Smoke & Longing (Caprice Chronicles Book 2)

  Smoke & Longing

  Book Two of the Caprice Chronicles

  Selena Page

  Smoke & Longing

  Copyright © 2016, Selena Page

  Copyright © 2016, Selena Page

  First electronic publication: June 2016

  Selena Page

  www.selenapage.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author’s permission

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Caprice Chronicles

  Smoke & Longing

  Roads & Royalty – Coming August 2016

  Find Selena Page online at www.selenapage.com or e-mail her at selena@selenapage.com

  Join the Family and stay up to date with the latest news from the Caprice Family! Visit http://eepurl.com/b6LeNH for new release dates, sneak previews, and more!

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  SMOKE & LONGING

  by Selena Page

  ONE

  Andrew stared into the darkness.

  This was not the thin, subtle dark he felt when he woke at night. This was the deep, pressing dark of the subterranean. The kind that he could only feel when he was deep within the earth. So deep the ground was not wet or damp, it was simply stone. Stone older than his entire family line. Stone that had been forged in the depths of the world before people were even a dream.

  He sat with his legs crossed, loosely bent forward at the waist. Lean and muscled arms hanging down, the tips of his fingers resting on the cold, smooth stone. His broad shoulders were slightly cramped; he had been hunched this way too long.

  Andrew breathed the cool air and flexed his shoulders, driving his chest forward and arching his back. Wavy, dark brown hair slid off his forehead. He tried to breathe in the mountain, draw it into his lungs. He had done this once, in a dream when he was a boy. Or was it really him in that dream?

  Impossible power had flowed through the mountain, the deepest, strongest connection in his life. For a few brief, shining moments he was close to the one thing all life sprang from. A source that every person at one time was connected to. Then it was gone. Ripped away and taken from him.

  The still, dry air filled his lungs, and he held onto the breath…

  …and let it out in a rush.

  He slumped forward, and his fingers twitched as they brushed the floor. He thought he could feel it out there. Beyond the millions of tons of stone over his head, past the ache from the pressure in the air. Something else. Something old and perfectly solid called to him. There was something on the tip of his tongue, a name that if he grabbed it, he could call out, like a friend across the street. Names were both the most basic part of magic and the deepest understanding of it. Finding the name of something meant you knew it. His lips parted in anticipation.

  Andrew’s watch beeped and blinked, alerting him to the time and breaking his reverie. He moved his hand in the pitch black, the watch--only a small light source--was no good beyond showing the lettering on its face. His hand closed on the button, and the beeping stopped.

  Andrew slid his hand across his lap and then up his right leg, finding a light in his small hip holster. This was no normal flashlight.

  He carefully slid it out of the holster and gripped the metal tube firmly. Clearing his mind, he reached into the deep well that was his own personal source of power. Power was something he'd always had, something forever at his fingertips. Using it was the complicated part. His thumb absently skimmed the runes and scrollwork on the tube. A moment later the cave was filled with a dim blue light--a magelight.

  Andrew rose in a fluid motion, not needing to brace his freehand on the floor. He was athletic and carried an easy physicality.

  He slung a pack over his shoulder, pulled on the drinking tube hanging from it, and took a cool drink from the bladder inside. With another deep breath he reflected on the day’s meditation. The cave had become a comfortable place for him. Becoming accustomed to the dark had been the hardest part. His mouth opened slightly, and his breath creeped out in a slow, steady stream. He searched for the name that had been on the tip of his tongue, it’s earthy dark flavor just out of reach. Tried to taste it again, but it was gone.

  Andrew inhaled--normally this time--and began the long climb out of the mountain cave and to the surface.

  Andrew broke his mental connection to the magelight as he reached the exit. Late summer light dappled the rock-wall through the trees. Shading his eyes, he looked up at a few leaves already starting to turn. Adjusting his pack, he made his way into the forest. He paused and regarded the cave a final time. There it was again. The pull, the name escaping him, a partial memory that was too broken to really understand. He shook his head and walked down the path.

  Something else wandered at the edge of his awareness. Something not seen but almost felt, like the moon before it rises. A soft presence permeated the woods.

  Andrew slowed his pace and stopped. It came from the earth. Not as deep as the power of the mountain but still there. A slow, menacing grind that should not exist. He thought about reaching for his sight into the supernatural world, to watch the energies flow from rock to tree to flower. It was one of the abilities that had not been affected by his family's curse. He dismissed the thought; it had been too long and cut too close to old wounds.

  He tilted his head to one side as he scanned the trees. The woods of Saratoga Springs in upstate New York were Andrew’s second home. He kept a red rucksack ready to go and suitable for the season: tent, sleeping bag, sleeping pad, camp stove, and other gear he might need. He was no stranger to feeling like something was watching him in the woods. Plenty of things watched without anyone ever realizing it. Nothing that felt like this though. It was soft and oily, with a grinding sensation that hovered at the periphery of his mind and then sank into the ground.

  Andrew’s family's magic might be broken, but he could still sense magic and its energies, feel their ebb and flow when someone was using them. This felt like a whisper of a spell or charm.

  As he made a slow spin in the hiking path, the feeling faded. He heaved a sigh and continued toward his car.

  He dug his keys out of his pocket as he rounded the corner to the parking lot at the base of the mountain. He thumbed the key fob and tossed his pack into the trunk before flopping into the driver seat. Grabbing a water bottle and taking a long, slow drink, he reflected on the day. He loved the exertion of cave diving. The sudden, omnipresent pressure of the mountain and earth around him and the beating sun when he came out.

  Feeling refreshed he turned the key and drove toward the city.

  Saratoga Springs. An American gem. At least that’s what Andrew’s father had said. It was remote yet cosmopolitan, surrounded by nature but with every modern accoutrement one could want. Saratoga Springs enjoyed good schools and a highly educ
ated population that often stayed after graduating college. The tourist business was affordable but full of well-behaved and well-mannered people. In short, it was perfect. Especially to Andrew’s father and to him.

  Andrew loved Saratoga Springs as much as his father, if not more. He gave a substantial amount of his monthly stipend from his trust to the local school district. He’d always believed in giving as much as he could, and he had more than enough money live on his own and go on his trips into the woods. He didn’t need much more than that.

  TWO

  Kara Powers regarded the sweaty, balding man in front of her. She leaned on the counter between them, propping herself up on one arm bent at the elbow.

  "Come on Dale," Kara said, humor leaking into her smile. "Something in the woods got-’em?"

  "I’m telling ya Kara, that black thing got-‘em!" The man smacked the countertop. A cup of pennies jumped with the impact, and Kara scrambled to grab them before they tumbled to the floor.

  Kara was accustomed to strange stories from the locals of Saratoga Springs. She had been reporting for the Saratoga Star for three months. Ghost stories and boogeymen permeated the local legends, and more often than not they became the reason something bad had happened. Kara’s last job in New York had folded like so many other journalism positions over the last ten years. She had worked a city-beat out of college and loved every minute of it. She loved talking to people and hearing their opinions and giving voice to their feelings. Unfortunately, the city-beat had gone from seven reporters to five, to finally three. Kara had been unlucky number four.

  She had spent two weeks feeling sorry for herself. She could afford to, the severance package had not been terrible. Finally, on a rainy Monday morning, her inbox dinged with a letter of interest from the Saratoga Star editor. Kara was wholly aware of how difficult it was to get a job in journalism, and not liking the idea of any further unemployment, she emailed him. Within a month she was the bright new face of the Saratoga Star city-beat.

  "Geez, Walt! Don’t wreck the place!" Kara said as she smoothly gathered up the few pennies that had escaped. She dropped them into her hand one by one and replaced them into the cup.

  "Joey ain’t been the same. He’s all…sad and doesn’t smile anymore. It's like he’s only half there." Walt scratched the back of his hand and then rubbed his palm. His brow furrowed in concern.

  Kara sighed. "All right," she said reluctantly. "Tell me what happened."

  "Joey likes to climb, so he goes out to Colbert’s Bluff pretty often. He goes for hikes, enjoys the view, and walks back down. It’s a great day as far as he’s concerned."

  "OK…." Kara said, gesturing for him to continue.

  "So last weekend he goes out with his dog Hunter, like always, and this time he doesn’t come back. I find Hunter on my porch Sunday morning, leash covered in bristles and brambles and soaked through. I take him home thinking he got out on Joey. I get there and find the truck is gone. I let the dog into the yard, close the gate, and go home. I'm thinking I ought to make sure Joey’s home and get Hunter into the house. I come back and still no truck. Hunter is still in the yard. I put him in my car and we go to the bluff looking for Joey."

  "And?" Kara prompted.

  "That’s it. He’s just gone. Doesn’t come back for three days. I finally drive by his house and see his car in the drive. I run home and grab Hunter and bring him over. He answers the door, and he’s just a shell. All pale and ghostly. Like he’s been hollowed out."

  "Uh-huh," Kara grunted, eyeing her wrapped sandwich. Her stomach rumbled.

  "Listen, I know it sounds like crap but just talk to him. Then talk to Johanne," Walt said, turning to wiping off the countertop.

  "Why would I talk to Johanne?"

  Even as the words left her lips, her mind was already making connections. Johanne was Terry’s wife, a man who had died six months earlier. He had fallen off a trail up the mountains, dying almost immediately. His death was a little odd, since he was only wearing sneakers and jeans and didn’t have a hiking pack or water source. Although strange, not totally out of the ordinary. Many of the residents in Saratoga Springs were experienced outdoorsmen and hikers. To Terry, it might have seemed like a stroll in the park as opposed to a full hiking trip. Still….

  Kara snatched her sandwich off the counter, making up her mind.

  "All right. I’ll go check up on him at the very least," Kara said, turning and heading for the door.

  "And you’ll talk to Johanne?"

  "Yep!" Kara exited the store.

  Checking up on Joey wasn’t a half bad idea. If anything about Joey’s strange disappearance could be linked to Terry’s death, then there was a story in it. That was enough for her.

  Andrew stepped out of the shower and reached for the towel on the hook next to the stall. Calling it a stall was a bit of an understatement. The bathroom was floor to ceiling marble. The stall stood a full ten-by-ten feet and then another eight feet tall. Water poured out of three showerheads from different directions. It was without a doubt the most amazing and delicious shower, even rivaling that of the Caprice family manor.

  Andrew stepped onto the mat and toweled himself off. He fixed his hair and wrapped the towel around his waist, padding out of the bathroom and into his bedroom. The hardwood floor was warm from floorboard heating, a wonderful contrast to the cold marble. He smiled absently, enjoying the disparity between the two.

  Andrew pulled on a soft black t-shirt and grabbed a pair of jeans and underwear. He put on a pair of warm slippers and made his way downstairs to the kitchen. As he walked he linked his iPhone to the home's stereo system. Once he heard the affirming beep he thumbed his way through his music and pressed Play on Chopin.

  As the music washed over him, he let his mind wander. He thought about the cave. The quiet and impossibly large presence of the mountain. People were able to feel a lot more than they realized. Being able to grasp the size of the mountain from that depth was an impressive feat all its own. Being able to reach past that though…that was something else. If he could reach that point where things started to change, that was real magic.

  His mind wandered to the dark presence he had encountered while exiting the mountain. He had felt nothing like it. A dark, subtle grinding that radiated up his feet and through his legs. Like a car crash happening in slow motion or boiling water trickling over a pot.

  Andrew grabbed cereal and milk and made himself a bowl. He turned off the music with a flick of his thumb and then turned on the news. H watched absently, but couldn’t stay focused. His phone rang, but he let it go voicemail. That grinding kept bugging him. He finished his cereal and let his thoughts drift to the woods and the feeling of mountains moving under his feet.

  THREE

  Kara’s third stop was to the ranger station. Having grown up in Brooklyn, she knew next to nothing about the woods. She showed up in flats, a pencil skirt, and sensible top. She was as out of place as a tiger in the Arctic.

  Meeting up and interviewing Joey had been a bust. The man stared at her tiredly, as though staying focused on the conversation was a chore. Joey would lose track of the conversation, repeat himself, and stop in the middle of a sentence to stare out the window. Hunter, his sweet black lab, added the most to the conversation with ample nuzzles and dog kisses for Kara.

  Her palms thoroughly licked and her patience properly tested, she'd moved on to Johanne. Johanne had been only slightly more helpful than Joey. She either did not want to remember or could not recall much about her husband’s hikes. The only thing she remembered was that he had left a note and gone off hiking around Black Face Mountain. Kara’s last hope was the ranger station.

  Kara smiled as she walked up to the desk sergeant.

  "Hi, I’m Kara Powers." She smiled easily and smoothly, shaking the middle-aged ranger's hand. A dreamy smile crept across his face. Kara was familiar with his type. Not a bad guy, not the lecherous scum she was used to by any means. However, he was easily charmed by a pretty fa
ce and a bright smile.

  "I’m Ranger Jones," he said, smile plastered on his face.

  "I work for the Saratoga Star and I’m doing a piece on local legends," Kara said, leaning in.

  "Oh, anything in particular you're looking for?"

  "I heard about disappearances in the woods going back a hundred years." Kara pulled out her pencil and poised it over her notepad.

  "Oh, you’d want to talk to Andy Caprice. That fella knows everything about the area," Ranger Jones said, drumming his fingers on the desk.

  Kara knew "Andy" Caprice. Andrew Caprice and the Caprice family was the Family of Saratoga Springs. Their ancestors had invested in the town and built the hotel that served a large portion of the tourist business in a silent-but-wealthy partnership with Gideon Putnam and others. They also built the Cambrian Library, and Andrew himself was known for charity work to support schools and youth programs.

  To Kara, Andrew Caprice was the mystery of the Caprice family. He was not a recluse by any means, he simply faded into the background of the rest of the family. His sister Carmina, the bounty hunter, was a constant local headline. It did not help that Andrew was one of many Caprice offspring. The few times he had been photographed in public, she could not deny how attractive he was. Young, handsome, and athletically built, but it was his gaze that stuck with her. He always seemed to be looking at something no one else could see.

  "Oh," Kara said, quirking her mouth to the side in a plaintive expression. It was a last ditch tactic she used at the end of a friendly interview. Show some vulnerability mixed with cuteness, and she might get one last piece of information.

  It worked.

  "You can find him at the Cambrian Library. He’s there most days after lunch," Jones said, chuckling.