Vision of Shadows Read online

  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

  Table of Contents

  Back Cover Copy

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  About the Author

  Back Cover Copy

  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.

  Dedication:

  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.

  Acknowledgements:

  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!

  Chapter One

  The Stuff Dreams Are Made Of

  Journal of Bristol Blackburn

  Sunday, March 17th

  There are times when 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 when 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.

  Chapter Two

  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 Claire, 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 sittin
g 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 give 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 spent 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.

  Unhindered 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 me 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 heard 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 crib?” 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 a
s 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 tried 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 20th

  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.