Violet - Commercial Fantasy - by Barry Berenberg

Chapter 1 and first scene of Chapter 2. Introduces protagonist and setting, drops clues about antagonist, begins worldbuilding, first part of inciting incident..

CHAPTER 1

Noah fell asleep halfway through How the Jackalope Tricked El Chupacabra. Had I known it was more survival guide than picture book, I would have kept reading on my own.

Instead, I pulled the blanket up to Noah’s chin and kissed him on the forehead, inhaling his fresh toddler scent. He clutched his new stuffed animals, jackalope on the right, chupacabra on the left. I think he picked the book from the museum gift shop knowing I would get him the matching animals. Something to replace his beloved zebra that had gone missing the month before. Or beezra, as he adorably called it. Not even five and he knew better than me when I couldn’t say no.

I knocked on Amy’s door as I passed by.

“Phone off by nine, lights off by ten.”

“I know, Mom.”

I put my hand on the knob, paused, then removed it. Part of our deal.

“Good night, love you.”

“Love you too.”

I missed the goodnight hug and kiss, but now that she was in high school I was giving her more freedom to set her own rules and boundaries. At least I got some time with her after dinners and on the weekends.

Snuggled in my own bed, I opened my case file for the next day. A picture of Jack Dixon, my client’s stalker, stared back at me. Noah’s face should have been the last one I saw before bed, but I knew if I didn't review the file, I'd spend half the night wondering what details I had missed.

Little good it did me.

I should have finished Noah's book.

I should have reread all of his books.

#

My phone vibrated in Amy’s pattern as I pulled into the last rooftop spot. I didn’t have time to deal with the latest teen drama. She knew to text me if it was an emergency.

I stepped out of my minivan. Live music drifted over from the Santa Fe Plaza. I answered the call just before it went to voice mail.

“Amy, you know I’ve got a hearing, and you should be in class.”

“It’s my lunch period, Mom.”

“But we agreed, no more calls—”

“When you stop for your tea, will you get me that book about Los Alamos I wanted?”

I had to smile. She still had enough interest in my life to know my routines. I remembered my teen years well enough to know it wouldn’t last much longer.

“I’ll look for it, but no promises. I’m already running late because of traffic.”

“You won’t miss my game?”

“No. This judge runs a tight schedule. But your dad will pick you up after he gets Noah from daycare, then—”

“Thanks, bye!”

“Love you.” She had already hung up.

It had become a game for Amy. Could she end the call without sounding like she cut me off. At least she still said it at night.

I pocketed my phone and squinted at the cobalt blue sky, typical of late New Mexico summers. A few monsoon clouds were building over the Sangre de Cristo Mountains to the east, but nothing that threatened the Plaza area. I left the windows cracked, grabbed my case file from the back, and locked up.

The stairs dropped me off near the courtyard entrance to the Collected Works bookstore. I waved to the barista and tapped my watch. I had time for tea or books, but not both, and Amy came first.

I found the book she wanted on the new releases table. My case file fell to the floor. Amy had told me the title, but not the authors. Strange Particles, by Drs. Javier Sanchez and Saul Cohen. I grabbed the top copy off the stack. Checked the index. Skimmed the first couple of chapters. No sign of my name. Good. My threat of a lawsuit had worked.

But still. I’d spent the last twenty-five years trying to forget those men and their experiments. No way was that book coming anywhere near my house. I dropped it onto the table.

I turned at the light touch of a hand on my shoulder. A young woman with black hair below her shoulders and wearing a black summer dress stood next to me.

“Here, let me help you.” She lined the book up with the others, straightening the pile.

“I— I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make a mess.”

“It’s okay.” She knelt, picked up my file, and handed it to me. “I had a similar reaction the first time I saw it.”

“You— You know them?” I did not ordinarily trip over my words.

“I am familiar with their work. Especially their early days.”

Did she just wink at me?

“Perhaps I can help you find something else?”

“My daughter asked for it. Amy. But I can’t . . .”

“How old?”

“Fourteen.”

“A difficult age. And a good one.” She leaned over the table, turning her back to me. Black feathers intertwined with her narrow braids. “How about this one?”

I blinked and took the book from her. Ghost Stories of Northern New Mexico. The cover showed a pale woman with long black hair and a flowing white dress, standing in water up to her knees and crying. “Creepy, but I think she’ll like it.”

“I suggest the cover story, before you head for home. Preferably while you wait for your hearing to start.”

“How did you know—?” The woman had already turned away from me. I stared at the black fishnet stockings covering her calves, now at my eye level. Her black heels clicked on the floor as she walked away.

I turned again at another touch on my shoulder.

“Ma’am? Are you okay?”

One of the clerks knelt next to me, a look of concern on her face. I sat on the floor next to the new releases table, my legs splayed out, my file scattered about me. I began sweeping it up.

“I—I’m okay. Sorry for the mess. I’ve been getting these dizzy spells— Just in Santa Fe— Maybe the altitude?” Except it wasn’t much higher than my home in Albuquerque. And why was I rambling about my health to a stranger?

“Do you need help? Can I get you anything?”

“Really, it’s okay. I have a doctor’s appointment next week. I’m supposed to keep hydrated.” My hands encountered the book of ghost stories as I cleaned up my papers. Had the woman’s words been a threat? A warning? I handed the book to the clerk. “Just this?”

“Of course.” She helped me to my feet. “I’ll have it at the counter when you’re ready.”

I went into the bathroom to straighten up. My hair didn’t need any attention—I’d worn it short since before high school so I wouldn’t have to mess with it. I brushed some dirt off my pant suit, trying to get back into my courtroom mindset.

The clerk had the book waiting for me at the counter, along with a hot to-go cup.

“Earl Gray. On the house. Luis said it’s your usual?”

“Yes. Tell him thank you. And I’d like to pay for it.”

“Sorry.” She handed back my credit card. “I already rang up the book.”

I put the book in my file and pulled out a ten. “At least give him this tip?”

“Of course.”

I paused at the door, turned back to the clerk, then turned again and walked out. The woman in black could have been real. So long as I didn’t ask, didn’t have someone tell me I’d been alone at the table. I sipped my tea and pushed her out of my mind.

#

The Santa Fe River managed to make itself heard over the traffic as I hurried across the bridge. Usually dry near the end of summer, the late monsoon rains had kept it flowing.

A man with scraggly, reddish-brown hair and a coat in matching colors, too heavy for the weather, walked along the riverbank below me. A coyote paced him on either side.

I reached for my phone to snap a picture. “Hey!”

He looked up, surprise written on his face. Another wave of dizziness hit. I fumbled my phone, almost losing it over the railing. When I looked back down, I saw only three coyotes, quickly lost to sight under the bridge.

Maybe I needed to move up that doctor’s appointment. But at the moment, I needed to concentrate on my arguments, not worry about my health. Plus, the bookstore had put me behind schedule, and I still had to get through security. Judges were exempt from the checks, but we’re the ones who got sanctioned for being late.

CHAPTER 2

 

I awoke to nearly complete darkness, rough carpet pressing against my cheek. As my eyes adjusted, the outlines of the minivan seats came into focus. How . . . ? I remembered the bridge, and the coyotes, and . . . nothing. What happened to my hearing? Had I blacked out from another dizzy spell? Amy would have been furious I’d missed her game. Ryan would have pretended he wasn’t. But by now they’d be sick with worry. I had to call them.

When I sat up, long hair spilled about my face. I pulled on it. Real? A whimper escaped my lips.

My heart racing, I scrabbled for my phone, finally finding under the seat. Dead. Same with my watch.

How long had I been out?

I climbed onto the back seat to get a look out the windows, trying to find a comfortable position despite the ache in my hips and the pressure from my bladder. A crescent moon glinted off the windshields of other cars parked in neat arrays around me. Beyond the roof parapets, the moonlight revealed the outlines of nearby buildings. The whole city had gone dark. Not even a candle.

A thump against the van scared a yelp out of me. Darkness or the door hid the source of the noise. I reached for the locks, my hips and bladder protesting when I leaned forward, but I couldn’t remember if I needed to push the toggles forward or back.

Another thump sounded on the roof, followed by dragging and scraping, like fingernails on a chalkboard.

I dove for the front seat, twisting my knee against the center console. I turned the key back and forth. Nothing. Not even a click. None of the lights worked.

My labored breathing and rapid heartbeat filled the minivan. I squeezed the wheel until my fingers hurt. Remembering a long-ago yoga class, I took a deep breath while I counted to four, held it for seven, let it out for eight. Repeat.

My breathing slowed. The tightness in my chest eased.

I nearly screamed at a knock on my window. I scrambled toward the other seat, but my seatbelt held me in. Stupid habit.

“Fancy meeting you here, counselor,” said a nasally voice.

Whoever it was jiggled the handle. I slammed my hand on the lock. Already down.

He put his face against the glass. “Be a good girl and let me in.”

I tried to make out his features in the dim moonlight. “Jack . . . Dixon? What are you doing here?”

“We have unfinished business.”

“Didn’t I get . . . restraining order . . .” I lowered my head to the steering wheel, pressing my fingers against my temples, trying to remember the hearing. My newly long hair fell over my hands. I looked back at Dixon, pulling my hair until it hurt. “What did you do to me?”

Dixon smiled. “You really don’t remember.” He jiggled the handle again, then held a sheet of paper against the window. I couldn’t read it in the dark. “Let me in and I’ll tell you all about it.”

A window broke nearby. Dixon looked toward the sound and pounded on my window. “Dammit, let me in!”

A three-foot tall, softly glowing, mostly naked creature landed on the windshield, cracking the glass.

I screamed.