Slumbering

  C. S. JOHNSON

  Copyright © 2013 C. S. JOHNSON.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  WestBow Press books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

  WestBow Press

  A Division of Thomas Nelson

  1663 Liberty Drive

  Bloomington, IN 47403

  www.westbowpress.com

  1-(866) 928-1240

  Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

  Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

  Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

  ISBN: 978-1-4497-7912-2 (sc)

  ISBN: 978-1-4497-7913-9 (hc)

  ISBN: 978-1-4497-7911-5 (e)

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2012923604

  WestBow Press rev. date: 12/28/2012

  Contents

  1 Normalcy

  2 Irritation

  3 Awe

  4 Lunacy

  5 Comfort

  6 Grievance

  7 Distraction

  8 Games

  9 Dreariness

  10 Detainment

  11 Attack

  12 Starry-Eyed

  13 Marked

  14 Sidetracked

  15 Beginnings

  16 Fire

  17 Complications

  18 Assaulted

  19 Fight Back

  20 Acceptance

  I write for an audience of four – J.C., my mother, Ryan, and Chelsea.

  But this is also for Sam,

  my favorite almost-superhero in high school,

  and Mr. Shoemaker, our ninth grade math teacher,

  who named you accordingly.

  In this world of the Supernatural,

  God created the Stars as He created People:

  Each for a different purpose,

  Each to bring glory to His Name.

  But Stars can be just as fickle as Mortals.

  These are their stories:

  The Starlight Chronicles.

  “…For to whom much is given,

  much shall be required…”

  Jesus of Nazareth

  Prologue

  Wingdinger

  The winter winds were cold and harsh, laced with particles of hail and snow. The air was dry, the sun was hidden, and just from looking at it, I could tell Lake Erie was in the freezing temperatures. Apollo City, along with northern Ohio, was covered in a blanket of gray-white snow/slush, but city inhabitants were still trying to go about their humdrum lives with as little interruption as possible.

  I had to say, the eela – shadow monster – rampaging all around the city wasn’t helping. Not in the least, if you can imagine it.

  Hovering in midair, the day’s choice for monster giggled as he attacked another crowd of people. He’d shown up a few times this past week, but this was the first time I’ve gotten this close to getting him without breaking curfew or skipping out of class (Not that I minded those things; I just minded getting in trouble for them.)

  This sinister-ling is Daikan; he ‘specializes’ in cruel humor, but not the kind I liked or agreed with (Some of his material was really lame.) He’d been nicknamed ‘The Jester’ by the local press – anything to get sales up without infringing on Batman’s legal rights.

  While he certainly reminded me of some kind of ex-con carnie, there was a villainous twinkle in his eye all too reminiscent of his many demon predecessors and his fearless Sinister leaders. Not to mention there was the same cringe-worthy delusion laced in his laughter.

  “Ha-ha, I told you I would have you rolling with delight sooner or later,” he cried out mockingly, as indeed, the crowds rolled over in pain. “Daikan always has a trick up his sleeve!”

  Who knew who he thought he was talking to? Some people were snapping photos, while others were running away screaming. All of this chaos was happening, of course, while I was attempting to destroy him.

  Unfortunately, this was nothing out of the ordinary. It was just a typical day in the life of the superhero known as ‘Wingdinger’. Me.

  My fingers gave an icy snap as I clenched my fists. “No one’s laughing down here!” I retorted angrily.

  Just so you know, I had a right to be angry. Daikan had largely ignored me that day, and only paid attention long enough to laugh at me. And the third-person referencing was getting old.

  “Watch your back, kid!” Elysian, my ‘pet’ changeling dragon, thundered at me as he swooped down and curled protectively around me as Daikan slashed out his attack; spindles of power trickled through the sky, swiping over us as Elysian ducked and I dodged.

  There’s a sudden break as a nearby tree fell and I heard something else – probably a building – crumbling behind us.

  “Let’s go,” Elysian muttered, ignoring the glare I gave him as he leaned down to let me up on his back. But I (reluctantly) climbed on; I wanted nothing more than to fly on my own two, irritatingly useless, wings.

  The wind bit at my face, matching the bite in my tone. “Look who’s laughing now!” I taunted, tackling the laughing trickster right out of the air. Something puffy and squishy gooped through my gloves as I no doubt punched through a lung, knocking the wind (along with other substances) out of his body.

  “Ugh…Gross.” If only this were some kind of video game, I thought ruefully. Me and the guys would be all over it.

  Split seconds later, I was thrust back into the fight. Several events blurred through my mind as the end of the battle became eminent:

  - Flinging the pus off of my fist -

  - Elysian’s brief approving sneer -

  Falling from the sky, tangled up with the demon body (Ah, the welcoming rush of adrenaline. I’d become quite the junkie since this started.)

  I grinned to myself. I liked this trick. After several months of fighting off these monsters, I no longer had any fear of falling.

  Instead of freaking out like I used to, I clawed my way on top of the evil eela, my feet forcing my enemy into the ground even more as we slammed into the ground.

  Jolted but still standing, I victoriously wiped a spray of dirt off my face. “Ha. Got you!”

  Elysian scuttled over. “Good work, kid. I think we did great today.”

  We? I silently rolled my eyes.

  He’d spoken too soon. Or maybe he jinxed me, because the next moment, Daikan propelled himself upright with more power than I’d thought possible, sending me flying back through the air. “Play time’s over!”

  “Ugh…” I grunted in frustration; of all the places to land, it had to be in a pile of frozen dog poo. “Gross!” Why did I always have to land in something slimy!?

  I looked up at Elysian, just in time to see him unleash an attack of his own; my dragon’s bright celestial fire hit its mark as I stood up and hurriedly tried to clean myself up. Being a superhero is not as important as looking like one, in my opinion.

 
“Augh!” Daikan cried, the dragon fire slowly eating away at his colorful clothes and sizzling into his wrinkly skin. Even though I love my barbeque, it was a gruesome sight to watch him flap and burn. It probably would have been more enjoyable if he was dead. And plucked.

  “Finish him!” Elysian called out.

  “No one defeats me,” I murmured, letting myself smile. For once, we are going to get along all right without -

  A hot, blazing arrow of light suddenly soared out of nowhere. It struck the demonic creature in the head, unleashing a small bright explosion and bombing out brain residue. I jumped back and shielded my face. When I peeked over seconds later, Daikan was gone.

  I groaned; I’d thought too soon. She was here.

  Following the trajectory of the arrow, I looked up. And there she was.

  Starry Knight, skillfully perched in the trees, was looking down on me, both literally and figuratively speaking. “I told you to stay away from this business,” she called out in disdainful greeting, as was her per usual.

  “Oh, just go away!” I stomped my way over to my supposed counterpart. “I was doing just fine until you showed up. And I was here earlier than you!”

  “You were just getting in the way,” she glared back. She tightened her lips, obviously irritated. “It’s clear you still don’t know much about them, do you, Wingdinger?”

  Since I was pretty sure she was making fun of me in addition to insulting me, I bit my bottom lip angrily, raging for blood. That was just like her, to disregard all the effort I’d espoused trying to learn more about the different demons suddenly plaguing our city. Believe me, between the eelas, the tenwaleisks, and the bakreels, I’d had more than enough outer dimensional instruction.

  But even so, who really cared if I didn’t know that much yet? All I really knew for sure was that I had to fight them. That had to count for a lot of it – over half of it, really. And the other stuff, well, I’d figure it out later, when I had the time and/or the inkling to care.

  She jumped down from the heights of the tree. “Since you appeared, I’ve had to save you more than I’ve had to defeat these monsters.”

  “Hey! I got some of them, too!” I protested. At least two or three, anyway (out of ten or twenty or….Who’s really counting here anyway?) “I would’ve had this one, too, if you hadn’t stolen my chance!”

  “I’m sure you wouldn’t have been able to do it,” Starry Knight replied, waving me off. “You haven’t gotten any stronger in the last weeks. Just give up and leave this to me. Oh, and I’d make sure to get some stain remover on your clothes.” She flipped her long hair as she flew off, her stark white wings beating gracefully.

  The embarrassment and anger burned, steaming hot. I thrust my fingers into my ‘wingdings’ at the sides of my head, for which I was named, and tried not to scream. The pain of tearing at my feather-crown didn’t help.

  And neither did Elysian, of course (He never does, trust me.)

  “Don’t worry about it, kid,” Elysian told me. “You’ll get the next one.”

  “What if I don’t?” I asked sharply. “What then?”

  “Don’t do this to yourself. She’s not worth it.” Elysian transformed. As a changeling dragon, he had the ability to transform into any reptile, but he often just pushed back his wings, sucked in his big dragon belly, and shrunk down to the size of a small lizard or chameleon (It’s handy for travel purposes, I must admit.)

  “Maybe she’s got a point. She seems to be getting more powerful.” I doubted Elysian had noticed the increasingly brighter intensity of Starry Knight’s arrows in the past few weeks. I also doubted he’d be able to refrain from making some irritating comment about it if I brought it up.

  “Don’t forget, we have yet to know who she is,” Elysian said, honestly and exasperatedly. “If you really think she’s getting more powerful, it could be a problem.”

  “You think?” I snorted distastefully. Of course she is a problem! She’d been a problem since day one. “How do you think she does it? How do you think I can get strong enough to beat her?”

  “You’re supposed to be concerned with the demons, not her.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Frankly, I agree with Starry Knight; it’s your own fault you’re not getting more powerful.”

  “What!?” My gaze blazed into Elysian’s; he (wisely) shuffled back a few feet. “How can you say that? You’re the one who’s supposed to be ‘mentoring me’ or however you put it.”

  “I cannot teach a know-it-all!” Elysian glared at me. “Look, you’ve accepted the task of defending the world from the Sinisters, but you’re still as arrogant and self-centered as you always were! And it’s worse, since you’ve been given the powers. You still rely mostly on your guesswork to get the job done.”

  I motioned to my uniform, my transformed self. “Selfish? How can you say that? Do you know what I’d rather be doing while I’m fighting off the forces supposedly bent on destroying the world? I could be on a date!”

  “Ugh! You make this so hard!” Elysian sighed. “You might have accepted the truth of your destiny, but there’s more to believing than just accepting the truth. There’s more to power than strength.”

  I muttered out a string of curses, probably a bit too loudly for Elysian’s taste, because he chastised me a moment later. “You could get a lot more powerful if you just had some self-control.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean you can’t even control your language or your anger or your actions. No wonder the demons laugh at you! You’ll bring about your own destruction soon enough with that kind of attitude.”

  Before I could respond, the large clock tower in the city chimed, and I had another reason to hate my life. “Aw, great! It’s after my curfew! Cheryl and Mark are going to be upset. Can tonight get any worse?”

  Almost as soon as the words were out of my mouth, Elysian piped up with a half-smug, “Here comes the press.”

  And right on cue, a desperate-looking journalist hopped out of some nearby bushes, followed by a several more of his camera-wielding posse. “Excuse me! Mr. Wingdinger sir! Can we get a couple of questions!?”

  I immediately ran for cover.

  “Stop! We need to talk to you!”

  “Come back! We want to make a deal! You’ll be rich!”

  “Where’s Starry Knight!?”

  Anyone can tell you that I was not usually shy in front of the cameras. But the last thing I wanted was to do was to take financial responsibility for all the buildings that had been damaged in the previous months, and/or the blame for all of the people I hadn’t saved. These were the major reasons I ran away from the press, and I cringed at the thought of interviews.

  “Come on, Elysian,” I said quietly. “Fly us away from these soul-suckers.”

  Elysian cocked an eyebrow at the irony and smothered a laugh, transforming once more. Moments later, we were safe and out of reach.

  How did this all happen? How did I manage to get drafted into humanity’s last defense in an interdimensional war?

  Truth be told, I wasn’t exactly sure how it all began.

  All I really know was the day this mess exploded into my life, I’d been thinking about much more important matters. Much, much more important matters…

  1

  Normalcy

  Three Months Before

  I was thinking about the intricacies of life, and how simple it was to control them, if handled with efficiency and precision; how there could no surprises, no mistakes.

  But I knew there wouldn’t be any mistakes; after all, there was no true right and wrong. Everything was relative, and relativity only called for adaptation. I knew this as sure as I knew the sky was blue, and Taco Tuesday at my school cafeteria was invented by cannibals, and it was as real as the game devi
ce in my hands or the air in my lungs.

  But my attention was preoccupied by much more immediate concerns.

  Anticipation mounted, and my heart started to skip; and the last piece of the puzzle was seconds from touchdown when -

  “Dinger! Put that game away!”

  I nearly flew out of my seat at the sudden interruption to my Tetris game. I luckily (skillfully) remained cool, merely snapping my eyes up to meet the discerning stare of my 10th grade AP American History teacher, Mrs. Smithe.

  I had to grin, because her darkened eyes were burning over the top of her thick, black-framed glasses, and I knew she was annoyed. This was not the first time, today or otherwise, she had stopped, mid-lecture, to remind me to pay attention. In her world, no matter how addictive the game was, it was supposed come second to her teaching (“supposed to” being the operative phrase.)

  “Aw, but I’m so close to beating this level,” I smirked good-naturedly.

  The silent, deadly expression I received told me it was clearly not one of her good days. So I shrugged carelessly, smiled brilliantly, and tucked away my Game Pac. I even decided to graciously wait ten more minutes before pulling it out again. Mrs. Smithe seemed reassured by this illusion of obedience, and went back to teaching. She was always a bit of a control-freak, but I’ve never really met a good teacher who wasn’t.

  And for all her trouble, Mrs. Smithe – Martha – was probably my favorite teacher at Apollo Central High School. She was middle-aged, with short curly hair that almost stood on end when her teacher-senses were tingling. I supposed it was her glasses which really gave her an authoritative demeanor, since her short height and tiny bone structure did not. And she always had coffee nearby; I once figured out while I was bored in her class she could support a small company stock all by herself (You have to admit that’s impressive.) If there was a problem I had with her, it was that she just didn’t seem to get that Tetris was the ultimate meaning in my life.