Storm Season

By
N
ESSA
L. W
ARIN

N
OVELS

To Dream, Perchance to Live

Sauntering Vaguely Downward

Stamp of Fate

Storm Season

N
OVELLAS

The Stars Are Brightly Shining

Published by
D
REAMSPINNER
P
RESS

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

Published by

Dreamspinner Press

5032 Capital Circle SW
Ste 2, PMB# 279
Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886

USA

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

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

Storm Season

Copyright © 2013 by Nessa L. Warin

Cover Art by Catt Ford

Map by Ashley Weber, [email protected]

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Ste 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA.

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

ISBN: 978-1-62380-324-7

Digital ISBN: 978-1-62380-325-4

Printed in the United States of America

First Edition

February 2013

To Martha, without whom this story would not have been finished. Thank you for never giving up on it—even when I let it hang for months—for word-warring and brainstorming with me when I struggled to write, and for encouraging me through every step of the process.

To Nancy, who also refused to give up on seeing this story published. Thank you for the invaluable editing help and gentle encouragement whenever I needed it.

To Daphné, for all her support. Thank you for poking me when I need it and for always being there to cheer me up or cheer me on.

H
E
WAS
a man, not a child, but there was a wide-eyed innocence about him that made him seem little more than a boy at times. Jasper first saw him while riding TJ away from the usual trails, trying with one extra-long ride to make up for all the days and weeks he’d recently missed and to fortify both himself and the horse against the days and weeks he was sure to miss in the near future. Jasper had sensed the boy’s gaze before he’d seen it, but when he called out a greeting, the face in the trees vanished so quickly Jasper wondered if he had imagined the whole thing. Occasionally, he ran into some of the people who lived in and around Brightam’s Ford on the trails, but he’d never before seen someone lurking in the woods, watching. It struck him as odd, and it crossed his mind that it might be one of the forest spirits he’d heard lived in these woods, but he’d almost forgotten about it by the time he’d returned TJ to the stables.

The incident would have completely faded from his mind if not for the stormy night two days later when he saw the boy again, this time huddled against the outside of the barn, using the building to keep the worst of the wind and rain off his barely clothed body. This time, when Jasper called out a greeting, the boy didn’t disappear, though he did scoot backward, his eyes wide with fear as Jasper approached.

“Are you all right?”

The boy didn’t answer, but when he moved, it was toward Jasper, his gaze fixated on Jasper’s mouth and filled with wonder instead of fear. He touched Jasper’s lips with gentle fingers and cocked his head to the side as if he were asking a question, though he didn’t say anything.

“What’s wrong?”

The boy gasped and jerked his fingers back as though he’d been bitten.

Jasper caught the hand, wanting to look for injury, but as soon as he touched the boy’s skin, his fingers began to tingle and his mind was filled with a sound that soon resolved into a soft voice.

How did you do that? It’s like the noise came out of your mouth and it sounded different and I felt it, but how is it possible? Why aren’t you answering me? Can’t you hear me? Do you not know—?

Jasper jerked his hand back, releasing the boy, and cursed when both the tingling feeling and the noise stopped. “Hailstones.”

I
T
WAS
easier than Jasper had thought it would be to get the boy inside, and that was where Jasper discovered he wasn’t really a boy. He was tall and thin, with youthful features and an innocent look to his face, but he was definitely an adult. With a smile of thanks, he accepted the clean, dry clothes Jasper offered, and disappeared into the indicated bathroom without saying a word. He emerged a few minutes later dressed correctly, and he handed his own wet clothes to Jasper with another smile.

Jasper handed him a cup of tea, which the not-boy took with a nod as he sat at the table, making himself comfortable. They sipped their tea as the easiness faded and awkwardness crept in with each moment of silence. What was there to say when one person apparently didn’t even know what speaking was?

T
HE
clock read 2:00 a.m. and the house was silent. Jasper wasn’t sure what had woken him, a sound he could no longer remember, perhaps, or maybe just the sense of someone else in the room. He was no longer alone.

He couldn’t see anyone with his head on the pillow, so he sat up, and stood when sitting didn’t reveal anyone lurking in the shadows. He found the boy curled up on the rug at the foot of the bed. At some point before he’d come into Jasper’s room, the boy had discarded the shirt he’d been wearing, leaving only the loose cotton pants Jasper had given him to sleep in.

A flash of lightning briefly illuminated the room. Another storm, mere hours after the first one had ended. The wet season, as predicted, had come early. The animals were secure, and the house was safe enough from flooding, but it changed Jasper’s plans regarding the boy. It wasn’t safe to travel in the wet. Too many things could go wrong.

Thunder crashed and the boy awoke with a start, gasping and scrambling away from the noise. He sat in the corner by the closet, pulled his knees to his chest, and stared at the outside wall and curtain-covered window with wide eyes. Lightning flashed again, followed almost immediately by another crash of thunder and then the rough pattering of rain on the roof.

The boy whimpered and started rocking back and forth, his eyes never leaving the window.

Jasper approached him slowly, the way he did TJ when the horse was injured, and knelt in front of him. “We’re safe here. This house was built to withstand the storms.” He put a hand on the boy’s arm, bracing himself for the mental assault that never came. His skin tingled and he thought if he concentrated he might be able to hear something, but there were no words streaming into his mind this time, just a feeling of absolute and overwhelming terror.

He pulled the boy to his feet and led him through the closet to the room hidden behind it.

The room wasn’t fully stocked yet as Jasper hadn’t anticipated needing to use it so early in the year, but there were some essentials left from the last wet season, and it would be enough to get them through the night. This wasn’t a dangerous storm and if he needed something that wasn’t in the room, he could leave and get it without any danger. Only the boy’s fear had made him think of the room.

The boy didn’t stop trembling until the door was latched shut, drowning out the sounds of the storm. In the worst of the season, they would be able to hear the storm even in here, but this was just a little storm, a warning that would be gone in a few hours. It would be weeks yet before the almost constant storms would begin and the booms of thunder would penetrate the thick walls of the safe room.

Jasper pulled two bottles of water out of the ice box and handed one to the boy. He would have to buy more supplies this year if there were going to be two of them huddled in here, especially if the boy’s fear sent them away from the windows every time the sky darkened. Jasper typically used this room only during the worst of the storms, when there was true danger. He hated it, hated being enclosed in the confined space, but it was a small price to pay for the luxury of having windows in the dry seasons. Every wet season, he thought about moving to someplace without any windows, where he wouldn’t have to hide, and every dry season, when he looked out the windows at the blooming fields or at the crisp, white snow covering the ground, he would wonder why he ever had such a foolish thought. One month spent mostly in this room was a small price to pay for the ability to look out the window at unending beauty the other eleven.

The boy downed the water in one go and handed the empty bottle back to Jasper. He was calmer now, though he kept his distance from the door as he started exploring the room. He touched everything, brushing his long fingers over every surface and pausing occasionally to examine something more closely. Once, he nodded, a satisfied smile on his face.

The last thing he inspected was the door, and on this, he looked at every minute detail, pushed against the heavy wood, tightened the locks, and peered closely at the hinges. Ten minutes passed before he abruptly turned away and climbed into the bed, apparently satisfied. He curled up on his side, his back to the door, and stared at the wall.

“You’ve been caught in a storm before.” Jasper didn’t need to see the nod to know it was true. It was the only thing that explained the boy’s fear of the relatively mild storm they were being treated to at the moment.