This thread for parallel stories not directly linked to "Disturbing News"

[dellani]

"How do you know? You're not my dad."

"I'm a guy! That's how we think. And he'd assume—Oh, never mind. I can't explain it."

"If you think I'm staying in that creepy room by myself, you're totally wrong."

Brian angrily threw a blanket at her. "Then you can sleep in the chair."

"Me? Why should I?"

"Because you're the one who wants you in here."

"A gentleman would let the lady have the bed."

Brian pounded the pillows and lay down. "Well, when you see either of those, let me know. Get the lamp, would you?" He turned his back to Jordan and closed his eyes.

The light went out and Jordan pulled the blanket around her. A few minutes later, Brian heard her sniffling. He put the pillow over his head and hunkered down in the bed. He could still hear Jordan. His anger melted and he rolled over. Folding back the blanket, he turned over on his side again. The bed gave a little bounce when Jordan sat down. She curled up on the edge of the bed, pulling the covers to her chin. Neither of them said a word, but Brain could feel her relax and fall asleep.
Brian couldn't get comfortable. In spite of the fact that it had been a long day, he wasn't tired. He wanted to sleep, but couldn't drop off. He felt compelled to get up and do something, but he wasn't sure what. It felt like someone was calling his name, faraway and faint. He took Jordan's blanket from the chair and wrapped it around his shoulders as he walked into the living room. His bare feet made no noise as he walked across the scattered area rugs.

The compulsion continued to pull him to the far corner of the room. This was the area the Barretts had for their meditation space. A tall quartz crystal sat on the floor, surrounded by other polished stones and small, carved stone skulls. His hands reached for one of the skulls. He picked it up without consciously intending to. It was a brilliant purple, but he knew it wasn't amethyst because it wasn't translucent.

The stone skull resonated in his hand. He could feel a strong vibration from it. He'd seen Jackie hold a skull on her palm as she concentrated on it. Brian did the same, placing it on his outstretched, left palm. The skull vibrated and jumped on his hand. Brian jumped too, nearly dropping the stone skull. His muffled cry of astonishment sounded loud to him. Sitting up straight, he tried again. This time, the stone hummed and vibrated comfortingly.

"He likes you," Jackie said from across the dimly lit room.

Mrs. Barrett's voice startled Brian, but at least he didn't cry out or drop the stone.

Jackie sat across from Brian, smiling. "I never got a reaction from him before. He must have been waiting for you. He likes you."

"It's a rock," Brian said, puzzled. "How does it like anything?"

"That would take too much time to explain. Think of it as a spirit in the stone. He reacts to vibrations and energy in us."

"Why is he a he?"

Jackie giggled. "Because he is. Some skulls and stones have female energy. This one is decidedly male."

"Does he have a name?"

"He's pretty new. He doesn't have one yet. What do you think his name is?"

Brian held the skull in his hand and gazed into its eyes. A name drifted into his mind. He waited a moment to see if anything else came up. When it didn't, he glanced at Jackie.

"Lester," he whispered. "His name is Lester."

Jackie smiled at Brian. "Welcome, Lester. Did you call us for a reason?"

The stone shivered and Brian thought he saw it glow. A comforting, quiet hum surrounded them.

"Lester is very responsive," Jackie breathed, smiling.

"Do you just ask questions? Like a Magic Eight Ball?"

Jackie laughed. "Not necessarily. But you can. It just depends. Lester called us both for a reason. Let's see if we can figure out what he wants to say." She lit a a stick of incense and put it in a holder. "Sit closer to the mother stone. Hold Lester in your left palm and take my hand with the other."

"What do I do?"

Jackie smiled, closing her eyes as she took his hand. "Breathe."

"That's it?" His eyes widened. "Really?"

"And listen. He wants to tell you something. Clear your mind and be open to it."

©2016 Dellani Oakes

[dellani]

Brian did what she said. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply and waited. The skull warmed in his hand and his mind's eye filled with images which moved jerkily, like an old silent film. Soon, the movement smoothed and Brian saw his father. Miles Casey stood on the road to the swamp, about the same place where Brian had first seen the dog. He held out his arms, palms facing the woods, and seemed to be talking. Brian couldn't hear any sound, but his father's lips moved rapidly.

Two dogs appeared, a female to his left, a male to his right. Brian recognized the dog who had protected him. His father knelt, greeting them like old friends. The dogs licked his face and hands, grinning and barking. Again, there was no sound, only movement.

Suddenly, the image changed. Dark clouds formed. The dogs took up defensive positions with Miles. The clouds became black birds, circling and diving at the trio. They swooped low to the ground, rising suddenly. Behind them, Mr. Deidrich appeared, forming from the flock of birds.

Brian saw the black man's lips moving as he pointed at Miles. The birds attacked. The dogs and man fought bravely, but Brian watched his father fall. The birds flew away as soon as he quit fighting. Mr. Deidrich leaned forward, obviously taunting the downed man, before disappearing in a puff of black smoke.

Terrified, Brian didn't want to see any more. He tried to break the connection with Jackie Barrett. She held his hand tightly and he directed his gaze back to the vision. His father rose slowly, staggering to his feet. Bruised and bloody, he spread his arms. Again, Brian saw him speaking. A whirlwind sprang up, racing after the birds, catching them in the vortex. The birds were torn apart, turning to fog and leaves. A few escaped, but most were destroyed.
Brian saw his father bend over, hands on his knees, gasping and panting. The dogs circled around him, licking his wounds. The vision faded.

Brian jumped up, nearly knocking over the tall crystal. "I have to go! I have to find my dad. He needs me."

Jackie caught his hand, tugging him back to the floor. "No, Brian. That was something that already happened. Your dad isn't there anymore."

"How do you know?" he yelled at her, fighting to rise.

"Think about it, Brian. It was daylight and there was no snow. It looked like early fall."

Brian sank to the floor, sobbing. He covered his eyes, rubbing hard, fighting against the tears. Men don't cry. Isn't that what he'd always been told? But he had to. The pain was too deep.

Jackie held him, letting him cry. She spoke soothingly to him. After a little while, he felt better and leaned back, her hand still in his.

"This is so hard for you, but you're strong, Brian. You can do this."

"I can't do it on my own."

"No one is asking you to. There will be individual challenges, but you have friends and family. You're not alone."

"I'm scared," he admitted quietly.

"Good. The fear will protect you. I know it sounds crazy, but it's true. Being afraid makes you careful. It's when we don't fear that we fail to pay attention to that inner voice—like the one that called you in here. Listen to that voice, Brian. It will tell you what to do."

As far fetched as it sounded, Brian knew it was true. Suddenly exhausted, he said good night. He put Lester down by the crystal and headed to his room.

Jackie Barrett watched the boy close the door and sighed. He'd been given so much responsibility. It was too much to expect from a boy his age. There was no avoiding it. This was a time that he, and others, had to endure. They would learn from it and grow—or it would consume them. Quietly, she went upstairs and got back in bed with her husband.

"Hey, babe. All right now?"

"Everything's fine. Go back to sleep." She cuddled next to Heath and fell into a troubled sleep.

Brian noticed Jordan as he got in bed. She lay, facing him, curled on her side, with a hand tucked under her chin. She looked like a little girl when she slept, but Brian could see lines of worry in her face. Had they always been there? Or were they new? Did he have them too? He hadn't noticed, but he hadn't spent a lot of time looking at himself either. He lay down on his stomach, arms under the pillow, and fell soundly asleep almost immediately.

Brian woke with a start, his dreams full of unnamed horrors. Lying there, covered in a cold sweat, he wondered what time it was. There was no clock in the den and he didn't wear a watch. He reached for his cellphone, deep in his pants pocket. 6:15. Groaning, he huddled under the covers, feeling Jordan at his back. When Brian moved, she stirred around and sat up.

©2016 Dellani Oakes

[dellani]

"You okay?" she asked dreamily.

"Had some bad dreams. Don't remember them, though."

"You kept calling out. You had me worried a few times."

"Sorry. I'm okay right now. I had some strange things happen after you went to sleep." He told her about the vision he'd had of his father.

"Wow! Really? So, he's alive, then?"

"Of course he's alive. Why wouldn't he be?"

"I don't know. I just had it in my mind that he was dead."

"All this time you thought my dad wasn't alive?"

"Why else would he leave and not come back? He obviously loves you guys a lot or he wouldn't have left all this information for you. I know if my dad left like that, he'd come back if he could."

"Maybe he can't yet," Brian said tersely. "My dad's a lot like yours. He's strong and takes charge. He doesn't let his family suffer if he doesn't have to. He's a good man, Jordan!" Tears burned in his eyes. It was important to him that she understand what his father was like.

"I get it, Brian. I know your dad is a good guy. I don't know how I know that, but I do. I know that whatever he's doing, it's to protect you and your mom."

"It's more than that. This stuff that's happening, it's evil. I got that from the vision. He's not the only one fighting, but he's the main one going on the offensive right now. He needs reinforcements. He needs us. Not just you and me, but your parents, my mom, Chase and his dad. I think Mr. Finley knows a lot more about all this than he's said."

"I think so, too. It's time to get him and Chase together with our parents and have a talk. We need to know what they know. But first, we need to read everything your father left for you. Maybe something in that research will give us a key."

"Mr. Finley kept saying we needed to see the pattern."

"Not we, you. He was pretty specific."

"Maybe so, but I have a feeling that even if I'm at the center of this, we all need to see it. We all bring things to the table."

"And we're all in pairs. There's you and me, Andre and Louisa, Sweet and Ginnifer, Mom and Dad, your parents, and Chase...." She paused. "Does he have a girlfriend?"

Brian's eyes widened and he stared at Jordan. "You're gonna laugh when I tell you."

"Why? Is he dating that Marissa girl?"

Brian nodded slowly. Jordan's jaw dropped.

"No way! Chase and Uptight Barbie? You're kidding!"

"They were, anyway. I don't know if they're still together. They had a big fight a few weeks ago. She's a religious freak and he's—well, he's a guy."

"So, he wanted sex and she's too frigid to give it up?"

Brian snorted in disgust. "Something like that."

"Good thing you aren't like that. You'd be sadly disappointed."

"We aren't dating," he reminded her. "That puts a different spin on things."

"Why?"

"Because it would mean that I was actually attracted to you," he replied casually, turning away from her.

Brian was teasing, but clearly Jordan didn't think so. A pillow hit him in the back of the head. Jordan's shriek very likely woke the household.

"You bastard! I'm not deformed or anything! You seemed pretty interested in my chest!" She continued to hit him with pillows, scrambling to her feet, on the bed, to get better leverage.

"That was an accident." Brian moved away from her, laughing. "Your coat hung up on the Velcro." He put his arms up, laughing as she battered him with two pillows now.

"Oh, you!" Jordan launched herself at him. Her trajectory was off and she missed him.

To keep her from landing in a heap on the floor, Brian caught her. His hands slipped and he had a handful of her chest as she slid down, kicking and cursing. He tried to help her up, but she struggled up on her own, narrowly missing his chin with the top of her head. Still angry and fighting like a wet cat, she knocked him over. Brian made a grab at her and they tumbled on the bed together, with Jordan lying on top of him. Their faces were mere inches apart.

For the second time since they'd met, Brian felt an undeniable urge to kiss her. He watched as her angry gaze softened. Her dark hair cascaded around them smelling like dusky flowers—a scent that was uniquely Jordan. She leaned closer, eyes drooping closed. Brian raised his head, meeting her halfway.

©2016 Dellani Oakes

[dellani]

Their lips met with a little spark, making them both jump. The tingle wasn't unpleasant, in fact, it added to the pleasurable sensations they felt when their lips met once more. Jordan put her arms around his neck, cushioning his head on her arms. Brian's hands held her hips tightly. He rolled to his left, sandwiching her body between his and the bed.

Brian's boldness grew and his hands slid up to Jordan's waist and higher, to her ribs. His fingers moved of their own accord, touching her full chest. Suddenly, he stopped. His eyes flew open and he sat up.

Jordan squeaked angrily, grabbing for his face. Brian's gaze was fixated on the door. Tilting her head, Jordan saw what had him transfixed. Maribelle Casey stood there, framed by the door, waiting expectantly. She might not be able to see them, but her other senses were more alert. She knew something was happening. The air was charged with raw energy, heavy with the scent of pheromones.

Brian jumped up, as far from Jordan as he could get. "It's not what you think, Mom. We were just playing around and fell over."

"I see. And when you fell over, you just felt compelled to put your tongue in her mouth?"

"Mom, I swear!"

"Out," she said calmly. "Go have a shower."

"Are you going to tell?"

"Go," she said again.

Brian quietly gathered his things and left the room. His mother closed the door behind him. He heard her speaking to Jordan, but not what she was saying.

While he was in the shower, Brian thought of all the things his mother would say when he got out. He lingered as long as he could, until his conscience got the better of him. He dried off and dressed, combing his fingers through his hair. He'd forgotten his hairbrush in the den.

When he got back, the door was open and his mother waited for him, sitting primly on the edge of the recliner's seat. She looked up when he got to the doorway, smiling.

"Jordan told me what happened," she said quietly. "I won't say anything, but I do think we need to go home. The weather's cleared up and the radio said the freak storm has lifted."

"I'm sorry, Mom. I never intended...."

She held up her hand, stopping him. "I know. I was fifteen once, I remember what it was like. All those raging hormones."

"It wasn't like that, Mom." Obviously, she really didn't get it. "We were talking and Jordan got mad at something I said, and hit me with the pillow. We fell over and she landed on me.... I made a mistake."

"What if it had been Heath or Jackie who caught you, and not me?"

Brian shook his head, shrugging.

"Can't hear a shrug, son," she teased.

"I don't know," he replied, somewhat tersely.

Jordan appeared in the doorway behind him. He stepped aside, letting her in. Maribelle focused her attention on Jordan, though the girl hadn't made any noise. She'd just showered. Her hair was wet and pulled back in a loose bun.

"Maribelle, Mom said to tell you that the coffee is ready. May I get you some?"

"I'll get it, honey. Thanks." She stood, looking more like herself than she had in quite awhile. "You," she pointed to Brian. "Hands and lips to yourself," she said quietly. "And you," she turned to Jordan. "Keep him on a short leash."

"Honestly, it's not like that," Jordan protested.

Maribelle put her finger on Jordan's lips, smiling. "Maybe not, but you still need to try to control him." She walked toward the kitchen with unerring accuracy.

"It's spooky how she can do that with such confidence. I can see perfectly, and I'm still clumsy as hell," Jordan said.

"I think she sees more than she lets on," Brian said. "But not well enough to do all the things she used to."

"What caused it?"

"Doctors don't know. It just kind of happened. One day, she was fine. The next, blind. Right after my dad left."

"Weird." She shuffled her feet. "Look, I'm sorry about what happened. Did she get mad?"

"No. It was strange. I thought she'd be yelling. She just told me to control myself and she wouldn't say anything. I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have taken advantage of you like that."

Jordan laughed lightly, grinning up at him. "As I recall, it was a pretty mutual thing. But she's right. Self-control."

Brian chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah. That's gonna happen." He walked off.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jordan called after him.

©2016 Dellani Oakes

[dellani]

Brian merely continued to laugh and shake his head. A pillow hit him in back of the head. That seemed to be Jordan's major method of communication when she was angry with him. At least it wasn't painful, even if it was annoying. Another pillow hit him, and another.

"How many of those doggone things are there?" He whirled around and the next one caught him in the face. "Jordan, dammit!"

Whap! Another pillow.

"Tell me what you meant." Whap!

"Dammit, Jordan!" He ducked the next pillow, catching it as it whizzed over his shoulder.

Apparently, she'd run out. The pillows stopped coming at him. Instead, she stood in the doorway, looking for all the world like she wanted to cry.

"I didn't mean anything bad, jeez! What is this? Death by Stuffing?"

"You're not funny," she whimpered. "And you're laughing at me."

"I'm not—no. Not at you, silly. At myself." He walked over, taking her hands in his. "I didn't mean what I said before about not being attracted to you. You're all kinds of hot, Jordan. If I were a different kind of guy, I'd be all over that. But we have to stay focused on whatever it is we're supposed to do." He moved a step closer, gazing down at her. "It felt good kissing you. And sometime, I'd like to do that again. But not in your parents' house."

Jordan nodded, biting her lower lip. Her dark eyes filled with tears. She came toward him, putting her arms around his waist. Brian held her close, arms around her back. She was so short, he could rest his chin on her head. Jordan pressed her cheek to his chest.

"I'm really scared, Brian. What are we fighting? How do we do it?"

"I don't know, Jordan. We'll read Dad's papers today and see what we can find out."

"Life was so much easier before."

"Yeah, but it was boring as hell. Being a social pariah isn't all it's cracked up to be."

Jordan laughed, loosening her hold on Brain. She smiled up at him. "Speak for yourself, dweeb. I rocked being an outcast."

Brian's stomach growled, then Jordan's. They laughed at one another and themselves as they headed to the kitchen.
Their parents sat around the table, sipping coffee and eating scones. Jackie had prepared three kinds—blueberry, cranberry-orange and lemon. Brian heaped his plate with one of each. He put a couple on a plate for Jordan as she served them each a mug of coffee.

"That's what I call teamwork," Heath said with a grin. "Sorry there's no school again today."

"Ah, well," Brian said, sighing. "I do miss the excitement of the classroom. All that learning. Blissful."

Jordan nearly choked on her scone. Brian helpfully patted her on the back. Heath chuckled, raising his coffee in salute.

"I'm sure that it's extremely enlightening and enervating," Heath mused.

"Oh, Daddy. Using all those big lawyer words! How do you do it?" Jordan gushed, batting her eyelashes at her father, her tone sarcastic in the extreme.

"Jackie, my love, we have a smart-alec as a daughter."

"Do you think so, honey? What gave you that idea?" She also batted her eyelashes at her husband.

Heath threw up his hands in defeat. "I swear, Maribelle, if you pull the same thing on me, I'm gonna retire."

"Retire from what?" She asked innocently. Her beatific smile was as disarming as the fluttering eyelashes.

"That's it." Heath threw his napkin into the middle of the table. "I've officially conceded the battle."

"What battle are you conceding, darling?" Jackie asked.

"The Battle of the Sexes. I'm out gunned. Brian, throw in the towel now before they gank you, too."

"Gee, golly, whiz, Heath. You folded awfully fast. If that's the kind of backup I've got, I don't stand a chance."

"Pick your battles, son. It's safer that way."

Brian laughed at his mock defeat. It was exactly the same kind of thing that his dad would have said. Heath reminded him a lot of his father. They were only slightly similar in looks, but the way they viewed the world was very much the same. Their warm, bantering way with their wives and children, even the way they laughed. Brian suddenly missed his dad, so much that it actually hurt. His chest tightened and he thought he was going to cry.

©2016 Dellani Oakes

[dellani]

"Excuse me," he said, dropping his napkin. His meal was only half eaten, but his appetite was gone.

Jordan started to go after him, but her father stopped her.

"I got this, baby girl. Got a feeling it's a guy thing." He got up and followed Brian.

Heath found the boy on the front porch, barefoot and coatless, shivering in his shirt sleeves. He dropped a pair of battered slippers on the porch and handed Brian an afghan from the couch. Brian bundled up and Heath led him to the porch swing. They sat, swinging for a minute before Heath spoke.

"Want to talk about it?"

Brian shrugged, shaking his head.

"Meaning you do, but I'm not your dad."

"Where did he go, Heath? Why has he been gone so long? Doesn't he know we need him? We're worried about him?"

"Of course, he does. He's probably worried sick about you both, all the time."

"Then where is he and why isn't here? Where we need him!"

Heath shook his head. "I don't know. But my guess is that whatever it is he's doing, it's important. Maybe the most important thing he's ever done. Jackie told me about your vision. He's fighting Deidrich. That seems pretty significant."

"Yeah." Brian paused, holding in a sob. "I don't understand any of this. How is a bunch of stuff about rocks supposed to help me fight, when I don't know who I'm fighting or how to use it?"

"Suppose we finish our breakfast and get those papers out. We can spread them out in the dining room and all of us take a look."

"My mom...."

"We can take turns reading it aloud. Sometimes that helps understanding anyway."

"I guess you're right."

Heath chuckled. "I don't know if I am or not, kid. I'm just freezing my buns off out here."

They went back in the house. Jackie poured fresh coffee for them both and Jordan put their scones in the microwave to reheat them. After they cleaned up and loaded the dishwasher, Brian got the case of papers.

Jordan led them into the dining room and helped Maribelle get acclimated to the new room. Brian, Heath and Jackie laid out the papers in separate stacks. They'd gotten out of order when Brian dropped them, but luckily, they were numbered. Jordan joined them when she'd gotten Maribelle settled. It took very little time to get the stacks sorted and in order.

Brian inhaled deeply, putting his hand on the top page. Words came into his mind, like those he'd said to the whirlwind and spoken to Mr. Deidrich. He didn't understand them, but spoke them anyway. He sensed it was some sort of prayer or blessing. Something on the table rattled and Brian saw that Jackie had brought in Lester. He picked up the purple stone skull, holding it in both hands as he spoke the words again. It warmed in his hands and light glowed briefly in the empty sockets.

Brian set the skull in the middle of the table and they gathered around, each picking up a stack. They took turns reading about the magical properties of stones, wood and metals. Brian learned more about the stones on his necklace and how to make a small charm with different combinations of each. He learned that Oak, Ash and Thorn were considered the sacred trinity of trees in the Celtic zodiac. Similar to the Greek Zodiac, each 26 days the symbolic tree changed.

It was interesting to note that Brian, Chase and Jordan were born on the fifteenth of three different months. Chase was the eldest, his birthday March Fifteenth. Brian was next, his birthday falling on May Fifteenth. Jordan's was last, on June Fifteenth. The most amazing thing about it was that their birth signs were Ash, Hawthorne and Oak, respectively.

Around noon, the women went to fix lunch leaving Heath with the teenagers. They went through new stacks, highlighting passages to share with the others.

"We need to contact Chase and his father," Brian said.

"His dad said he had his own stuff to learn," Jordan reminded him.

"Yeah, but if we're all in this together, shouldn't we find out what they know and tell them what we know?"

"What about Marissa?" Jordan asked.

"We don't even know if they're still dating," Brian reminded her. "And I'm not sure I feel comfortable asking Chase. If they aren't together and it was a really bad breakup...."

©2016 Dellani Oakes

[dellani]

"Good point. And Marissa just loves me so much, she's never going to tell me anything."

"What, not BFFs?" Brian teased.

"Shut up. As if I'd be friends with that anorexic Barbie doll."

"That isn't really important," Heath reminded them. "Getting through the rest of this, is."

"I want to know more about the necklace," Brian said. "I wonder where it came from and who made it."

"Oh, now this is interesting," Heath said. He pulled out a sheet of paper he'd been studying and laid it on the table. "This is very interesting."

The teenagers glanced at it, shaking their heads. It didn't look all that impressive to either of them.

"It's a family tree," Heath persisted, wanting them to see its importance. He shook the paper at them rather emphatically.
The women came in with a platter of sandwiches and a big bowl of chips. Heath and Brian took the serving dishes, setting them on the table.

"Honey, I found something kind of cool," Heath said as he held his wife, helping her sit.

"Really? What?"

"It's just some dumb family tree," Jordan said before taking a bite of her sandwich.

"Yes, but it's got an interesting name on it," Heath said.

"Dad, you just want it to be cool," Jordan said, mouth full.

Her father huffed an irritated sigh. "I bet your mother and Maribelle will see it differently. Maribelle, did you know that your husband's family is distantly related to Edgar Cayce?"

"The man who had visions?" Jackie's surprise was evident.

Maribelle smiled, nodding. "Yes, it's a distant link, and one that most of the family doesn't acknowledge. They changed the spelling of the last name, sometime after he started getting his visions, and cut him off."

"Why? He was so brilliant," Jackie sounded awed.

"He was considered a raving lunatic," Maribelle said. "No one wanted to be associated with a crazy man."

"But you see why this is interesting?" Heath asked.

"Yes," Maribelle replied. "That sensitivity is inherent in the family line. There are others who had the talent for telling the future, or seeing things that weren't there. When Brian was little, he had horrible nightmares. After talking to members of Miles' family, we realized they weren't just nightmares, they were visions. He still has them, sometimes, but they don't wake him up like they used to."

"Is that true, Brian?" Jackie asked.

"Yeah, but I can't remember them when I wake up."

"At one point, Miles was so worried, he took Brian to a sleep specialist. They put all those electrodes on him and filmed him as he slept."

"Why don't I remember that?" Brian asked.

"You were very young," his mother replied. "Maybe four or five. Whatever they found out, Miles never fully shared it with me. He told me it wasn't life threatening, and not to worry. Of course, I did anyway. He never showed me the tapes they made."

"Do you—have them?" Brian asked. "Did Dad keep them?"

"I think he did. They're probably in his office somewhere. Why?"

"I want to see them," Brian demanded. "Can we get them?"

"Sure, kid," Heath said. "I'll take you by after lunch. The women can go through this information."

"I want to go too," Jordan said. "We all need a break from this."

"Honestly, I'd like a nap," Jackie said. "I bet Maribelle wouldn't mind one."

"I would love a nap," Maribelle said with a smile.

"Then let's put the papers up and call it a day," Heath said.

He picked up the stacks they'd gone through and put a red, industrial sized rubber band around them. He put a blue one around the smaller stack that they hadn't gone through. Brian put them back in the briefcase and Heath locked them in the safe in his office.

The three of them bundled up before going out. It was snowing again. Fluffy flakes fell in a festive flurry. The teenagers bundled in the back of the SUV while Heath hopped in the front. He turned the heat on full and turned on the seat warmers.

"Best invention ever made for cars," he commented as he waited for his car to warm up.

"And here I thought it was anti-lock brakes and windshield wipers," Jordan said.

"Get in a car on a cold day without these babies, you'll learn to appreciate them."

They drove slowly to Brian's house. The storm gathered, getting worse. Visibility was poor and it took almost 10 minutes to drive the two blocks to the Casey's home.

It was chilly inside. Brian checked the thermostat and saw that it was around 65 degrees. That didn't make sense. The heat was on 71. A quick look around showed that the doors and windows were all closed. However, when Brian walked past the basement door, he felt a breeze. He and Heath went down together and found that the backdoor that Brian had helped repair, was open. The door at the top of the steps was closed and locked.

"That's just weird," Brian said. "I know Mr. Hamilton and I checked that and made sure it was locked and dead bolted. It hasn't been tampered with, has it?"

"Not that I can tell," Heath remarked, running his fingers over the latch. "Let's put something against it until we can get the carpenter and a locksmith over here."

"Good idea."

They got the sofa from the rec room and shoved it in front of the door.

While they were downstairs, Jordan went to the office to look for the tapes. She looked through all the drawers and filing cabinets, even checking under the drawers. She was in the process of pulling out the books and flipping through them, when Brian and Heath joined her.

"Does your dad have a safe in here?" she asked.

"Wouldn't put it past him. He's kind of paranoid. He had odd little cubbyholes all over the house. Most of them were here when it was built in 1850. The whole house is double walled, with a foot of air space between the inside and the outside walls. It's like two feet thick altogether. Dad thought that it was possible that whoever built the house probably helped escaped slaves. We had a priest hole in the living room, but it was damaged and had to be taken out. They just expanded the room and made kind of a bookcase thing. We check every nook and cranny of the house. If we have to tap on every wall...." He snapped his fingers. "I just had an idea." He ran out of the room and down to the basement. He came back a few minutes later with something that looked like a TV remote, only it was bright yellow and black. "Stud finder."

"Do you know how to use it?" Heath asked.

"Of course I do, it's mine."

Brian went to the nearest wall and put the stud finder against it before turning it on. He moved it until it beeped. Going a few feet over, he repeated the process. Jordan watched him with interest.

"Why are you doing that?" she asked.

"Because, the studs should be fourteen and a half to twenty-four inches apart, depending on if it's an insulated, structural wall or just finished for looks. Like this wall. It's an inner wall, not insulated, so the studs are—aha! Twenty-two inches apart. Not sure why." He frowned slightly. "But see? If we find an extra large gap, we know we're in the right place."

"Do you have more than one stud finder?" Jordan asked.

"I do."

He handed her a second one from his pocket. It was older and more battered than his, but still worked. Jordan sensed this was his father's. She took it from Brian and handed it to her father.

"Why don't you help with this and I'll keep doing what I'm doing."

"Which is what, exactly?" Heath asked.

"Checking for hiding places in the books and shelves."

"You've read too many mysteries, honey," her father said.

Jordan picked up a book and it rattled. She opened it, finding a hollowed out area. The pages were stuck together, forming a box. Inside the box was a key. It looked like an old fashioned pressure key—one that would shove straight into a special slot and not turn. A red ribbon adorned one end. Jordan grinned at her father, holding up the book and key.

"Yeah. Reading a book doesn't teach you a thing." She smirked, waving the key at him.

"She's going to be insufferable now," Brian said as he examined the key.

"Now? She wasn't before?" Heath teased his daughter.

"Well. Okay, more insufferable."

Jordan swatted at him, but Brian dodged.

"No pillows in here, missy."

"I'll get you for that remark," she warned. "Maybe not right away, but you'll be near pillows sometime."

©2016 Dellani Oakes

[dellani]

The Man Who Wasn't There is Book 2 in my Miracle, Mississippi fantasy series. I derived the name from a poem called Antagonish by William Hughes Mearns.

Yesterday, upon the stair,
I met a man who wasn’t there!
He wasn’t there again today,
Oh how I wish he’d go away!”

My mother used to recite this to my sister and me, when we were children. It's long been a favorite. Given certain events in the story, it's extremely appropriate. If you haven't read He Thought He Saw, be sure to go back and do that. Though both books can stand alone, certain elements will make more sense if you read them in order.
If you like my stories that I've shared here, be sure to check out my published work.
~ Dellani Oakes

PROLOGUE
September, 1713

Luminous Cayce stood on the front porch of his spacious home, overlooking the mighty Mississippi River. The full moon sparkled on the water as it rolled by. Smoking his pipe, he was content. Nothing could equal the peace he felt when he communed with the water. Its power and majesty surrounded him.

A small sound behind him made him turn around. His eldest daughter, Evangeline, stood in the doorway. This was the night of her fifteenth birthday party. The guests had finally gone home and the servants bustled around cleaning up. Her father smiled, holding out his hand.

"How does it feel to be fifteen, my lass?"

"No different from fourteen, in truth. I suppose that will change."

"No doubt." He put his arm around her shoulders, holding her close.

She shivered in the chilly night air. Luminous removed his coat and set it around her shoulders. She thanked him with a smile.

"Mother is asking for you. She's feeling ill."

"Liza will see to her."

"She's asking for you," his daughter's voice held reprimand. "You need to see to her, Father."

He kissed her brow. "As you wish, child. Do not be out long."

"Not long, I promise. The water is so lovely, is it not? And the scents of fall in the breeze."

Luminous smiled. "Yes, Daughter. Tomorrow, we shall have a talk."

She nodded, turning back to the river as he walked inside.

November, 2012

Brian Casey has a problem—several, actually. As if being a super smart, self-proclaimed social pariah weren't enough, he recently found out that he's descended from an ancient line of Druids. In each generation, children are born with certain gifts. For his family and generation, he is the one. Brian was surprised to find out that several of his close friends also have these gifts. It was a shock to each of them, to find out that they wield unique, magical talents. Reaching majority at the age of fifteen, these chosen few become the keepers of the balance between good and evil. None of his contemporaries were prepared for the challenges they faced—fighting a legendary evil, Deidrich. Mr. D, as they call him, is so powerful, those who know about him don't ever mention him by name.

During their epic battle with Deidrich, where Brian was very nearly killed, the chosen ones of the new generation, determined to hone their skills. When Mr. D returns, they intend to be ready.

December of 2012 was touted by some as being the End of the World,. What Brian, Jordan and their friends discover is that it's not the end, but a beginning. A whole new magical world, full of surprises, some of them good, some deadly, await them.

Being descended from Druids isn't all it's cracked up to be. It means long hours learning the uses of herbs, the properties of stones and metals. It's time spent practicing control of the elements. Some can call flames, others manipulate the earth, still others summon wind or water to do their bidding.

Brian has found out that in addition to his other abilities with the four elements, he is the Dreamer, a prophet who learns the future in his dreams. He's also been told that Jordan, his best friend, is his intended wife. In fact, each of the eight has their counterpart in another member of the chosen.

Of all the things he's learned about himself, Brian finds this the most difficult to get his mind around. He always thought when he met the right woman, he'd fall in love and marry her. Instead, he's been told that his future is mapped out and nothing will change it. Not that he doesn't care about Jordan, he does. He just would have liked a choice.

© 2017 Dellani Oakes

[dellani]

October 2013

Flames dripped from his fingers, spilling down his arm and onto the floor. A dribble of fire worked its way up to his armpit, setting fire to his shirt. Brian slapped at the flames, burning his hand.

"Ouch! Dammit! Ow!"

"Brian!" Maribelle Casey's voice floated down the basement steps from the kitchen.

"Sorry, Mom. I burned myself." He stuck his fingers in his mouth, pulling them out immediately when he tasted the bitter herbs that covered them. "Gak! Blerg! Gross!" He rushed to the utility sink and rinsed his mouth. Running water over his hand, he hissed as the singed digits met the cold.

Soft footsteps trotted down the stairs. "What did you do to yourself now?" Jordan's voice interrupted his pity party.

Brian held out his hand to her. Jordan took his damp fingers, whispered a couple of words and the pain stopped.

"Quit being such a klutz, Casey," she said as she sat on the couch.

"Yeah. Fire isn't my thing," he replied, sitting next to her.

Jordan giggled. "Says my pyromaniac boyfriend." She gave him a quick kiss.

Her lips on his stopped any further protest. She was right. Fire was his second best element, which he could summon at will. Controlling it, however, wasn't as easy. The scorch marks on the cement floor and singed carpet, paid testimony to that.

"Your mom doesn't mind you playing with fire in the house?"

He whirled his injured finger in a circle. "Protection spells all around. I might set fire to myself, but not the house."

"That makes it so much better." She gave him another kiss. Jordan pulled away when he started getting fresh. "Cool it, cowboy! Mom's upstairs."

"Sorry."

The change of status of their relationship was new, and neither one was exactly sure what to do with it. Their experiences a year ago had shown them that they were destined to be together, but it didn't make it any easier to deal with the fact. Constantly in one another's company, working on their fighting skills, spell casting and charm making, had brought them closer together. It was inevitable that they would take the next step in their relationship—that of boyfriend and girlfriend.

"What are you working on today?" Jordan asked, looking over the mess he'd made on the ping pong table, which served as his practice space.

"Summoning fire and controlling it—emphasis on control. I can summon fire just great, getting it to do what I want—that's something else."

Jordan flicked her wrist, twirling her fingers. Flames appeared over the table, dancing merrily. She made walking motions with her fingers and they strutted around the surface. No scorch marks or ember trails for her. The flames danced a few more minutes and quietly sank to nothing. Brian watched with envy and disgust.

"You're trying too hard," she said. "Not only that, you're so concerned about not setting the house on fire, you're not channeling your attention properly. We'll go over to Chase's and work in the swamp."

"Trees catch fire, you know."

"Shall we go to the old Winn-Dixie parking lot? No trees there. I don't think that even you could set asphalt on fire," she replied with disgust.

"No public places, you know that."

"Kidding!" She hopped up, reaching for his hand. "Come."

"What? Where?"

"We're taking a break. You need to get out of the house, and I need ice cream."

Brian laughed, standing up. He pulled her close, towering over her. He'd put on a growth spurt over the last year, shooting up to six foot three. Jordan had eeked out another half inch and stopped growing. It was no end of annoyance to her that she was still nearly a foot shorter than he.

"You can have ice cream, but I want something else first."

"Oh? What's that?"

Brian leaned over, grinning. Jordan stood on tiptoe. Their lips met and they exchanged a short kiss.

"Another reason to get out of the house," he murmured.

They trotted up the stairs hand in hand, bursting into the kitchen. Their mothers sat at the table, talking and drinking tea. Brian smelled jasmine and ginger.

"We're going for ice cream," Jordan said. "Can we bring you anything?"

"Nothing for me, thanks," Maribelle said. "Jackie?"

"No. I'm trying to be good, with the holidays coming. I always eat too much."

Jordan smirked, tilting her head to one side. "I dunno, Mom. I think you could stand to gain a couple pounds."

Her mother smacked her hand playfully. "Go get your ice cream. Are you taking my car?" She reached for her keys.

"They can take mine," Maribelle said. "I still don't feel comfortable driving, so it's mostly Brian's now."

© 2017 Dellani Oakes

[dellani]

"Be safe," Jackie said, making a sign of blessing on their foreheads as they leaned over to give her and Maribelle each a kiss.

"Yes, ma'am," they chorused, laughing at one another as they walked out of the house.

Their mothers watched them go, smiling and shaking their heads.

"Were we like that?" Jackie asked.

Maribelle grinned. "Yes. I'm sure that Miles and I were awful. I knew I loved him from the time we were kids. He didn't take to the destined for one another thing very well. He played the field."

"So did Heath. It freaked him out when I knew every time, and called him on it." She sipped her tea. "I don't think Brian's going to act like that. He doesn't strike me as a player."

"He and Jordan's bond was forged in greater adversity than ours. If the circumstances were the same as ours, I could see it. I think it's harder for the men to accept. I didn't have a problem with the idea of Miles being my one and only."

A plaintive wail pierced the quiet house.

"Herself's awake. Excuse me."

"I need to go anyway, honey. Call me later."

They hugged and Jackie left. Maribelle went upstairs to the nursery. A tiny, pink clad form kicked and mewled in her crib. She stopped wailing when she saw her mother and smiled as she was picked up.

"Hello, precious," Maribelle said, kissing her baby girl. "How's my angel?" She carried the baby to a nearby rocking chair and sat down to nurse.

Elise Casey's dark brown eyes gazed at her mother with love. Maribelle crooned to her baby as they cuddled.

The front door opened. "Where's my girls?" Miles Casey called.

"Upstairs," Maribelle replied.

Elise cooed as Miles walked in the nursery door. He kissed them both and sat on the footstool next to them.

"Good day or bad?" Maribelle asked.

"Good. Andre's making excellent progress. Can't say the same for Sweet. That boy's got serious control issues."

"Brian's having trouble. I think you need to have Cliff work with him."

"You're the one proficient with fire, why Cliff?"

"It needs to be someone who's not kin. I've pampered him. He needs a firm hand. Cliff will provide that."

"Okay. I'll give him a call later and see what we can work out." He kissed her forehead. "I'm going to have a shower. Sweet boiled swamp mud. I think he caught a few crawdads or frogs too." He sniffed himself. "Ew."

Brian and Jordan headed to Sweeties Soda Fountain. A full service, old fashioned soda shop, they sold ice cream treats, hot dogs, hamburgers and patty melts. The decor hadn't changed much since the shop was built in the late 1940s. They took seats at the red linoleum topped counter. Several of their friends walked in and sat next to them.

"So, going to the Halloween Ball Thursday night?" Chase asked.

"Jordan, you wouldn't know this, but it's been a tradition around here since our grandparents were teenagers," his girlfriend, Marissa said.

"Longer," Chase said. "It just wasn't called the Halloween Ball. It was the Harvest Ball instead. They changed the name in the Seventies."

"Why do people keep telling me that?" Jordan asked. "Honestly, I've been told about the stinking ball for the last month. Why is it such a big deal?"

"It's the social event of the fall—until Homecoming," Marissa gushed. "Come on, you have to go!"

"We're going," Jordan replied. "I just don't know what the big deal is."

"The rumor mill has a lot to say about it," Brian replied quietly. "Apparently, back in the day, this was a big community for witches." He nodded slowly, eyes open wide. "Isn't that right, Annie?" he addressed their waitress, who was old enough to be his grandmother.

"That's the skinny," she replied. "Salem wasn't the only place to hang witches. No one talks about it, but our town nearly wiped itself out, in the early days. Between the witches getting hanged and the people getting hexed, there were only a handful of folks left. Brian's many greats granddaddy was one of them. He went and married himself a Native bride. Somewhere, back in your ancestry, you've got Choctaw blood."

Annie herself was at least half Choctaw. She bragged to be full blooded, but her brother claimed three quarters. No one argued with either of them, accepting their varying claims with a smile. Annie wandered off to take care of other customers, leaving the teenagers alone for the moment.

"You're telling me this town hunted witches?" Jordan frowned. "And we live here, why?"

"Amazingly, our families weren't among the ones hanged. The witches were evil and our ancestors fought against them," Chase said, snagging one of Brian's fries.

Brian smacked his friend's hand. "Get your own. I'm hungry."

Chase ate another before waving at Annie. He ordered his fries and leaned on the counter.

"How do you know all this?" Jordan asked.

© 2017 Dellani Oakes

[dellani]

"Because my dad is an amateur historian who belongs to the historical society here. He also lectures about it all over the country. It's kind of his thing. He even discovered why the town was called Miracle."

"Oh?" Jordan couldn't help being interested. She leaned toward him.

"Yeah. Cause it's a freaking Miracle anyone believes the story you, Brian and Annie just told," Marissa interjected. "Don't listen to him," she cautioned. "It's just an old wives' tale."

Chase flashed her a disgusted look. "Just because you choose not to believe it, doesn't make it any less true. It's called Miracle because of The Tin Man."

"Like The Wizard of Oz?" Jordan sounded dubious.

"No. It's what they called this peddler who traveled around selling pots and pans," Brian replied. "Dad just told us about this a couple days ago." He nodded to Chase. "Go ahead, you'll tell it better."

Chase winked, huddling closer. Some of the things they talked about these days would scandalize the rest of the town. "This Tin Man, or more appropriately, Peddler, no one knows his name, came into town when things were at their worst. Those that weren't strung up to die were dead, or dying from hexes, that the witches had set on them."

"There were real witches here? Like—us?" Jordan whispered.

"Not like us. We were fighting them. More like—you know," Chase tilted his head from side to side, not saying a name.

They understood completely. He meant like Gavin. Deidrich, whom they called Mr. D. He was a formidable enemy on his own. If he'd come against them with others, the events of the prior year would have been quite different.

Jordan shivered. Brian put his arm around her, holding her close. He didn't waste his breath telling her it was okay and that they had nothing to worry about. They both knew differently. Deidrich would be back and this time, he would probably bring friends.

"There's something special about this one," Chase mumbled. "This is the three hundredth anniversary of the last, epic battle with the witches. They almost won. If it hadn't been for the Peddler, they would have. He came in and rallied our people and saved the day."

Marissa swallowed hard. Jordan shivered again. Both girls reached out for the other. Though they hadn't started out liking one another, circumstances had made them friends.

"You're just saying that to scare us," Marissa said, sniffing.

Jordan bit the inside of her cheek. She knew better, so did Marissa. This couldn't be a coincidence. The year before, Deidrich had come against them, testing their resources. They'd beaten him, but barely, and only because of Brian.

Jordan's blue eyes riveted on him. "You be extra careful over the next few days. No risks, no stupid stunts. You don't go out without at least one other of us."

Brian frowned, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. He might be the Dreamer, the official prophet of the bunch, but Jordan's hunches were rarely wrong. Not only that, his dreams had been tumultuous of late. He couldn't get a firm fix on them to record. Though he mumbled some in his sleep, nothing definitive presented itself. If Jordan told him to be careful, he'd follow her advice.

"I promise."

"Good."

He gave her a quick, gentle kiss. She hugged him violently, dragging him close.

"You be careful. I mean it!"

"I promise! Sheesh, Jordan. Can't breathe!"

Chase eased her arms from Brian's ribs. Marissa watched, wide eyed herself. She took Jordan's hand and tugged her to the restroom. The boys didn't question. They knew this wasn't just a girl thing. Marissa had something important to tell Jordan.

"Why doesn't she just tell us all?" Brian asked as he watched the girls walk quickly away.

"You know Riss. She's shy and straight laced. If it's the least bit—" he blushed, ducking his head.

"Sexual," Brian supplied, nudging his friend's ribs.

"Yeah, that. She won't say it in front of us."

"So, no action on that front?"

Chase's ears turned red. "As if I'd tell you anything. But no. I don't see that changing until she has a ring on her finger."

Brian clapped him on the shoulder. "Sucks to be you, my brother."

A knuckle punch to the ribs got Brian's attention. Gasping, he clutched his side.

"Like you'll get any further with Jordan."

"That's not the important thing right now," he replied soberly. "The most important thing is learning all we can so that when he comes back around—and he will—we're ready for him."

"That gives us five days, Brian."

"Yup."

Brian sipped his cola slowly, eyes traveling the room. Any of the people here was a possible weapon against them. Had Deidrich recruited more witches like he had before? And who was this mysterious Peddler? Could they summon him? Would he help again?

© 2017 Dellani Oakes