Evenlight

  Book 3 of the Meratis Trilogy

  By

  Krista Walsh

  All Rights Reserved

  This edition published in 2015 by Raven’s Quill Press

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this work are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication maybe reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the publisher. The rights of the authors of this work has been asserted by him/her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Chapter One

  Detective Pete Driscoll poured a cup of coffee into his white “I Love New York” mug. He grimaced as the grounds floated up to the top, half of his daily reminder that he needed to invest in a new coffee maker. The other half was a bitter burnt flavour as the dark sludge passed over his taste buds.

  He sat down at his small kitchen table and flipped open the newspaper. Nothing interesting.

  “Looks like it’s going to be a slow day, Fred,” he said to the fat grey cat sitting on the table next to his paper. “We may need to paint the apartment after all.”

  Fred yawned.

  But before Pete could resign himself to choosing the shade of trim, his phone rang. He smiled. Maybe today wouldn’t be so slow after all.

  ***

  Jeff Powell lay in bed and held his breath as his girlfriend read over his morning’s pages—new characters for a new life. He scrutinised her face, thirsting for each minute reaction. Unfortunately, either Cassie Murphy had turned pro at stoicism or his lack of imagination made it impossible to interpret the subtle changes. He had no idea what she was thinking. With uncomfortable anticipation, he waited until her gaze rose from the page to meet his.

  Then he saw it—that faint trace of sympathy in those night-sky blue eyes—and his stomach dropped.

  “It’s still crap, isn’t it?” he asked, braced for the worst.

  “Little bit,” Cassie replied, the kindness in her voice not doing anything to lessen the discouraging blow. She looped her fingers through his, set the pages down on the desk next to the bed, and rolled onto her side to face him. “But I do notice improvement from last month.”

  Jeff forced out a breath of frustration and wound the fingers of his free hand through Cassie’s waist-length hair, freed from its usual ponytail to allow for more comfortable lounging on a Sunday afternoon.

  Every day for the last three months he had forced himself to write something. A few sentences, a full paragraph, anything to exercise his brain and get his creative muscles working again. Some days he thought he noticed some improvement, a mental twitch as his muse returned. Then he’d read it again later and accept that wishful thinking did not equal imagination. Not even his once inflated ego could believe it did.

  In as disheartened a tone as he could manage, he said, “You’re only saying that so I don’t jump out the window.”

  Cassie smiled and propped herself up on her elbow to stare down at him. “I would hope you have more to live for than your words now.”

  Her fingertips traced a pattern around the green and black amulet he never took off, down his chest, over his stomach, and Jeff felt the blood in his veins sing in response. Before she got too far, she splayed her palm over his belly.

  “I wouldn’t lie, Jeff. Not about this. It’s better. It’s far from great, and far from where you were, but more than the single sentences you’ve been writing since we got home. Imagination is only half the magic behind your books. Having lost it, your skill and experience need to adjust and compensate, like losing sight in one eye. You’ll get back there. I have faith in you.”

  She bent her head to brush her lips against his, and Jeff relished the warmth that spread through him, damping down the darkness of his depression.

  He’d given up a lot, and fought hard for moments like these, but he found he had to remind himself it was worth it. Which made him feel like an ass. Which never failed to douse the heat Cassie spurred as it slammed against the cold wall of guilt.

  He told himself this struggle would be temporary, that being with Cassie was better than talking to the fictional voices in his head. That he only felt so discouraged because of the loss of his imagination. The sensation of having his creativity, all his characters, worlds, and dialogues torn from his brain was still fresh. It had been less than a year ago, even if it felt like decades because of everything that had happened since.

  Twice Jeff and Cassie had found themselves caught up in the whirlwind of the Meratis incantation, a world-jumping spell that landed them in Andvell, the fictional setting of Jeff’s bestselling fantasy novels. The first time summoned by his unimpressed characters to sort out some plot inconsistencies—most of which hadn’t been his fault—and the second time caught up in the plans of the sorcerer Raul, who had been living the high life in Montreal for six months without Jeff’s knowledge. Considering how hard Jeff had tried to put his first adventure behind him, it had been a rude awakening to come home one day to find Jayden Feldall and Brady Reed waiting for him in his apartment, but again he’d done what he could to help his other-worldly friends. They’d defeated Raul, for good this time, and life had returned to normal.

  Except for Jeff’s lack of imagination. The Sisters, a walking riddle in the form of three witches, had made it clear that if they were to return what they’d taken, it would be in exchange for what he’d traded it for in the first place. Cassie.

  As half-empty as he felt, and sometimes borderline crazy with all the words bottled up and no idea how to release them, he wasn’t willing to lose her.

  “You could always use the Sisters’ gift, you know,” Cassie said, interrupting his brooding.

  Jeff raised his eyebrows and she laughed and tapped the end of his nose with her fingertip. “I didn’t read your mind. It’s not difficult to guess where your thoughts go when you get all quiet. I’m just trying to guide you back. Point you in the obvious direction.”

  Jeff reached up to tuck a stray hair behind her ear, resting his palm against her cheek. “Obvious, maybe. But not anything I want to consider. Not if there’s the smallest risk they would take you away from me.” Cassie opened her mouth to argue, and he pressed his fingers against her lips. “And you know it’s a risk. They said themselves that to trade for my imagination would be to trade you. My vote is we stay safe and warm in bed. Like you said, it’s only been three months. Who knows what will happen in another three.”

  Cassie raised a shoulder, and trapped Jeff’s hand in place against her cheek. “The Sisters’ way would be faster.”

  Twisting his head towards the desk, Jeff’s gaze fell on the glass orb currently in use as a paperweight on a stack of failed writing attempts. Within the glass, green, blue, and yellow swirls seemed to dance in the reflection of the sun. Innocent looking, a fancy bauble, but as with everything associated with those witches, appearances were deceiving. That little glass ball was his key back into Andvell. Back into the novel he had thought existed only in his head. And who knew what would greet him if he went back this time.

  “Fastest way into trouble would be my guess,” he said. “I wouldn’t trust that gift as far as I could—well, I guess I could throw it pretty far. It’s not that big.”

  Cassie smirked and hooked her finger under his chin to pull him back towards her, and then kissed him again. “I’m just saying it’s an option.” She paused and glanced over her shoulder, her blue eyes scanning Jeff’s bachelor apartment before looking back at him. “If things are going to stay the way they are, maybe now would be a good time to discuss some habitational changes?”

  The change in subject came hard and fast, and Jeff swung from feeling discouraged and lost to trapped and flustered. Cassie had tried to start this conversation many times before and he’d always found a way to avoid it. Stuck in bed, he didn’t know how to react or what to do.

  “I’m not saying we have to decide this week,” said Cassie, sounding amused at something she saw in his expression. “I’m just trying to open the door for discussion. You’re the one who asked me to move in.”

  Jeff tried not to go on the defensive. She was right, after all. A month ago, he’d made the suggestion, but at the time his words had been literal. He wanted her to move. Into his bachelor apartment. Never mind that on further reflection, it made no sense at all for her to leave her townhouse for his one room.

  “It could be good for you,” she continued. “Maybe the change in scenery will prompt some new ideas.”

  “But, I—” Jeff’s brain couldn’t get out more words than that. He looked around his one room, his home for over half a decade. He knew every nook and cranny, every scratch in the paint. He’d written most of his books at the same desk, looking out over the same street, across from the same coffee shop.

  Cassie nudged his shoulder. “New place. New start. More than one closet.”

  Jeff entwined his fingers around hers. “I don’t need clothes. I’ll throw them all out and you can have the closets.”

  Cassie laughed. “No, but I appreciate the sacrifice you’re willing to make.” She sighed. “Honestly, in spite of being impractical and somewhat immature of you, I’m almost tempted to take you up on your offer. Anything to get away from the disaster zone that is my current abode.”

  Jeff let go of Cassie’s hand to slide his arm under her waist, pulling her close to rest her head on his shoulder,

and kissed the top of her head. “Is she really that horrible?”

  She sagged against him. “No. All things considered she’s not a bad roommate. She even washes the dishes. I guess it’s just what comes with taking in a seventeen-year-old who’s grown up living in barns and assassinating people for a living.”

  He chuckled. “I’m trying not to say I told you so.”

  Venn Connell, the sister of a woman who had saved Jeff’s life in Andvell and died in the attempt, was a typical teenager. If typical teenagers were trained in sneaky blade-wielding. After the battle on the Kinnaeth Mountains, where Venn got her revenge against her sister’s murderer, she had opted to come back to this world with Jeff and Cassie. Give Montreal life a try. In the process, Jeff had found himself with an adopted cousin, a likely explanation for her sudden appearance in his life. The truth was best kept to themselves.

  Cassie batted his leg. “What other choice did I have? Let her move in with you? The entire city block would have been rased within a week.”

  “You could have left her in Andvell,” Jeff pointed out. He brushed his fingers along her jawbone, dipped his head to kiss her. “Trouble is you’re a softy. One draft away from your Masters in social work and you’re already saving more than one universe.”

  “One troubled youth at a time,” Cassie agreed. “But you’re changing the subject. All the subjects. Give them both some thought. Three months home and we’re stagnant, Jeff. Something needs to change for us both to move past what’s happened. A new apartment, going back into that crazy world to get the rest of your brain, locking Venn up in a roomful of weapons for a few hours so she can vent some of her pent-up stabbing. We’ve got to do something.”

  Jeff chuckled and nodded. “You’re right. I promise to think on all of these things.” He frowned. “Wait, does that mean you’re leaving?”

  Cassie gave him another kiss. “I have to go to the university to talk to my supervisor. It may be my day off, but until this degree is done, I’ll never have time to relax.”

  Jeff wrapped his other arm around her and held her against him. “I think you should stay here. Take the day.”

  He ran his fingers across her stomach, under the hem of her shirt, and smiled when he felt her shiver.

  “You are mean,” she said, her voice turned thick like honey. “But I can’t listen to your vile temptations. Really. I need to go.”

  She reached up to half-heartedly push Jeff away as he brushed his lips along her collarbone, his fingers still caressing the skin over her belly, her hips.

  The alarm went off on Cassie’s phone.

  They both sighed, and Jeff sat up, pulling Cassie with him.

  “I should be done in a couple of hours. Dinner at seven? I’ll make a reservation,” she said, catching his lips. “We can go to that steak place you like, and I’ll invite Venn. You guys haven’t had much time to catch up the last couple of weeks.”

  Jeff grimaced. “Can we trust her with a steak knife?”

  Cassie laughed as she grabbed her winter coat from the back of Jeff’s computer chair, shrugging it on. “I think the uncertainty adds to the fun.” She pushed him backwards on the bed. “Keep writing. Maybe you’ll figure out something for Pete to do other than paint.”

  Jeff made a last ineffectual grab for her as she walked out the door, but once she was gone he pushed his hands through his hair and released a drawn-out groan. Messes. Nothing but messes. Ever since the enchantress Maggie had cast that stupid Meratis incantation that summoned Jeff into Andvell for the first time, his life had been one big problem after another.

  Of course, in the sort of irony life loves to dole out, all of his adventures could have meant years of plot ideas if he could find a way to get them on the page.

  As he lay in the darkening room, the reflection of streetlights on snow clouds giving the evening an orange cast, he wondered what his life would have been like if Jayden and Jasmine Feldall had decided to leave well enough alone and never made contact.

  It didn’t take too much of an imagination to picture. He would have kept writing novels that were entertaining but somewhat superficial—he could admit it—and flirting with the beautiful, blue-eyed woman at the coffee shop. Would he ever have found the courage to ask Cassie to dinner if they hadn’t experienced the terror and excitement they’d faced in Andvell? Somehow he doubted it. He would have mumbled and scraped and kept buying coffees and ordering breakfast sandwiches as his waist line continued its outward expansion, and eventually Cassie would have quit, married someone far more deserving, and he’d never have seen her again.

  His Montreal friends would have continued to drift away thanks to his busy schedule, until his only form of human connection would be through the various social media sites. Another year and his progression into hermitism would have been complete.

  Now he had friends, albeit far away ones with no real means of communication, who knew him better than anyone else. They’d been through the worst times together, they’d grieved together, they’d kicked some ass together. Well, they’d kicked ass while Jeff had watched and cheered, but it was still more ass-kicking than anything he’d done in Montreal.

  With another groan, Jeff stuffed his pillow over his head. He couldn’t bring himself to regret any of it. Even if he had to spend the rest of his life rewriting Detective Pete’s morning and watching cat videos on the Internet to get a better idea of Fred’s personality, it would all be worth it.

  Maybe in time he could accept it.

  Frustration vented, and determined to be happy, Jeff pushed himself off the bed and dropped into his computer chair. Pen in hand—he couldn’t bring himself to turn on his laptop very often these days; the blinking cursor created too much stress—he stared out the window.

  Five o’clock in the evening and already the sky was dark. Across the street, Le Café au Coin looked warm and cozy, bustling with the evening crowd as big white flakes coated the city. Not the first snowfall of the year, but it might prove to be the storm that pushed them into official winter. Christmas lights coloured the street, and the serenity of the scene calmed Jeff’s mind enough that he reached for his notebook and started to work.

  Pete answered the phone. “Driscoll.”

  “Pete, thank god. It’s Danny. We have a situation.”

  “Where are you?”

  The words stopped. Jeff crinkled his brow in concentration, drawing squiggles in the top corner of the page. Where was Danny? The coffee shop? How cliché. He tore the page out of his notebook, wadded it into a ball and tossed it across the room onto the already large pile of wadded up pages in the corner.

  It’s all worth it, he reminded himself. It has to be.

  ***

  After another hour and a half of driving Pete around the city with no idea where the man was going, Jeff gave up and threw down his pen. He pulled on his coat and boots, figuring he’d give himself enough time to walk to the restaurant and save on cab fare he probably wouldn’t be able to afford soon with no new royalty cheques coming in. Maybe the motion of putting one foot in front of the other would shake something lose in his brain.

  At the very least, he could hopefully shake away the black mood hanging over him before he saw Cassie. Or Venn. One word in the wrong tone to that girl and he’d likely find a conveniently hidden fishbone in his steak.

  The thought of Venn made him smile. Aside from a few mishaps when she first arrived in this world, and the delayed acceptance that, while it was okay to be angry, it was not okay to threaten to push your co-worker’s face into the blender, she had adapted remarkably well.

  He was proud of her.

  He also wondered how she would react if she learned Cassie planned to move out. As much as Venn loved her independence and appreciated being alone, he got the sense that Cassie was one of her greatest motivators for doing well. While Venn and Jeff enjoyed more of a juvenile sibling relationship, Venn respected and looked up to Cassie, grateful to have been given the opportunity to get away from Andvell and try out a life that didn’t revolve around killing, spying, and thinking of her survival on a day-to-day basis. Hopefully, she wouldn’t take Cassie leaving her as a slight. Otherwise: watch out Montreal.