Isolation Read online

  ISOLATION

  The Soul Scribe Trilogy, Book One

  Tera Lyn Cortez

  Copyright © 2019 Tera Lyn Cortez

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978-1-7330171-1-4

  www.teralyncortez.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form on by an electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Original cover art by Violeta Nedkova

  DEDICATION

  For my husband,

  thanks for putting up with me!

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  It takes a village...

  Thank you to everyone who was on hand to help me make this dream come true. Thank you Shannon, for being willing to answer my questions and giving me someone to look up to as an author. Thank you Tina, for helping my first book be the best version of itself. And finally, thank you to every single person who encouraged and supported me as I made my way.

  Believing in destiny is one thing. It’s another thing entirely to have the aforementioned destiny slap you upside the head and lay you out flat. That being said, destiny also doesn't bother to give you any say in the matter, so it's best to roll with the punches, both literally and figuratively.

  I never felt much like the average girl next door, and I knew I was “different” once I hit the age the average toddler becomes self-aware. The first lesson I learned about being different? Hide it, whatever it is that's different about you. It's got to be a secret. There are very few people who would accept your differences, and even less who would understand them.

  The world as a whole seems to discount any “magic” or preternatural abilities as a fluke, hoax, or coincidence. I've also learned that the longer you try to suppress such things, the harder they are to control. On a side note, learning that sort of control when you have zero idea what the ever-loving hell is going on, is damn near impossible!

  So far, though, I've lived, and so has everybody around me. For the most part...

  Chapter One

  “Are you certain you want me to leave you here?” my Uber driver asked with a shaky voice. I stared into the dark forest along the deserted highway wondering if this was a good idea or not.

  An hour ago, I stood outside my little yellow house where I’d lived my entire life until my adoptive parents died in a car wreck a month back. Now I stood at a rusty gate blocking a forest service road because of a handwritten note in a file folder delivered by a stranger. A note that appeared via magic, but still, just a note.

  My smile to the driver must have been less than convincing as he offered to return me to civilization for no extra fee.

  “This is exactly where I need to be,” I assured him. “I am prepared for the trip.” I held up my backpack that contained all my prized possessions. I sincerely doubted I had convinced him of the validity of my choice, but he couldn't very well force me back into the vehicle without repercussions.

  “Okay, you have a good day, and be safe.” I heard the car’s transmission grind as he shifted into drive, and gravel crunched as he pulled off the road’s shoulder and onto the blacktop. I watched his taillights fade into the distance, then he rounded a curve leaving me in eerily silent woods where no one would ever find my body if something went awry. I stood on the side of the ditch, completely alone.

  Reaching into my back pocket, I pulled out the creased sheet of paper that held the instructions for getting to the cabin. At the bottom of the sheet, my birth mother’s handwriting stared back at me, which had been uncovered only after I followed the instructions to say the magic word.

  I'd struggled to keep my “magical” abilities under wraps my entire twenty years, so using them willingly now seemed surreal.

  The note read:

  Everleigh,

  I know this will seem strange to you. But please, trust me. You need to go to the cabin, alone. You will be safe there, I promise. But you must go before your twenty-first birthday, and the sooner you can make it, the better.

  There you will find many of the answers you seek. Bring with you the things you treasure the most. Let your intuition be your guide.

  I love you.

  Love, Mom

  A small part of me worried that my questionable decisions stemmed from the deep loneliness I’ve lived with—ever since my adopted parents had died in a car crash a few months earlier. Having made very few friends since I was more interested in hiding my strangeness than announcing it, my parents were the only ones there for me, and I missed them immensely.

  It took great effort to keep the tears welling up in my eyes from spilling over. My life consisted of very little human interaction since it made concealing my abilities easier. This made my desire to know my birth mother, if she was still alive, intense and all consuming. I had spent my entire life wondering if she was out in the world somewhere, and the prospect of once more having a mother in my life after losing the only one I had ever known was impossible to resist. I wiped the wetness with the back of my hand and gave myself a mental shake.

  Deciding that unless I planned to hike up the empty thoroughfare back to town, my only other choice meant hiking up the passage on the other side of this gate, through the trees to the rock formation that resembled an eagle. Saying a quick prayer that it would be as easy to recognize as the note led me to believe, I took the first steps toward what I presumed would be an entirely new existence. The gate in front of me represented a barrier that separated my previous life from the one I would now live.

  After a short distance, the gravel road turned into a dirt path, barely wide enough to fit the forest service trucks it was meant for. Brush encroached from either side, and I sidestepped brambles and catchweed as I walked down the center. My mind wandered as I walked, thinking of what awaited me a few miles in the distance.

  The lawyer who handled my adoption had appeared on my porch the morning of my twentieth birthday, handing me a file that contained all the records pertaining to my life thus far. He knocked on my door while I drank my morning coffee, and when I answered, he held out the faded card stock folder, announcing he had been instructed to return it to me on this day. He told me to look through it. Said I had twenty-four hours if I wanted to call him with any questions, and he would answer them if he could.

  He then bade me a very happy birthday, turned on his heel, and strode back down the drive to his silver Mercedes. I stood in the doorway staring at his back, dumbfounded. I shifted my eyes to the file folder in my hand, curious. Not more than an inch and a half thick, I could barely imagine what might be contained between its pages. By the time I looked up again, intending to call out and thank him, he had gone.

  My parents and I didn't know much about my first few weeks of life, so I couldn't wait to see what information might be in the folder. Apparently this packet had been tucked into the basket with me when I was left on the lawyer’s office doorstep.

  According to the story he gave my parents, in spite of the numerous functioning security cameras around his office, they had never been able to identify who set me there. In one frame, the porch was empty, and the next, there I lay, complete with detailed instructions on how to deal with my placement.

  By some miracle, he found a couple so desperate to raise a child that they willingly agreed to go along with whatever stipulations were presented, as long as he handed over the baby. They uprooted their entire lives in the Midwest to move to Wa
shington state and consented to live at least the next eighteen years west of the Cascade mountain range. They hadn’t been told why—hell, the lawyer didn't even know, to be honest.

  We also knew from him that the midwife who had delivered me passed away soon after my birth and left me all her worldly possessions, including her monetary assets. Everything was placed into trust for me, and that money made sure I never wanted for anything as I grew up.

  My parents used part of that inheritance to purchase the house I just left, and I briefly wondered if I would ever see it again. I supposed I would have to go back at some point. I couldn't just abandon it. Memories of my whole life were contained in that place! All my parents’ things were still there as well, and I couldn't abandon them. They were the only pieces of our life together I had left.

  My mom was an avid photographer, and there were boxes upon boxes of her photos to go through. I may not have had the most normal childhood, but both my parents did their best to ensure that I didn't miss out on much, and my mom documented out escapades every step of the way.

  The first (and only) birthday party I remember that included anyone other than the two of them was the year I turned five. I begged and begged to be allowed to make friends and have them over. My mother finally relented, and it seemed to be going well until it came time to blow out the candles on the cake. I liked fire, so I made the flames grow taller and taller. Then, instead of blowing on them, I simply waved my hand and willed the fire to disappear.

  There were gasps all around, and I didn't understand what I had done wrong. My dad blamed a rogue gust of wind, but the parents weren't buying it. They rushed their kids out of there as if we had asked for a sacrifice, and not one of them was ever allowed to play with me again. I cried for days after, and from then on, my parents put all their effort into making up for the fact that I couldn't safely have friends.

  I'm not sure how far I had traveled, lost in my own thoughts when my foot caught on a rut in the road, yanking me back to the present. I barely managed to catch myself on rocks stacked off to the side of the road. To my surprise, they resembled an eagle quite obviously. The stones were smooth and warm to the touch. I stood for a moment, taking stock of the forest around me.

  The trail had all but disappeared, and the brush on either side had thickened to the point that climbing through it would have been nearly impossible. I heard nothing but absolute silence. No birds called and no wind rustled in the leaves. The effect was decidedly eerie. Even with the sun climbing its way into the sky, it still seemed gray.

  After I assured myself that nobody lingered in the vicinity, I consulted my instructions and repeated the magic word once more. “Apparere.”

  To the rear of the eagle rock, the thick brush parted as if welcoming me through. It reminded me of a doorway in a secret garden, and I stared for a moment in stunned silence.

  I peered down the newly exposed path suspiciously. Compared to the road I had been walking, the view ahead looked to be an entirely different world. Following the commands on the note to the letter, I took exactly five steps onto the newly exposed path and did an about-face.

  “Evanesceti.” Magic word number two that I’d learned rolled off my tongue fairly easily, considering it didn’t sound like any language I recognized.

  The shrubs, branches, and underbrush blended seamlessly into an impenetrable wall before my eyes. If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve sworn I was miles from any other sort of traveled trail or road. The trees looked different here, even the silence sounded different.

  According to my directions, the only thing I had to do required following this trail to the cabin.

  Wandering through the peaceful woods made me think of my parents again. We used to go hiking as a family, usually to unpopulated areas so that if my magic got out of hand, which it did when I got excited, nobody was around to witness it. They always held hands as we walked along, and I remember running to and fro, delighting in all the details of the forest.

  The first time I ever learned to move an object with my mind had been on one of those hikes. A baby bird had fallen from its nest, and I was devastated that it would die on the ground alone. I cradled it gently between my hands, and, lifting it above my head, “wished it home.” Both my parents stared at me incredulously, but neither made a big deal out of it at the time. If only they could see me now!

  It broke my heart that I would never again traipse along a wooded path with them or laugh as we wiggled our sandy toes on the beach. That drunk driver had stolen the only two people in my life who accepted me for who and what I was, unconditionally.

  Time seemed to be on its own schedule as I walked down the path, not hurrying, but not slowly, either. While it seemed like I had been walking for miles, I also felt like I had just begun. Daylight filtered beautifully through the canopy, illuminating the moss that dangled from the branches. Every tree in the forest seemed old. The gnarled bark had an intricate beauty, and small colorful flowers grew along the edges of the path.

  The trail followed a trickling stream off to my right. I could hear it, but not see it, yet. While it made a slightly disconcerting impression, it was also serene in a way I had never known. I registered a tug in my midsection, encouraging me to proceed along the trail. I could literally feel it calling to me. I don’t know how long I ended up wandering, or how far, but the trek took a good part of the day.

  The instant the cabin came into view, I stopped dead in my tracks. The home was nestled in a small clearing, butted up against a cliff that was the home of a towering waterfall. The clamor from the falls should have been deafening based on their size, but the sound merely played as a pleasant background noise. Mist rose from the pool where the water from above crashed. Boulders of various sizes crowded along the edge, inviting me to take a seat.

  The trees that encircled the clearing grew hundreds of feet into the air, sweeping gracefully overhead to provide cover while still allowing the sunshine to filter down. No wind rustled the leaves, but the silence was peaceful instead of eerie.

  I couldn't tell you if I had been staring for five minutes or five hours, but for a moment, I felt an urgency to get inside. As I made my way forward, the first few steps dragged against my legs like I was wading through Jell-O.

  My body warmed and began to tingle. Acceptance poured through me like the blood rushing through my veins. There could be no doubt that my soul was indeed tied to this very place, even though I had never laid eyes on it before.

  Chapter Two

  After crossing the clearing from the waterfall, I stood on the small porch in awe, gathering my courage. As I debated whether to knock or just open the door, the problem solved itself when the door swung open of its own accord.

  “Hello?” I poked my head past the door jamb, wondering exactly who had let me in.

  With no answer to my inquiry, I stepped farther inside and slid my pack off, resting it against the wall. I took a moment to look around and orient myself to the cabin layout. Behind me, I heard a faint click. The door had closed.

  I spun around, expecting to see someone standing there, but I was alone.

  The cabin's main room was open concept with the small kitchenette taking up the back wall. The furniture was simple and well made, consisting of a sofa and two arm chairs facing the fireplace. A dining table and four chairs made up the last of the big pieces.

  I wandered down the only hallway to find two bedrooms and a washroom with hot water. At the very end of the hall stood a sturdy door crafted from thick wood and looked ancient.

  I reached out and touched it reverently but couldn't figure out how to open it. Where a knob should have been, a wrought iron medallion lay inset into the wood. My finger traced the trinket on the chain around my neck. They were identical.

  I gave the door a slight push, and since it didn't move, I headed to the front of the cabin. I could figure that out later. In the main room, I glanced out the window and stumbled over my feet, practically choking on my own spit. In
the clearing, staring right at the cabin sat an ocelot the size of a baby elephant.

  While I loved that particular cat exhibit at the zoo, I had never seen the feline in the wild. And they were not native to the area. So was this big guy an escapee or someone's pet out for a walk?

  All I could do was stare at the beautiful creature, captivated by its face. For being a wild animal, intelligent, sentient eyes stared out. The temptation to go out and greet him was overwhelming.

  I found myself with my hand on the doorknob before I registered I was even moving. Well, why not? Maybe it was special, or a friend of my mother’s. I cracked the door open and stared out, ready to slam it closed at the first sign of aggression. He didn't move nor make a sound. I stepped onto the porch, my hand still on the knob just in case.

  “Hi there, big fella.” I didn't know whether I expected it to communicate with me or what, but it stood at the sound of my voice. “I don't suppose you can talk?”

  He shook his big furry head in response, and I stared at him in surprise. He understood English? Or maybe that was a fluke, and he had a bug in his ear or something.

  “Do you want to come inside? You promise not to eat me, right?” I figured it was best to establish that I was not a good snack option before ending up in an enclosed space with a wild animal, no matter how domesticated he seemed.

  He nodded in the affirmative, and I stepped back, indicating he should follow. He casually slipped past me into the cabin and curled up on one of the chairs in front of the fireplace.

  “It looks like you've been here before, huh?” Another nod. “Okay, well I need a snack. I wonder if there is anything to eat in the kitchen?” The snacks I had brought in my pack were not going to last long if they were the only thing I had to eat.