This is a portal fantasy series with mythological roots and action-adventure tendencies. You can search through all my work on my website.

In the ashes of her past, she will rise up, and her death will save us all.

Lizzie ran from her past for ten years, zigzagging across the United States every few months, trying to outlast the prophesy that an oracle gave to her when she was just sixteen years old.

But nobody can run from their destiny forever.

After watching her friend brutally gunned down by a group of ruthless demons, she had no choice but to protect the woman’s child, and there was only one place where Lizzie knew the girl would be safe.

Bronard, Missouri.

Home.

She stayed away to protect her parents, but the girl needed mystical protection.

Her parents had taken in magical strays their whole lives, including Lizzie. If anyone could save the poor child’s life, it would be her mother and father.

But will returning to her home doom Lizzie even as she works to save the child she has vowed to defend?

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I laid crumpled on the floor until the coroner came and collected the body, and then I helped Dad strip the bed down to the mattress. He’d had a long time to prepare for this moment. He carried out the plans he’d made beforehand in rote detail. I didn’t have the same luxury. Even though Kimberly had told me that my mother was sick, it never actually registered that she was going to die.

When I came home and saw her enfeebled and bedridden, her death imminent, some part of me still believed that she would live for years and years. Perhaps because she had been alive my entire life, and she was indomitable, a larger-than-life force of nature that nothing could topple.

But time toppled her, didn’t it? The great equalizer. Death.

I wasn’t ready to be without a mother. Then again, Veronica wasn’t ready to be without a mother, either, and I expected her to be strong. I had to be strong, too.

Most of the arrangements had already been made. They’d picked a church for the service and a burial plot. Dessertations, mom’s old shop, catered the wake. Betsy and Ed baked up a spread of bagel sandwiches, donuts, and eclairs for the occasion. The lox was a nice touch.

The wake took place three days after her death, in a small funeral parlor that I used to pass on my way to school when I was younger—when I had all the hope in the world. The funeral director’s son, Brian, had gone to school with me, though he was a few years older.

“It’s nice to see you again,” he said to me softly when Dad and I arrived at the funeral parlor for the wake. “You look lovely.”

I didn’t. I had been crying for the last three days and had only realized I didn’t have the clothes for a funeral a couple of hours before. Luckily, Mom had plenty of dresses. I picked one that was too big on me, but black even if it had fat white polka dots on it, and cinched it with a belt. I said a polite “thank you” and accepted his hand.

“Come this way. We have her set up in the viewing area.”

Mom had wasted away over the last year of being stuck on the bed, but Dad managed to find a dress that fit her perfectly, a simple black number with a white, frilly collar. She wore her favorite dark red lipstick, and they made her up to look nearly alive.

We had an hour alone with her before the people started funneling into the viewing area. First was Ben, the man who made the bourbon we drank the night of her death.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” he said to us both, taking our hands in turn. “I made a special case for you, old friend.”

He reached into his coat and pulled out a bottle of bourbon, and Dad started crying when he saw that Ben had labeled it Junebug, with a little cartoon June bug as the mascot on the label. I took the bottle, as Dad’s hands shook with sadness.

“That’s very sweet,” I said. “He loves your bourbon.”

“We all loved Junebug.” Ben placed his hand on Dad’s shoulder. “And we love you. I’ll deliver that case tomorrow and check on you. Louisa’s gonna make a casserole, too.”

The rest of the wake was a bevy of faces, hands, and names, some I recognized from years ago and others that were new to me. We must have shaken hands with over a hundred people during the three hours of the wake, and I heard stories from so many people that filled my heart with joy. It had been years since I heard about my mother saving the neighbor’s dog from getting run over by a tiller or how she used to make the best eclairs in the whole state—so good that the governor had asked her to cater his daughter’s wedding.

But there were also stories from the years I missed, and they ripped my heart in half, little by little. I was nearly a puddle on the floor by the time the last of them fell on my ears. That night at home, we ate a dinner of bagels and donuts, taking turns swigging from the bottle.

The next morning, I woke early with a splitting headache and realized we’d finished over half of the bourbon Ben gave us. I popped some Advil and rode into town to pick out a new dress from Dana’s, landing on a spaghetti strap, knee-length black dress with a cardigan to cover my shoulders.

I returned to the house just in time to pick Dad up for the funeral. He was looking over a set of cards and mumbling to himself.

“I forgot to mention this last night,” he said, pulling on his coat. “But you are going to need to say something at the funeral today.”

“Me?” I said. “I haven’t prepared—I have no idea what to say. I’m not good at public speaking.”

“Just speak from the heart—and remember, it doesn’t matter if everyone hates it. The only thing that matters is that your mother asked for it, and we need to follow her last” —he choked back tears— “her last wishes, okay?”

I nodded. “Okay, Dad.”

He was in no condition to operate a vehicle, so I drove us to the church. I hadn’t been to a church since I was baptized, and the fact that Mom wanted to have a funeral in one struck me as odd.

“She came to it late in life,” Dad answered the question on my mind as we pulled up to the white-washed church. “When she could still get out, they had support groups in the church, and they were kind to her.”

There were already a dozen cars at the church when we arrived, and more streamed in behind us. By the time the service started and the pastor called for his first blessing, the church pews were nearly filled. My mother was quite a woman, it seemed, and touched so many people in the town.

After the pastor delivered his remarks, Dad walked up to the pulpit and cleared his throat. “Thank you for coming. If you knew my wife, you know that she loved telling stories. I loved listening to them. I’m afraid I’m not much of a talker. That was Junebug—my wife’s job. She was the one everyone loved, and I was the one who made friends simply by being in her presence. After all, how bad could I be if Junie chose to love me, right?”

He laughed sadly. “She put out so much good into the world. It was her fuel. There was never a school fundraiser or bake sale she wasn’t willing to donate her time and her baking expertise to help—and god, could that woman bake.” There was a murmur of agreement and light laughter throughout the church. He continued, “It’s not often that a person finds something they were better suited for than Junie and baking. If you ever had something she baked, you know those hands were blessed by God—and now they have returned to his grace.” He cleared his throat. “I love you, Junebug. You were a light in the darkness, and the world has become colder without you in it. And now, I believe my daughter has something to say.”

He rushed off the stage and sat down as I stood and walked to the pulpit. “Wow. I was just thinking that I pitied the person who followed that—and um, I guess that’s me. I was only told I had to say something a couple of minutes ago, so I am just winging it—can you tell?” I sighed and collected myself, gathering the words. “My mom was one of the two greatest humans I’ve ever known, and I’ve been all over this country, met all sorts of people. Mom was one of a kind. She took me in, even though I’m not her blood, and gave me a home. She didn’t have to do that. She didn’t have to do any of the amazing things she did, but she did them anyway, no matter the cost. I’ve been gone for a decade, and I know there wasn’t a day she didn’t talk about me because at least once a day, my ears would start ringing—that was just one of the many things I learned from my mom. ‘If your ears are ringing, then somebody’s talking about you.’ What if you have tinnitus, though? She never answered that one. The minute I came home and felt the love both Mom and Dad imbued in the house I grew up, I knew I had made a mistake leaving all those years ago. I have never felt that kind of love before, or since, except in that house. Mom loved, recklessly and often, even when people didn’t deserve it—especially when people didn’t deserve it.”

I stood there for a minute, stifling tears before I sat down. When Dad squeezed my arm and looked at me with pride, I knew I had not embarrassed myself or my mother’s memory.

After the funeral, we led the procession to the burial plot and threw flowers into the grave as her body was lowered into the ground. And then it was over. The people dispersed, heading back to where they were from—and left behind two broken people grieving alone over Mom’s grave.

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This is a portal fantasy series with mythological roots and action-adventure tendencies. You can search through all my work on my website.

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This is a portal fantasy series with mythological roots and action-adventure tendencies. You can search through all my work on my website.

In the ashes of her past, she will rise up, and her death will save us all.

Lizzie ran from her past for ten years, zigzagging across the United States every few months, trying to outlast the prophesy that an oracle gave to her when she was just sixteen years old.

But nobody can run from their destiny forever.

After watching her friend brutally gunned down by a group of ruthless demons, she had no choice but to protect the woman’s child, and there was only one place where Lizzie knew the girl would be safe.

Bronard, Missouri.

Home.

She stayed away to protect her parents, but the girl needed mystical protection.

Her parents had taken in magical strays their whole lives, including Lizzie. If anyone could save the poor child’s life, it would be her mother and father.

But will returning to her home doom Lizzie even as she works to save the child she has vowed to defend?

Subscribe now

Dad wasn’t wrong. The bourbon burned going down, but it burned so good. After taking a swig from my glass, I pushed it over to Dad to fill me up again, which he did without so much as a raised eyebrow.

“Ben Coleman up the road makes this himself. If it isn’t the smoothest bourbon I’ve ever had, I don’t know what is.” He finished his own glass and refilled it. “I’ve been his best customer since your mom got sick.”

I swirled the drink in my glass. “I should have been here, Dad. I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

He chuckled lightly to himself. “You don’t owe us anything, kid. That’s not how parenting works. You don’t have a kid so they’ll take care of you. It was an honor to bring you up and watch you make your own decisions.” He took a long drink. “Wish you made different ones, mind you, and could’ve used your help, ‘specially in the last couple of years, but you don’t owe us anything. I just hoped you lived your best life out there on the road. Did you?”

I shook my head. “I didn’t live much of a life, Dad. I saw a lot of the country, though. I don’t think there’s a sight or attraction I haven’t seen, in fact. I made it to every national park in the contiguous and just about every roadside attraction I could find.”

He smiled. “Which was your favorite?”

“They were all pretty cool, but the Billy the Kid museum—the one in New Mexico, not the one in Texas—that one’s gotta be the weirdest. They have a whole exhibit dedicated to a woman that went to Sunday school every week for over fifty years.”

“Was she Billy the Kid’s ancestor or something?”

“Not that I know. She was just a woman. Plus, they have cars, and trucks, and dolls, and other stuff that definitely did not exist in the 1800s. Charming, though. I bought a pin, but I lost it. I lost so much on the road, Pop.”

“Sounds like you lost yourself out there,” he said.

I nodded. “Yeah. This is the first time I feel like myself in a long time.”

“And you’re still determined to leave, then?”

I looked at him for a long moment. We both knew the answer. I didn’t get a chance to say it because as I sat there, footsteps banged down the stairs. Johnny, harried and flustered, rushed into the dining room.

“What is it, Johnny?” Dad asked, confused.

“Sorry to disturb you, Carl, but I think it’s time.”

Dad went first into the room, and I followed close behind. Mom’s breathing was so shallow it barely looked as if her chest was moving at all.

“Junebug?” Dad choked out, taking Mom’s hand into his. “I’m here, baby. I love you so much, Junie. You made me happier than I thought possible, for longer than I ever imagined…but I’ll be okay, Junebug. I want you to know that. I know you could never leave if you didn’t know I was going to be okay.” He patted her hand with his, shaking with every word he said. “I’ll see you soon, baby.”

He couldn’t continue through his tears and beckoned me over to him. I sat down beside him. “He’s right, Mom. I’m here. I’m going to take care of him. I promise.”

I didn’t know why I said that. Just moments ago, I was ready to disappear again. But looking at the two of them, I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t just abandon the farm and everything I ever knew—the only place I’d ever been happy—not until I knew that Dad was going to be okay. By the look on his face, he was never going to be okay again. Not until he could join his wife in the great beyond.

“I love you, Mom. I’m sorry I was gone for so long. I’m sorry…I wish I had this past decade with you. I wish I’d called—I wish…there are so many things I wish. But I’m here now, just like you wanted. You can go, now, Mom, because I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere—”

The tears took me over, and I couldn’t say another word. I believed she had heard me. As I wept, the heart monitor flatlined. She let out one final breath, and she was gone.

Read the next chapter

This is a portal fantasy series with mythological roots and action-adventure tendencies. You can search through all my work on my website.

Subscribe now

This is a portal fantasy series with mythological roots and action-adventure tendencies. You can search through all my work on my website.

In the ashes of her past, she will rise up, and her death will save us all.

Lizzie ran from her past for ten years, zigzagging across the United States every few months, trying to outlast the prophesy that an oracle gave to her when she was just sixteen years old.

But nobody can run from their destiny forever.

After watching her friend brutally gunned down by a group of ruthless demons, she had no choice but to protect the woman’s child, and there was only one place where Lizzie knew the girl would be safe.

Bronard, Missouri.

Home.

She stayed away to protect her parents, but the girl needed mystical protection.

Her parents had taken in magical strays their whole lives, including Lizzie. If anyone could save the poor child’s life, it would be her mother and father.

But will returning to her home doom Lizzie even as she works to save the child she has vowed to defend?

Subscribe now

My feet stepped heavily on the way up to Veronica’s room as if concrete had filled my boots and hardened. With great difficulty, I reached the top of the steps and inched open the door to her room. She had ripped all the posters off the wall and capsized the corner desk chair in a fit of anger, but now sat patiently on her bed next to the leather suitcase Dad had given her.

She acknowledged my presence by folding her hands in front of her and turning toward the wall. “Go away.” Her voice was measured and calm, but there was a weariness to it. Her eyes were red and puffy, and the glistening of her cheeks belied her tears.

“It’s time,” I said, trying to give my words an air of finality.

She snapped her head toward me. “Why did you even save me if all you were going to do was send me away?”

I sat down next to her. “Saving somebody and caring for them are two different things. I’m not much of a hero, but I’m even less of a mother. I thought maybe—maybe Mom and Dad could—but they are both old and sick. This is your best option for a happy life. Kimberly’s done this before, and she knows what she’s doing. I trust her.”

“I hate her,” Veronica scowled.

“I don’t like her, either.”

“I hate you, too.”

“Join the club, kid.” I held out my hand. “That’s not going to change anything. Hate me all you want right now, but soon enough, you’ll forget all about me.”

She wiped her cheek. “How do you know?”

“Cuz I’ve watched it happen a thousand times before.”

She grabbed my hand and pulled herself to stand. “I don’t think so, Lizzie. I think I’m going to remember this forever.”

There was nothing else to say, so I guided her toward the door, carrying the heavy leather suitcase that held the clothes and things I’d bought her—everything that she owned in the world. As we walked down the stairs, I realized that in our haste to leave Nevada, I hadn’t even grabbed a picture of Becky for Veronica to hold on to in her sadness.

That would not do.

The girl at least needed one memento of her mother. When we reached the bottom of the stairs, Carl and Kimberly stood in front of the door, waiting.

“Dad,” I said. “Can you watch Veronica for a moment? There’s something I need to do with Kimberly.”

“Oh, this should be lovely,” Kimberly replied. “One more thing to hold us up. You know I do have other things to do than wait at your beck and call.”

I pulled Kimberly into the other room, and after telling her what I needed, she begrudgingly agreed it was a good idea.

“Close your eyes and imagine the house, every detail that you can,” Kimberly said. “Make it real in your mind, down to the smallest detail.”

I did what she asked, filling in everything I remembered. When I had a clear picture of the house, my stomach fell out from me, and a cold shiver blew through me. For a moment, all hope drained from my body, and then, like a rubber band, my stomach snapped back into my throat with a jerk, and I opened my eyes to see Becky’s house in front of me, just as I remembered it.

“Let’s make this quick,” Kimberly said.

My steps toward the house were measured, made cautious by the memories of the death I’d witnessed there. Kimberly opened the door with her elbow and walked inside through rows of yellow police tape. Bullet holes riddled the walls of the living room and up the stairs, where a streak of blood led us up to the second floor.

“Take your pick,” Kimberly said to the pictures that lined the walls. Some of them were cracked with bullets or were only of Veronica, but at the top, I found a nice big one of the three of them—Veronica, Becky, and Rick, smiling in the grass, as if they would never have another care for the rest of their days.

“This is the one,” I said, grabbing it.

“Good,” she replied. “This place gives me the creeps.”

I stepped past her, led somehow by the bloodstains on the floor in the master bedroom—where Becky had bled out like a stuck pig. Anger rose in my throat when I thought about what monsters could take a mother from her daughter—and that they were still hunting Veronica.

I slammed my hand into the floorboards once, twice, three times, as the tears of rage and grief came, and then I felt Kimberly’s hand slip over my shoulder.

“How could they do this—” I blubbered. “She was such a good one—she didn’t deserve—”

“Monsters don’t care, Lizzie. Not if you’re a saint, or a nun, or a mother. I’ve seen it so many times before that sometimes I forget that most people don’t know that.” She knelt next to me. “I envy that you thought you could avoid your destiny. Even though it was a fool’s errand, you really thought that the gods would allow you peace in a world filled with monsters.”

“She’s not going to be okay, is she?” I asked through more tears.

“I don’t know. I found her a nice family and warded it, so she’s protected, but the rest of it is on her. If she’s like Anjelica, stubborn and foolhardy, they’ll find her in a minute, but if she’s careful—if she takes her protection seriously—maybe she can outrun it. It’s possible.”

“You’ve never seen it before, though, have you?” I asked.

“For the time being, she’ll be okay, but if demons are after her…they are relentless.”

I clenched my fists together. “We have to kill them.”

“I’m working on that. I have to find them first, though, and while I’m doing that, Veronica will be safest away from you, somewhere your prophecies can’t come true, either of them.”

I nodded. “I want to be there when you kill them. I want to watch them banished back to Hell where they belong.”

“I can make that happen.” She stood up. “But one thing at a time. For now, let’s get that picture back to Veronica, okay?”

I placed my hand in Kimberly’s, and we vanished again. For a moment, I was surrounded by black ichor as far as I could see in every direction. My stomach dropped to my knees, and then we were back in my old house, a plume of purple and pink smoke surrounding us.

Veronica jumped back with a stifled scream. It wasn’t every day you saw a pixie materialize in front of you, after all. She calmed after a moment, and I held the picture out for her.

“I wanted you to have something happy that you could look back on, so you don’t forget them.”

Veronica touched the picture, sliding her hand up to her mother’s laughing face. “This—we—I—” She broke down and fell to the floor, sobbing for a long while, while we all tried to comfort her. After a long while before she was calm, she clutched the picture tightly to her chest. “Thank you.”

“I wish I could do more.”

She smiled a sad smile at me. “Maybe you will.”

She held her hand out to me, and I wrapped my fingers around hers. She was so small. She needed protection, but from somebody else. I wasn’t equipped to give her what she needed, no matter how much I wanted to be that person for her.

“We should go,” Kimberly said. softly

I let go of Veronica’s hand, and she took Kimberly’s. “Maybe you’ll come visit,” Veronica said.

I smiled. “Maybe.”

I knew it wasn’t to be. Once she vanished, Kimberly would carry the secret of Veronica’s location to her grave and beyond. In a puff of smoke, they were gone, and a piece of my heart broke.

“Come on,” Dad said. “I have an aged bourbon that would be very appropriate for a shit situation like this.”

Read the next chapter

This is a portal fantasy series with mythological roots and action-adventure tendencies. You can search through all my work on my website.

Subscribe now

This is a portal fantasy series with mythological roots and action-adventure tendencies. You can search through all my work on my website.

In the ashes of her past, she will rise up, and her death will save us all.

Lizzie ran from her past for ten years, zigzagging across the United States every few months, trying to outlast the prophesy that an oracle gave to her when she was just sixteen years old.

But nobody can run from their destiny forever.

After watching her friend brutally gunned down by a group of ruthless demons, she had no choice but to protect the woman’s child, and there was only one place where Lizzie knew the girl would be safe.

Bronard, Missouri.

Home.

She stayed away to protect her parents, but the girl needed mystical protection.

Her parents had taken in magical strays their whole lives, including Lizzie. If anyone could save the poor child’s life, it would be her mother and father.

But will returning to her home doom Lizzie even as she works to save the child she has vowed to defend?

Subscribe now

After I left the Oracle, we headed to the lot Dad recommended and sold the car with no problem. It was an old junker, so I didn’t expect much for it, and I didn’t get much for it. When Dad came to pick us up, he asked me about my day, but I could only answer that it was “fine.” Any more depth than that, and I’d have to give the awful truth: I was going to have to leave them again. I didn’t want to. The longer I spent in my childhood home, the more I realized how unmoored I had been in the past decade, traveling from town to town, searching for a modicum of peace.

Humans have an innate ability to acclimate to their surroundings, and I’d grown to believe the hollowness inside of me was normal, but now I knew that was a lie. The hollowness came from being away from my home and the people I loved, quarantining my heart from the rest of the world. It had all come flooding back to me now. Like a numb hand regaining feeling after a long sleep, the pinpricks of pain meant I was feeling something, and I liked it.

I don’t know what I had hoped the Oracle would say. Maybe that she was wrong, and it was all a big misunderstanding. “Whoopsie, I made a mistake” would have been really nice. My intellectual brain knew that would never happen, of course. And my emotional brain was an idiot that couldn’t find its way out of a paper bag.

When we got home, I decided to do chores to clear my head and figure out my next steps. If I had to leave my parents again, I wanted to remember the feel of the soil on my fingers before I fled like a thief in the night.

“What are you doing?” Veronica’s voice said from the end of a row of tomatoes.

I turned to her, stunned to find that dusk had settled on the farm. I had been in my own head for hours. I wiped the sweat from my brow and gave a deep exhale, looking down at my basket of rotten tomatoes.

“You can’t let the rotten fruit stay on the tree. It corrupts the whole crop.” I held up one of the bruised tomatoes. “See?”

She leaned forward to look at the rotted and bug-eaten tomatoes I’d pulled from the vines. “Gross.”

“Have you ever heard the expression ‘a few bad apples spoil the bunch’?”

“Mommy used to say it.”

I smiled at her. “She’s a very smart lady, but it’s not just an expression. This is where it comes from. If we let these bad ones grow, they’ll attract all kinds of nasty bugs, and if we don’t pick these rotten ones, they can destroy a whole season’s crop. So, I’m going through and picking them.”

“Can I help?”

I pushed the bucket over to her, and we looked for rotten tomatoes until it was too dark to see anything but our noses. I remembered back to my own father teaching me how to tend the crops, and now here I was, passing the knowledge to a new generation. Part of me wished we could stay on that farm forever, tilling the fields and watching them grow, but the rest of me knew that was impossible.

If we stayed together, all of us—Mom, Dad, Veronica, and I—would be in danger. Starr told us that our fates were intertwined, and if that was true, then perhaps this little girl would die with me, and I couldn’t let that happen. The only thing that would protect us was to separate from each other, as far as possible, with no way to contact each other.

“Supper’s ready!” Pop yelled at us from his spot at the back door. “Don’t let it get cold!”

I picked up the basket of rotten tomatoes and walked hand in hand with Veronica to the compost bin, where I tossed the rotten fruit so at least they could do some good. A few bad apples can spoil the bunch, but just because they’ve gone rotten doesn’t mean they can’t still be useful.

“What are we having?” I asked as I took off my shoes inside the house. “I’m starved.”

“Meatloaf,” Dad called from the kitchen. “Thought we’d have a nice, family dinner together.”

That did sound nice, at least until I walked into the dining room and saw Kimberly sitting at the end of the table. My heart sank. Instinctively, I knew that she had found a place for Veronica. I squeezed that little girl’s hand so tight, and I never wanted to let go, even though I knew it was the right thing—the only thing.

“Nice to see you had a change of heart,” Kimberly said. “And that you’re back where you belong.”

I didn’t respond. I took Veronica into the bathroom, where we washed our hands together. Desperation swirled in my stomach. I couldn’t acknowledge that this would be the last night I spent with Veronica, the last meal I shared with her. You barely know this little girl, Lizzie. Screw your head on straight. We finished cleaning our hands and took our seats just as Dad slid the meatloaf onto the table.

“Eat up,” he said.

“It smells delicious, doesn’t it, Veronica?” I asked.

She nodded. “Totally.”

“And hello to you, Veronica,” Kimberly said. “Since Lizzie won’t do it, I’ll introduce myself. My name is Kimberly. We’re going to have so much fun together tonight.”

Veronica cocked her head to the side. “What kind of fun?”

“We’ll talk more after dinner, but I was hoping you would come with me on an adventure.” Her voice was whispered but excited. “Do you like adventures?”

Veronica looked down at her lap. “I used to like adventures, but then—” She didn’t have to finish. “Now, I just like farming. Did you know that a few bad tomatoes can spoil a whole crop?”

Kimberly took a bite of her meatloaf. “I heard something about that. It’s nice you’re learning something. I have a friend who is an excellent teacher. If you like learning, you should really meet him.”

“I don’t want to meet new people for a little while.” Veronica looked over at me, but I focused on swirling barbecue sauce in my mashed potatoes. “You’re here to take me away, aren’t you?”

That took us all by surprise, but Kimberly recovered properly. “You’re very smart. How did you know that?”

“You used the same voice Lizzie did when she brought me here. With adults, the worse the news, the higher their voice.” She took a bite of meatloaf. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“It’s for the best,” I said, half trying to convince myself.

“How do you know?” Veronica asked. “What if I’m supposed to be here with you?”

“I’m no guardian, kid,” I replied. “You need to be in a loving home, with parents who—who can take care of you better than me.”

“What about Carl and Junebug? You said you’d take care of them. Why can’t you take care of me, too?”

“Because I can’t. If you stay around me—I’m trying to keep you safe, okay?”

“You promised to look out for me, and now you’re just going to give me away? And I don’t even have a say in it? That’s not fair!” She slammed her fork on the table. “Why didn’t you just leave me with my mom if you’re just going to abandon me?”

She pushed out her chair and rushed upstairs. I started to go after her but felt the tug of my father’s arm on mine before I could stand.

“You stay here. I don’t think she wants to see you right now.”

I nodded and watched him leave the table. Kimberly waited until he was up the stairs and out of sight before she spoke. “I suppose you’ll be leaving too, before long.”

“I came to make sure Veronica’s taken care of and say goodbye to my mom. I’ve done both of those things, so the best thing for me to do is move on.”

Kimberly chuckled. “You really are an idiot.”

“Excuse me?” I scoffed. “I mean, I know I’m an idiot, but to what specific reason are you referring?”

“Even after all this time…” She shook her head. “Don’t you think your parents would rather have you here, even if it puts them in danger?”

“That’s not their choice to make.”

She stared at me, unblinking. Kimberly’s steely demeanor always unnerved me, and more so at that moment. “Maybe not, but you should let them make that choice.”

I shook my head. “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to them.”

“And that’s why you’re an idiot, a selfish idiot. Your parents are good people, and they’re dying. Whether they burn in a fire or die in their bed, they will be gone soon, and I don’t think it matters to them how. What matters to them is that you’re here with them for the end, not off on some stupid noble quest.” She shrugged. “But then, it’s not about what they want, just what you want, right?”

“That’s not fair.”

Kimberly took her plate to the sink. “It’s the fairest thing I could possibly say about you.”

Footsteps creaked on the stairs. Dad walked into the dining room just as Kimberly came back from the kitchen.

“She’s packing now,” Carl said with a deep sigh. “She doesn’t like it, but she’s doing it. That girl is hard-headed like a mule. Reminds me of somebody else I know.” He turned to me. “Are you sure this is the best idea?”

“That doesn’t matter, Carl,” Kimberly said. “It’s the best thing for her, and that’s all that matters.”

Low blow, Kimberly. Low blow. I calmed myself before I spoke. “No matter what either of you thinks of me, I’ve only tried to do what’s right for the people I care about.”

“I know,” Dad said, squeezing my shoulder. “It’s just funny how trying to do the right thing can lead you to so many wrong decisions.”

Low blow, Dad. Low blow.

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This is a portal fantasy series with mythological roots and action-adventure tendencies. You can search through all my work on my website.

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This is a portal fantasy series with mythological roots and action-adventure tendencies. You can search through all my work on my website.

In the ashes of her past, she will rise up, and her death will save us all.

Lizzie ran from her past for ten years, zigzagging across the United States every few months, trying to outlast the prophesy that an oracle gave to her when she was just sixteen years old.

But nobody can run from their destiny forever.

After watching her friend brutally gunned down by a group of ruthless demons, she had no choice but to protect the woman’s child, and there was only one place where Lizzie knew the girl would be safe.

Bronard, Missouri.

Home.

She stayed away to protect her parents, but the girl needed mystical protection.

Her parents had taken in magical strays their whole lives, including Lizzie. If anyone could save the poor child’s life, it would be her mother and father.

But will returning to her home doom Lizzie even as she works to save the child she has vowed to defend?

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“This place is gross,” Veronica said as we pulled into the trailer park.

She wasn’t wrong. I had lived in my fair share of trailer parks in the past ten years. On the whole, they were clean, if rudimentary, but this place was dingy and sad. Every person we passed looked like the hope had drifted from their eyes long ago. Some of the faces I recognized from my last trip to the park over ten years ago, or from school and around town. All of them relics of a bygone age, hollowed with time and drained of all signs of life. They stared at my boat of a car as we slid through the dirt road littered with plastic and glass bottles.

Crumpled bits of paper rolled across the ground like tumbleweeds. I followed Starr back to her unit, staying far enough behind that she wouldn’t recognize me. She was in the same derelict unit she occupied so long ago, even more dilapidated now, just like her.

The last time we met, I remember thinking the woman seemed like she was at death’s door. Somehow the years had taken even more from her, thinning her out until there was little more than a skeleton, in a suit made of skin, shambling up the stairs of her unit and struggling against gravity to make her way inside.

“Stay here,” I said to Veronica as I put the car in park and locked the doors behind me.

“Shouldn’t leave your kid like that,” a gruff voice called from behind me. I turned to see a pot-bellied man with a five o’clock shadow going on nine if he didn’t find a razor soon. His jagged teeth caught me by surprise as he moved toward me, yellowed, with several having given way to rot and others fallen out completely. “Not safe, that.”

“I don’t want any trouble, mister.”

“Jake. They call me Jake. You can call me ‘honey’ though, love. You’re a delicious-looking one, ain’t ya?” He licked his lips, accentuating his jagged teeth. “Yeah, yer a tasty one.”

“I don’t want any trouble, Jake.”

He stepped forward, grabbing at the belt on his waist as he went. “And what if I want trouble?”

“Leave her be, Jake!” a woman screamed behind us. I turned to see the red-haired woman who tended to the Oracle. “Don’t be an animal. It’s not even a full moon tonight.”

“Come now, Charlie,” Jake said. “I ain’t causing trouble.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Charlie said, scampering up to us. Unlike the woman she served, she was as spry as ever, though she had packed on a couple of pounds in the face and more in the stomach. The extra heft suited her. “Go watch your stories and leave the girl be.”

Jake threw up his hands and turned away, ambling back to a frayed lawn chair and picking up a beer bottle with the label mostly peeled off.

“Thank you,” I said to Charlie.

She dipped her head in acknowledgment. “You look like a girl looking for answers, and if my associate and I know anything, it’s how to find those answers for people.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for,” I said.

“You here for a reading?”

“I’m not sure, but I am looking for answers.” I pointed to the car. “The girl—she’s in a bad way, and I need to figure out how I can help her.”

“We usually don’t do readings for people that young. Never works out well for us. Had some bad experiences in the past.”

“I—I get that. She’s already had a reading, though, but her mom—well, she’s my responsibility now, and her mom didn’t get a chance to tell me about her prophecy before she—before the girl was left in my care.”

“So, she’s got a prophecy on her, then?” Charlie thought for a long moment, ping-ponging her eyes between Veronica and me as she stroked her chin. Finally, she gave a nod. “Bring her in.”

I unlocked the door and eyed Jake warily as I pulled Veronica out of the car. We followed Charlie toward the double-wide and up the rotten wooden stairs to the door. As it creaked open, the distinct smell of stale smoke smacked into me. My stomach leaped into my throat, and a memory flashed through my brain, the memory of a scared little girl, trembling with fear, watching the Oracle thrash across the table, telling her she was going to die and take everything she loved down with her.

“Starr,” Charlie sang sweetly as we made our way into the trailer. “We have a customer.”

Starr moaned, rousing from a couch next to the door. She stared at me with sunken eyes, and the hatred I had for her melted away. Time had taken more from her than I ever could. She destroyed my life, but life destroyed her just the same. All that was left in me toward her was pity and shame that I carried such hatred for her for so long.

“It’s fifty,” she said. “If you wanna stay in the room, then it’s a hundred.”

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the money I had just gotten from Jennifer at the Dress Barn and handed it to her. This better be worth it. Otherwise, I had just wasted my nut chasing phantoms.

Charlie pocketed the money and helped Starr to her feet. They shambled together across the trailer into the same little booth where I had sat once before. I brought Veronica over and sat with her on the other side of the booth.

“Veronica,” I said as tenderly as possible. “This is my friend Starr. A long time ago, she helped me find my place in the world, and now she’s going to help you.”

“N-nice to meet you,” Veronica said, her voice trembling.

“It’s nice to meet you too, child.” Starr’s voice was raspy, and her feral eyes moved from Veronica to me. Her eyes seemed to look through me, not at me, as she pondered me for a moment. “And you, yes, I remember you. Evil things I saw in your future. If this child has something to do with your fate, then I want nothing to do with her.” She turned to Charlie. “Give this woman back her money and send her away.”

“No!” I shouted. “Please. I have to know if this child has something to do with my prophecy. I have to know what to do with her. You owe me that much after what you did to me. I’ve been on the run for ten years.” The anger bubbled back into my stomach, and I clenched my jaw, trying to fight it off. “Please.”

Starr Wolfsong shuddered visibly. “I traveled across this whole country, trying to unsee the things I saw in your future—trying to escape the feeling of hopelessness that your vision brought to me, but everywhere I traveled, you followed me.”

“And after your prophecy, I ran away from home trying to avoid my future, only to be forced back here and to this trailer park, where I found you, again. Whether you believe in fate or not, that’s too big a coincidence to discount, don’t you think?”

“The fates are fickle mistresses, but yes, I admit I have felt compelled to return here as if every move I made to turn away from this place led me here again. I have often wondered why the universe kept me alive so long, in so much pain. Perhaps it is to be here, now, in this moment.” She swallowed, a painful grimace settling over her face. “I’m sorry for what happened to you and for what you must sacrifice—what you have already sacrificed.”

“Thank you for that, but right now, I just want to find out what this girl’s part is in this whole plan and how to help her.”

Starr reached her arms toward Veronica. “My sight has been blocked since that day with you, but I have other ways of telling the future.” She managed a smile. “Place your hands in mine, girl, palms up.”

Veronica looked over at me, and when I nodded, did as she was told. Starr leaned forward and stared at the little girl’s palms for a long moment before shaking her head slowly. “Your lifeline is broken so early…yet, it continues. I have never in all my years seen anything like this, and your fate line—” She turned to me. “Let me see your palms.” I turned them over for her. “Identical. I thought as much.” She closed both of our palms. “Your fates, I fear, are intrinsically linked, and they are both bound to the fate of us all.”

“What did you see that night?” I said. “When you gave me my vision?”

Starr looked at me for several long moments before she spoke with a trembling voice. “I saw the Earth, overrun with demons and all manner of Hellbeasts…and then I saw your death. In your eyes, there was a new beginning, as the past burned.” She pressed her hands tightly into mine. “It is not fair, but life is not fair. Not for any of us.” She sighed and looked over at Charlie. “Give them back their money. They will need it more than me.”

I slid out of the booth and took the money Charlie held out. “Thank you.”

Starr dropped her head into her chest. “No, thank you. I feel a great weight has been lifted off my chest. I only wish I did not have to place it on you instead.”

I smiled sadly. “You didn’t do anything. Fate did that.”

Read the next chapter

This is a portal fantasy series with mythological roots and action-adventure tendencies. You can search through all my work on my website.

Subscribe now

Read more

This is a portal fantasy series with mythological roots and action-adventure tendencies. You can search through all my work on my website.

In the ashes of her past, she will rise up, and her death will save us all.

Lizzie ran from her past for ten years, zigzagging across the United States every few months, trying to outlast the prophesy that an oracle gave to her when she was just sixteen years old.

But nobody can run from their destiny forever.

After watching her friend brutally gunned down by a group of ruthless demons, she had no choice but to protect the woman’s child, and there was only one place where Lizzie knew the girl would be safe.

Bronard, Missouri.

Home.

She stayed away to protect her parents, but the girl needed mystical protection.

Her parents had taken in magical strays their whole lives, including Lizzie. If anyone could save the poor child’s life, it would be her mother and father.

But will returning to her home doom Lizzie even as she works to save the child she has vowed to defend?

Subscribe now

Even with coffee running through my system, I had no trouble falling asleep after finishing with the sheets and carrying Veronica to bed. The last couple of days had been exhausting, mentally, physically, and emotionally, and the farmhouse was the only place I ever truly felt safe.

I never slept well on the road, which made me a good worker because I was always up for a shift, but as I laid in the four-poster bed in the guest room, Veronica asleep in the next room, I felt a decade of exhaustion smash into me at once. I didn’t have to worry that some meth-head would burst in on me or listen to a prostitute and her john in the next room. Instead, there was just quiet, quiet for miles. In that quiet, I found peace.

When I woke up, the sun stung my eyes, and I heard a rooster crow. The stairs creaked outside my room, and I rolled out of bed to find Dad wobbling down the hallway holding Mom’s breakfast on a tray.

“Let me help you with that,” I said, pushing open the door to Mom’s bedroom.

“Come on, then,” he said, placing the breakfast on Junebug’s lap. It wasn’t much, a half a bagel with cream cheese, some milk, and a few cut-up grapes, but she beamed when she saw it.

“Looks delicious,” she said, taking one of the grapes.

“I’m no chef, not like you, my dear.” Dad kissed Mom on the forehead. “But I make due. Betsy says hello. Sends her love.”

“Did you already go into town this morning?” I asked.

“Of course. I go every morning. Only fresh bagels are good enough for my Junebug.”

“You spoil me, love,” Mom said slowly as she took a tiny bite. “Poppy seed. Yummy as ever.”

“Well, I would love to waste the day with you, my dear, but chores call,” Carl said with a smile. “Until we meet again.”

“No, don’t worry about all that right now,” I butted in. “Rest, both of you. I’m back home. I’ll do the chores.”

“Sure you can handle it?” Dad said, but he didn’t need to be told twice. He slid off his shoes and then into bed next to my mother.

“Any of it changed in a decade?”

He shook his head. “That’s the beauty of this place. Nothing changes ‘cept the seasons.”

I rushed down the stairs to see a middle-aged man with a shiny, jolly face wearing a set of blue scrubs. “I’ll be off now, Car—” He caught sight of me. “Oh, hello. You must be Lizzie, right? Carl talked about you…a lot.”

I nodded. “And you’re Johnny?”

He held out his hand, and I shook it. “I am.”

“Thanks for taking such good care of my mom.”

“Happy to do it.” He smiled. “Junebug is a real special woman. I’m glad I got to know her.”

I choked on my emotions, and I turned to the back door. “Me too.”

Choring was like riding a bike. Once you learned the ropes, your muscles never forgot the motion. I started with milking the cows before feeding the chickens, then walked the lines, spraying the corn and looking for defects until the morning watering started, then I leaped back to fill the straw for the cows and pluck the eggs from the chicken coup.

By the time I went back inside, I smelled like a foot, but a sweaty, accomplished foot. Dad must have heard me come in because not long after, he crept down the stairs just as I finished placing the basket of eggs on the dining room table for inspection.

“Nice haul this morning,” he said, ambling over. “Put them in the fridge. I’ll bring them to Betsy tomorrow morning.”

“I can do it,” I said. “How much do you get for them?”

He shrugged. “We keep a tab for pastries at this point. Money’s not much good on the farm these days, and with your mother sick, I get more out of the pastries anyway.”

“Daaad—” I started to lecture him about in-kind bartering but cut myself off. Who was I to judge? They made it to old age and deserved their eccentricities. “I need to go into town anyway, so I can bring them when I pick up new clothes for the kid and me.”

“What kind of person doesn’t bring clothing when they travel?”

“I had clothes and a wad of cash waiting for me in the motel when I saved the girl, but since then, we’ve just been traveling.” I looked out the front window at the Buick that sat in the yard. “Speaking of, you know anyone who needs a car and will be real discrete about chain of title?”

He nodded. “I’ll give you a number. He’ll chop it up and use it for parts. Meanwhile, there’s plenty of clothing in your closet upstairs if you wanna look at it. We haven’t thrown anything away.”

I chuckled. “I appreciate that, but I’m through my Goth phase, I think, and Veronica’s too small for them just yet.”

“Well, bring them into town anyway. Dana’s kid has been after us for years to sell that stuff. Says it’s vintage. Might be able to get some coin for it.” He sighed, taking in a good, long look at me. “I know you’re adopted, but you really do look just like your mother.”

I chuckled. “She’s white. I’m Black. You’re losing it, old man.”

“Maybe that’s it. Anyway, I think she might have some clothes that would fit you. That way, you don’t smell like a cow going into town.” He reached into his pocket and pulled a credit card from his wallet. “You can put the clothes on this card. They shouldn’t give you any guff about it once they figure out who you are.”

“You don’t have to—” I started before Dad held up his hand.

“Least I can do.” Tears welled in his eyes. “Please, let me do this for my daughter.”

I took the card. “Thanks, Dad.”

The center of town was about twenty minutes from our farm if you drove with a lead foot, thirty if you respected the speed limit. There was a time when I could tear around bends at full-tilt boogie speed, but I didn’t have the same feel for the roads anymore, so Veronica and I made it in a little closer to a half-hour. My dad might have made it in fifteen, especially in his prime.

My mom’s old store, Dessertations, sat at the end of a quaint strip of town that also held Dana’s Dress Barn, a sheriff station annex, and a smoked meats bar-b-que. It made me smile that it was still standing even if my mother couldn’t. It was her legacy.

“Let’s go,” I said to Veronica, who was already out of the car. I grabbed her hand in mine, holding the eggs with the other, and walked into the store. I was expecting to see Betsy but instead found a baby-faced man whose nose was covered in dough.

“Morning, ladies. Welcome to Dessertations! What can I do for you?” he said, then peered closer at us. “My, you two must be from out of town because I don’t recognize you at all.”

“It’s been a decade, Ed, but I haven’t changed that much, have I?” I replied. “How’s your mother? She in?”

“She only comes in the early morning these days.” Ed smiled at me and squinted closely. “Oh my goshness, is that little Lizzie back from the dead?”

“I was never dead, Ed,” I replied. “And this is Veronica.”

He spun from around the counter and hugged me tightly, pluming flour between us. “So good to see you again.” He shook Veronica’s hand. “And nice to meet you, little one. Your mom is a bit of a legend around here.”

“She’s not my mother,” Veronica said flatly. “My mom’s dead.”

“Oh.” His face dropped. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“We all are.” I slid in front of Veronica and held up the basket of eggs. “Carl says you have an arrangement for these?”

Ed took the basket. “Your family really does have the best eggs. I don’t know how you do it, but yes.” He walked behind the counter. “Meanwhile, pick anything you want, on the house.”

“What do you think, Veronica?” I said, brushing flour from my mom’s hideous pink flannel shirt. “My mother’s favorite used to be eclairs.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s like a long donut with gooey cream inside, topped with chocolate.”

Her eyes got big. “I want that.”

“Make that two.” I smiled. “I love that you have kept this place the same even after all these years.”

Ed dipped down into the glass counter. “Well, your mother was an institution. When she sold the shop to my mom, Mom promised to keep that tradition alive, and then when I took over last year, it had already been standing for two decades and—well, let’s just say if I tried to change it now, there would be an uprising.”

I took the eclairs from Ed and gave one to Veronica. “Thanks, Ed. I guess I’ll see you around.”

“I sure do hope so.”

We sat outside and ate our eclairs. They were just as delicious as I remembered. I’ve had a thousand eclairs in a hundred towns, and Mom’s recipe was still the best. Veronica must have thought so, too, because even with her small frame, she finished the whole éclair, then licked her fingers clean of all the sticky goodness.

After finishing our sweets, we had enough sugar to tackle Dana’s Dress Barn. Dana never liked my mother, but I got along fine with her daughter Jennifer when we were in school, which gave me hope that she wouldn’t be a heartless shrew like her mother.

“Are you serious?” Jennifer said as we slammed the clothes on the counter. She dug through my old clothes with relish. “This is like the mother lode. I’ve been dying to get Junebug to sell this to me forev—” That’s the moment she saw my face behind the mountain of clothing. “Oh my god! Is that really you, Lizzie?”

I nodded. “It’s me.”

“It’s so good to see you!” She shouted before pointing at Veronica. “And who’s your little helper here?”

“This is Veronica. She’s not mine. I’m just babysitting right now.”

“Hey!” Veronica protested. “I’m not a baby.”

I nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m watching her right now, is what I meant.”

Jennifer shook her head at both of us. “Well, the two of you look a fright. Luckily, I have a cure for what ails ya. Best selection of threads in three counties.”

I glanced around the store and had to admit that it had promise. Gone were the gaudy styles of the old dress barn, replaced with modern looks and sleek aesthetics. “Thank god you got rid of the mom jeans.”

“Oh god, hon,” Jennifer said. “They were the first thing to go. Well, go pick out whatever you want, and then I’ll square up what’s left over when you’re done.”

I picked out enough clothes for a week before turning my attention to Veronica. She was harder to shop for, but after an hour, we had a selection of shirts, pants, shoes, and underwear enough to get her wherever Kimberly was going to take her. I wanted her to have something from me since after she left my care. I would likely never see her again.

I felt a little guilty putting so much on Dad’s credit card, but if he wanted to buy us clothes, who was I to argue. Once the new clothes were purchased, Jennifer reached into her drawer and handed me $100 for the clothes I brought in.

“This is too much, Jennifer,” I said when she put it in my hands and closed it around me. “No way my clothes are worth that much.”

She shook her hands. “I owed you from back in high school. Consider this my repayment, with interest.”

Why was everybody being so nice to me today? Was it because I had a little kid with me? I needed the money, so I didn’t argue. I’d lost the rest of my rainy-day fund back in Nevada and used almost all my tips from my last day of work just getting to Bronard. It was nice to have some extra money in my pocket.

The last stop was offloading the car. Dad’s connection was in Maynard, three towns from Bronard, and past the site where the Oracle gave her prophetic vision of my future. When I passed the trailer park, I stopped dead, slamming the brakes on the old car until it skidded to a stop.

Right there, in the middle of the park, walking like she hadn’t destroyed my whole life, was the Oracle, Starr Wolfsong, without a care in the world. She looked a little worse for wear, but it was definitely her. Then a thought flashed across my brain: Maybe she could help me figure out how to help Veronica.

No, she would help me figure out how to help Veronica. It was the least she could do after… And if she wouldn’t, well, part of me hoped she wouldn’t so that I could make her pay for the last decade of my life.

Read the next chapter

This is a portal fantasy series with mythological roots and action-adventure tendencies. You can search through all my work on my website.

Subscribe now

Read more

Read more

This is a portal fantasy series with mythological roots and action-adventure tendencies. You can search through all my work on my website.

In the ashes of her past, she will rise up, and her death will save us all.

Lizzie ran from her past for ten years, zigzagging across the United States every few months, trying to outlast the prophesy that an oracle gave to her when she was just sixteen years old.

But nobody can run from their destiny forever.

After watching her friend brutally gunned down by a group of ruthless demons, she had no choice but to protect the woman’s child, and there was only one place where Lizzie knew the girl would be safe.

Bronard, Missouri.

Home.

She stayed away to protect her parents, but the girl needed mystical protection.

Her parents had taken in magical strays their whole lives, including Lizzie. If anyone could save the poor child’s life, it would be her mother and father.

But will returning to her home doom Lizzie even as she works to save the child she has vowed to defend?

Subscribe now

I didn’t know how long I slept, but when I woke up, the sun was ready to set again, and Mom still slumbered beside me. I slipped out of her gentle embrace and made my way down the stairs. Dad was sitting on the couch, watching White Christmas even though it was nowhere near, as Veronica lay curled up on the couch next to him.

I intentionally stepped on the creaky floorboard in the middle of the hardwood, and he turned to me with a smile. He eased himself out of his chair and hobbled into the dining room.

“Coffee?”

I nodded. “As much as you can spare.”

“A woman after my own heart.” He quietly disappeared into the kitchen. Junebug and Carl always had coffee brewing, no matter the time in the day or night, because there was always work to be done. I had long been convinced they were immune to the effects of caffeine.

A few minutes later, he came back into the dining room holding two cups of coffee in tremoring hands. I jumped up and took my cup from him before easing him into the chair.

“This isn’t anything fancy, so if you like that kind of French vanilla crap or mocha choco blast, you’re not gonna find anything like that here.” He grunted. “We drink our coffee black in this house, in case you don’t remember.”

I took a sip. “I remember. It hasn’t been that long.”

Dad placed the cup down, looking down at his liver-spotted hands. “Feels like a lifetime. Last time you were here, I could pick you up in my hands and lift you straight over my head.”

I rolled my eyes. “I wasn’t a baby when I left. I was sixteen, Dad. Exaggerating much?”

“That’s how I remember it—you running away—barely up to my waist.”

“Delusion is a great gift, old man.” I took another sip of coffee and saw that my innocently jestful tone didn’t come across. “That was a joke.”

“I know it was a joke, but it wasn’t funny. I never humored you as a kid, and I’m not gonna start now. Besides, you were telling the truth. I am old. Feel like I aged a hundred years since you left.”

“You look great, Dad.”

“Don’t you lie to me, dang it. Not in my own house.” He looked down at the coffee in his cup. “I can barely get out to do chores anymore. Yields are down, so I can’t hire staff. Most days, I think the only thing I’m good for is dying.”

Thoughts of the prophecy danced through my head. I spent so much time away to save my parents from death, but it had come for them anyway.

“I thought pixies lived for a long time, Dad. You’re not that old. Mom either.”

He squeezed his hands together. “I don’t know how magic works, kiddo. Nobody does, and anyone who tells you otherwise is duping you, duping themselves, or both. It was like one day I was fit as a fiddle, and the next I could barely lift a shovel.”

“I don’t know much about magic, but I know that’s a load of horse manure.” I brought my eyes to his. “How long ago did you try curing her yourself?”

He sighed. “Don’t even remember now, and it doesn’t matter. It didn’t work. Kimberly tried to tell me there would be side effects, but I didn’t care—I don’t care. Life’s not worth a lick without her, so maybe it’s a blessing that it backfired and took so much from me.” He took another sip of coffee. “How is your mother?”

“You know how she is.”

“I do, but I want to hear you say it.”

My head dropped. “I’ve spent the last decade stuffing every emotion I’ve ever had deep down in the dregs of my soul. The last day has cracked all that open, and now every feeling I’ve suppressed for ten years is hitting me at once. And none of that was as bad as seeing her in that bed.”

He nodded solemnly. “It’s hard to watch my little Junebug waste away like that. Sometimes—sometimes she looks at me like she used to, with love and hope in her eyes. Those are the worst moments because I know there is no hope left.”

I slid my hand across the table and touched his. “There is hope left, Pop. I’m here now.”

“Then you’ll go again.”

“Maybe,” I replied. “But I’m going to help until then, and I’m going to take care of you both while I’m still here, okay?”

There was something he wanted to say, and it danced across his face for a moment, but it was replaced by a simple, sad smile. “How bad is it with the girl?”

“She lost the only two people that cared about her today. She didn’t watch them die, at least, so there’s hope there.”

“That’s the blessing in this curse, I suppose.” He sipped his coffee again. “She’s welcome here. We still have your bed made upstairs.”

“It needs a good cleaning. I’ll bring down the sheets when I go back up.”

“Bring the ones from the guest room, too.” He stopped for a moment. “You know, had you told us you were coming, we would’ve made the bed up for you.”

“I didn’t know I was coming until I walked through the door.” I hesitated. “I know you don’t believe this, but I was trying to protect you both. That’s why I left.”

His face was stone. “I know you think that, but it wasn’t your job to protect us. It was our job to protect you, and we failed.” His lip quivered. “Your mama never forgave herself for that.”

I opened my mouth to say something but couldn’t. I knew my appearing out of nowhere picked open some wounds that had long since been scabbed over. It was selfish to come back here, but as Kimberly had made all too clear, I was a selfish girl.

“Let me get the linens.” I pushed my chair out. “Do I need to pull them off Mom’s bed, too?”

He shook his head. “No, Johnny will be here soon to look after her.”

“Johnny?”

“He’s the fella we hired to look after Mom in her last days. He does a crack-up job, too. Makes sure she comfortable.”

“That’s nice, Dad.”

He took a long sip of coffee, staring at the floor. “It’s something. That’s for sure.”

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This is a portal fantasy series with mythological roots and action-adventure tendencies. You can search through all my work on my website.

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This is a portal fantasy series with mythological roots and action-adventure tendencies. You can search through all my work on my website.

In the ashes of her past, she will rise up, and her death will save us all.

Lizzie ran from her past for ten years, zigzagging across the United States every few months, trying to outlast the prophesy that an oracle gave to her when she was just sixteen years old.

But nobody can run from their destiny forever.

After watching her friend brutally gunned down by a group of ruthless demons, she had no choice but to protect the woman’s child, and there was only one place where Lizzie knew the girl would be safe.

Bronard, Missouri.

Home.

She stayed away to protect her parents, but the girl needed mystical protection.

Her parents had taken in magical strays their whole lives, including Lizzie. If anyone could save the poor child’s life, it would be her mother and father.

But will returning to her home doom Lizzie even as she works to save the child she has vowed to defend?

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It was exactly the same as when I left it, down to the coats on the hooks to the left of the door. I used to rush through the door after a day at school and throw my backpack—the same one I would abandon in Edgemont when I left with Veronica—on the ground next to my muddy shoes and flop on the couch to watch television before chores.

The same laughing sounds that Veronica was making from the kitchen were the ones I once made, too, as Dad made hot chocolate, or soup, or any number of snacks for me. And if Mom was home, she would pull one of her famous eclairs or donuts out of the oven and stuff them in my belly. God, what it was like to have a fast metabolism in my younger years.

The television was blaring classic TCM when I passed by on my way to the stairs. The television had been replaced since my youth, but the rest of the room was glaringly the same, though the thick coating of fuzz made it seem grayer than I remembered. A floorboard under me moaned, exactly five steps into the house, just like always. I hopped over it the night I left to avoid being caught.

As I placed my hand on the banister, Veronica rushed out from the kitchen door and into the dining room, where she sat on the same chair that I had once claimed. Children were incredibly resilient, and it was amazing to see her smiling at Carl as he hobbled back into the room.

“Do you want marshmallows, too?” Dad asked.

She nodded. “Course I do. I’m not a savage.”

“A girl after my own heart,” he said with a chuckle, disappearing back behind the door.

I took the stairs one at a time, in no rush to see my mother’s failing condition. The stairs squeaked and cracked in chorus as if the house was greeting me. The banister, like the rest of the house, was coated in a thin layer of dust. It hung in the air above where I’d placed my fingers for a moment before floating down to the floor.

There was a heaviness in my feet as I stepped onto the second floor of my childhood home. The door to my room sat on the far end of the hall, and on the near end was the one they gave to guests that had been occupied for a short time by my estranged, world-hopping sister. On the other side was my parent’s office and on the far end, across from the door to my room, was my parent’s bedroom. That’s where Mom was.

I needed another moment to gather my courage. Instead of opening Mom’s door, I pushed open the door to my childhood bedroom. I wasn’t surprised to see that it hadn’t been touched since I left, except that the bed had been made and the schoolbooks I’d left spread across my desk were nowhere to be found.

I thought I was edgy, putting up pictures of the Cure and the Smyths and painting my walls black “to match the color of my soul.” I cringed a little. If only I knew what real pain was, perhaps I would have been able to see the joy in this home, in my innocent childhood.

That was the problem with youth. It was impossible to understand just how long life would be or how dark things could get when you hadn’t lived much of your life. A year seemed to last a century when I was younger. Imagining that there would be four to five times as many days to live—well, that was an impossible task.

I knew I shouldn’t blame myself for believing that I had reached the zenith of my misery back then. If, when I was a child, I had been given even a fraction of the weight that my life now carried, I would have buckled under the pressure. I had to grow and mature into the idea that living with the misery was possible, that every single person in the whole of the world deals with so much misery that it’s hard to believe the world keeps turning. And yet, not only does it keep turning, some people even find joy in it.

Dust plumed into the air when I sat down on the bed, causing me to hack a few times. I stood immediately and made my way out of the room to grab some air, closing the door behind me to lock in the dust particles. When I stopped coughing, I was in front of Mom’s door, my hand resting on the doorknob.

“Carl?” a weak voice said. “Is that you? It doesn’t sound like your clodhopper footsteps.”

I entered the room where Mom lay in bed, shriveled and weak. Her skin was gray, and her eyes sunken. A heart monitor beeped next to her, and even the stress of moving her head to look at me was too much for her to manage. She fell back with a painful moan. I wanted to wail at the sight of my strong mother degraded like this, but I choked back my emotions, hid them like I had so often in my past.

“No, Mom. It’s me. It’s your Lizzie. Do you remember me?” I took a few steps through the musk that permeated the room.

Her voice shook when she talked. “Lizzie?” This time she fought through the exhaustion and turned to see me. “My gods, is it really you?”

I grabbed her hand. “Yes, Mom. It’s really me.”

She gave a wobbly smile and squeezed my hand tightly. “I never thought I would see you again.”

I nodded. “It’s so good to see you, Mom.”

“It’s good to see you too, baby. Now, come and give your mom a hug.”

She opened up her arms, and I collapsed into them like I had when I was a child. Listening to her heart beating in her chest made me feel safe in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time. I let my eyes fall closed.

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This is a portal fantasy series with mythological roots and action-adventure tendencies. You can search through all my work on my website.

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This is a portal fantasy series with mythological roots and action-adventure tendencies. You can search through all my work on my website.

In the ashes of her past, she will rise up, and her death will save us all.

Lizzie ran from her past for ten years, zigzagging across the United States every few months, trying to outlast the prophesy that an oracle gave to her when she was just sixteen years old.

But nobody can run from their destiny forever.

After watching her friend brutally gunned down by a group of ruthless demons, she had no choice but to protect the woman’s child, and there was only one place where Lizzie knew the girl would be safe.

Bronard, Missouri.

Home.

She stayed away to protect her parents, but the girl needed mystical protection.

Her parents had taken in magical strays their whole lives, including Lizzie. If anyone could save the poor child’s life, it would be her mother and father.

But will returning to her home doom Lizzie even as she works to save the child she has vowed to defend?

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I turned down the streets of Bronard using muscle memory, surprised that so little had changed in the decade I’d been away. The Johnsons were still selling corn on the side of the road, and a few farms down, you could get berries from the Clacksons. The road down the middle of town toward my parent’s farm was filled with food stands with all manner of fruit and veggies in them. As we passed the homemade signs, I took note of the children I’d grown up with, now adults with their own children in tow as they worked their family farms.

That was supposed to be my lot in life, to help Dad and Mom till the fields, to care for them in their old age, to carry on their legacy. There was no doubt I would come back to the farm after college and work it until I died. Some people might not have thought that appealing, but it was my dream—a dream shattered by the prophecy that loomed over my head.

“It smells funny,” Veronica said as we drove through.

“That’s good, good country air, Veronica,” I said.

“Smells like poop,” she observed.

“It sure does. I’ve missed it.”

“Weirdo.”

Papa’s truck was still in front of the white farmhouse. His tools, now rusted and in disrepair, hung on the shed on the right of the driveway. It was like stepping back in time to a past I never thought I’d return to.

“We’re here,” I said.

“Thank god,” Veronica said. “That was a long ride.”

I had tried to get her some coloring books and games to play, but Veronica wasn’t interested in any of that. She just wanted to get where we were going and focused on the road. When I unbuckled her seat belt, she hopped out of the car and latched onto my hand on our way to the door.

We hadn’t even reached the steps before the creaky screen swung open, and my father, Carl, shuffled out, hunched over a cane. His dark skin was cut with deep grooves. He wasn’t a young man when I was a child, but now he looked like the world had sucked the last of his life out of him. When he saw me, his face lit up, and the old Dad came through the thick wrinkles for a moment.

“L-Lizzie? My gods, is that you?”

I grinned. “Hi, Dad!”

He stood straight up then and scooted toward me as I made my way to him. We embraced in a long hug filled with tears and laughter.

“I never thought I would see you again, kiddo.”

“I never thought I’d see you again either, Dad.” I thought it would be awkward, after all this time, to see my father, but it felt like old times, like we hadn’t been estranged for a decade. I smelled his scent as I hugged him tightly and knew I was home. It was the thing I’d spent a decade running from, and it was the only thing I never knew I always wanted—to see my parents again. I lied to myself into believing I didn’t crave this moment, but there was no more lying now. The truth rushed at me in a torrent.

After a long while, Carl’s eyes moved from me to Veronica. “And who is your friend?”

I unlatched from his embrace and turned to her. “This is Veronica. She’s—I think—one of us, and she’s in a bad way. That’s why I came back.”

He nodded. “I thought maybe you just wanted to see your old man and your mother before she…I’m just glad to see you.” He hobbled over to Veronica and held out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, little one.”

She shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, too, sir.”

“Carl,” he said. “You can call me Carl.”

“Nice to meet you, Carl.”

He smiled a weak smile. “How would you like some cocoa?”

“I’d like that very much, Carl.”

He placed his hand on her back. “Then how about we have some hot chocolate while Lizzie here goes to say hello to her mother.”

“Who’s Lizzie?”

“I am, Veronica,” I replied.

“Oh.” She looked at me, confused. “I thought your name was Jude.”

“I’ve had a lot of names, but my real name is Elizabeth—Lizzie.”

“I like Jude better.”

“Noted.” I touched Dad’s shoulder as they passed. “Where is she?”

“Our room. Upstairs.” He helped Veronica into the house. “I think you know the way.”

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This is a portal fantasy series with mythological roots and action-adventure tendencies. You can search through all my work on my website.

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Read more

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This is a portal fantasy series with mythological roots and action-adventure tendencies. You can search through all my work on my website.

In the ashes of her past, she will rise up, and her death will save us all.

Lizzie ran from her past for ten years, zigzagging across the United States every few months, trying to outlast the prophesy that an oracle gave to her when she was just sixteen years old.

But nobody can run from their destiny forever.

After watching her friend brutally gunned down by a group of ruthless demons, she had no choice but to protect the woman’s child, and there was only one place where Lizzie knew the girl would be safe.

Bronard, Missouri.

Home.

She stayed away to protect her parents, but the girl needed mystical protection.

Her parents had taken in magical strays their whole lives, including Lizzie. If anyone could save the poor child’s life, it would be her mother and father.

But will returning to her home doom Lizzie even as she works to save the child she has vowed to defend?

Subscribe now

We drove through the night. Veronica repeatedly asked me where her mother was, but I just couldn’t—every time I tried to tell her the truth, a lump lodged in my throat and forced me mute. Eventually, Veronica must have realized that her mother wasn’t coming with us. Perhaps she recognized the blood on my pants, or the fear in my eyes, or the pain on my face at the mention of Becky. Whatever the reason, she settled down once we reached Utah and let the car lull her into a fitful sleep.

What the hell was I doing? By any metric, I was kidnapping Veronica, and now I had taken her across state lines, making myself a felon. If a police officer pulled me over, they would see a girl that wasn’t related to me and the residuals of her mother’s blood on my hands. They would arrest me, and Veronica would tell them where she lived. The murder would be all over the news by now.

This was why you’re not supposed to make connections, Lizzie. I was supposed to keep my head low and leave a place before I caught feelings. That had been my motto and kept me safe for the past decade, and now, in one day, I’d abandoned everything I believed, all for a little girl and her fae mother.

I didn’t know for sure Veronica was fae. Rick was fae, and all three of them had the necklace, but there’s all manner of reasons why somebody would want a little girl like that—a prophecy girl who was supposed to save the world.

It wasn’t lost on me that our fates were similar, and I didn’t believe in coincidence. Maybe Veronica’s destiny was intrinsically linked to mine, and every mile I drove toward Bronard was one step closer to a rendezvous with the inevitable conclusion of my story and hers.

You should just leave her on the side of the road or drop her at a fire station. They would find a home for her. She’s adorable, after all. Who wouldn’t love her?

I shook off the thought. No, she would tell them where she’s from, and then they would bring her back and—there was only one person who could keep her safe, and it sure as shit wasn’t me. And I didn’t know how to contact Kimberly except through my mother.

Kimberly had saved hundreds of fae over the years. She would know what to do. Junebug would know what to do. Papa Carl would know what to do. I bit my lip to avoid crying, but deep tremors fiercely shook through my body and tugged on the steering wheel until I had no choice except to turn off the road into a rest area. It wasn’t much more than a bathroom with a couple of vending machines.

I wiped the last of my tears from my face, then shook Veronica awake. “Hey,” I said in a whisper. “Do you have to pee?”

“Mommy?” she replied, bleary-eyed. When her eyes focused on me, her face dropped into a scowl. “You’re not Mommy.”

I shook my head. “No, I’m not. Do you need to use the bathroom?”

She yawned. “Yes.”

I unbuckled her and pulled her out of the car. She didn’t try to tug away from me.

“I’m not kidnapping you,” I said as we washed our hands in the bathroom sink. “I want you to know that.”

“That sounds like the kind of thing a kidnapper would say,” she replied, looking up at me as I handed her a brown paper towel.

“You’re not wrong,” I said. “Your mother—she taught you well, but I’m not kidnapping you. I’m trying to protect you.”

“Protect me from what?”

“From bad people.”

“Do the bad people have Mommy?”

I sighed. It was time to tell her the truth. It wouldn’t be any better hiding it from her only to hear it from somebody else. I needed to stop being a chicken and bite the bullet, whatever the cliché was.

I sat her on a bench outside after buying her a bunch of sugary candy to help ease the pain. I turned on the lights to the car, so we could have some illumination. The night was bitterly cold. I hated deserts. They didn’t retain heat during the night, and yet they sweltered in the day.

After Veronica had eaten half a bag of Skittles, I spoke. “Your mother loves you very much. Did you know that?”

She nodded. “I know. She tells me all the time.”

She would never tell her again.

“The bad men. The ones chasing you. They…they hurt your mommy, Veronica. I tried to help her—to save her—but—but—your mother died.”

It started slow. She cocked her head to the left, then to the right, before blinking several times, trying to process what she just heard. The realization of my words seemed to hit her in waves, lightly at first and then crashing upon her with greater and greater force until the flood of tears was so great that I thought she might drown under them. I was ill-equipped to deal with children, let alone grieving children. I had survived by bottling up my emotions about everything and everyone I met. In the face of strong feelings, I turned the other way.

There was no turning away from this—Veronica’s poor life had been changed forever. The two people who had protected her were dead, and all she had left was me.

When she stopped heaving tears, she slid her arms around me, hugging my stomach. She didn’t speak for a long while, and neither did I. She simply cried into my shirt, and I rubbed her back, trying to comfort her.

“I’m going to take you somewhere you can be safe,” I said, finally.

“I want my mommy.”

“I know, sweetheart. I know, but—well—you know you can’t see her again, right?”

She sniffled. “I’ll see her in Heaven.”

Maybe. “Not for a very long time, sweetheart, but I’m sure she’ll be waiting to welcome you when you die—which won’t be for a very, very long time.”

She squeezed me tighter. “Because you’ll protect me.”

“I’ll take you somewhere where you’ll be safe,” I replied, correcting her. “My friend will know what to do to protect you. She’s a real badass.”

“A…badass?”

“That’s right,” I said with a smile. “She’ll know exactly what to do because she’s done it so many times before with so many other kids just like you.”

“How do you know?”

I pulled the black opal necklace that I kept around my neck. It was the only thing I’d kept from the past I worked so hard to distance myself from because I was a hypocrite. “Because she helped me.”

Veronica pulled her necklace out from beneath her shirt. “Just like mine!”

“That’s right, and my friend is going to help you, just like she helped me.”

“She sounds nice.” She nodded with determination. “Not mommy nice, but nice.”

“She’s something, all right.” I chuckled. “And you know what else? I’m going to introduce you to a woman who’s gonna love you so much.”

“How can you know that?”

“Because you are totally loveable.” I gave her a little squeeze. “And for another thing, she’s my mom, so I have some experience with her.”

“That sounds nice, I guess.”

“I know it’s not perfect, kiddo, and it’s not your mom, but it’s still gonna be great, I promise.”

“Pinky promise?” She held out her left pinky.

I hooked it into my finger and closed it tight. “Pinky promise.”

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This is a portal fantasy series with mythological roots and action-adventure tendencies. You can search through all my work on my website.

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