Ravenswynd Legends



  RAVENSWYND LEGENDS

  BY

  SHARON RICKLIN

  Ravenswynd Legends

  Copyright © 2013 by Sharon Ricklin

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission from the author.

  For Pam. Her encouraging words started it all.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  The author’s profound gratitude to…

  My awesome editors: Amy Secklin and Barbara Secklin

  My fantastic beta-readers: Laurel Johnson and Lisa McFerren

  An enormous thanks to my sister Pam - who one day told me

  that writing might be therapeutic. She was so right.

  I will be forever grateful to my granddaughter Rachael -

  Not only does she love my stories, her enthusiasm always

  motivates me to keep writing.

  I love you all.

  A special thanks to Amela M.B. at Madhoshi Arts for her

  gorgeous cover artwork.

  †

  Licking his lips slowly while gazing at my neck; his eyes began to appear metallic. A sudden dreadful feeling came over me - a feeling of utter fear and repulsion at the same time. Heart pounding, I swallowed hard . . . Easing farther away from him; I geared up to flee - sensing his impatience with me at once. His hand brushed over my cheek sending unwelcomed gooseflesh down my spine and then he swept my hair back - I assumed to get a better view.

  “You have a delectable looking neck, I must say.” He cocked his head to the side – fixated, as though he could see through to the pulsing artery, and he sniffed deeply. His eyes: now dark pools of molten lava.

  †

  Chapter 1

  Dock of the Bay

  The sound of blood rushing past my eardrums echoed the roar of my pounding heart. What the flaming hell was I thinking? My only solace came from knowing I wasn’t the only idiot waiting on a dark pier on Friday the thirteenth at exactly seven-thirteen. There were twelve others. Had anyone else noticed all the thirteens? Although I hoped that this was only a series of coincidences, an icy chill coursed through me as I tied it in with everything that my best friend, Fiona, had been saying all along about the secret party. Without question, something strange and frightening was about to take place. The air bristled with a weird intangible energy. And this weirdness was only a taste of what was to come – the party is the main entrée. I didn’t even want to think about dessert.

  The three of us had arrived at the Marina just before sunset, but drove around the block twice before finding a parking spot. By the time we had joined the small group of people already gathered on the dock, all traces of daylight were gone. None of us spoke, but more than a few of the people shifted about, tugging at a zipper or fiddling with a cell phone, waiting to be ushered onto the boat. The water lapping rhythmically against the creaking pier rippled through the otherwise eerie stillness of the night. My twin, Melinda, linked her arm through mine, making me wonder if she felt as uneasy as I did.

  “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” I whispered, leaning my head toward my friend Fiona and fighting the urge to grab my sister and run back to the car.

  If Fiona felt any similar impulses, she hid them well as she shrugged. But of course she didn’t. Fiona was glad to be here and she smiled at the person next to her, a young man she had dubbed Random Guy because he had invited her as if on a whim. She had no idea who he was. I had accepted her invitation with little forethought – quite an uncharacteristic move on my part. And I had allowed her excitement to blind me to any possible risks involved - something she completely disregarded.

  “Lizzy.” Her tone was soft. “Everything will be fine. Just try to enjoy yourself for a change.” Her fearlessness baffled me.

  I kept both of my trembling hands in my pockets - a good place to hide my jitteriness. We stood silent for about ten more minutes. A gentle breeze blew through our hair, damp and briny and, fortunately, warmer than usual for this time of the year. My legs would have been frozen in my short dress if not for global warming. I glanced at the time on my cell phone and then peered over my left shoulder just past Fiona’s Random Guy and, in the faint light of the rising moon, I counted again. Yep, thirteen idiots.

  This so-called party was by invitation only, and invitation was by word of mouth. Even the location was undisclosed to most, if not all, participants. All we knew was that the only way to get there was by boat and that we were supposed to

  know the person who invited us. We were each allowed to invite one guest, and once I had decided to go, nothing could stop me from asking my twin sister - not the strangeness surrounding the invitation and not even the possibility that the local vampire legends might be true. And if those legends were true, as Fiona had believed her whole life, we could be opening the door to an unimaginable outcome. Or - in my sister’s crude way of putting things - we might end up in some deep shit.

  Melinda and I had been inseparable all of our lives, and even if my decision to go was misguided, I knew she would’ve been forever angry if I hadn’t invited her in the first place. And the keyword here: forever.

  I glanced toward the boat docked at the end of the pier, now realizing by its size that it was, in fact, a yacht. There was just enough light at the bow to see the name: Aeternus Corvus. I certainly wasn’t fluent in Latin, but I could make out a few words. While musing about the name, thinking it had something to do with eternity and crows my thoughts were interrupted when I noticed someone climbing aboard a smaller boat docked directly to the front of the yacht. I stifled a low chuckle - we weren’t the only mindless idiots preparing for a nighttime boat trip.

  I gazed up into the night sky. A thin cloud passed in front of the full moon, and I spotted the silhouette of a large bird flying through the shadow of the cloud. It was a beautiful autumn evening, and if I forced myself to believe that everything would be fine, perhaps I could truly enjoy it. I took a few deep breaths, willing my body to relax. It worked for a bit, but the false sense of peace was momentary at best. A voice coming from aboard the yacht jolted my reverie and drew my attention to the strange sight ahead. Electrified goose bumps prickled my skin, topped off with a tingling shudder.

  A woman stepped off the yacht and glided down the pier, phantom-like. Surely my mind played tricks on me now. I turned my head to Lindy. Her wide-eyed gaze told me my mind was fine, but my churning stomach said that we had, indeed, made a colossal mistake. I looked back at the woman. Following close behind her came a short man dressed all in black - also gliding. He held in his arms what appeared to be a long, shiny, red over-coat. The way he hung behind and kept his head low and eyes downcast suggested he was some sort of servant.

  The woman came closer. Her eyes gave off a vacant look as though she was quite bored. Although she never referred to it, she carried a large notebook hugged tight to her chest. Her dark brown hair was slicked straight back, wet looking, as though she had just stepped out of the shower. She stopped directly in front of Melinda. The woman stared into Lindy’s eyes, took a deep breath, licked her lips, and began her interrogation.

  “Tell me who invited you and state your full name.” Her soft voice did not match her look in the least.

  With an easy nod toward me, Lindy said, “My sister, Elizabeth, invited me. My name is Melinda Anastasia Rose.” The woman sighed, still straight-faced, and Lindy flicked her

  long hair back - an obvious attempt to appear unimpressed at the woman’s deliberate, yet impassive demands.

  The woman edged in front of me and repeated herself. Here under the streetlight I
could see all of her tattoos and piercings and a thick highlight along the side of her hair - the color of a bright copper penny. The ring in her eyebrow was glossy red and the one on her lip was silver and red. Just above her high cheekbone, to the right of her eye, was a tattoo of a tiny red spider. Silver skull and cross-bone earrings with glaring red eyes dangled from her ears, and the Gothic black and silver setting of her necklace held a huge garnet. Her full lips were painted such a dark red that they looked black and her skin was beautiful - not pale like I had imagined. The woman was tall - I had to look up to make eye contact. The thick blackness outlining her blue-gray eyes made them appear nearly white.

  “My friend, Fiona, invited me,” I said, pointing to Fiona with my thumb. “I am Elizabeth Amarande Rose.”

  Except for a slight raise of one eyebrow, her face continued to be without expression, but this time she said, “Indeed.”

  She touched a finger to her nose, a finger with a super long and brilliant red fingernail. I would have expected to see them painted black. And if she had allowed a smile to part her lips, I was quite positive that I would have spotted a set of fangs. Perhaps that was why she remained so indifferent. Why take the chance of frightening your next meal away? Another chill shot through me as she lingered a moment longer - her eyes fixed on mine.

  Frantic whispering came from my left just before the woman pulled her gaze from me, and she stepped in front of Fiona.

  “And, who invited you?” she asked, with a slight mocking tone.

  Fiona’s shudder reverberated onto my arm when she leaned into me for a second, and her voice came off shaky as she said, “My friend, Steven.” She cleared her throat and hurried on loud and clear: “My name is Fiona Ameretat O’Conner.”

  It dawned on me then that, until the whispering had taken place, the harsh reality was that Fiona had no clue what his name was. She had called him Random Guy for a good reason. No wonder she was so nervous; this small technicality could have gotten her booted off the pier. Fiona breathed a sigh of relief as soon as the woman said, “Very well, then.”

  Before the woman moved to the front of Random Steven, I was able to get a closer look at her other tattoo - a gigantic red serpent which wrapped around her upper arm. As it twisted and turned from her shoulder to her elbow, its under-belly was visible, a lighter shade of red. I couldn’t help but wonder if her preference to red was that it reminded her of blood.

  She then continued down the line asking the same questions of the rest of our newly formed coven. Letting my imagination run amok, I envisioned our group now being inducted into the army of the thirteen immortals, and Red here would be our captain. I hoped we weren’t too dressed up for our covert operation into the murky waters of the Providence River. Muffling a nervous giggle, I thought that since we were about to board a boat, this would make us the Navy of the thirteen immortals. It was good I was able to make fun of all of this. If not, I would be screaming bloody murder.

  It was no one’s fault but my own, I reasoned as we stood there under the one lonely streetlight. I certainly could have said no to Fiona. But I was intrigued by the possibilities she had placed before me. And I was tired of the routines of life, always choosing familiar things and making choices that included no surprises. I wanted something new, something different. I suppose, now looking back, this had been my intention when I had made up my mind to attend the party in the first place. Little did I know, that even before being invited or deciding to go, the gentle winds of change were billowing into raging storms that would ultimately alter my destiny.

  What had started off as just another casual celebration turned out to be the catalyst for a chain of events which led to the most monumental turning point in my life. As I stood on that dark pier waiting for who-knows-what to happen next, I thought back to all the events that had led up to this evening.