Transcend (26 page)
So I’ve stopped trying.
I wander, now, away from my hopes and dreams; away from my nightmares. I cannot stay near the ones I would hurt—not after Jenna.
Jenna.
I can hardly think her name without the memories of her death haunting me. The sound of my name on her lips. The feel of her hand in mine. The weight of her body as she breathed her last breath.
She gave her life for me, and through her I found the truth I’d been searching for, a truth I never really wanted.
Kiera’s song is the only thing that binds me to the world anymore. It guides me through strange cities and over the ocean. It leads me away from my past and protects me from my future.
It imprisons me.
~~
Weary and broken, I travel through London. My father is nowhere to be found. Ghosts haunt me as I move through cities and country sides. Sister Anne and Erik travel with me some days, their voices still swirling through me.
You can still find Kiera,
they urge.
Don’t be weak
.
Take her back to you
.
I can’t listen to them, no matter how much I may want to. I can’t risk believing the lies again.
Road after road I travel, determined to find some measure of peace. Knowing there is no peace for someone like me. The apparitions follow me on my journey, shadowy figures that leave me no respite. They are relentless in their pursuit, determined to exact retribution for my life. Bathed in fire, they force me to relive the explosion, this time following the shadowy figure I have all but forgotten; a myth created by my thoughts.
Down a new cavern we travel, through a church, a conservatory. I follow the path this phantom leads, through building after building, past alleys and streets, meadows and forests. People pass, scarcely aware of my presence. They speak in unfamiliar tongues and I assume they are nothing more than products of my broken thoughts.
The path winds through a corridor and under a large building. Music wafts through the ceiling as I travel down, down, down, into a watery maze of stone halls and secret rivers.
The cloaked figure urges me forward, tethering me to him with an invisible cord.
Who are you?
He stops at the entrance to a cave, pointing. Music swirls up from the rivers and walls, as though the very place was alive with the notes echoing around me. I inhale the stale air and find a peace in this place.
Home.
The figure stands, waiting. Its face is fully covered in shadow. And yet, I suspect I know this phantom.
“You’re the one that started the fire.” I swallow hard, trying to calm my welling fears. “Both fires.”
The figure nods.
“Because of you, Jenna is dead? Kiera is gone?”
Again the figure nods.
“I need to know.”
The shadow nimbly slides the hood down. Bits of sinew and ligaments hold the face together. Bone protrudes through hard, scorched skin.
His face is my own.
The master of my demise, the one who composed it all…
Is me.
There is comfort in this truth I have somehow always known. I am not surprised or scared. I sit on the damp stones surrounding my cave, music starting through my thoughts. I play the stones, hearing every note through my mind. The song changes as a violin joins in the melody, steering the music into a new realm.
A girl materializes in front of me, but not the one I expect. The one I need.
Blond hair. Soft brown eyes. And a kindness in her smile that I don’t deserve. “Play with me, Ien. Forever.”
Jenna’s voices reaches in to my soul and there is no way I can refuse. Not now. Not after everything.
“Forever,” I say, starting a new song.
One just for her.
Jenna.
Acknowledgements
“The story I am writing exists,
written in absolutely perfect fashion,
some place, in the air.
All I must do is find it and copy it”
~Jules Renard,(“Diary” – February, 1895)
Writing a book is unique journey, one fraught with dangers and exhilaration. Fortunately, I had amazing people to accompany on this journey and help me find the story written in the air.
My publisher Compass Press, including Heather McCorkle and Elle Horne – I have no words to properly express my thanks. You believed in this project when few others did. For that I will be forever grateful.
My CPs, Elana Johnson and Ali Cross – you breathed oxygen into my lungs when I was ready to give up and forced me to write when I knew I couldn’t. Thanks for helping me find Ien’s voice and put it on the page.
My writing partners and CPs, Michelle McLean, Danyelle Leafty, Gretchen McNeil, Amanda Bonilla, Sarah Bromley – thanks for reading and rereading, reassuring and helping me fine tune the story I plucked from the sky.
My Beta readers LK Gardner-Griffie, Heather McCorkle – thanks for bringing a fresh view to my pages and encouraging me in more ways that I can express.
My “special” pre-release readers, Brooke H. DelVecchio, Sylvia Hientz, Tiffany Mahaffy, and Shelly Smith – you found the little errors that escaped everyone else and brought confidence when I needed it the most.
The online community of writers, bloggers, readers and friends – all of you helped me navigate through the hazards and scale the mountain. Thank you for the support, the fellowship and the friendship – I am a better person because of you.
To the foundation of my life, Dirck, Fabiana, and Erika – your daily sacrifices made the writing of this book possible.
And finally, to my mom – the emotional framework of this book was discovered as I grieved her death. Even in her passing, she has continued to inspire me toward bigger and better things.
~ Christine Fonseca
About The Author:
Critically acclaimed nonfiction and YA Christine Fonseca is dedicated to helping children of all ages find their voice in the world. Drawing on her expertise as an educational psychologist, her nonfiction titles address issues of emotional intensity, resiliency and giftedness. In fiction, she explores the darker aspects of humanity and delivers Gothic thrillers that you on a rollercoaster ride of emotions.
Christine lives in Southern California with her husband and daughters. When she's not helping adolescents deal with the transition to adulthood, or spending time with her family, she can be found sipping a skinny vanilla latte at her favorite coffee house, writing her next book. She can be found on her
website
, or on her
blog
.
Table of Contents
Table of Contents