True North Read online



  True North

  Copyright 2015 S.M. Winter

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sneak Peek

  About S.M. Winter

  Other books by S.M. Winter

  Buy your own Elemental Key

  Connect with S.M. Winter

  Acknowledgements

  First, I want to thank my best friend and sister, Aimee. Without her support I would not have been able to finish this book as quickly as I did. She is also my editor and artisan behind the physical Elemental Keys.

  I would also like to thank my husband Andrew and my Beta Readers, who gave no holds-barred feedback, even if it did crush my hopes and dreams. I love you all, thank you for your frightening honesty. Especially my husband Andrew who read and reread every version I was working on. Also a big thanks to Kane and his wife Crystal who helped further edit the book in a short amount of time. You two are beautiful, stay classy.

  Lastly I would like to thank everyone who turned out in support when I started my Facebook page and helped me announce my impending book release. You all have been so amazing! I’m excited to see what you think of the finished product and look forward to the next.

  Hesitating, I watched as the cars sped past the road before me. I fantasized about stepping out in front of one of them. Turning away from the road I watched as people walked quickly by, each one a blur as they passed. First one foot, then the other slipped backward so that all that held me to the curb was the balls of my feet. My heart pounded in my chest, fluttering like a caged bird who knew its time was near. Shaking the bars as if it could change its fate. I scoffed at the bird. This was how it needed to end. All I needed was the nerve to take that last step.

  As I hung there, waiting to drum up that last bit of courage I watched as people passed, oblivious to my struggle. I closed my eyes and listened to the vehicles speed by behind me. The wind from the departures was blowing up the back of my shirt making it float in their false zephyrs. As I raised my arms and took a deep breath I started to lean backward. Then I caught myself. What was I doing? There were people who needed me. I couldn’t leave them like this. It was selfish. A smile broke out over my face as I realized something important: I didn’t want to die. Unfortunately, that was the exact moment my choice was taken from me.

  Before I could even open my eyes, I heard a jostling in front of me and I was pushed. My lack of balance left me without a hand or foot hold and I fell backward. The bird in my chest shook the bars so hard I could barely catch my breath to scream. As my eyes flew open I saw someone standing before me, smiling. Then they vanished in a literal puff of smoke before I hit the ground. My impromptu flight seemed to slow as I neared the ground. The world around me came to a crawl, then stopped altogether. When I hit the ground I expected everything to start again. I expected honks and severe pain from being hit by the car that was literally two inches from my head. But this was different. This wasn’t that moment before death where everything stands still and your life flashes before your eyes. Everything around me was frozen in time.

  I stood up quickly and moved out of the way, back to the safety of the sidewalk and looked around. People and vehicles alike were still as early morning lake water. It called to mind a movie scene that had been moving quickly, but someone hit the pause button. There were even movement lines, a slight blurring that implied they had been moving quickly. It was because this dead silence and lack of movement that I heard the quick footsteps leading away from the street.

  Following the noise, I left the frightening scene behind me and walked down the nearest alley, where the footsteps seemed to be echoing. As I left the street movement resumed and the noise came screaming back making it harder to follow the retreating footsteps.

  “Wait!” I called into the hazy darkness of the alley as I raced in pursuit, of what I had no clue. All I knew was that they must have answers.

  I ran to the end of the alley. However, instead of a person, I found a wall. Solid and brick, it stood there mocking me. I wanted to yell. I wanted to rage and release my frustration. My hands shook so I gripped them tight into fists, squeezed my eyes shut and breathed deep. The fetid stench of the alley greeted me and I instantly regretted my decision to breath. My eyes popped open as I choked on my tongue, and after a few hacking coughs to clear my lungs, began breathing through my teeth. Something clean and white lying on the ground amidst the grime of the alley caught my attention. As I bent down to pick it up, it began to burn from the edges. A small white business card with three little words printed on it:

  I’ve Been Waiting

  I watched as the card erupted into small flames and puffed into invisibility. I coughed again at the smoke it left behind, waving my hand in front of my face to clear my view of the area. Exactly in the spot the card had been was a single flower. A dandelion, growing from a newly formed crack in the asphalt.

  Confused but reluctantly charmed, I looked around and found the alley as empty as it had been when I’d entered it. Picking up a discarded soup can I bent and dug around the crack and gently dislodging the tiny weed, filled the can. It seemed wrong to just leave it in the darkness to die all alone.

  Taking my prize I walked to the mouth of the alley, contemplating what had just transpired in the last few minutes. All I knew for sure was that I must be having some sort of mental break and more importantly, that I wanted to live. Sighing, I held my tiny miserable flower close and stepped into the hustle and bustle of the New York City streets.

  As I entered the hospital, my hands clutched reflexively around the tiny plant. I swear I could almost feel the plant lean toward me in support. This time when I took a deep breath I was greeted with the burning smell and taste of antiseptic. Just as jarring, but less natural, than the stench from the alley. At least in the alley I knew I was smelling the decay that surrounded me. In a hospital the decay lurked under the uniform chemical scent. I’ve found that all hospitals smell nearly identical. The metallic scent of death and decay under the shine. I shivered as I entered the waiting room and allowed the heavy burden of what lay before me settle back onto my shoulders.

  The small escape I’d allowed myself dissolved, along with the theory that I could take control and make this waking nightmare end. So I gathered the small amount of courage I had left and walked to room 312. Before I could enter a rough hand grabbed my shoulder, whipping me around.

  “Where have you been?” Demanded the woman before me.

  She stood nearly a twelve inches shorter than my five foot six. I could see the small bald spot at the crown of her head, hair that she usually kept quaffed perfectly to hide the flaw, hung in lank resignation. It was a testament to her distraction and emotional state that she would go out in public imperfect. Dark circles drew her eyes inward making them look hollow and sunken. She still had makeup on, but it was smeared as if she’d rubbed her eyes too deeply. The expression that settled onto her face, upon confronting me, was that of bored derision. A look I’d seen from one of the earliest memories I had as a child.

  “Hello mother,” my voice devoid of emotion; I knew how she could turn vicious if she so much as scented weakness.

  “Don’t hello mother me,” she spat. “I asked you a question.”

  “I...” Looking around I searched for an excuse. Telling the truth was simply
not an option unless I wanted to be locked up for the rest of my life. I knew she would throw me to the wolves without a thought. I, after all, was not her favorite. Her favorite sat in room 312. My hands clenched involuntarily again around the can I held, reminding me that it still sat in my hands.

  “I went to get her flowers,” I replied lamely, my voice quiet and subdued.

  “That?” The woman who called herself my mother scoffed. “That is a weed, it goes in the garbage.”

  She ripped the tiny plant in its temporary home from my hands and tossed it unceremoniously into the nearest refuse bin. I shuddered with the plant as it connected with the bottom.

  “Go back out and get something that is worthy of your sister’s death,” she sniffed.

  “Is she...” My eyes welled at the thought of my sister passing on while I was out selfishly considering my own end.

  “No, stupid girl,” the