted where something large traversed through it.

Still somewhat stunned by the previous occurrence, I stood there dumbfounded until I heard Buddy whimpering. Next to me, he was cowering, ashamed at having bit me. It instantly replaced anything that had occurred with my only need being to comfort my friend who had just saved me from whatever had just tried to lure me to an uncertain doom. Bending down, I gingerly extended my hand to his still lowered head. Cautiously, he lifted it as his tail began slowly wagging.

“It’s ok, boy. I know why you did it. Thank you.”

Realizing I appreciated his actions, he lifted his head fully and bounded to me, covering my face with kisses, which caused me to laugh. As I stood, there was a fiery pain in my leg, which caused me to suck in wind as I grabbed at it.

“You’ve got quite the bite, big guy,” I teased as I petted him, seeing his apprehension returning at my posture.

With a glance back into the woods, Buddy snorted before pulling on the leash toward the front of the building, where my parents were standing holding grocery bags, looking around with concern on their faces. As we got closer, my father’s head spun around. Meeting my eyes, I noticed his nostrils flare before he ran toward me, Darryl close behind, searching for whatever had put my father on high alert.

“What happened?” he asked in a concerned tone as he looked me over, causing my mother to shift her attention between us.

“I’m not sure, but Buddy saved me,” I replied as I motioned to my leg.

My dad regarded my leg before he looked back in the direction we had just come from, his nostrils flaring again. With a quick flick of his head toward the van, he placed his hand behind my back, almost shoving me toward the van as he continued looking over his shoulder.

“Okay, let’s get going.”

“What’s going on?” my mother asked, panic rising in her voice.

“Let’s get in the van first,” he said as he ushered us in and nodded to Darryl, who returned to the driver’s seat and engaged the engine.

Once we were all inside, my father closed the doors. “Get us out of here. Now!”