Bri
and Logan Share a Favorite Christmas Memory
(Includes
Characters from Secret: At HL Woods)
“Hi,
everyone! I was told to introduce us before we share our favorite Christmas
memory. I’m Bri Lancaster, and beside me is Kyle Benton. We are both
story-stars from the novel, Secret: At HL Woods, by DK Davis.” I glance
at Kyle, he grins. “Okay, Kyle, you start.”
Kyle’s
eyes narrow at me, then go wide. “Fine. Okay, it’s later on Christmas Eve, like
about sevenish, our friends all take off to Christmas Carol through our
village, but instead, Bri and I decide to take a little run to warm up. We have
flashlights, you know, come prepared, and we’re actually dressed in our winter
jog stuff.” He rolls his eyes, then asks, “Why did we dress in our running
clothes?”
I
giggle at him. “Because you and I already talked about going for a run while
everyone else goes off singing. We don’t sing, that’s Max and Luke’s thing.”
“Oh,
yeah. Okay, you take over…”
“We
head down a village street churning up the heat by running, right out of the
village limits. Kyle challenges me to a two-mile run out of town, so of course,
I’m all in. We race, not paying attention to anything else but our pounding
feet staying in unison.” I slow my breath and nod at Kyle.
He
takes the lead and says, “Suddenly, a child cries out, a scared, sad voice,
calling for her mother, brother, sister, and her father. Bri and I stop in
front of an old vacant house with windows broken-out, shoddy paint, as in
mostly grayish wet wood on the outside, and a run-down porch with missing
pieces of the steps. The house is well known as haunted. Bri heads off-road
toward the house, and I catch up to her and grab her arm. I tell her, if we’re
going to do this, we need to at least give James a call. Maybe there are some
Spectral Paranormal Investigators – a.k.a. S.P.I. – available to help us out
tonight, even though it’s the night before Christmas.”
I
step in and continue, “I shake off Kyle’s hand from my arm and make my way
forward through the inches of snow covering the ground. The child’s voice keeps
me moving around the house to the backside. I tell Kyle, I think she’s
somewhere outside.”
Kyle
launches his bit, saying, “Bri becomes adamant when I pull my phone from my
pocket to make the call to James. She stomps her foot, in fact.” Kyle winks at
me.
And I’m feeling
like we’re right back in that snow-covered yard as I say, “I grab Kyle’s phone
and act like I’m going to throw it in a snowdrift. He tackles me to the ground,
fighting for the phone. The thing slips from my glove and drops into the snow.
Kyle dives for it. I leave him floundering in the white stuff and follow the
little girl’s voice. Then, I see her, a small, glowing apparition gliding
toward me across the top of the snow.”
“You
can see me,” she says. Her sad eyes open wider. “Do you see me? I mean, you’re
looking right at me. Tell me you can see me and hear me.”
I
tell her, “I see you and hear you. Why are you calling for your family? Why
aren’t you with them? What happened?”
The
little girl smiles. “Daddy brought a refrigerator home to fix. He left it by
the barn. I hid inside it to scare him, and I couldn’t open the door. No one
found me. And then, when I finally got out, no one could see me or hear me. Not
my mom or dad, or my older sister and brother. They went away without me.” She
breaks down in sobs, and even though ghosts don’t shed tears, I know her face
would have been full of them if she were alive.
“What’s
your name? Do you know what year you were born?” Her clothing looks ancient.
She sniffles and
straightens, wiping her tearless face. “I’m Sarah Beatrice Worthington, and I
start school when the leaves turn color. I’ll be five-years-old. Mama says, I
start school in the fall of 1935.”
That’s when I
put a few pieces together. Sarah hides, is not found, and then when she is
discovered, it’s too late to save her. The family moves away because they can’t
bear the pain. I can only imagine what they were all feeling.
By this time,
Kyle skids through the snow and meets up with me. “So, did you find her, the
little girl?”
Of course, Sarah
vanishes. I tell him about her and then say, “I want to call to her, light some
candles, and send her into the light with her guardian angels. Maybe some of
her family has already crossed-over and are waiting for her.”
Kyle states the
obvious, even though it doesn’t cross my mind, “Bri, do the math. I mean, they
couldn’t be alive if Sarah’s their last kid and doesn’t start school until
1935. Let’s figure it out…the mom and dad had at least one other girl and one
other boy before her. Say they started their family young like they married at
eighteen and the mom pops the first one out the same year they’re married, and
then in another two years, another kid, two years later, another baby, Sarah. So,
Sarah was born in 1930, and I’m guessing the mom took two-years between kids.
When the mom’s eighteen-years-old, she had the oldest kid in 1926, and the
mid-kid in 1928. So, take eighteen away from 1926, and the mom would have been
born in 1908. She’d be one-hundred-eleven-years-old. I mean, Sarah would be
eighty-nine right now.”
I’m stunned that
Kyle figures that out so fast and realize there’s a good likelihood Sarah’s
whole family has crossed-over.
Kyle whips out
his phone again. “I won’t call S.P.I., I’ll call Max and see if he and Luke are
up for a Christmas send-off.”
* * *
An
hour later, Max and Luke roll into the snowy yard with a four-wheel-drive
truck, Max’s vehicle from his dad. Luke carries a bag full of the goods, like
white candles, lighters, and incense, lavender, my favorite, along with a sage
smudge stick. We all go into the house, leaving the door open so Sarah will
venture inside. Luke and Max make a circle of candles on the floor, and Kyle
follows them, lighting the wicks. I’m smudging the room with sage smoke,
clearing the place of any negative energy. Thankfully, the breeze calmed down
to nothing because the windows were glassless.
Luke,
Max, and Kyle stood around the circle of light, I took a spot, so we were
evenly spread and then say, “Sarah, come now. I call upon you, please come now.
The door is open.”
A
moment later, Sarah’s glowing apparition glides across the floor and stops in
the bare space inside the lighted circle. “What is this? I’m feeling warm and
cozy here.” She smiles at me and then notices the three guys. “Who are they?”
She stares at Luke. “He reminds me of my brother.”
“That’s
Luke, my best friend. Sarah, I want you to stay warm and cozy, right where you
are. I’m going to put a call out to your family, and we’ll see if anyone
answers. Is that okay with you?”
“You’re
going to call my momma and daddy, my sister and brother? They are far away…how
will they hear you?” Sarah glances around the room.
Even
though she’s looking around, my intuition tells me that Sarah will wait, so I
say, “My Guardian angels, and those of Kyle, Luke, Max, and Sarah, all-loving
beings related to Sarah Beatrice Worthington, I call upon you to come now. Come
now to rescue Sarah, to take her home to her family.” Suddenly the flames on
the candles brighten, and I see Kyle’s brother Logan appear, Max’s mother also
appears, Luke’s mother smiles as she shimmers into view next to Luke, and
Grandma Ilene steps next to Sarah and takes her hand. The other spirits move
into the center with Sarah. The young girl is smiling from ear to ear as she
grasps Max’s mother’s hand.
A
brilliant light vortex opens in front of the group within the circle. “Sarah,
dear child, we’ve been waiting for you.”
Sarah’s
eyes grow huge. “Mamma?”
“Yes,
dear, it’s Momma, Daddy, Sissy, and Brother, we’re all here, waiting to turn on
the Christmas tree lights. Hurry, dear.”
The
light spirits guides Sarah, and everyone steps into the bright vortex. Right
before it closes, they all say in unison, “Merry Christmas.”
Kyle,
Max, and Luke all sucked in a breath at the same time.
“You
heard that, didn’t you?” I ask, my heart warm at seeing my grandmother. “Logan
came, Max, your mother held one of Sarah’s hands, and Luke, your mother stood
right beside you with biggest smile on her face. They all stepped into the
light vortex with Sarah. All of Sarah’s family waited for her to join them and
light their Christmas tree.”
The
guys look at each other with glassy eyes, then back at me. “Merry Christmas,
guys. You made the perfect present for Sarah tonight.”
Secret: In Wolf Lake
D.K. Davis
Genres: SciFi, PNR
D.K. Davis
Genres: SciFi, PNR
Publisher: BWL Publishing, Inc.
Cover Artist: Michelle Lee
Date of Publication: January 1, 2017
ISBN: 9781772993899
ASIN: B01N7O41FM
Number of pages: 120
Word Count: 41,200
Tagline: Samantha discovers a gifted creature living in Wolf Lake; now his life depends on her saving him.
Book Description:
Samantha’s dealing with a lot of emotional blow-back from her mother’s new marriage. Then she discovers a gifted creature living in Wolf Lake, and life suddenly becomes all about keeping his existence a secret, earning his trust. That is until his life depends on her saving him. But she won’t be able to do it alone…
Secret: At HL Woods
D.K. Davis
Date of Publication: December 15, 2017
ISBN: EPUB 978-1-77362-990-2
ASIN: B077ZT2H5V
Number of pages: 199
Word Count: 60,200 words
Tagline: A high school ghost-seer, an all-star jock, and a bully, cross paths, sparks spew, and lives change…
Book Description:
Bri, a seventeen-year-old ghost-seer, keeps her ability under wraps at the new school until a murdered couple from the 60’s asks for help.
Kyle, a high school jock, realizes the new girl lives next door; she’s crazy cute, goth-odd, and too convenient to ignore.
Max, Kyle’s best friend, only sees Bri as a wicked threat.
Luke, Bri’s gay best friend, moves in for the summer, escaping his abusive father.
Paths cross, sparks spew…will anyone remain the same after?
Secret: Of Amber Eyes
D.K. Davis
Date of Publication: November 2018 Release
Kindle 978-0-2286-0621-5
Amazon Print 978-0-2286-0623-9
ASIN: B07KGGHG3P
Number of pages: 197
Word Count: 58,500
Tagline: Instinct draws Morgan and Rowan together, a human and a shifter, until a wildcard wildcat threatens Morgan’s life, changing her forever.
Book Description:
Morgan Redding, a seventeen-year-old high school graduate, gets sent to her aunt and uncle’s wildlife rescue and preserve, a therapeutic place for not only nature.
Rowan Marcus, an eighteen-year-old cougar shifter, helps at the wildlife refuge. He’s part of a secret society of shifters guarding the preserve lands.
Instinct draws Morgan and Rowan together.
Then one wildcard wildcat within the shifter community kills for the needy, but the killing escalates and threatens Morgan’s life, changing her forever…
Excerpt
from Secret: Of Amber Eyes
Word
Count - 964
“Gotta’ run
honey,” she said over the glass sunroof of the Cadillac. “Our flight leaves in
four hours, and I still have a few things left to pack.”
I immobilized as
Mom dove into the car to retrieve her phone. She tapped the screen and started
the car.
I didn’t wave as
she shifted into gear and drove off with her cell phone stuck to her ear.
She never even
glanced my way.
From my
peripheral, Uncle Charlie and Aunt Becka looked at each other. They weren’t
smiling anymore. Mom had never said a word to either of them. She didn’t say
goodbye to me, either, unless I counted the trail of dust marking her exit.
Good riddance.
Oh, and have a happy life with Jack.
My stomach
fluttered, and the inside of my throat tightened like it might collapse in on
itself. A load of moisture gathered, blurring my vision. Some trickled
alongside my nose. I’m not crying. Extra baggage doesn’t cry; instead, I go to
prison.
My body relaxed
as if a heavy weight shifted and slipped off. Why not make the best of this
crappy situation? I was on the back burner, but not being dumped down the
garbage disposal. I wiped away the water littering my face and picked up my two
duffle bags. Aunt Becka scooped up my backpack; her thick long blond braid slid
over her shoulder.
“This way, dear.
You’ve come at a good time with the weather. We’ve got a warm streak going. It
isn’t normally nice warm temperatures until much later in the summer.” Aunt
Becka led the way into the house. She wore faded denim shorts with a baggy
sky-blue T-shirt, short white socks, and high-top hiking boots. She and Uncle
Charlie were sun-browned and looked the same age as Mom. The muscles in Aunt
Becka’s calves stood out as she climbed the circular stairway.
She continued,
“It’s still pretty cool in the mornings and later in the evenings, which makes
for great sleeping weather.”
At the top of
the stairs, I walked across the open loft to the wall-sized window, dropping my
bags mid-way.
Two bright red
barns stood off to one side. I recognized the green T-shirt and dark blue
baseball cap Uncle Charlie wore. He pushed a wheel-barrow into one of the
barns. Another guy walked behind with a huge bag of something balanced on his
shoulder. The muscles in his arm bulged. He stopped in mid-step and swung
around to look upward, at the window, and then at me.
My stomach
suddenly churned into warm pudding as our gazes collided. The guy’s eyes
glowed, amber, a trick of the sun I was sure. My breath sucked in.
Aunt Becka
stepped beside me and glanced out. “Oh, that’s Rowan Marcus. He’s here pretty
much every day helping with chores and with the other kids that aid us at the
refuge.”
Rowan swung
around and followed Uncle Charlie into the barn. A tremor slid through me, and
then I exhaled, realizing I’d completely stopped my lungs from working. What
the heck? Amber eyes?
Aunt Becka
pointed to the other side of the barn toward tall wire fenced-in areas. “We
keep recovering deer or goats in those.” Then she pointed along the outside of
the barns, to smaller wire pens. “Those hold fawn or other small animals that
need special care.”
I attempted to
stay focused on her words, but the image of Rowan and those eyes. My brain
fogged over with his image burnt on the inside of my eyelids.
She waved a
finger at the dirt paths that connected everything and waited until I looked to
continue, “We have cleared pathways to every area that requires our attention,
and that tree line marks the perimeter into our wildlife preserve. We own a lot
of forest acreage that’s a safe place for our healed wildlife to live.”
A.K.A. my prison
grounds.
She squeezed me
to her. “It’s wonderful here. I know you’ll love it as much as Charlie and I
do.”
I didn’t know
how to respond, other than to go rigid and silent. My aunt acted like this was
going to be a vacation for me, not punishment. Pulling away from her, I paced
the room, taking inventory. Aunt Becka watched me from near the window.
A bed,
nightstand, desk, and dresser, all built of knotty pine or logs. A narrow door
opened to a closet and beside it, another narrow door led into a small
bathroom. Most of the walls and all of the ceilings and floors were knotty
wood. No carpet, no curtains. Like being inside a sterile prison, not that I
frequented the inside of a real prison cell, but this shiny clean room gave me
the impression of ‘no fun, all work.’
I plopped down
on the bed and bounced on it a little. Comfortable.
“So, Kate said
you and your step-dad are kind of on the outs with each other.” Aunt Becka
strolled over and plopped on the bed beside me. “To be honest, Charlie and I
didn’t even know Kate had gotten married.”
“Let’s just say
I’m used to Mom having flings with her escort men, but she’s never married one
of them,” I said, the words slipping from my mouth like a spray of negative
ick.
Aunt Becka
frowned, and then her face softened. “You’ve had it tough, haven’t you?”
I stared at her,
another question I didn’t know how to answer. My nose tingled, an itch
inevitable. So, again, I blurted, “No, I’ve been just fine. Mom and I played
our roles the best we knew how, and then our roles changed. That’s all.” I
rubbed the crap out of my nose, jumped off the bed and unzipped one of the
duffle bags.
About the Author:
DK Davis writes YA sci-fi, supernatural, and fantasy with a good dollop of all the relationships woven in between. When she’s not writing, editing, or reading, she’s hiking, RV’ing, fishing, spending time with grandchildren or her favorite muse (her husband) in Southwest Michigan.
She also writes mainstream supernatural, suspense-thriller romance as S. Peters-Davis.
Twitter: https://twitter.com/DKDavisBooks
Website: http://suda788.wixsite.com/dkdavis
BWL Publishing Inc.: http://bookswelove.net/authors/davis-dk-ya-paranormal/
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