Celtic Illusion

Book One

By

T. L. Marshall

*****

PUBLISHED BY:

T. L. Marshall on Smashwords

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Celtic Illusion: Celtic Knots Series; Book 1

Copyright @ 2011 by T.L. Marshall

All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction. All characters are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced in and form whatsoever, whether by graphic, visual, electronic, filming, microfilming, tape recording, or any other means, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief passages embodied in critical reviews and articles where the title, author, and ISBN accompany such review or article.

Cover Design by: Colter Marshall, T.L. Marshall

Cover Art by: T.L. Marshall

*****

Acknowledgments

I need to say, Thank You, to all those who have helped in one way or another to make this book possible, especially my loving family and friends whose encouragement means more than I can say…or write.

Caralee Arthur, my wonderful editor and friend. It’s been a wild ride, but we made it. Wishing you all the joy and happiness you deserve on your new adventure. Thanks for the all the time you put in and of course for the feeding frenzy.

Julie Miner, no one can add a comma like you can. Thanks so much for your help and support. You are an Angel, Mother.

Marcy Judd, thank you for, sweeping in at the last minute so you could take all the credit. I absolutely appreciate your enthusiasm and help.

Jordan Arthur, thank you for having a wonderful mind full of fantasy, anime and chemistry. Also, thank you for always asking, How’s the book coming?

Beth Marshall, thank you for the months and months of creating and dreaming. You truly have an amazing gift.

Gene Marshall, thank you for printing page after page.

Tamra Arthur, thank you for giving me your pen name. I hope I make you proud.

Keysha Mecham, thank you for wanting more and pushing to get it.

Alyssa Wilson, thank you for loving it from the very beginning even with all the mistakes.

Robert Arthur, thank you for loving me and always believing in me.

To my beautiful children, thank you for your prayers and for liking hot dogs, mac and cheese, and pizza on the days that I just needed a few more minutes. You are the best children any mother could wish for.

Colter Marshall, my dear husband and best friend, thank you for being the most wonderful man on earth. Thanks for all your support, patience, love, guidance, patience, understanding, patience, encouragement, but most of all thank you for asking, Why? I love you more than yesterday and more than you’ll love me tomorrow.

Chapter One

Her lungs burned and her legs felt like they would give out at any moment, but she had to keep going. She could feel it behind her. It was catching up to her. One misstep and it would over take her. The voices in her head told her to keep running, to hide and keep hidden. They were calling her name, the voices in her head. They were calling to her, trying to help her, but she couldn’t run fast enough. Even now she could feel the hot breath of her pursuer on the back of her neck. There would be no chance of release if it got its hands on her. She had to keep going.

She could feel the soft ground under her feet giving way. She wasn’t going to make it. Lifting her feet was becoming more and more difficult with each step she took. The air was becoming sticky, making each breath harder and harder to take.

It had her. She could feel its icy cold fingers grab the back of her neck, dragging her down to the ground. Darkness closed in around her as she struggled to take one last breath…

Tristana shot up, gasping for air. It had been the same nightmare for the last few months. Shivering she took another deep breath as she slipped back under the covers. The dream was coming more frequently now. She wondered if it was some kind of warning or if it was something her mind was creating to deal with the issues she’d faced the past several months. It was the same thing over and over, always ending the same way, leaving her feeling uneasy and anxious.

Her body jerked involuntarily and she made an audible gasp as she brushed her right leg over a cold spot on the bed. She hated being cold. Glancing over to the window she checked to see if it had snowed again. She couldn’t tell for sure although it probably had. It had snowed everyday that week. Why would today be any different?

Ana, are you up yet? You’re going to be late if you don’t hurry.

Tristana groaned at the sound of her mom’s voice floating up the stairs from the kitchen of the old farm house. Her parents, June and Bill Martin, had moved her from a busy life in Washington, D.C to the small rural town of Heyburn, Idaho, a little over two weeks ago. It had been a culture shock to say the least, but she had only herself to blame. She had been the cause that had required the cross country exodus. Had she been able to get along better with her fellow female classmates she and her parents would still be living in the brownstone on Sixteenth Street back in D.C. instead of in the freezing cold tomb she referred to as her room now.

Although, to be fair, living in the little farm house wouldn’t be all that bad if her father had thought to check the furnace before they’d moved in. Now they were stuck living in an iceberg until the furnace repair man could get them a replacement. Until then was a fireplace in the front room that actually only heated the room it occupied and the adjoining kitchen.

Ana, did you hear me?

Second warning.

Tristana had one more call before she had to worry her mom might come up and drag her frozen remains out of bed. She looked at the chair sitting next to the window covered in clothes. She had made a habit of leaving the outfit she planned to wear the next day there so she could quickly grab them on her way downstairs to sit next to the fireplace to defrost. She didn’t dare dress in her room because of a genuine fear of frostbite.

Okay, Ana, I’m coming up!

Tristana could hear her mother’s footsteps on the stairs and hastily replied, I heard you. I’m getting up. Then she added lightheartedly, but if you still insist on joining me in the frozen north you might want to consider bring a parka and a pick axe.

She listened to the sound of her mom’s laughter and smiled. They had started joking back and forth a week ago about who was going to die of hypothermia first, although with Tristana’s room being the coldest in the house they both knew she’d win hands down.

Okay, you win, Ana. If you want to eat breakfast before school you better hurry.

Tristana glanced at the chair one last time trying to build up her courage. Then with a quick breath she jumped from her bed, grabbed her clothes and sprinted down the stairs finding the warmest spot next to the fireplace to get dressed. As she finished pulling on her sweatshirt the wonderful smell of her mother’s cooking drifted into the front room reminding Tristana it was Tuesday, blueberry pancake day.

Her mother was a very efficient person. She was happy being a housewife and she took her job seriously. June Martin had schedules for everything from when she did her laundry to what she made for breakfast each morning. Occasionally it got a little annoying when she refused to deviate from her strict schedule, but Tristana just continued to remind herself that she might be the only teenager in the world that had a mother who still stayed home and cooked breakfast for her each morning, something Tristana’s stomach was exceedingly grateful for.

Hey sleepy head, it took you long enough, her mother smiled as Tristana walked into the kitchen. Your breakfast is on the table. If you hurry it might still be warm.

Tristana grumbled at her mom’s advice to hurry.

You know, Mom, if you had let Dad buy that house down by the river I wouldn’t have to hurry. That house had really cool upgrades, like a working furnace, Tristana smiled sarcastically. You would have been the envy of the whole town with a luxury like that.

Cute, Ana, her mother returned the sarcasm. Anyone can buy a fancy house by a river, but not everyone gets a chance to live in a real piece of history.

Tristana rolled her eyes. The moment the realtor had shown them the old farm house her mother had fallen in love with it and any time they even mentioned the house her mother got a dreamy look on her face. It was comical to hear her mother describe the house to her friends back in D.C., like it was Mount Vernon or something.

It really wasn’t all bad though. The two story red brick house had real character and Tristana loved the rustic feeling of the aged barn and sheds that came with the purchase of the house. The whole area reminded Tristana of a Norman Rockwell painting with the fields that surrounded the property stretching as far as the eye could see and the tree lined irrigation canal running in front giving the house a feeling of seclusion. You even had to drive down a small lane to really get a good view of the house. If she had been younger she would have thought she’d moved to her own secret garden, but being seventeen it just made her feel more alone than she already did.

Ana, are you listening, mother asked, waving a hand in front of her face.

What? Tristana started with a confused look.

Her mother gave her a concerned look. I just asked you how school was going.

Tristana grimaced at the question. She hated lying to her mother, but after all the sacrifices her parent’s had made on her behalf she didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth. Today was the second day into her third week at Minico High School and all of the optimism she’d had starting into her new school quickly dissolved when she discovered her problems had followed her here from D.C.

Both she and her parents had anticipated Tristana’s issues at her private school back in D.C. would disappear once they moved to a school in a different state, but things were even worse. The girls had sped quickly past hurtful name-calling and straight onto the destruction of her personal property by egging her precious car, which was a gift her father had given her upon moving to Idaho.

She had spent almost two hours after school gently rubbing the hardened egg yolk off the exterior of her car so as not to ruin the paint job. Her mom had been furious with her for being so late and not calling.

Tristana, her mother prompted impatiently.

Everything is fine, Mom, she lied uncomfortably, making herself focus in on the plate in front of her instead of memories from the past.

Her mother gave her a knowing look.

Are you sure? I know it was rough back in D.C. and it’s going to take some time to get over it, but I was really hoping you would have found a few friends by now.

Tristana would rather have rolled up and died than cause her parents anymore worry so she put on her bravest face and continued to lie. I’m fine. I’m just still trying to put all the new faces with the right names.

Her mother nodded understandingly and seemed satisfied with her generic answer. Well, you’d better go now if you want to avoid being late. Then frowning as she looked at Tristana’s plate still piled with pancakes added, I guess I can wrap one of those up with a napkin and you can eat it on your way to school.

That’d be great, Mom, Tristana flashed a smile, happy to be moving on. I’m just going to brush my hair real quick and put on some makeup. Then I’ll be ready to go.

Tristana was in and out of the bathroom, calling back a quick bye before the screen door swung shut behind her. It had snowed again which meant it was going to take her at least five minutes to brush the snow off her car and scrap the windows, one of the many downsides to buying an older home. No garage.

Hurrying to her car she paused for a brief moment to take in all its automotive beauty. When her father had purchased the car he had said it was so Tristana had something reliable to drive to school. Tristana knew the car was more because he was afraid of her riding the bus without any teacher or parental supervision, but for whatever the reason Tristana about leaped out of her skin when he had pulled up the lane in the sporty BMW. He had even managed to get her favorite color, silver.

Her mom had thought it was a little over the top and made the comment that no teenage girl needed a car that could go from zero to sixty in under five seconds. Her father had only laughed at the comment and Tristana was just happy her mom hadn’t made him return the car for something more practical.

After managing to brush off the remaining snow from the hood and scrape the windows without completely being covered in ice shavings, Tristana jumped into the driver’s seat and waited for it to warm up enough so she could feel her fingers again.

In all honestly, she was in no hurry to get to school. She usually tried to be one of the first students there so she could get her books and go to class to avoid running into any of the other female students. She had been pretty successful so far, only experiencing a few problems one of them being named Clarissa Fuller. Clarissa was a short blond who seemed to really have it out for Tristana after seeing her boyfriend following Tristana around like a little puppy during Tristana’s first week at Minico. Clarissa was reason enough for Tristana to sign up for extra classes in order to graduate early.

Right now she was on track to graduate a semester into her senior year. It was already January which meant she only had to suffer through nine more months of school if she counted the rest of her junior year and the beginning of her senior year. All she had to do during those nine months was stay invisible to the female population and she would be home free. Graduating early was her way of making sure her parents hadn’t wasted their time, money, and energy moving her cross-country. It was also her way of escaping the nightmare that had become her high school experience.

Chapter Two

The school parking lot was already partially full when Tristana pulled in, so she parked as far away from the building as possible hoping if she kept her car out of sight it would stay out of mind. She had no desire to spend that many hours cleaning her car again.

Getting out of her car she could see she was late and most of the spaces that were typically empty when she arrived were already occupied which meant she was going to have to be extra careful getting to class.

Keeping her head down, she hurried in the direction of the school when the sound of her name being called stopped her mid step and sent a shudder straight through her.

Brian Harris. This was exactly the type of thing she had been hoping to avoid.

Brian was Clarissa’s boyfriend and someone she had tried desperately to steer clear of after her first run in with Clarissa. Clarissa had made it perfectly clear what would happen if Tristana even looked in Brian’s direction let alone talk to him again.

Keeping her distance from Brian was proving very difficult. Brian was extremely persistent, along with every other boy in school. Tristana could count on being hit on at least once in between each class period. At first it was flattering, but now it was almost frightening how aggressive some of the boys were becoming.

Putting her head back down Tristana ignored Brian’s persistent calls for her to wait up for him and hurried into the school. Weaving through the crowded hallway she ignored hostile language as she pushed past a group of girls on her way to her locker. A wave of relief rushed over her as she reached her destination. She was almost safe.

"Well, as I live and breathe, Miss BMW has decided to grace us with her presence. How was your drive to school, Princess?

The raspy tone of Clarissa’s voice echoed nauseatingly in Tristana’s ear as she slowly turned around to see Clarissa standing directly behind her. This was not good. She didn’t want to do this. Not now, not again, not ever. Why had she laid in bed so long this morning?

Taking in a deep breath she tried to sidestep the short blond offering a polite, but firm, Excuse me, Clarissa, I didn’t realize I had gotten in your way.

What’s your hurry, Princess, late for the ball? Clarissa sneered while stepping in front of Tristana blocking her exit.

Just trying not to be late for class, Tristana said quickly as she tried again to edge her way past.

This time Clarissa nudged Tristana in the shoulder with the tips of her fingers, Really? You weren’t in such a hurry when you were throwing yourself at my boyfriend last week.

Tristana swallowed hard as she quickly thought of ways to defuse the situation without causing a scene and figured feigning ignorance was probably her best chance.

I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Tristana offered innocently as she forced her body past Clarissa.

Oh no, you’re not going anywhere. I’m not finished talking with you yet, Clarissa snapped as she grabbed Tristana by the arm and pulled her back so they were face to face again.

Tristana clinched her jaw trying hard not to slap Clarissa’s hand away. Striking out at Clarissa was not the answer if she wanted to avoid conflict. Instead she swiftly scanned the hallway for anyone in authority that could help, but of course saw no one. She was on her own. Why was it that when she needed adult interference there was none to be found?

Ever so gently Tristana pried Clarissa’s white knuckled fingers from around her arm. Look, Clarissa, I don’t need this right now and I certainly don’t need to throw myself at your boyfriend or anyone else’s for that matter. What I do need is to get through the day without you causing a scene over the fact that you can’t seem to keep tabs on who your boyfriend is or is not flirting with.

Clarissa’s eyes flashed with fury as she shrieked a whirlwind of obscenities while shoving Tristana hard up against the row of lockers that were lined behind her. Don’t lie to me. I saw you with my own eyes. You were all over him.

Tristana closed her eyes tightly as an excruciating pain racketed across the back of her skull where her head had connected with the solid metal handle of one of the lockers. She involuntarily reached to touch the back of her head while blinking rapidly trying to focus. The darkness that was forming around the corners of her vision was making her feel like she was suddenly walking through a tunnel.

She tried hard to fight the tears that were already forming. She was so tired of this. Tired of feeling powerless, tired of being a victim, tired of being afraid all the time. There was always the overwhelming fear that someone, especially her parents, would finally realize that something was wrong with her.

For once she would like to have the upper hand and maybe be the one to cause some damage. It would be one thing if she had taken a part in creating the problem, but she was completely blameless. These girls didn’t even know her, but for some reason they hated her and she was sick of taking the abuse day after day.

Pretending that everything was just fine was even worse than accepting that her life really sucked at the moment, but pretending was the only way she was ever going to get through this. She would just have to settle for imagining herself punching Clarissa in the face.

Focusing her eyes in Clarissa’s direction Tristana watched as Clarissa formed her right hand into a fist. Tristana apparently wasn’t the only one using their imagination today. She knew things were about to get real ugly, real fast and if she didn’t do something she was the one that would end up with a fist in her face.

Her heart was beating rapidly as she readied herself to dodge Clarissa’s first swing while desperately wishing she had a little more room to move around. Clarissa had her pinned in close to the lockers which didn’t give her many options if she wanted to avoid being hit.

The swing came as a swift jab that was probably meant for Tristana’s face, but doing her best to dodge it Clarissa hit her shoulder instead.

A small group of girl’s, probably Clarissa’s friends, started to form a tight ring around the two girls making it even harder for Tristana to keep out of Clarissa’s reach. Tristana was now firmly boxed in. Even though she wanted to she wouldn’t be able to fight back without hitting several of the on lookers and she knew if that happened, all hell would break lose. She wouldn’t stand a chance against both Clarissa and her friends. Her only choice was to try pushing out of the circle and run for help.

Moving quickly Tristana pushed through two of the girl’s standing together with her shoulder as Clarissa came at her again. The girls both shoved Tristana back into the middle of the tight circle allowing Clarissa to land a solid hit into her abdomen knocking the wind out of her.

Tristana crashed back against the lockers hitting her head again and slid to the floor as she tried to catch her breath.

Hit your head again, Princess, Clarissa laughed mockingly. Good. Maybe that might help with the current case of amnesia you seemed to be suffering from.

Tristana could almost feel her restraint snapping inside her and an irrepressible rage began to build. She’d had enough. Since when did talking to someone’s boyfriend become a crime punishable by public thrashing? Putting all rational thought aside Tristana took a deep breath and straightened up. Her body started to shake as she pulled in ragged breaths. She looked up at her attacker focusing in on the arrogant expression on her face. She had a sudden and uncontrollable urge to swing and free Clarissa of her false sense of superiority.

Tristana got up on her feet her heart pounding loudly in her ears as she glared furiously at Clarissa. An indescribable sensation of power surged up inside her just as a cold and stony silence settled in around her. A vividly clear image of Clarissa, screaming in pain with a bloodied and misshapen nose flashed though Tristana’s mind then disappeared as Tristana reached out and took hold of Clarissa’s arm.

At the moment of contact time seemed to stop and the powerful surge of energy released violently through Tristana, throwing Clarissa back hard against the floor. Time started again and Tristana found herself staring at her assailant lying on the floor. The group of girls who had gathered to watch during the whole incident stood wordlessly immobile for a moment gazing at Tristana with expressions of shock and confusion. A full minute passed before they hurried over to Clarissa who was already getting to her feet screaming in pain, blood running down her face.

Tristana froze in alarm as she tried to explain to herself what had just happened. The image that appeared before her had just moments ago been a reflection of her imagination. She had heard of people becoming incredibly strong in stressful situations, but there was no logical reason that explained how she managed to fracture Clarissa’s nose by simply grabbing her arm.

She was now faced with the harsh certainty that not only was she not going to be able to explain what had just happened to school authorities she wasn’t going to be able to explain it to her parents either, at least not without sounding completely insane or appearing to be an outright liar. She was unquestionably going to be blamed for what just happened. It would be yet another fight to add to her record and another call to inform her parents that she wasn’t getting along with the other girls in school.

Tristana glanced at the group of girls standing a few feet away from her attending to their screaming friend and wondered if she should even bother trying to smooth things over with them. Maybe if she could find a way to get on their good side they might be willing to explain that she hadn’t done anything wrong. Most of them were already moving Clarissa in the direction of the nearest bathroom, but a few managed to catch Tristana’s questioning stare and gave her a look of disgust in return.

Guess not.

Turning to go Tristana spotted a single male student standing about hundred feet away at the end of the lockers. He was staring straight at her, a look of disbelief on his face. He had obviously seen what had happened or at least the result of what had happened. Tristana pondered for a moment trying to decide if she should even bother asking him if he would be willing to explain what happened to school authorities or just head to her first period and wait for the inevitable call over the school’s intercom calling her to the office. She thought for a moment longer while still looking in the boy’s direction before making her finally decision and taking off for first period leaving the boy staring after her.

Tristana’s body was visibly shaking when she arrived at her first class. She knew at any moment someone would call her to the office and the office would call her parents which meant two things; one, she was going to have to try and explain what happened, (something she was still trying to explain to herself without much luck) and two, that her parents would know that nothing had changed. They would know that moving truly had been a complete waste of time and energy and that she was really the cause of the problems in D.C. after all. She couldn’t let that happen. She had to figure out a way to make things right. She refused to let her parents believe that all the problems back in D.C. were somehow her fault.

She had tried hard not to think of the last few months she spent in D.C. Remembering was like living in a nightmare that continued even when you were awake. Those memories that were always lingering in the back of her mind ready to pounce the moment she let her guard down.

It was hard to believe that all her troubles had only started just a little over a year ago; it felt like so much longer. She could remember it had been right before her seventeenth birthday when several of the girls in her high school had started treating her differently. They would say tactless things about how she had done her hair that day or what outfit she was wearing.

At the time only a few girls were in on the antics so it had all been pretty bearable until her best friends started saying hurtful things to her as well. That’s when it started to get really hard, but things completely fell apart for her when she’d been asked to leave the club where she was attending her best friend’s birthday celebration. The bouncer had said it was for her safety due to the aggressive way girls in the club were behaving towards her. That’s when she finally broke down and told her parents what was happening with the girls at her school.

At the time her mom just chalked it up to basic jealousy. June Martin had always felt that Tristana was uncommonly pretty and with her long, wavy, dark mahogany hair, a perfect complexion of ivory skin and beautiful emerald green eyes most people who met Tristana agreed with her. She was striking to say the least, but her looks had never caused an issue with her friends before. Her mom was positive that things would fix themselves during summer break and everything would be back to normal before the start of the next school term.

Her father figured she was just overreacting to regular mean teen behavior and if she would just stick it out it would blow over so taking her father’s advice Tristana began the new school year with the same excitement and confidence she’s always had after coming off the long summer break. She’d even been encouraged when the boys at school paid extra attention to her by giving her complements and asking her out on dates. The girl’s behavior on the other hand was just the opposite. They were even more hostile than before.

At the start of the school year their cruelty was annoying, but fairly childlike. Things like soaking her street clothes in water while she was in P.E. so she couldn’t change or covering her locker with used chewing gum, were things she could count on happening almost daily, but as the weeks went by their malicious actions escalated to public humiliation when Tristana discovered someone had printed up pictures that had been computer generated so it appear Tristana was posing nude and promising anyone a good time if they gave her a call.

Her parents were furious when they found out and insisted someone be held responsible, but the school didn’t have a perpetrator to blame so nothing was done. Her father continued to blame it on mean-girl behavior that stemmed from the innate pressure of needing to impress the opposite sex. He was sure if she transferred to a private girls school the problem would solve itself.

Everyone involved felt her transferring to another school would solve the problems she was having and although Tristana was sad to leave the school she had attended for the last two years, she was relieved she wouldn’t have to fear going to school each morning. So, two months into the school year Tristana transferred to an all girl school and her parents settled back into their normal schedules trying to pretend the last few months never happened.

From the moment Tristana walked through the front doors of her new school she felt the hostility coming from her fellow students. It had been as if someone had sent out a mass email informing every teenage girl in Washington, D.C. that it was their purpose in life to make her miserable. She told her parents that she was certain everyone hated her there, but they both felt she needed to give her new schoolmates time to adjust to her being there. She could still remember her mom exactly words, These things take time. You’ll just need to try your best and be friendly.

Two weeks later her mom received the call from the Principals’ office informing her that Tristana had been involved in an attack and was on route to a nearby hospital. She was in pretty bad shape with several deep cuts in her head from someone breaking a glass bottle over it. She had bruises all over her face, neck and back. Several of her ribs had been bruised and she had a concussion.

Even to this day Tristana can’t remember what happened that day, but her parents said they would never forget. Seeing his baby girl bloodied and beaten had been the last straw for her father and he immediately pulled her out of that school with discussions of new alternatives for her educational needs.

Tristana wasn’t sure the exact reason her parents decided on Idaho for her relocation. It seemed pretty out of the way and maybe that was why. It also might have been her father’s fond memories of spending the