Authors: Vincent Morrone
Vision of Shadows
| Vision of Shadows |
| Vision [1] |
| Vincent Morrone |
| Entranced Publishing (2013) |
Is Bristol Blackburn about to meet the love of her life...or her killer?
After the death of her parents, Bristol Blackburn's life is thrown into chaos and she's forced to move to Spirit, a small town where shadows are stirring. As she learns to navigate her new school and figures out how to keep her psychic abilities secret from her family, Bristol comes face to face with the boy who makes a regular appearance in her dreams: the gorgeous, possibly deadly, Payne McKnight. Soon she’ll find out if Payne will be the love of her life, or the end of it — and she has no idea which possibility scares her more.
And that's not even the worst of it. Strange shadows are haunting her dreams, and they're up to something that could put Bristol and the lives of everyone she loves in jeopardy.
Vision of Shadows
Vincent Morrone
Vision of Shadows
Copyright © 2013,
Vincent Morrone
All rights reserved. Ebooks are not transferable. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage system without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Edited by Emily Marquart
Cover Art by Fiona Jayde
Book design by Tricia Kristufek
Publisher’s Note:
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
First Entranced Publishing, LLC electronic publication: 2013
Entranced Publishing, LLC
Minneapolis, Minnesota, United States of America
www.entrancedpublishing.com
Is Bristol Blackburn about to meet the love of her life...or her killer?
After the death of her parents, Bristol Blackburn’s life is thrown into chaos and she’s forced to move to Spirit, a small town where shadows are stirring. As she learns to navigate her new school and figures out how to keep her psychic abilities secret from her family, Bristol comes face to face with the boy who makes a regular appearance in her dreams: the gorgeous, possibly deadly, Payne McKnight. Soon she’ll find out if Payne will be the love of her life, or the end of it—and she has no idea which possibility scares her more.
And that’s not even the worst of it. Strange shadows are haunting her dreams, and they’re up to something that could put Bristol and the lives of everyone she loves in jeopardy.
I had nearly given up on fulfilling my dream of becoming a writer, until someone reminded me that I could still make my dream come true. If there’s any one person I owe everything to, it’s you, my love. Becky, you not only inspired me to keep going until I got it right, you also taught me that with enough hard work, dedication, and determination, I could do it. As usual, you were right.
I’d like to dedicate Vision of Shadows to you above all else. My Princess. You really are the girl of my dreams. Thanks for being mine.
Vision of Shadows is more than just a novel for me. It’s literally a dream come true. After so many years, I finally got a novel published. Yippee! However, I never would have gotten here on my own.
One of my greatest regrets was that my mom isn’t around to read this. However, that didn’t stop me from telling her all about it. If I can thank anyone for my creative side, it’s her.
I’ve got to also name my two biggest fans. My daughters, Jessica and Danielle, who always read what I write. Knowing how much you looked forward to what I wrote helped to keep me going. Jessie, I love it when my words make you laugh. And to Danny, my personal editor, no. I don’t have anything new for you to read. (Yet.)
I need to thank Ashley Christman and Entranced Publishing for taking a chance on me! You guys took me in, made me one of your own
, and put up with my wise cracks. (No small task.)
Everyone at Entranced has been so incredible and supportive. I really feel like I should thank each and every one individually, but I can’t. However, here are a few shout outs!
Fellow Entrancie Nicole Camp for the encouragement. Eden Plantz, you read VoS and believed in it. And me. If not for you, I wouldn’t be here. My amazing editor, Emily Marquart, for not only helping make VoS shine, but you helped make me a better writer in the long run. Thanks also to Claudia Carozza, Laura Toeniskoetter, Summer Lane, Lola Verrnon, Fiona Jayde, #DarksideResearchTeam, and all my Twitter buddies!
To my YARush Cohorts, Georgeann Swiger, J.E. Shannon, Jordan Link, Kara Leigh Miller, Louise D. Gornall, and Stacey Nash. You guys rock!
Matt Young, who did an early beta read for me. Your input was valuable and I’ve thought back to it as I worked on the rest of the series.
On that same note, I need to thank everyone through my life that’s ever read anything I’ve written. To the short stories in high school, to the fun Christmas letters from my dogs, to any poem, song lyric or haiku, thanks for indulging me!
One
The Stuff Dreams Are Made Of
Journal of Bristol Blackburn
Sunday, March 17
th
There are times whe
n being psychic really bites, and this is one of them. Here it is, three in the morning, and all I can think about is the boy who will eventually have his hands on me.
I have no idea what his name is. We’ve never met, but I feel like we’ve grown up together. I’ve had visions of him since I was six years old. Now, eleven years later, I know we’re getting closer and closer to finally meeting. I think it’s going to happen any day now.
And the thought scares the hell out of me.
I know what
Dream Boy will look like. In a word: hot. Dark hair that falls loosely over his deep blue eyes. He has an angel’s face and the devil’s grin.
I know he’s got a bad boy attitude. Half the time, I get flashes of him getting hurt. Sometimes he’s playing the hero. Other times, he’s just being an idiot. Many times, it seems like there’s someone who enjoys hurting him.
What I don’t know is what he’ll be to me.
There are times whe
n he seems to love me. Don’t ask me why. But he’ll look at me with nothing but love and contentment in his eyes. Earlier tonight, I had one of those dreams. One where he couldn’t keep his hands off of me. Weird that I know every inch of his body, yet I have no idea what his name is, huh?
Then there’s the other vision. It was the first one I had of him
, and the one I have most often. It’s the one I woke from tonight, the feeling of his hands still on my skin.
In that vision, he doesn’t look at me with love, but
with hatred. He has his hands wrapped around my neck as he slowly squeezes the life out of me.
So any day now, I’
m about to meet the boy of my dreams—literally. Then I get to see if he’s going to be the love of my life or the end of it.
Funny thing is, I’m not sure which idea scares the crap out of me more.
It Was Going To Be One Of Those Mornings
In case you’re wondering
, I’ve done a lot of the things you’d expect psychics to do, including talking to ghosts. Some people might think the idea of talking to the dead is scary. Nothing could be further from the truth. I’ve never been afraid of ghosts. If anything, I’ve found it easier to talk to the dead than the living.
Take Clair
e, who had just appeared to me, for example. Her blond hair reached the base of her neck and framed her pear-shaped face. I could tell she had been a lovely woman when she was alive. Which, judging from the up-to-date pretty blue dress she wore, wasn’t too long ago. She must have been in her early forties when she passed.
We were sitting at a restaurant with outside seating. I was waiting for my parents to show. She was there for other reasons.
“Please, call me Bristol.” I smiled, hoping she understood why I was whispering. You’d be surprised at how many ghosts take offense to the idea that I don’t want to look like I’m talking to myself.
“That’s such a lovely and unusual name,” Claire said
. “And it fits you. You’re a very pretty girl.”
I blushed. I
’d never thought of myself as pretty, especially not compared to my parents, who looked like models. My mom had soft, blond, pin-straight hair, exotic grey eyes, and a model’s waif-like figure. My dad was solid as a rock with jet black hair, a square jaw, and green eyes.
“I’m so happy
that I can have someone to share this with,” she said. “You’re sure I’m not bothering you?”
“No,
it’s nice to have the company.”
“That’s my daughter, Chloe, and her boyfriend, Adam.” Claire pointed to the couple she’d been watching. They were sitting a
few tables away. “They’ve been together for three years. She met him after that stupid car accident took me away from her. I was always afraid she would never fall in love. You see, first her father walked out on us when she was only twelve. And then I left…”
“You didn’t leave,” I insisted. “If it was an accident, it wasn’t a choice.”
Claire smiled. “It’s nice of you to say that. You seem very at ease. I take it I’m not your first ghost?”
“Definitely not
.”
“I never believed in ghosts until I was one
.” Claire grinned. “Have you ever been scared?”
“No,
I’ve been around them since I was little. I’ve had a few that could be annoying. You’re fine, but I once had a ghost that hung around for two weeks singing “Copacabana” over and over, each time getting the words wrong. Finally, I had to download the song and teach it to him. He was able to move on afterward.”
Claire laughed. “Oh my, that must have been horrible.” Her face went all motherly.
“Still, I imagine it can’t be easy being… different.”
I
glanced at my watch. My parents were twenty minutes late.
Big surprise.
“I’m sure they’ll be here soon,” Claire said.
Man, she must have been great at the whole mother thing. “You never know with them,” I whispered. “This is going to be the first time I’m with the both of them in I don’t know how long. Probably the last time.”
Claire offered me a sympathetic smile, the kind mothers g
ive their small children when putting Band-Aids on their knees.
“I’m sure that’s not right,” Claire said. “Your parents are probably just busy. Maybe you should tell them how you feel.”
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “They’re coming here to tell me they’re filing for divorce. They think I don’t know, but it’s kinda hard to hide things from me.”
“I’m sorry,” she said
with a grimace. “Do they fight a lot?”
“They don’t see each other
enough
to fight.”
“Bristol, they’re still your parents,” Claire insisted.
Her eyes locked on mine firmly. “They’ll always love you.”
She was sweet, but we both knew better. Not all parents were like Claire. Mine weren’t. We didn’t even feel like a family, just three people who shared an address. Hell, I spen
t more time with Ricky than my parents. Of course, Ricky is my hamster, so I’m not sure he counts.
“Bristol,” Claire said. “I think he’s getting ready to do it!”
I followed Claire’s gaze to the horse and carriage pulling up. While Chloe was distracted, Adam rose from his chair and circled around the table to stand in front of her. Chloe’s eyes darted back and forth between the carriage and Adam. Claire sniffed beside me. Then Adam dropped to one knee, popped out a box from his pocket, and asked Chloe to marry him.
And I was
instantly enveloped by the torrent of emotions from everyone around me.
One
of my many weird talents is I sometimes sense what others are feeling, emotionally and physically. Like dreaming of the future, I can’t control when it will happen. Although, it usually only occurs with really emotional situations, like a marriage proposal.
U
nhindered joy radiated from Chloe. I sensed Adam’s fading fears that he hadn’t gotten everything right replaced by overwhelming elation when she said yes.
Claire was positively glowing. Not in a weird, paranormal way. Just in that wonderful
, motherly,
I couldn’t be happier for my sweet little girl
way.
Quite a few waitresses
, and even one of the waiters, were weeping. When Adam got up, there was a moment of silence as they lost themselves in each other’s eyes. They kissed and everyone applauded.
“I’m so happy for you,” I said to Claire, taking advantage of the fact that no one would notice m
e talking right now. “I think he’s going to make her very happy.”
Claire cried. “I’m so glad I could see this. I wish I could be there with her for everything. I do wish I could’ve gotten to know him. He
seems
to love her so much.”
I hear
d the unspoken fear. I’m sure Claire was happy at some point with her husband before the louse skipped out on her and Chloe. She was doing her best not to think about it, but it was there in the back of her mind. How could it not be?
I made a quick decision.
“What did you say you did for a living? Back when you were alive.”
Claire thought for a moment. “I was a music teacher.”
“What did your students call you?”
Claire looked perplexed. “Mrs. Caldone. Why?”
I walked to where Chloe was getting into the carriage, a giant bouquet of flowers being placed in her arms by the coach. Chloe seemed overwhelmed, almost dizzy with joy. But I could sense a tinge of sadness within her as she gazed at the beautiful ring with the tear-shaped diamond.
“Hi.” I offered my hand and smiled. “Congrats! I thought I recognized you. Your mom’s a teacher
—Mrs. Caldone, right?”
“Thank you,” Chloe said,
still glowing. “And yes she was. Were you one of her students?”
I nodded.
“I’m afraid she died in an accident a few years ago,” Chloe said with a tear in her eye. “I wish she was here, so I could share this with her. She’d be so happy.”
I gripped her hand.
“I’d bet a million dollars she
can
see you right now, and that she’s thrilled for you. Trust me.” I reached my other hand over to Adam. “Really, congratulations.” After a final wave, I made my way back to the table where Claire was waiting.
“See
, I sometimes get these visions,” I explained. “Mostly when I dream, but I have been known to get them while awake. When I’m touching two people who have a strong connection, sometimes I get a flash. Circumstances help. So does luck.”
Claire, however, didn’t want a lesson in Weirdo 101. “Well, did you see anything?”
“Just a flash of them putting a crib together.”
“A c
rib?” Claire gasped. “A baby! Oh, that’s wonderful.”
“Wasn’t their baby,” I added. “They were much older. Adam was working with their oldest son on putting the crib together. Their youngest son was painting the room. There was another man painting, who was their son-in-law. He was about Chloe’s age now. I saw Chloe walk in with
her
daughter. It was your
granddaughter
who was pregnant. And I’m pretty sure your granddaughter’s name was Claire.”
I watched as Claire tried to take everything in. Chloe had met the right man. They
’d be happy as they raised their family together, and Claire wouldn’t be forgotten.
“Thank you. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”
I blushed. I don’t handle gratitude real well. But my embarrassment was forgotten as soon as I spotted my parents walking down the block.
This was it. This was the moment
my parents would tell me we were no longer a family. What would I say? Should I say anything? Would it even matter? I tried to picture how it would happen, but my mind was blank. I almost didn’t hear the scream.
Tires squealed as a large black car blasted past a red light into a busy intersection. The car was going at least sixty as a second car smashed into its rear right side, sending the black car fishtailing right
toward the sidewalk.
And right into my parents.
I called out to them and ran, but the weepy waiter from before grabbed me. I fell to my knees, screaming. I felt their shock and pain, right before they died. I stopped struggling. It didn’t matter anymore. I knew they were gone.
The waiter holding me tr
ied to calm me down, stroking my hair as I wept. “Who were they?”
I turned away, not wanting to look. There beside me was Claire. “They were her parents,” she said before fading away.
My heart pounded as I searched for my parents’ ghosts. Where were they? They had to be here, someplace. They were dead. Certainly, they would come to me now. If I could see the dead, hear the dead, talk to the dead, why wouldn’t I be able to see my parents? If only for one last time.
But everywhere I looked, all I saw was the living. And I never felt more alone.
Journal of Bristol Blackburn
Wednesday,
March 20
th
It’s been three days, and I still can’t believe it. My parents are dead. I can say it out loud, write it my journal, even talk to Ricky, but it doesn’t seem real.
We were never close
, but they were my parents, and I hate that they’re dead. But there doesn’t seem to be a hell of a lot I can do about it.
The saddest part is, it shouldn’t be that big of a deal for someone like me, right? So they’re dead. They could be here if they wanted to. We could still share those special moments like my first kiss or first breakup or stuff. After all, I’m Bristol Blackburn. I talk to the freaking dead! Sometimes I can’t get the dead to shut up. Claire was nice, but some of the others, oh my God! I’ve had ghosts insist on telling me every last detail about their lives. Or worse, their deaths.
So why won’t my parents appear? I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised they want nothing to do with me now that they’re dead. They didn’t while they were alive. It’s no big deal. I’ll be fine. Life goes on.
And yes, I realize how lame this sounds.
I’m going to live in their old hometown, Spirit, which is in upstate New York, with my dad’s brother, my Uncle Mark. I don’t know how to feel about him. He’s always sent me birthday and Christmas cards, but until now I’d never heard his voice. He’s called me three times since the accident. He seems nice enough, if a bit persistent.
The first time he called was that night. Told me how sorry he was
, if there was anything he could do to just say so, and he was looking forward to finally meeting me. Hard to buy that. Why would he? But I’ll give him points for trying. He offered to drive down and get me that night. Said I shouldn’t be alone. But I told him I had things to do, and I wasn’t alone. Like he’d want to be stuck in a car with a grieving teenage girl for over six hours. I told him I’d just get a bus ticket.
He called this morning to tell me he’d made all the arrangements for the burial
, was working on getting me enrolled in school there, and he didn’t want me to worry. I’m sure he’s thrilled to have to do all this for a girl who’s never spoken to him. Never bothered to pick up the phone and call him and say, hey Uncle Mark, thanks for remembering my birthday this year, my parents didn’t. I appreciate he’s making an effort, but he and I both know he’s simply stuck with me.
He mentioned coming to get me again, this time saying his sons are really anxious to meet me.
Right.
I’m sure they’re delighted to have to share their home with some whacked-out teenager they’ve never met. I turned him down again.
I hate buses, but I can’t stand the thought of asking him to drive all the way down just to drive all the way home again. I’m going to have to live with them for a few years, so I figure best not get them all to hate me just yet. God, they must be tired of me already.