Ember Rising Light (Book One)

Part 1

"There’s no way to prepare…for something…like this…"

Chapter One

It turns out Miss Agatha might have been right…

She was a self-proclaimed palm reader and the carnival’s only fortune teller. She wore the same costume that people expect to see. Her dress had fake jewels hanging from it. She had a big red scarf wrapped around her head. The hundred gold bracelets she wore on her wrists clinked together when she walked. Normally, I could hear her coming from a mile away. But that night, she didn’t make a single sound. So I wasn’t ready when she grabbed me and read my future – just by looking at my hand.

Thinking back now on that spooky night, I have realized something – her haunted and mysterious whispers proved that my dad wasn’t always right. Life is not always one big ‘con’ where everything is sleight of hand and misdirection. Sometimes life gives a person a chance to see a little piece of their future. Sometimes life reveals a minute or two of the grand mystery – whether we are ready for it or not.

I was about six when this bizarre encounter happened. The gypsy fortune teller looked like she was a hundred years old. Her face was seasoned with character lines. This was something my Grandma Edie informed me of later that same night when I was telling her about old, wrinkly Miss Agatha and what happened.

My family traveled around with the carnival during the warmer months of the year. The carnival was known to me as the hunting grounds because our family business involved ‘con jobs’ of various sorts. Hunting marks is how my gypsy family earned a living.

The hunting grounds became my personal playground once the lights were off, the marks were gone and the rides were closed. We would follow a hunting ground until we either got ‘made’ by someone in authority or the season ended, whichever happened first. If our family business was discovered, we would pack up and find another place to hunt. It was that simple.

Occasionally, we would stumble across another family in the same business. The dads, A.K.A Doms, would either strike a deal where the families would work together or one would move on. That’s the gypsy code of honor.

We had followed that particular hunting ground for over two months without being detected. I knew who Miss Agatha was; in fact, I knew everyone that worked at that carnival. In my world, fortune tellers were part of the norm. The only thing I had on my mind that night was getting to Mr. Mites’ tent to hear his tale of adventure. I was running fast between the Zipper and Enterprise rides through the carnival’s midway. It was well after midnight; all the rides were closed and no carnies were in sight.

Out of the dark, Ms. Agatha suddenly grabbed me. I started to wiggle, trying to escape. My inner voice was telling me to be still and pay attention, but my body screamed run away. She didn’t ease up on her death-grip no matter how hard I struggled. I didn’t understand then, how important it would be to shut up and listen.

My inner voice is always right…

I yelled, Let me go! My struggles continued as my frustration grew. I was being held against my will, and I didn’t like it at all.

I looked up at her face while I tried to work my arm free. Even in broad daylight, she was a creepy old lady. The spooky moonlight wasn’t helping anything, either. I wasn’t scared of her. I was just mad because she wouldn’t let go.

She turned my hand over to inspect my palm. The fortune teller was going to read my future – whether I wanted her to or not.

Whispering, she told me, You run without a care and for now, in this fleeting moment, you are free. Yet, soon the days will come when you will see the darkest side of the sun. You and your sister are marked by the divine. You each have been chosen – not entirely of this world, yet not wholly of the others…

She stopped talking for a few seconds, taking a closer look. Then, it was like she saw something scarier. She yanked me closer, but her voice got louder.

Listen to my words, child! Your footprints must lead Ember’s path. The steps you will take are heavy and filled with many challenges. All things rest upon your shoulders, so you must always choose wisely. Mistakes will be costly…

She would have continued with her crazy speech, but I finally managed to break free. I ran away and hid in the shadows of a tent. Trying to catch my breath, I thought about her words. But, I couldn’t figure them out.

My dad told me that I should listen and remember everything someone says. He always suspected we might need it later for a con job. He drilled that lesson into my head. So I memorized Miss Agatha’s words.

At the time, I thought I did it out of habit. Now, I am starting to think I stored her mysterious words for another reason…

The coast was clear when I crawled out of the shadows. Her words would be stuck in my memory forever. So, my mind rapidly switched gears to something more interesting – treasure!

Mr. Mites, better known as The Mountain, would be waiting for me. He was an adventurer who had valiantly fought his way through the jungles of Africa in search of oddities and riches. His show was called Wonders from the Dark Continent. After the carnival closed, he would open his tent up to the children of the shadows – his nickname for all the carnie kids.

He would tell us different stories about his many adventures. Then, he would always pull out the actual treasure to prove his story was real. He and my parents were friends. So, sometimes he would stop by our campsite to visit them. I loved it when that happened because he would tell me an extra story.

I rushed into his tent that night and barely made it in time. The Mountain told us how he fought off two alligators while he was exploring an island marsh. The other five kids left after they looked at the proof – an alligator’s tooth from one and a claw he took from the other. I stayed behind to ask him some questions…about the island, the alligators, the marsh and anything else I could think of.

The Mountain was the only adult in my world that I could question – well, besides my Grandma Edie. My dad didn’t believe in free speech where kids were concerned. I had been smacked enough times to know I shouldn’t ask him anything. My jobs were to listen, act, and obey – no questions were allowed.

I could feel the excitement, when the Mountain motioned for me to come up on stage. He opened his treasure chest again and I looked inside. I watched as he pulled out a rare purple jewel and handed it to me. He told me how it was hidden by pirates and let me see the treasure map he used to find it.

The sun was rising when we finally left his tent. The Mountain walked with me back to my campsite. He was still talking to my parents when my Grandma Edie called me inside. My baby sister, Ember was already asleep.

I tried my best to keep my voice down. That’s easy to think about, but hard to do…

While I got ready for bed, I excitedly told my grandma about creepy Miss Agatha and my night of treasure maps and pirating adventures. My dad had been standing outside listening to my tales. He opened the camper door and sternly, reminded me that I shouldn’t be ‘taken in’ by anyone’s con job. That was not unusual advice, especially from him.

My grandma later whispered that she loved me and winked as she told me…pirates are real.

I fell asleep and didn’t think about Miss Agatha’s words again – well, until now…seven years later. They came flooding back to me and I remembered them just like she had said them yesterday.

Yesterday was when the world went crazy…

I suppose if I had understood Miss Agatha’s words that night I might have been able to see this coming. Instead, I was running on the ‘gypsy fly’ – escaping from something huge with no real plan, hoping for the best. After all, I am still just a teenager. I sighed and tried to make myself feel a little better by saying, you can do this over and over in my head.

So, this is what the darkest side of the sun looks like...

No matter what I think or how hard I try to encourage myself, the facts are still the same. I have no idea what I’m doing…or even how to do ‘it’, if I do eventually figure ‘it’ out. I doubt any other thirteen-year-old gypsy boy would choose this particular path. And, I knew for sure no other non-gypsy teenage male would select it either.

Most guys my age are into sports (playing or watching), sneaking peeks at half naked girls or trying like a fool to impress some hottie. Guys my age don’t pay much attention to anything beyond their desires. Well, I have never been what one might call a typical teenage boy. This fact becomes more evident with every passing minute that I sit here on the hard-wood floor…

My life has never been ‘stable’…even before my Grandma Edie died all those years ago. I’m not sure there is even such a thing as a stable life. When I told my last guidance counselor this fun and interesting factoid, she got this strange look on her face. It was a cross between horror and anxiety. It is very easy to read adult facial expressions, unless they know how to con. I could almost hear Ms. Flagstaff’s thoughts, too. She was thinking How on earth did he figure that out at his age?

She smiled and jotted down another long note into my student profile. My guidance counselor had been an everyday fixture for the last few weeks. I had no clue what she wrote in my chart, but it wouldn’t matter much either way. I never attend any school longer than five weeks and my records never follow me anywhere.

We were constantly moving around the country during the carnival’s off-season. My dad would work on various con jobs and so, we lived in a bunch of different rental houses. That meant occasionally, I would go to school (A.K.A. Tray’s babysitter).

Public school was used as a distraction – just to get me out of my dad’s hair. The only important schooling I needed, he had already taught me. Mainly, my dad home schooled me and I use that term very loosely. Most children are taught to say da-da and ma-ma. My first life lesson was how to cry on demand to create a diversion. When most children are learning to walk, my father demanded I learn how to run lightly and pick-pocket a wallet. He skipped all those steps in-between. By the time I was three, he had even taught me how to steal a watch off of someone’s arm. It turns out that small children make great thieves and are easily taught.

My dad ‘schooled’ me in many things, but reading, math and science weren’t among his instructions. Most of my father’s lessons are etched in my mind…seared into my brain, forever…whether I wanted them there or not.

I was well into my dad’s schooling by the time I was eight. That is how old my sister, Ember is right now. I sure hope all his schooling will help me figure out a plan of some kind…

There is a price to pay for every decision. Unfortunately, most people don’t understand this little chunk of wisdom until they find themselves in the middle of some chaos brought on by their own actions. Stupid deeds are rarely worth the hefty price tag. But usually, by the time they figure that out, the wheel of fate has already been spun…the devil gets his big pay day…

I knew I would never regret my decision to run away with my baby sister. However, I was jaded enough – even at thirteen – to realize someday, I will surely have to pay the devil for choosing to take off with her.

Well technically, protecting Ember isn’t a choice that I made – it’s something I have to do. Our relationship is nothing like typical siblings and it never has been. For one thing, she has me wrapped around her pinky – scary but true. And two, from the minute she was placed in my arms, I was her protector.

I am a teenager, but I am the closest thing to a parent Ember has. This is especially true since my grandma passed away. My mom and dad were never into parenting, unless it was part of a con job they were running. Otherwise, all the parenting (both mine and Ember’s) was left up to me.

So, I am the one that takes care of Ember and that will never change. I actually wouldn’t want it any other way. The first word she ever spoke was Tay and she repeated it until she learned how to pronounce it the right way – less than twenty four hours after she started.

Most gypsies are extremely loyal to their family and are especially protective of their girls. They normally live together as a band. Well, this is what I’ve seen with other families we’ve come across. My parents were the exception to that particular gypsy rule.

Beyond my Grandma Edie, I never met any other family member. I don’t even know if we have any.

My parents were devoted to money, conning and various other things. Gypsy family loyalty wasn’t something they believed in.

Unlike my mom and dad, I am every bit a gypsy. Ember is my only family. My loyalty to her is – what most outsiders would consider – obsessive. To other gypsies, my compulsive protection of Ember is expected. True gypsies live by a different set of codes when it comes to family.

I always knew I needed to get her away from our parents and out of that situation. I didn’t want her to endure the abuse I have lived through. Eventually, the beatings would have turned in her direction. It was only a matter of time.

Since the day my grandma died, I had been looking for a chance to escape with Ember. Without Grandma Edie to stop my parents, my little sister wasn’t safe from them.

I have always been big for my age. In fact, most people assume I’m in my early twenties. By the time I turned eleven, I was as tall as my dad. That didn’t stop him from teaching me painful lessons. I could handle his beatings and violent outbursts without too many problems. But, Ember is very tiny and fragile. One good smack from my dad and he could kill her without any real effort. So, I had spent lots of time trying to please him and keep his focus off of my little sister.

The opportunity to escape happened without giving me any warning. I didn’t have any plan together. It just came down to simple survival.

Everything in my life is now about basic instinct. It sleeps quietly until necessity wakes it up with a vengeance…

I didn’t know where we were going or where we would wind up. For better or worse, I grabbed the money, my little sister and we ran!

So, here I am sitting on the cold, hard floor in an abandoned farmhouse, out in the middle of nowhere USA. Ember is curled up in the fetal position with my jacket carefully tucked around her. I have no clue where our parents might be and I don’t really care, either.

As to what happened back at the house on Big Whiskey Lane…well, that’s anyone’s guess at this point.

I had this strange eerie sense of impending doom when I came home from school, yesterday. The dark thoughts had raced through my mind and made me shiver. It’s the creepy feeling of knowing the danger is there, but not knowing where it might be hiding.

The day had started out like any other. Maybe, that’s what made the events of that afternoon so unbelievable and outrageous. I certainly wasn’t prepared for what I saw when I walked through the kitchen door…

There’s really no way to prepare…for something…like this…

Chapter Two

I sensed it the second I stepped off the bus, that horrible feeling of dread. Our house looked normal from the outside – well, as normal as the day we moved in. The paint was virtually nonexistent. The concrete steps were cracked and the carport was caved in on one side. The heavy, ragged plastic that had been taped up to ‘fix’ the broken window was blowing around like a battered flag. The house was definitely a dump. The outside didn’t even give a hint about what the real problem was, but I knew something was wrong.

The bus was gone by the time I looked around the neighborhood. I saw and heard absolutely nothing. My blood turned to ice and I was chilled to the bone. The world had apparently stopped spinning. I didn’t hear a dog barking, no children were playing and no breeze was blowing. There was just…nothing. It felt like a terrible storm was building – calm and eerily quiet.

Then, I was filled with a sense of alarm when I suddenly turned into a statue in my driveway! I was frozen, right along with the rest of the world. I tried to force my fingers to move, but they refused. I was stuck in a time warp…

My vision seemed to get foggy and the world narrowed into a hazy tunnel. I would have been intrigued by the mystery of what was happening to me, but I was terrified. I had never been stuck in suspended animation.

My thoughts clouded over with darkness as an inky black fog started to surround me. It felt like I was being hypnotized – lulled into some type of weird, twisted dream. Near the edge of the fog bank I saw, animals…no…a ‘dark being’ of some kind was forming. It reminded me of a haunted, wicked entity like I had seen in a horror movie.

I would have shouted, but my voice was as useless as the rest of my body.

The dark entity grew into one tremendous being. It had four different heads and what looked like the body of a dragon. I watched in freaky awe as the talons formed into sharp, black razors. The gimonsterous entity sprouted wings and took flight. It was hovering at least twenty feet over our roof. I could tell that the dark entity was getting ready to strike, but I didn’t see anything for it to attack. Since I was stuck in one place, I couldn’t scope out the area.

The silence became deadly…

Then, I saw another ‘entity’ start to take shape…a light…an image. It appeared from out of nowhere, just like the dark entity. My eyes struggled to focus on the newly forming image. The dark entity headed toward the ground like a rocket and attacked its growing enemy.

The epic battle was being fought in front of my eyes. A few seconds later I finally figured out what the dark entity was fighting – a being of light. The blazing light entity was definitely winning the war. It was slashing the dark entity to ribbons. The dark creature was desperately trying to defeat the blinding light, but it was getting blocked at each turn. Every time the dark entity would do something to get the upper-hand, the light entity would stop it.

There I stood, still as a fixture – Traywick Shane Pateman, the great human statue…

I watched in helpless fascination while I was being blinded by the light entity. I saw a zillion sunbursts as the light assaulted my eyes. The dark entity bellowed in rage. The noise thundered around inside my head. Warm blood trickled down my neck from my busted eardrums.

The dark entity had been torn to shreds by the light. The remaining pieces were hopelessly attempting to reassemble into some type of a fighting form. The shreds of darkness whipped and swirled together into a frenzied storm. The wind howled in response and its outrageous wail climbed to a high-pitched, endless shriek.

I was still stuck to the ground when all-the-sudden something seemed to snap loose inside my body. I thought it might be an internal organ being torn in half. Then, the unknown piece of me, ripped away from my body! The missing part of me streaked toward the house and sailed through the wall. It must have landed somewhere inside…

Terrified, I tried to decide if my brain had just fractured – that just had to be a mind trick, right??? I couldn’t check my head for damage, since I still couldn’t move. So, I performed a quick mental inventory.

I’m still breathing…that has to be a good sign…

My mental inventory started and ended there, because I thought of something important.

Ember…

My body was still frozen, but my mind was screaming my sister’s name. Although I still didn’t know what was going on outside, I knew there was danger lurking through the doorway of our house. My sister is inside with the nameless monster! She is not allowed to go anywhere…ever. I’ve got to get to Ember!

I urgently tried to force my feet to move, but they refused to cooperate.

The remaining shreds of the dark creature made one last attempt to fight. A brilliant beam drew the battle skyward. The evil howls doubled in intensity as the light entity consumed the darkness.

For one flicker of a second, the sky lit up like it had been hit with a nuclear bomb. Every color of the rainbow bathed the landscape. The colors burned my eyes, because I couldn’t look away.

The sky returned to a normal shade of blue and the earth righted itself, again. Well, almost everything around me returned to normal. My shrieking brain and frozen body remained…

Ember… I eventually managed to force her name from my lips and my invisible chains released me.

I ran like a wild person toward the kitchen door. I couldn’t think about the dark creature that had just been destroyed or the blinding light being that killed it. My own injuries or what might be behind that door just waiting to attack me would be forgotten too. I was focused, running on blind instinct.

The door knob vibrated with a strange energy. I reflexively yanked my hand away from it and pulled my shirt sleeve over my hand. Getting fried or zapped with electricity won’t help me get to Ember. The metal seemed to be surrounded with a bizarre, unearthly power. I could still feel it vibrate, even through the fabric. Panic gripped me as I prepared to enter.

Wait…Ember might be in the kitchen. And, if I come barreling through the door, I will scare her. Terrified for her safety, I really want to rush inside and yell her name like a lunatic. But, I somehow managed to fight the impulse and walk in, quietly.

What I found behind that door would haunt me for the rest of my life. The scene I was looking at was something out of a nightmare. It was impossible…it couldn’t be happening…but it was…

Every item, not physically attached to something, was scattered across the kitchen floor or suspended from the ceiling. All the pots and dishes had been destroyed. Plastic cups were shattered like they had been made of crystal. Green slime was splattered across the walls. The room was filled with thick, smelly smoke. I was coughing from the stench.

The microwave and the toaster were on the floor, going haywire. Sparks were flying. Their buzzing sounded like a maddening electrical symphony – although neither one is plugged into an electrical outlet! I must be losing my mind…

I was astounded by the loony scene. Then, I saw something horrifying. Knives and silverware were buried to their hilts in the doorways and the walls. My thoughts were racing while I tried to make sense of what I was looking at. But, there is no way to explain what I am definitely seeing.

Toasters can’t make sparks without electricity. The appliances didn’t get that memo…

Forcing my feet to move, I waved at the smoke to clear a path. That didn’t help much. So, I crawled around and searched for Ember.

The smoke was still blinding, even at ground-level. The house was creaking like it was getting ready to collapse. I wasn’t worried about my safety. My only concern was for my baby sister. Terror gripped me when I saw streaks of blood and what might be pieces of flesh on the splintered dining room chairs.

Ember…Ember… I managed to choke out her name.

She didn’t make a peep, but the house would do the talking for her. It stopped creaking and started moaning. The floor’s gonna cave in…

Crawling faster, I rushed into the living room. That’s where I finally found her. Ember’s small body was crouched in the far corner. Her unblinking eyes were open, but they were hollow. It looks like my sister has been robbed of her soul…

‘Terror’ doesn’t even come close to describing how I was feeling. Ember looks empty…she’s gone.

Scared that I might start shouting like a lunatic, I shoved those thoughts out of my mind. I need to get to my sister and see if she’s okay. My instincts told me to approach her with tremendous care. So I slowly and anxiously crawled in her direction – is she even breathing????

Sighing in relief, I finally saw her shiver. Ember will most likely be damaged from whatever just happened. But, at least she’s still alive…

Hey Little Girl, I stated softly, reaching out to her.

Her eyes were still empty and haunted. She didn’t speak or reach out to be held. Terror grabbed me, again and I fought against my normal reaction.

Come on, we’ve gotta go. It’s not safe in this house, anymore.

It was a miracle, but I somehow sounded cool and calm. The overwhelming desire to shout in the middle of that chaos was crushing.

Ember still didn’t respond. So, I inched closer, watching her for any further signs of life. The madness started to rise up in my throat. I had to resist the urge to let that sound escape. It probably would have frightened me, more than her.

It’s okay…everything’s fine… we need to leave, now…it’s gonna be alright, I promise, I whispered soothingly.

My words weren’t helping either one of us. Ember always reaches for me or acknowledges my presence in some way – but, not this time. She was looking right through me. I tried to think of something I could do to make her come back from her dark hiding place.

I need to find her soul somehow, but I don’t know where to start looking…

After another few minutes of terrible silence, Ember gradually lifted her arm and pointed to the other side of the room. She wanted me to turn around. I had no clue what kind of nightmare lurked behind me! And would that nightmare become real and rip us both to shreds, if I look at it…

All I wanted to do right then, was grab her and run away fast. But, that’s not what she wanted. I have never been able to deny her anything she’s ever requested. And, I wasn’t going to start then. So I held her tiny hand and surrendered to her wishes. Turning around cautiously, I looked to see what she was pointing at.

Gasping in shock and disbelief, my mind tried to wrap itself around, yet another impossibility. A big pile of cash was on fire in the corner! From what I could see, the bills were 50’s and 100’s. It would have been a fortune…

The money was going up in flames by the time my brain caught up with my eyes. The fire matched all the other loony things in the house. It was burning with purple, pink and light blue flames. The rising smoke was gold instead of the normal gray. I couldn’t seem to react and try to put it out either.

Can a multi-colored fire even be extinguished?? I whispered in surprise.

Then, something insane happened and my question got answered. The unreal fire started to die down even though nothing was there to put it out. Suddenly, the flames just vanished and the shimmery gold smoke disappeared too. I rubbed my eyes to make sure I wasn’t dreaming, but this was real.

I was staring at a gimonsterous pile of unharmed cash.

Chapter Three

I managed to shift my body a little bit, but it didn’t help much. I had been in this same awkward position for hours. I didn’t want to risk waking Ember up. So, I would just have to stay put and suffer. We had been walking for nearly thirty hours, stopping only for food and bathroom breaks. Otherwise, we had kept moving.

Even after I found this abandoned farmhouse, Ember had still stayed awake for a long time. She stared at nothing in particular and didn’t make a sound. Eventually, she rolled over on her back to look at my face. That was the first sign of awareness she had given to me since being on the run. I somehow, managed to keep my expression gypsy neutral when she started tracing the outlines of my face. Although I didn’t show it, I was really excited. Maybe, she will come back to me, at some point.

We would carefully study each other’s eyes and faces for countless hours – like we’re trying to remember every detail. We have performed this same ritual her whole life. Even as a newborn, Ember would stare at my face and into my eyes every chance I gave her. I don’t know what we expect to find, but tracing our facial features repeatedly, seems to make us feel better.

Tonight, her wide blue eyes seemed to be offering me…a deep, dark secret. She’s trying to tell me something. I searched her eyes and tried to figure it out. I believe that Ember can look ‘beyond’ what other people see…

I thought I might have seen a flicker of her spirit fighting to come back to me. That guess would be proven right.

Eventually, she placed her hand over my heart. This is something else she’s done her entire life too. It makes her feel safe. She went to sleep a few minutes later.

In the stillness, my thoughts turned to our parents. I wondered if they were in the house or what happened to them. Maybe, they were struck by some flying object? Or shocked and torched to ashes by the toaster. After all, I’m fairly sure that I saw exploded flesh…

Those dark thoughts made me smile. If they did somehow survive what happened on Big Whiskey Lane, I hope they never come looking for us. My mom and dad are now a thing of the past. Wow, I never thought that would happen!

Next, my mind carried on to the future and our seemingly endless options. The silence was making me crazy and I had no idea what time it was. I had left my watch in the chaos of my bedroom. I could have kicked myself for not getting it before we bolted from the scene. Watching the minutes tick by would at least help occupy my mind.

My thoughts were jumping from one topic to another. My pulse was pounding from the mental clutter. So, I took a deep breath and tried to refocus. We need a better place to stay and transportation. Thanks to my overstuffed duffle bag at least, we can afford it.

When I closed my eyes to continue working through a plan, I didn’t feel tired or sleepy. But, I drifted, anyway.

How long can a guy go without sleep?

It felt great to think about something ordinary – like how to never sleep, again…

Chapter Four

I was jolted awake by the ‘dark being’ eating me alive…

The dream had been so real that I almost screamed in terror. As my mind became more alert, the nightmare started to slip away from my memory. Somehow I knew remembering the details of it would be important. But, the harder I tried to hold on to the dream, the quicker it faded.

Eventually, it slid beneath the surface of my awareness – lost forever.

My heart was still pounding, when I reached out for Ember. But, she wasn’t there! I made some frantic move in an effort to get to my feet, desperate to find her. My body was bolted to the floor. I must have stayed in this same, uncomfortable position all night.

Panicked, I quickly scanned the area until I found her. She was sitting on the rickety ledge of the window sill, staring through the cracked window pane.

Morning Little Girl, whatcha doing…

I tried to sound casual, like we do this every night of our lives. Ember didn’t respond to my question or look at me, either. I tried to hide my disappointment. Maybe, I was wrong last night when I thought she might come back to me.

She hasn’t said one word the entire time we’ve been on the run. But, I don’t much blame her for retreating into silence after all the craziness.

My sister has never been this quiet or still and I’m really starting to worry. I asked her another question, but she still didn’t answer me. Trying my best to hide my concern, I decided to pretend like everything’s normal.

We’re not gonna spend another night in this creepy old farmhouse, Little Girl. We’ll find a much nicer place for tonight…someplace with a couple of beds…and a radio, too…everything’s gonna be fine… I promised her as I stretched and stood up.

I knew I could keep the first promise – we’ll sleep in a warm, safe bed tonight. It was that last promise I wasn’t quite so sure about…

The over-stuffed duffle bag must weigh a few thousand pounds, but I picked it up without any real effort. Taking Ember’s hand in mine, I opened the front door. Leading her outside, we stepped out into our future.

Whatever that might be…

Part 2

"There is a price to pay for every decision made…

And the devil always gets paid…"

Seven years later…

Chapter One

This particular move was different from the previous ones we had made, over the last seven years. Tray had come home early from his job as a mechanic and informed me that we were leaving Chicago, immediately. I didn’t ask him where we were going or why we needed to go so abruptly. Thirty minutes after he walked through the door, we were on the road and headed south.

We had moved so many times that I couldn’t even count them anymore. Our frequent moves are typically my idea. So, Tray’s relocation announcement was highly unusual.

A certain, small part of our wandering lifestyle can be attributed to the fact that we are gypsies. The call of freedom offered by the open road is a necessity.

The primary reason behind our frequent moves is based on my keen intuition. Even as a small child, I had always been able to sense things. When Tray ran away with me seven years ago, my ‘sixth sense’ developed rapidly. And, the pattern would always happen the same way…

We would be living somewhere and I would get an uneasy feeling inside my spirit. I could sense an evil lurking somewhere in the shadows – preparing to strike and destroy us. When this internal warning sounded, I would tell Tray it’s time to move on.

He has never once, questioned me or hesitated to comply. We would simply pack up and leave. So when he walked through the door and said we’re moving, I didn’t question him about the decision.

When I opened my eyes, I was staring at my reflection in the window of our well-travelled station wagon. I knew many miles had gone by because the darkness was deeper.

Tray is gripping the steering wheel, intensely concentrating on the winding dirt road. His eyes were glazed over. He’s exhausted. It’s after three in the morning. Experience tells me that he won’t stop this car without the right motivation.

For all I know, the place he has picked to move us to could be another ten hours away. Tray will ignore his own needs, especially if he is focused on getting to a specific destination. And, whatever prompted him to leave Illinois so quickly still has him spun up and panicked. If I want him to pull over, I have to suggest it as something I need. Otherwise, he will fight off sleep and keep on driving.

Morning… I finally whispered while formulating my devious plot.

Sure is, Tray responded with a small laugh.

That wasn’t an observation. It was actually meant as a greeting. How long was I out? I questioned him.

Probably just two or three hours... Tray hedged.

I’m sure it was more like seven or eight, but thanks for not making me feel bad about bailing on you. I haven’t been sleeping very well with all the nightmares I’ve been having… I reluctantly revealed.

It hurt me to see his brow crease as he processed this newly discovered information. Tray has spent his life protecting me, taking care of me and providing for me – just like any good parent would for their child. He also worries about me, constantly. Adding this concern on top of everything else, made me feel guilty. But, he desperately needs to sleep in a real bed. Revealing my nightmares was the only thing I could think of that might get him to stop driving.

How long have you been having them? When did they start? Why haven’t you said anything about them before now? Did something happen to you at school that you're not telling me about? Tray continued firing questions without waiting for an answer.

He tends to turn into an inquisitor when he gets nervous or upset. I’m not sure if it makes him feel better or worse, but he always falls back on this routine in times of stress and crisis. Five minutes later, I managed one interruption.

I’ve been having nightmares for the past couple of weeks...

I wish you would’ve told me. Maybe, I could’ve done something for you…

That’s an interesting concept. What, precisely, do you think you could’ve done about something that occurs in my sleep? I forced in my question before he could resume his inquest.

His brow creased deeper when he realized there was no way to fix my problem.

Don’t worry about it…they don’t happen every night… I said – now, it’s my turn to hedge.

My brother’s endless silence and concerned expression made me want to blurt out something like I was just joking around. That’s not the truth, though. And, I would never outright lie to Tray.

I pushed the gnawing feeling aside and continued trying to persuade him.

Actually, I think sleeping with you in the same room would help me feel safe. That’ll keep the nightmares away…

Tray remained silent as he stared into the distance. The worry line was creased firmly into his brow, by this point. In order to keep myself quiet I reached over and turned on the radio. I need a distraction. He has to process the information and make a decision. He can’t focus on anything if I keep talking, but shutting up does not come naturally to me.

My statement about not having bad dreams every night isn’t exactly a lie. Some nights I’m too frightened to go to sleep. That means technically my words would be considered more like a ‘creative-Emberism’. I have become fairly inventive at rationalizing my actions since my life is full of unusual choices and interesting (although mischievous) adventures. I always seem to find myself in the middle of something fascinating. That means I have to be good at making great excuses. Trouble has never had to come looking for me…

The music wasn’t holding my interest like it normally does. Thoughts of my bad dreams made me shiver. I have, at least two nightmares every night and they terrify me. I wake up feeling doom on the horizon. Demons hunt me endlessly, in my dreams…

We are travelling on the back roads. The starless night is making it impossible to see anything. The sharp, winding curves and steep hills lets me know we are surrounded by mountains.

The early September landscape must be beautiful with the leaves changing. Squinting didn’t help. The trees were still shrouded in inky shadows. So I tried, by sheer force of my will, to make the sun rise on my command – of course, nothing happened.

I was prepared to launch into another debate, but as fate would have it I got distracted.

We hit a small bump and my ‘memory box’ slid off the seat. It is odd how certain, seemingly random items can carry so much sentimental value. My old hat box is full of little mementos. Each one represents a part of my life and those are memories I intend to keep.

Occasionally, I lose time…my memories fail to stay within my reach. I have always been preoccupied – especially when I was younger. Most of my cherished memories have been permanently misplaced due to my mental wanderings.

My nomadic mind doesn’t always block out the bad memories, either – unfair, though it is. So, my inattentive nature is not very useful. Everyone should have the luxury of being able to erase a memory or two.

I took a good, long look at my brother. I attempted to interpret Tray’s facial expression. It appears to be blank in my estimation. But, I have come to realize that I really stink at reading people.

That thought is very ironic considering that I’m a gypsy. Gypsies are supposed to be excellent con artists – facial expression interpretation should just come, naturally. Those ‘gypsy interpretation skills’ are not among my talents yet, although I hope they will be someday. I am praying they will eventually develop like some dormant inborn ability. Maybe, I will wake up one morning and discover I have them.

Tray doesn’t discuss our gypsy heritage with me. He has never offered to teach me any tricks or cons. If I don’t wake up with those gypsy skills like I am hoping for, then I plan to pout and plead until he teaches me.

My brother and I could never be considered normal or average like other people our age. It took years of moving around and being on our own before I realized that fact. We are different from other gypsies too…and, everyone else on the planet for that matter.

Traditional gypsies take care of their own kind. Normally, Tray and I would have joined another traveling band after we ran away. My brother never considered living with another gypsy family, to my knowledge. My world has always consisted of just me and Tray. He is a combination of my parent, protector and hero. He has spent his life taking care of me and that forced him to grow up, fast.

Sometimes, I wonder if that is regret I see swirling behind his ocean-colored eyes. That particular thought feels like the blade of a sharp knife being twisted deep in my heart. It fractures my spirit. Fighting back the resulting tears, I shoved the thought away.

Darkness has a tendency of warping the very best of things and shrouding the soul...

The many trials in my life have left me altered forever. I’m not cynical, just different. Fifteen-year-old girls usually giggle and are filled with idealistic hope. I have never giggled once to my knowledge and idealistic hope is a foreign concept to me. I feel so much older than fifteen.

Tray eventually turned onto a paved road. The state sign announced we are only six miles from the highway.

"If he stops for the night, then Ember-girl, you really are the freakin’ stuff…" I thought excitedly.

When my brother exited onto a ramp with lodging, I didn’t feel quite so guilty anymore. We drove by two large chain motels before he pulled into a privately owned one called the Mountaineer Motor Lodge.

We live life on the gypsy down low. This means we keep to ourselves and out of the spotlight. Tray will only choose a chain motel as a last resort. The reasons behind this choice were few, but vital, if we hoped to remain unnoticed – not to mention out of the hands of social workers and other authority figures.

Hotel chains have security cameras, ask for a copy of a driver’s license and look suspiciously at two young people traveling together with no adult in sight. So we usually stay in small, obscure motels and motor courts – places that are only concerned with how green the cash is.

The owner switched on the light in the lobby when Tray pressed the after-hour’s buzzer. The manager was wearing a washed out robe. His gray hair was tousled with a serious case of ‘bed-head.’ Just as I expected, he didn’t ask us any questions as he exchanged the key to the room for our money. Tray apologized for waking him up and then, asked him what time we need to check out.

Son, whenever your eyes decide to open and you wanna leave – that’s your check out time. Just don’t forget to return my key… the owner stated with a smile.

I felt tears threatening to spill for the second time that night. Never underestimate a kindness…

Tray double locked the door and folded over the extra security latch at the top. Then, he shoved his bed against the door. He had performed this same motel door security ritual, for years. It was a comforting gesture.

My brother is a very light sleeper. If someone walks by our motel room outside, he will be on his feet and fully alert in seconds. So, he always requests a room at the far end of the motel.

Tray didn’t even take off his shoes or get underneath the covers. I think he was out before his head touched the pillow.

Although I was still sleepy, my desperate need for a shower ruled my thoughts. Long car rides make me feel sticky. I have always hated being dirty or sweaty. I keep a ‘we’re moving right this instant’ bag packed with everything I need for two days on the road. Tray taught me to be prepared to leave on a moment’s notice.

Stepping in the hot shower, I thought about Chicago. Once we move, we never look back. I have never given any thought to the other places we have left in our path. But, I actually made friends at our last school – something I have never done before.

A few weeks ago, Tray had abruptly decided that I needed to come out of my shell. He can be really annoying when he wants me to do something I would not normally choose to do.

Even after I assured him that I was content living inside my own world (reading, listening to music and talking to him), he continued to badger me. Relentless in this strange pursuit to have me join the rest of the world, he claimed to know what’s best. In other words, he pulled his ‘parental-card’ and used it against me.

His mind was made up. So I begrudgingly slipped out of my own world, with his assistance, and made two friends. I even managed to get one picture of them together. It’s stored in my memory box. At least, I wouldn’t lose Garrett and Emily to the sands of ‘Ember-time’ entirely.

I dressed in two tank tops, a t-shirt, a pair of sweat pants and socks to sleep in. I wear layers of clothing, day and night. I have a modesty obsession, in addition to my cleanliness compulsion.

It was late in the afternoon before I woke up. I was astounded that my sleep was dreamless. It appears that my brother can keep me safe from the lurking nighttime demons…

Well, I see sleepin’ beauty finally decided to grace the world. Or no, wait, maybe I should call you Rip Van Winkle instead. Sleeping twenty five hours suggests the latter… Tray said with a genuine laugh.

I grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. He dodged it and continued to enjoy his joke. I buried my head under my one remaining pillow and tried to make him believe that he was irritating me. I didn’t fool him, though. He knows I love to hear his laughter.

Oh by the way, Rip…thanks for leaving me a clean towel to dry off with. That one washcloth on the rack did the trick – no problem… my brother said, dramatically once he stopped laughing.

I listened to the playful sarcasm and realized that I had used the only two bath towels last night.

Hey, I left you a hand towel along with that washcloth… I replied.

I couldn’t suppress my laughter anymore. I extracted my head, still trying to look innocent.

Yeah, yeah very freakin’ funny… Tray stated in a serious tone, but even with all his gypsy skills, he could barely keep a straight face.

Tray is huge, like a linebacker that lifts weights constantly. He is 6’3" with a strong, muscular build. He keeps a tan year round. His hair is black like a raven’s feathers. And, he has ocean colored eyes. Well, I have never been there to prove it. But, every time I look in his eyes, that’s what comes to mind.

My brother is extremely handsome. That’s something I can prove because I recently watched a girl walk into the side of a brick building while she was checking him out. I didn’t have time to react before she collided with the structure. Tray rushed over to her to make sure she was okay. The poor girl couldn’t seem to find her voice. He helped her up and all she could manage was to nod, blush and smile. I told him what happened on our way home. But, he just shook his head and dismissed my observation.

Mine and Tray’s facial features are an uncanny match for each other, but the similarities stop there. I am barely 5’4" and weigh an impressive 85 pounds. It’s strange, but my hair keeps getting lighter. By this point, it would be considered dirty blonde. I have light blue eyes that match the color of the sky.

It is very entertaining to watch people’s reactions when they see Tray and I together for the first time. It is indisputable that we are related to each other. But, nothing about me can compete with the mere size of my brother – the incredible handsome giant.

We had stopped in a small city in Western North Carolina. The surrounding mountains were breathtaking. When Tray announced that we might stay here for a while, I was surprised. He prefers to live in massive, urban sprawls like Dallas and St. Louis. In fact, we have never lived in a rural town before.

I tried to contain my excitement. Although it was unexplainable, I desperately wanted to remain in this area. The surrounding forest calls out to my spirit…

The next day we found the perfect rental property. It was a privately owned, small but furnished older cabin on five acres of land. The landlady was a stern looking woman named Nora Dills. Her thin, passive husband was named Robert. The three of us followed Nora around as she gave us the tour and barked the rules. Any violation would get us kicked out on our butts without a refund.

We’ll follow every rule to the letter…and, we’ll keep the house spotless…no worries… Tray informed her as he handed over the first month’s rent and a security deposit.

Don’t gimme a reason to keep that deposit money – understand? Nora stated while tucking the money in her bra.

Sure enough, lovely lady. You’ve got my word on it, Tray offered with a wink.

I thought I saw Nora smile as she turned away. Her husband gasped in shock, paid us a startled glance and dutifully followed his wife to the car.

It’s interesting to see a formidable woman like Nora Dills soften around the edges. My brother seems to have a way about him that inspires even the hardest woman to behave in a more feminine nature. I had spent hours trying to figure out how he does that. So far, I’ve had no success at all….

How Tray manages to accomplish the seemingly impossible is beyond my comprehension. Once again though, he discovered the one person in this whole town that would rent to us without a lease, credit check or an application.

Tray’s particular talent of ‘persuasion’ doesn’t work on me, fortunately. After all, I have to live with the guy…

Chapter Two

Some constructive gypsy deception has been a lifelong must because we have to keep up a ‘normal family’ pretense. Our rental houses are always furnished with three bedrooms. We stage the master for our parents, although no one has ever come over to our house. Still, we do it anyway.

The truth shouldn’t have to be fabricated, but for us it’s necessary. Society assumes parents live with and care for their children. Anytime a child’s life deviates from that given expectation then, bad things can and usually do happen. My parents have been out of the picture for a long time. In fact, I don’t remember anything about them.

The gypsy deceptions we portray to the world are reserved for outsiders. My brother and I are always truthful with each other.

Tray always brings in my boxes, first. All my clothes were stacked neatly when I started the unhappy (and mainly unsuccessful) task of searching for my wayward socks. This stupid discovery quest is nothing like the fun summer treasure hunts that Tray takes me on each year. Even as I mentally reprimanded myself for not pairing my socks, I knew my words were falling on deaf ears. I have never been able to keep up with them. This ridiculous clothing challenge is the only thing in my life I can never seem to organize. It’s also enough to make me crazy.

Out of thirteen socks, only two pairs were mates. I sighed heavily as I considered my options. Maybe I can be known as the crazy mismatched sock kid that can’t dress herself properly? Or better yet, I’ll be thought of as the artsy kid that intentionally wears mismatched socks because she’s super mysterious and misunderstood. The second option is the better choice, so that’s the one I’ll stick with.

My portable disc player was packed near the top of a box marked LIFE & DEATH STUFF – DON’T LOSE! That box holds our emergency kits, medicine bottles along with my CD collection, stereo and my portable disc player – all the essentials. I love to get lost in my music.

I grabbed the first disc I put my hand on and looked at it. The song Bring Me to Life was listed and it’s one of my favorites. The lyrics tell a romantic story about how this girl’s spirit is