Bone Deep, page 18
part #2 of The Legend of Andrew Rufus Series
When he got downstairs, he hugged his mom and smiled, sitting down gratefully to a hot breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast. He tried to remind himself that it had only been last night they'd talked and laughed. It had only been last night he had realized he needed to pretend to be normal. He had to convince everyone he was normal, the same old Andrew Rufus he'd always been.
Never mind what had happened in the two weeks or so he'd been with Pecos. Never mind all the times he'd nearly died or the voice of darkness that wanted to kill him. Never mind that he missed them, even more than before. Never mind that he didn't belong here, didn't know how to fit in here, not anymore.
He biked to school, made every attempt to understand the drivel his teachers spouted, nodded to Chuck and Ed in the hallways, went to baseball practice; and he tried. He tried to be normal. It was harder than roping. Harder than surviving in Pecos's body. It was the hardest thing he'd ever done.
After ten excruciating hours of normalcy, Andrew walked into the counselor's office, ready to put on a normal face, ready to say whatever he needed to say.
Dr. Hilderbrant greeted him with a slight smile. "Andrew, I've been expecting you. Please sit down." Andrew sat. "Tell me what's going on with you, Andrew."
Andrew gritted his teeth. This was a clear violation of rules number two and ten, but he smiled and said, "Whadda you wanna know?"
"Your mother said you've been having some difficulties lately; let's talk about that," Dr. Hilderbrant said, tapping his pen on his pad of paper.
Andrew wanted to rip the pen away and throw it out the window, but instead he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the couch. "I mean, I don't know. I think it started when I broke my leg." He'd tried to guess what his mom would have told the doctor, but he was really just winging it.
"Why did it start there?"
"I don't know. It changed my life."
"How so?"
"Well, one minute I was in a tree, the next I was laying on the ground with a broken leg." Duh, he thought irritably.
"Go on."
Andrew briefly imagined Pecos here instead and tried not to laugh. "It just… well, it made me realize how brief and futile life is." Maybe that had been a bit far, he thought, but he kept going. "How delicate."
"What were you feeling?"
"Um… I don't know. Alone?"
"Alone? Why alone?"
Andrew frowned, not sure how to answer that. "Well, my friends went camping, and I was stuck in my room, alone. So yeah, alone."
"How did you handle that feeling of aloneness, Andrew?"
Andrew swallowed. He'd spent all day thinking this part out. He knew he needed to be very, very careful. He was just assuming his mom had told the shrink about the library and his preoccupation with history.
"I buried myself in stories," he finally said.
"What kind of stories?"
"Well, first it was comic books, but then I started reading about Pecos Bill and the old west."
"Go on."
Andrew sighed. "Maybe... for a moment, those stories became more real to me than real life."
"Your mother mentioned your obsession with Pecos Bill."
"I wouldn't call it an obsession," Andrew said with a frown.
"What would you call it?"
Andrew paused. He needed to focus. This wasn't about him; this wasn't about Pecos; this was about showing everyone he was normal. Showing them he was exactly who they wanted him to be, who they expected him to be.
"When Mom said she was sending me here it was like a slap in the face," Andrew said carefully. "I realized I hadn't been there, with her, you know? And I wanna be; she's my mom. Neither one of us is alone."
"I'm glad you want to work on this, Andrew. I want to help you confront the actual realities in your life and move past your fears."
Andrew grinned slightly, ready for the switch up. "It's just been a really difficult year…"
"Why is that?"
"Ever since my dad got his new job… things just haven't been the same."
"Let's talk about your father; how does his new job make you feel?"
Andrew hid a grin. "Well, it's hard, you know? I miss him."
Epilogue
"You almost got him killed this time!"
"They are alive."
"No thanks to you!"
"You seemed to have it under control, sister dear."
"Cease your meddling!"
Grey chuckled as he pulled out his long pipe and filled it with tobacco. "You may be the eldest, but we are long past the age when you could order me around."
"You could easily have changed the spell this time."
"Indeed. But it was so much more interesting this way. Don't you think?"
"I do not!" White snapped. "You cannot keep toying with his life. If you want the boy, bring him on his own," she insisted, pacing back and forth in front of the fire. Her face creased with confusion, and she demanded, "Why do you want him anyway? He is weak! He makes Pecos weak!"
"I had not noticed. In fact, I have never seen Pecos heal himself."
White hissed angrily and disappeared in a blaze of light. Grey shrugged and puffed a ring of smoke, watching it drift lazily towards the ceiling. He tapped his fingers absently on his chair, trying to calculate his next move, but then his fingers froze.
"Interesting," he said carefully. "It has been a while. You hardly ever come to play."
A figure draped in black as dark as moonless night stepped from nothingness into the cabin, filling it with cold. "This is not a game," the figure snarled.
Grey shrugged. "You are both so black and white."
"Why must you always oppose me?"
"I have nothing else to do."
"But why protect him?" the figure spat. "He is nothing but a filthy white dog!"
"You and I both know he is so much more than that."
"Stay out of my way! I will have his power, and when I do, I will remake the world. Without them!"
"We could make a new world together, you and I," he offered hopefully.
"You would make room for them," the figure snarled. "I will make a world with no pestilence, no plague, no disease; there will be no white man in my world!"
Grey raised an eyebrow. "There's a saying, quite new really, something about shooting one's self in the foot. Have you heard it?"
The figure threw back her hood with a snarl. Black eyes blazed from a twisted, enraged face. Her white teeth flashed, and her black hair swirled like inky smoke about her head.
"I tore that part out of me a long time ago, Brother. Shall I do the same for you?"
"No; I think not."
"Why did you bring the boy?" she asked, composing her face into a placid mask. "He is weak. He only helps me."
"He has not yet," Grey responded with a sly grin. "Indeed, you may find him to be stronger than you think."
"If it was not for the... loyalty… of his companions," she scoffed, "he would already be mine."
"Perhaps."
"I have his scent now," she said, a grin twisting her face into something of a grimace. "I will find him; and when I do, he is mine!"
"You are welcome to try," he said, puffing another ring of smoke into the air. "Visit anytime. My door is always open."
She vanished in a blink of black, leaving behind no trace of her hatred, her darkness, her thirst for revenge. When she was gone, Grey lifted a shaking hand to his face, mourning his loss, mourning his sisters, mourning the deaths to come, and wishing there were another way, knowing there wasn't.
In the darkness that is eternal night, a black shadow skimmed across the timeless landscape of dreams. It traveled aimlessly; searching, searching, searching. But then, at long last, it found what it was hunting. It didn't pause to crow or triumph, just slipped on feathery feet right into the dreaming mind of young Andrew Rufus.
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Book 3 BLOOD STAINED
Excerpt
"Calm down, Jeter," Andrew soothed. "They're probably just here to see Pecos." The coyotes slunk closer; Jeter shied again and bucked. "Jeter, knock it off!" Andrew snapped, holding on with his knees. When he looked back towards the coyotes, they had surrounded him, muzzles snarling.
"Whoops; I don't think they're here to see Pecos after all," Andrew muttered, reaching for his gun, but before he grasped it, one of the coyotes leaped across Jeter's back ripping Andrew from his saddle.
They landed with a thud on the side of the slippery ravine and slid halfway down towards the raging, muddy water. Andrew pushed the coyote off and tried to gain his feet, but the other coyotes hurdled into the ravine on top of him before he could.
Andrew fumbled for a knife, but the mud was so slick he couldn't get a grip on it. He gasped as sharp teeth slid through the skin on his arm and flinched as his flesh tore. He tried to jerk loose, but more teeth sunk into his arm, and the coyotes began dragging him towards the deep water at the bottom of the ravine. He had to get free.
He turned, grasping the coyote that was tearing at his shoulder, and shoved its jaw open, but he was already so weak he couldn't do more than just hold it. He breathed deeply, reaching into the well and pushing all the power he could down his arms and into his hands. Then he used the strength to rip the coyote's head in half. Blood spewed everywhere, splattering Andrew's face.
The remaining coyotes immediately released him, gathering around the coyote Andrew had killed and howling mournfully.
The ravine was slick, and the pouring rain was washing the ground away beneath him, but Andrew managed to struggle to his feet before the remaining six coyotes turned towards him again, snarling, eyes burning angrily.
Pain coursed through Andrew, and he struggled to think. He simply couldn't focus well enough to hold them off and heal himself at the same time. He knew his knives were useless because of the slick mud, but he still had his guns.
He fumbled with his duster and grabbed a pistol with each hand, firing as the coyotes pounded towards him. Two dropped before they reached him, but the other four pounced and tackled him into the swirling water below. As Andrew fell, his foot caught on something, and he felt his leg snap as they pulled him under the water.
He fought to get loose, but the coyotes were too strong. His chest tightened. If he didn't get some air soon, he was going to drown. Anger rushed through him. He hadn't worked this hard just to be drowned by a bunch of mangy coyotes.
He channeled the power and ripped his arm out of one's teeth. A wave of dizziness pulled at him, but he ignored it, digging his heels into the mud and wrapping his arm around a coyote's neck, squeezing as hard as he could. With a snap the coyote went limp, and Andrew tossed it to the side as he pushed up through the water and gasped in air.
He didn't have time for more than a single breath, before the remaining three tried to drag him under again. Andrew wrenched to the side and slammed his fist into one's head. It jolted back, and Andrew heard a distinct crack as its neck broke.
Just you and me now," he snarled at the remaining two. They leaped, but he was ready. He shoved one off to the side and grabbed the other one, ramming its muzzle into the mud so hard its jaw snapped.
The last coyote tore at Andrew's neck from behind, and they tumbled back into the water. Water gushed into Andrew's mouth as pain exploded in his neck. He struggled to the surface, spit, and grabbed the coyote, ripping it off his neck, tearing his own flesh as he did, pushing it under the water, and holding it there until it stopped struggling.
He scanned the ravine rapidly. He thought he'd gotten them all, but he wasn't sure. He felt a moment's relief when he didn't see anything moving except the water, but his relief didn't last long. He had to get out of the ravine.
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THE IMMORTAL DOC HOLLIDAY Also Available at Amazon.com
Soul eating tattoo. Check
Self-replicating knife. Check
Two-hundred-year-old score to settle. Double check.
Meet the immortal Doc Holliday.
Lying on his deathbed, Dr. John Holliday was offered a choice; let the tuberculosis finish its work or accept immortality. Doc chose the latter, knowing full well that such “gifts” don’t come cheap, but damned if the last two hundred years haven’t been a blast. Partying, playing, fighting, killing; yes, eternal life’s been good... But the time to get serious has finally come, and the task he’s always known he was saved for is at hand.
Now in modern-day Denver, Doc will be pushed to his limits to keep his promise and save the missing descendent of the beautiful shaman who gave him everlasting life. The trouble is things aren’t going as planned, and it’s becoming clear that there is far more at stake than Doc bargained for...
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A Note to My Readers:
Thank you so much for reading BONE DEEP. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. I wanted to make mention that although I spent a lot of time doing historical research while writing the story of Andrew and Pecos, their story is in no way intended to be a historical novel or even an accurate representation of the times. Many of the details are garnered from history, but those of you who are well-versed in the late 1860's may notice a few slight inaccuracies.
However since this is a work of fiction and not a historical novel, I allowed my characters to lead the way, changing what needed to be changed, preserving what could be preserved, and letting them tell their story in their own words.
Some of my characters, such as Charlie, Grandma, and the Grey Shaman, are Native American; however, you will notice I did not name any tribes or specific people. There are so many wonderful and unique Native American tribes I don't feel I could possibly represent one specific culture accurately. I wanted to include Native American characters, in fact, the story would not work without them, but I didn't want to unintentionally misrepresent a culture.
My Best Regards,
M. M. Crumley
M.M. Crumley grew up in the woods of Colorado. She spent most of her time outside weaving stories in her mind while she explored.
About her writing, she has this to say:
"My characters are real to me, and on the page they become three dimensional. They are not stagnant. They change; they screw up; they conquer their fears. Sometimes they're unlikable. Sometimes they're broken. Sometimes they're on top of it all. Sometimes trouble finds them, sometimes they go looking for it, and sometimes that trouble defies explanation."
She also writes psychological thrillers under the name M.M. Boulder.
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M. M. Crumley, Bone Deep
