The Green Man's Curse
By R. M. Brandon and TBD
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About this ebook
Rein's summer of dreams will soon become a season of nightmares. What begins as a farewell trip for a group of eight lifelong suburban friends becomes far more permanent than they had planned. When a four-wheeler accident in an ancient forest awakens a centuries-old curse, new friends are made and old friends die. Wrapped in a world unlike a
R. M. Brandon
Born the third of five children in an artistically inclined family, writing came naturally to R. M. Brandon from an early age. Previously hidden from the world, her talent for dark fantasy is showcased with her debut novel, Witan Vid. She graduated from Kaskaskia College with a degree in the medical field and currently resides in Illinois with her family. An avid nature lover, self-proclaimed adrenaline junkie, and a dedicated human rights advocate, she spends her free time exploring every aspect of life aspiring to experience everything the world has to offer.
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The Green Man's Curse - R. M. Brandon
Contents
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
About the Author
The Green Man’s Curse
Book One of Witan Vid
by
R. M. Brandon
All rights reserved
Copyright © August 1, 2012, R. M. Brandon
Cover Art Copyright © 2012, Susan Osborne
Gypsy Shadow Publishing, LLC.
Lockhart, TX
www.gypsyshadow.com
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.
No part of this book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing and email, without prior written permission from Gypsy Shadow Publishing, LLC.
ISBN: 978-1-61950-557-5
Published in the United States of America
First eBook Edition: August 20, 2012
Dedication
For all who believe in the infinite potential of the human soul.
Chapter One
The Great Getaway
The past is never truly buried. It grows silently in the trees around us. The legacies of humanity live eternally in the ground, trapped in solemn remembrance of the times man has chosen to forget. Potential is limited solely by human perception.
Cotton clouds spread across a cobalt sky. The searing sun climbed to midday. On the asphalt of a suburban Chicago drive, eight friends prepared for the journey of a lifetime. Anything is possible!
Rein proclaimed. A gentle breeze lifted her white-blonde hair, exposing her deeply sun-kissed shoulders as she scanned the area. Seven of her lifelong friends bustled from one side to the other. All morning, they’d been stuffing every crevice of two oversized trucks with adventure gear. A plain white tank top clung to the firm lines of Rein’s lean, athletic body. She turned from the doorway of her home toward the chaos. The bounce of her step, like a hummingbird on a honeysuckle vine, slowed with her approach.
Her full pink lips parted into a diamond smile, showcasing her opaline teeth. Senior Summer, baby!
she said.
Michael crossed the driveway near her, his arms loaded with luggage. From behind the mound of bags, he glanced up when he heard Rein’s statement, flashing a dimpled smile at her, Helllzzz yeah! Last load for this truck is right here.
The heavy load in his arms almost tumbled to the ground when his tennis shoe became snagged in the hot pink handle of a forgotten bag. Cursing, he tossed the load from his arms onto the open tailgate of the truck. Come on, already! How much junk do you people need? This is supposed to be a survival trip!
He flung his body through the mound of bags into the cargo bed of the truck. His voice became muffled from the interior of the shelled bed as his legs dangled out the edge of the tailgate. Michael’s feet swayed from side to side from the motion of tossing the bags around. What the—! All of these bags are pink, except for like four. Christi, did you leave anything in your closet? I’m not putting one more bag of girl stuff in this truck. If it’s not in here already, it’s not going!
Christi half-stomped over to the hot pink city bag lying abandoned on the ground. Thick platinum blonde curls bounced atop her head. With a privileged snort she erupted, You have to get this bag in! I’m not spending the summer without my hair stuff.
She shot ice daggers at the back of her boyfriend’s head.
Michael wriggled his body out of the truck and headed toward the high-pitched whine of Christi’s voice. His strawberry-blonde hair dangled over his hazel, mischief-filled eyes. The movement of his broad shoulders and muscular butt threatened to break the seams of his clothing with each swagger. A snicker rolled out the upturned corners of his mouth. Hair stuff? You could fit a midget in that thing.
He clutched the bag’s handle, knees bent deep, his back arched and arms pulled taught in an exaggerated strain. Through clenched teeth he jeered, What do you have in here, a mobile salon? We’re headed to the woods, not Tahiti, princess.
His eyes glimmered back at her. While he grappled at the zipper with his thick fingers, he studied Christi’s flushed face.
Michael chuckled to Conley, watching from his place beside the tailgate. Hey, can you show me how to open this thing? I think Christi packed their butler! Poor old man is going to run out of oxygen.
Michael guffawed loudly while Conley stifled his laugh.
Christi’s eyes narrowed to slits. The sleek contour of her full, sour candy lips dissolved into a thin line, threatening to turn bone into stone. She jeered, It takes a lot to stay this beautiful! Besides, I might get lucky enough to find a new boyfriend this summer.
Conley had grown up with a twin sister. He knew women well enough to know when to stop. He slid over next to Michael and nudged him in the side.
Don’t get her riled up before we get on the road. You’ll be alone in the seat with her for a lot of miles. One of you might not make it out alive.
Conley grabbed the bag and left Michael to diffuse the bomb he had lit. Christi glared into her boyfriend’s hazel eyes; toe-to-toe. As smooth as a hickory wind, he whisked her off of her feet into his burly embrace. She squealed as her feet dangled above the pavement like a rag doll.
Her sulky lip dissolved into a glossy cover girl smile. Batting thick lashes above widened doe brown eyes, Christi purred, If you put me down, I might let you kiss me.
Michael kept her enfolded in his arms; only the tips of her shoes rested on the ground. What makes you think I want to?
A twinkle spread between the corners of his eyes. Beneath his thin coral mustache, a half smirk widened. With one strong arm securely around her slim waist, he trailed up the small of her back and delicately caressed the tips of her spiraled blonde locks.
You don’t need to go through all that to look beautiful. If perfect is what you’re trying for, stay just like you are. Babe, even when you’re sweaty and your hair is a mess, you could put the stars to shame.
He pulled her close.
A glimmer of light flashed behind the couple as Rent rode Christi’s Renegade onto a dove-tailed car trailer attached to the second truck.
Rent’s six-foot tall linebacker physique loomed above the obviously feminine four-wheeler. His lanky legs folded up to his chin made him look like a Gorilla on a mini scooter. He studied the distance between vehicles while guiding it in next to Michael’s Outlander. The Renegade’s custom hot pink paint glistened. Killing the engine, Rent unfolded himself.
Savannah followed Rent up the ramp. The marbled faux stone paint job of her Raptor complemented her curly auburn hair. Nimbly, she eased her toy into place.
Rent flashed a wide smile above an outstretched arm. He asked Savannah, Do you need me to lift you up?
She demurely interlaced her hand in his and replied, Well, thank you, doll.
The words purred off her tongue in the sweet southern acquired ascent. Their fingers touched and a friction shock passed from his hand to hers, causing her to jump. Her gaze darted away from Rent’s turquoise eyes. Scarlet hinted across her cheeks at his touch. Her cheeks dimpled with her smile. A nervous giggle escaped from her mouth when he continued to hold her hand after she had safely climbed from between the machines. Her grace wavered. You know I’m not into guys, right?
Rent stammered, Ugh, Yeah. I—Uhm—didn’t mean anything. Sorry.
With flushed cheeks, he glanced nervously over the trailer at his best friend Conley. The expression on his face screamed Hail Mary.
Conley raised a ginger eyebrow with a knowing look and asked, Do you need a hand loading up the rest of the wheels?
Rent glanced quickly from Savannah to Conley and replied, Nah, just mine left on this trailer. Dmitri and Aura are loading the other trailer. I think we’re okay. I can give you a hand hooking up the other trailer if you need it.
With an understanding smile, Conley joked, Sure. The love birds over there seem to have their hands full of each other at the moment. But, if you’re going to let Sav drive your 750 up that ramp, you might want to stand behind it so you can catch her when it pulls a wheelie.
A warm spurt of wind disheveled Conley’s chicory and almond hair, which he wore cut long like a young Marlon Brando. Dmitri accelerated up with a growl of the hand throttle positioning his four-wheeler on the trailer. Rein rose from the back of her parked 250 and moved to the side of the trailer.
Dmitri kicked his four-wheeler into what he thought was neutral. His hand slipped onto the throttle and the four-wheeler lunged backwards, slamming into the front of Rein’s. Rein jumped away from the side of the trailer and wobbled as she touched down. Dmitri shifted his wheeler into drive and lightly accelerated it back into place, the movement shifting the trailer dangerously close to Rein.
From the seat of her Brute Force nestled at the trailer’s tongue, Aura leapt with feline grace and took Rein’s arm. The slight touch moved Rein out of harm’s way. Aura whispered, Be careful there, Chick-a, we don’t want to have to make a last minute ER run.
With a grateful smile, Rein gibbered, Oh wow! That was close! I didn’t even look. I’m just so ready to go I can’t sit still. I feel like Tigger: all bouncy-pouncy! I guess I had better watch where I bounce.
A chuckle replaced Aura’s sly smile. She peeped, I agree, let’s get this gear loaded and motor. I’ll get this truck, you see if they need any help finishing up that one.
Anxiety overtook the excitement that brimmed inside Rein. The bounce of her step faltered. With a wistful look, she watched Conley stowing Christi’s bag in the covered bed of his truck. At the twitch of his muscles, her heart fluttered. She diverted her gaze, a heavy sigh slipping from her lips. Looking for a diversion, she settled her gaze on the White Oak tree standing in the center of the paved circle driveway, shading her mother’s memory stone.
At the top of the elegant rounded granite, a pair of delicately engraved angel’s wings formed a tip-to-tip heart above the hand carved words Witan Vid. Like a fine mist rising over the ocean at dawn, Rein’s face took on the far-off gaze of a daydreamer. A childhood home movie played in her mind:
The stone towered over her girlish shadow. She looked at her father with curiosity, questioning the meaning of the unusual words. When he spoke the strange phrase aloud, goose bumps crept across her flesh from her spine to the tips of her fingers and toes. On bended knee, his eyes filled with love.
His voice carried a magical melody. Locking eyes with her as if he shared a special secret, he had explained, Kings of Knowledge. From far back to the old country, your mother’s family believed the trees held all the wisdom of the world deep within their roots. Your ancestors planted a tree to mark the birth or death, or any other special event in the life of a loved one. The tree is legendary in protection of the loved one’s soul. When planted at one’s death, the tree carries the beloved’s memory through time. Your Grandpa planted this oak the day I carried your Mom across the threshold of this house as his blessing for our marriage. The day I got you, I lost your Mom. It was both the happiest and the saddest day of my life. I could think of no better place for this stone. I have faith her memory thrives through the love we still share. As the years pass, this tree will grow larger, stronger; to remind me she will always be part of our lives and this world.
Tears welled in the corners of his eyes. Wrapping Rein tightly in his immense arms, he sighed, You remind me so much of her. You have the same light in your eyes. I still miss her every day. But when the wind blows through leaves just right, I can hear her laughter dancing on the breeze.
After her father walked into the house, Rein pondered his words, gazing from the granite marker to the tree.
From that day forward, Rein looked at the tree when she longed for her mother. The strong limbs reached out for her, like a mother seeking to embrace a child. She would sit high up in its thick branches, pretending she was nestled in her mother’s lap. As she grew, her father hung a rope swing from the tree. Rein would pump her legs until the ground was a distant memory, let her hair dangle in the wind and stare through the leaves at the sky, pretending she was a bird in flight. The tree must have tripled in size since then. Rein’s shadow now loomed over the stone.
The dreamy-eyed look dissipated as her gaze drifted to the Celtic cross locket suspended from her slender neck. Gold and silver entwined on the trinket, which opened to a photo of her mother, poised beautifully on an impossibly green seashore. Her delicate face glowed. Everything Rein had learned of her mother recounted her grace, patience, warmth and love; deep down she longed to live up to her example. The beauty and kindness that flowed from the frozen expression of her mother comforted her.
A wistful sigh slipped from Rein’s lips. Fixed on the picture as if she spoke directly to her mother, she whispered, I wish you were here. Dad tries, but there are some things he just doesn’t get and some things I can’t even tell Aura. She’s my best friend, but she just wouldn’t understand. Not like you could.
Her musing was interrupted by the sound of a growling female voice. Those don’t go in the storage bin! Who put Brawn-without-Brains in charge of the luggage?
Rein looked up as Aura’s tiny frame dove through the guys to fish out the bundled itinerary papers. Tiny but lethal, she was like a stick of dynamite when she wielded her wrath—the guys knew to step out of range. Everyone had seen that look before. Aura’s porcelain cheeks were ablaze. With fluid movements, her ballet grace mixed with fierce intention threatened imminent physical harm.
Rein chuckled. We don’t need no stinking directions! We’re men, we have a built-in compass. Hey, you got the GPS, right?
The fire in Aura’s demeanor cooled, ousted by amusement. With a giggle she exclaimed, You know I did, girl! Heaven only knows where we would wind up, with them and their egos behind the wheels.
Aura stashed the thick bundle of papers in the cab of the truck.
Watching her, Rein marveled at Aura’s resemblance to Betty Boop: sassy… sexy.
When Aura turned from the cab, her steely eyes spoke before her lips parted. Aura shot her twin brother Conley an intimidating look. You should know better. Oh wait—that’s right, I got the brains—you got the bull.
Conley matched Aura’s gaze. A warm, glossy, nerveless smile spread from his lips to his eyes, You’d better watch that attitude. I’ll make you ride in the back with all of Christi’s makeup bags. One of them lands on you and you’ll be squished for sure.
Rein’s resolve faltered. Her mind reeled. Inhaling deeply, she caught the tempting musk of his aftershave. Her thoughts plummeted back to Prom night. Lights, sounds, smells, the feel… So real, yet only a memory. Aura, Rein and Conley had been the three musketeers before then.
They had been standing on the pier watching the fireworks over the lake. He wore a white tux with a black undershirt that emphasized his emerald green eyes. The highlights of his hair caught the motley colors that flashed in fireworks above. He leaned in close to her as a quartet of violinists played in the background and wrapped his thick arms around her. The spice of his cologne mingled with the sweet fragrance of his sweat. Their eyes locked, tension hung thick in the air.
He folded her against his chest, melting the lines of their forms into one. She ached for his lips to touch hers. Then, without hesitation, he released her. A hug. Simple, caring, mundane. Wounded, she resolved to keep things between them as they had always been. He was her friend; Aura’s brother; nothing more. After all, she thought, why change what works? If she told anyone her true feelings, she might lose him completely from her life.
The harder she tried to keep thinking of him as just a friend, the more awkward things had become. The memory of his