Read Vision In Love (Legends of The North Book 1) Online
Authors: Liz Bower
Vision In Love (Legends of The North Book 1)
Vision in Love
Copyright © 2016 Liz Bower
All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
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First Edition: March 2016
ISBN: B01D6F5WSA
This work is registered with the UK Copyright Service: Registration No:284701333
Book cover design by PremadeEbookCoverShop.com
Dedication
For Denise, because you always listened & were brave enough to read it first!
And, of course, GB. Even though you’ll never read this.
Prologue
Lancashire, England - 1700s
"You there, you canna' be on me land!" William shouted toward a figure, standing alone, in the middle of his field. The man cast a long silhouette upon the ground from the glow of the sun, as it started to slip slowly below the horizon. "You hear me?"
The silhouette grew as the figure moved toward William, who bent to pick up the flail he had been using for the harvest earlier. The figure stayed in the shadows but as it advanced toward William, the hunch of its back became more obvious, as did the bony protrusion where William imagined eyebrows should have been. William took a step back and tightened his grip on the flail.
"Tis almost twilight, and yet still you work. You work hard, but what if I told you I could make yours an easier life?"
William ducked his head to try to get a better look at the man, but his face was still cast in silhouette.
"And why would you do that for me?"
"Tis simple. I will grant thee three wishes. All I ask in return is the surrender of your soul to me."
William lowered the flail to the ground and rested a forearm against it. The idea of an easier life appealed to him, but three wishes sounded too good to be true. Surrendering his soul? Well, that appealed less to him, but what if he could have his wishes
and
keep his soul? Or what if this was all just a ruse? William stroked the whiskers on his chin.
"I'll take that deal," he said.
The man straightened a little while his silhouette shortened, but William never noticed. "Go ahead, make your first wish."
"I wish for wealth."
The man waved a clawed hand. "Granted. Your second wish?"
"I wish for my family to be of great repute."
Again, the man waved his hand. "As you wish. Your final wish?"
William paused as if in thought then turned his gaze toward the river. This would be impossible, he hoped, just in case this man could take his soul. "My final wish. I wish for you to build me a bridge from the reeds of the river Alten."
The man moved as though to step closer to William, but stopped. "And if I manage to build this bridge, your soul will be mine, remember?"
"Yes," William said. "But if you don't, you consent for your soul to be bound to yonder oak tree and there be turned into stone, and my soul remains my own."
The man dropped his head toward his shoulder; slowly, he nodded his consent before walking off in the direction of the river. William watched him disappear into the darkness. As the figure receded, William noticed that the sound of the wind whistling down the hedgerows grew louder. Birds squawked as they settled back into the branches of the trees, their flapping wings rustling the leaves. The dark of night finally enveloped William, and he turned to make his way back home.
Present day
Emma drove over the bridge into the village of Altenchester, stopping at the lights to admire the river, but it was no longer there.
She blinked and instead of the bridge, she had just driven over, all she could see were green fields. Where the river should have been, there was a huge oak tree. Its green leaves shook in the wind above the joining of two thick, rough branches. Carved between the two branches, as though coming out of the wood itself, was the most monstrous face she had ever seen. Sunken, empty black eyes stared down at her from beneath bony eyebrows. Hollow cheekbones gave way to a gaping mouth. Emma closed her eyes, shuddering as she still saw the face behind her closed eyelids.
The blare of a car horn had her dog, Barney, barking from the backseat. She tightened her hands around the steering wheel and opened her eyes. The river was back where it should have been, the road in front of her again, and the light had turned green. The horn blasted a second time and she glanced in her rear view mirror, which was filled with a black four-wheel-drive car. Its driver flung his hands up in the air then pulled around her car, throwing a glare in her direction. She turned back to look at the river, overcome with relief when she saw it was still there. With a shaky hand, she released the handbrake and slowly drove off toward the centre of the village.
She pulled up outside a stone cottage with a sage green front door and laid her head against the headrest. What the hell had that been? She closed her eyes but quickly opened them again when the face floated behind them. A hallucination brought on by stress? Too long driving, overly tired? She had no idea; she had never experienced anything like it. She pushed open the car door and climbed out.
The cottage she had rented came with a beautiful garden that Barney would love to investigate. She wandered across the street, over a patch of grass, where just below the river flowed past. Her gaze followed it as it curved away through green fields, that led to rolling hills and ended with the woods in the distance.
Hedgerows split up the fields into a green patchwork and, through it all, the river meandered its way along. She took a deep breath that smelled like countryside and summer.
The sky was a beautiful, warm-day, blue, not the usual dull grey the north of England was renowned for. But beneath her faded jeans and T-shirt, she felt goosebumps rise on her skin as she fought the feeling she was being watched. She turned to face the cottage–her cottage–instead. Roses grew around the doorway and clung to the stone walls. The small garden was obscured by a high, green picket fence and she half-expected an elderly neighbour to walk past with tight curly white hair and a carpetbag, magnifying glass in hand. She couldn't help but wonder what Ben would think of it.
He'd hate it, of course,
she thought, shoving her hair behind her ears. It wasn't Cardiff, and if it was anywhere but Cardiff then it wasn't worth bothering with, as far as Ben was concerned. Gathering her hair from around her shoulders, she tied it back into a ponytail.
It doesn't matter what Ben would think.
He'd lost all rights to an opinion on her life the day he'd gone behind her back.
Crossing back to her car, she opened the door to let Barney out and through the garden gate. She left him to sniff out his new turf while she hoisted her suitcases from the backseat. Unlocking the door, she walked into a cosy living room with an open fire and dark wooden beams. Oh, yes, it definitely looked like somewhere she could call home. She dumped her suitcases in the living room, threw her cardigan on the sofa, and admired the beams on the ceiling. It smelled a little musty as she tried to open the small front window looking out onto the patch of garden that was hers for at least the next year. She felt like she'd stumbled into another world. The cottage she would be calling home was a far cry from her apartment in Cardiff, as would be village life, if she remembered it correctly.
She poked around the cupboards in the kitchen, noting the lack of food and the beautiful, if not slightly intimidating, cooker. The walls were a soft yellow, giving the kitchen a warm, inviting feeling. She could picture herself cooking there, even if it would probably only be for herself. It didn't matter, though; it was better to be alone than with the wrong man. Even if she was alone in a new village, where the only people nearby she knew were her mum and dad.
She continued her exploration, lugging her suitcase up the creaky, wooden staircase where she found two bedrooms and a small bathroom. She claimed the largest bedroom and, pulling the lace curtain to one side, saw the river in the distance.
The room was sparse, but it would look better when the rest of her things from Cardiff arrived. She heard the stairs creak and then Barney landed on the bed, his tail wagging furiously. Clearly, the house earned his seal of approval, and that was good enough for her. She sat down on the mattress and gave him a scratch behind his ear. He rolled onto his back, legs in the air, and she smiled. She always had Barney; at least he knew what loyalty was.
She had so many things she should've been doing, but instead she clipped the lead onto Barney's collar.
"Do you want to go see your grandma and granddad?" He wagged his tail and she took that as a yes. That was the part she wasn't looking forward to. They would want to know what had happened with Ben, and all she wanted to do was forget about him. But they would know she was back, so she couldn't put it off. She brought to mind the phone call when she had told her mum she was moving back.
"We might see more of you then, since you won't be living so far away. You know I can't travel that far, not with my health. And you know I probably don't have that long left to go now."
"Mum, the doctor hasn't said that, has he?"
"No, but I know, I can feel it. Every day is harder. It'll be easier on your dad if you're nearby, too, and your sister. She does as much as she can, but ... well, you know."