An End to Summer Read online

  SPIRITLANDS

  BOOK 1:

  AN END TO SUMMER

  by

  Diana Rose Wilson

  TORRID BOOKS

  www.torridbooks.com

  Published by

  TORRID BOOKS

  www.torridbooks.com

  An Imprint of Whiskey Creek Press LLC

  Copyright © 2017 by DIANA ROSE WILSON

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  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 transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  ISBN: 978-1-68299-247-0

  Credits

  Cover Artist: Kelly Martin

  Editor: Mary Caelsto

  Printed in the United States of America

  Other Books by Author Available at Torrid Books:

  www.torridbooks.com

  Forbidden Secrets Series

  Book 1: Wicked Masquerade

  Book 2: Snow Mistress

  SpiritBeasts Series

  Book 1: Lies That Blind

  Dedication

  Dedicated to Heather and John. Thank you for your education, training, patience, and care. Your generous gift of knowledge and wisdom is something I can never repay!

  In memory of all those noble mounts from PF who have gone ahead to run the migration.

  Chapter 1

  The Summer of 2006

  Reduced to its finest elements, the Harris family motto was, ‘If you want something, take it.’ Alexander Harris-Wallace loved his Harris cousins more than his own brothers. While it was true that the Wallace line traced their heritage back to the foundation of Yountville through settlers from Scotland, he was sick of telling people, “No, not that Wallace.”

  Fuck Mel Gibson.

  The Wallace family had always been the leaders of the community, and they dealt with claims against their status swift, fair and firm. Alexander’s father, Anthony, was first son of a first son going back to the settlement of the town. They were powerful leaders, arrogant of their lineage and wealth.

  Unfortunately, Alexander was not the first son. He wasn’t even the second. Alexander Harris-Wallace was third down the line and nearly forgotten. His two older brothers completely eclipsed him.

  Christopher, the eldest son, thought he was invincible and went about throwing himself into every danger he found. There wasn’t a single extreme sport that he refused. So far he’d proven to be unbreakable at the expense of all his comparably weak and overpriced equipment.

  Despite the strength in his body, his heart remained fragile. Sophia, the woman he’d planned to marry, had left him at the altar.

  For their best friend, Vivianne.

  Big brother was out of his mind with grief which had sent the whole family into a tailspin.

  Driving home from leaving Christopher at the airport, his parents dropped the bomb on him. “Alexander, honey, we need you to step up and take care of your younger siblings this summer.”

  His heart sank and heat rushed to his cheeks. “What? Why me? Why can’t Derek do it?”

  His mother turned slowly in her seat and fixed him with a long, curious look. “Your brother is going to be at riding competitions all summer. Your father and I will be taking turns driving him.”

  Of course. Derek was following on the heels of Uncle Tex on the Harris branch of the tree. It was Tex who had convinced Derek that cowboying was superior to the indoctrination of three-day eventing from his father and his sister, Aunt Marrion. Leave it to Derek to chase his crazy rodeo fantasy. He would be competing in the California circuit to ride bulls, rope calves and twirl his stupid lariat all over the state like an idiot.

  It wasn’t as though their barn was a competition showcase, either. Most of the time they rode bareback through the mountains and streams with only a rope for a halter and blanket as saddle. Mother and Father encouraged them to try every style of riding they wanted. Each of them should be as versatile in the saddle as their horses were. Still, the jealousy ate at him. His elder brothers got everything they desired.

  “It’s time that you step up to your responsibilities. You’re no longer a child,” his mother continued when he didn’t reply.

  Alexander’s jaw tightened around his anger. Although he was only fifteen years old, by family tradition he’d become a man the moment his talent manifested. The awakening of dormant supernatural and mystical ability was supposed to be a blessed moment. Reaching his majority required that he accept adult responsibilities that included caring for and protecting minority family members. Anyone without expressed abilities, regardless of age, was considered in that category.

  Reaching his majority should entitle him to a voice in tribe matters and a chair from which to speak during the gathering. There was usually a celebration that extended for days, but Alexander got nothing. No homemade taffy, no singing, no music with dancing.

  Christopher and Sophia had a wedding shower instead and following it was a steady flood of activities that required the involvement of everyone in the family. From cake tasting to ribbon cutting, every moment of every day was filled by events for Christopher or Derek.

  When he’d embraced his spirit-form months ago, his mother, father, grandmother and second-mother were too busy to spare a moment. Alexander becoming a man didn’t interest anyone.

  Others had received gifts and celebrations to honor the auspicious occasion but all Alexander had gotten was a clap on the shoulder. ’Good job, kiddo,’ his father had said.

  Good job.

  “I don’t want to,” he growled under his breath. He bit back the desire to demand why they didn’t care about his coming of age until now.

  His mother’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh?” she asked. He knew he shouldn’t press his luck when her green eyes went from emerald to agate, but he was too irritated to censor himself.

  “Yeah. I have to work in the restaurant. After that I need my me time.”

  “Me time?” His father chuckled quietly.

  “Alexander,” his mother said with quiet concern. “You’ve been working too much. You won’t be working at the restaurant this summer. This will give you all the me time you need and still look after your siblings.”

  Heat bled from his cheeks as the realization settled in his guts. His income was cut off! Without the job, he had no money to pay the tithe.

  “Will you pay me for looking after the brats?” His voice fractured as it caught in his panicked throat.

  “We are not paying you to watch the younger children. That is a duty you should accept with pleasure. They are your family, Alexander,” Mother said.

  “What have you been spending all the extra money on, son?” Father asked quietly.

  He couldn’t admit where the money was going.

  The tithe.

  It was payment to his Harris cousins for protecting him. For years, Alexander had willingly paid their price. He’d given them everything he’d earned, but the price had kept rising. It didn’t matter that he’d been pulling extra shifts to make the money to begin with.

  They assumed Alexander was rich.

  Last month he’d come up short and the four Harris br
others had cornered him and taken his flute. Princeton had broken the instrument as a demonstration of what would happen if he didn’t pay in full next time.

  Alexander crossed his arms over his chest and threw himself back into the leather seat with a huff that only earned him a narrow-eyed look from his father in the rear- view mirror.

  Alexander never received the bounty, including cars and money, both of his elder brothers had enjoyed when they’d reached their majority. He couldn’t even get attention. As far as he knew, he wouldn’t get anything.

  Instead of making up a lie about where his work money was going, he pressed the issue about his summer indenture-ship. “Grammy can look after—”

  It did the trick of drawing the topic off his finances.

  “Alexander, this isn’t a debate. You will look after your siblings this summer. Your me time can be spent with your brother and sisters and your cousins, however, you are responsible for your siblings. Am I making myself perfectly clear?” Barbara Harris-Wallace gave him the look that sent icy claws down his spine. She never needed to detail what would happen if he didn’t obey; he’d seen often enough the types of punishment doled out for his elder brothers. Mother had a creatively unsavory task for every crime.

  It didn’t make the news any more tolerable.

  Good job, kiddo.

  Assholes!

  “You are also going to take care of Christopher’s horse while he’s gone,” Mother said.

  “Remmy? Mom!” He couldn’t believe he heard her correctly. The concern he had about his cousins dissolved under the wave of terror clawing up his chest. “He bites!” And kicks. And he’d be pissed that Christopher had left him behind.

  “Does your brother have another horse I don’t know about?” Mother asked without even turning around. “You’ll be fine.”

  Because if Remmy crushes me into red goo, she has a replacement, Alexander thought gloomily as he curled onto his hip and glared out the window.

  He ran for his room when they got home, hoping to avoid everyone, unfortunately his youngest sister caught him.

  “Momma, Amy called,” Kelly called happily, chasing after him. “She said it’s important. Alexander. Alexander!” She fanned the note at him. He ignored her, slamming the door in her face.

  He fell into his bed and covered his head with a pillow. Amy Welton, his second mother, or god-mother, and mother’s best friend was a woman of high rank like his grandmother. The woman’s silence at the time of his coming of age spoke volumes. Perhaps his cousins were right. The reason no one celebrated his elevation to majority was because he wasn’t worthy to the tribe.

  His sister finally gave up shouting at him and stomped away from the door. Left in silence, he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. If he was very lucky, he might hide all summer and avoid Remmy and his retribution and just—

  “Alexander, honey, time for feeding.”

  He glared at the door, wishing with all his heart for his mother to leave. Go away! Let him be safe here. He did not want—

  “I know you’re in there, Alexander. Come out right now and talk with me.”

  At that moment, dealing with Remmy was preferable to facing his mother. He also knew that if he made her wait any longer it would just be worse.

  Gripping his hands together he stood and forced out a hard breath before moving to the door. He yanked it open and looked up at his mother, hoping that she didn’t feel the fear radiating off of him in waves. It was never good to show weakness. His cousins taught him that.

  “There you are. You weren’t practicing your flute?” Her soft question sounded more troubled than he expected. Like so many other things, he had been avoiding talking about the fate of his instrument. He didn’t want to lie about what happened, yet telling the truth wasn’t an option either.

  “I’m not playing anymore,” he said sharply.

  Her bright green eyes gleamed with concern. “Alexander. Love, is this about your new responsibilities? I know how much you love playing.”

  “Not anymore. I’m never playing that stupid thing ever again.”

  He knew the heat of the emotions behind his words were out of proportion to her question. His mother was so shocked that he easily slipped past her without being restrained.

  Her voice was calm and too quiet at his back. “You should get to it or you’ll be working in the dark. Derek is out loading up Calypso. He can give you some tips for the summer.” Her lack of emotion cooled his anger and thickened his throat with guilt.

  It would be better to not run into his brother at all. Derek’s playful nature had a way of making bad situations worse. Alexander wasn’t in the mood to deal with him or his mount right now. He needed his whole attention focused on handling Remmy. It wouldn’t do him any good to have his emotions in a frenzy.

  He heard Derek inside, laughing. “All right, real funny. Okay, enough jokes, get in the damn trailer, Cal.”

  Alexander peeked around the corner, not wanting to be seen just yet. The piebald horse was mostly white except for the black patch over one ear and eye that spread down his muzzle and jaw. The eye without the patch was ice blue with a bold outline of black as though the stallion wore heavy mascara.

  Derek was currently fussing over a big tear on his shirt. The missing piece hung from the horse’s quivering muzzle. One of his brother’s hands extended towards the exit and the awaiting trailer. Horse and rider were alike. Two pranksters. The horse flicked an ear in Alexander’s direction and very slowly tipped his head at him and nickered. He chewed at the cloth between his teeth a moment before finally spitting it out.

  “I’m going to cinch you extra tight, Cal,” Derek threatened.

  The horse wasn’t listening. Cal wandered towards Alexander, his mismatched eyes interested and long ears cocked forward.

  The markings made the stallion look as though a jaunty hat sat over one ear. Although he appeared and acted like a horse, he was far from a mere animal. As Alexander understood it, they were something else completely.

  Supernatural.

  Friendly, jovial emotion washed over him. It was a mental hug as the stallion shared images with him. The enjoyable wrestling match with Derek and as victor he had taken a scrap of his shirt.

  Derek stood where he was, watching. He wore cowboy boots, jeans and his Stetson. It was a complete deviation from Alexander’s breeches and paddock boots. Derek, like Uncle Tex, had fully embraced the western lifestyle.

  When Alexander pushed the thoughts and emotions away grumpily, the horse’s mental interest sharpened. Cal’s concern formed a wordless question. He wanted to know if Alexander was all right?

  “You better get into the trailer. Hey, Derek,” he called to his brother. “You know it’s cheating, right?”

  “Hello, little brother. What is cheating?”

  “Using Cal in the rodeo. It isn’t right.”

  “Since when did you get so righteous and rule lawyer’y? Do you think some of those people who have spent a million dollars on a horse and even more on training think they’re cheating?” Derek asked as he walked closer and leaned against Cal’s side. He crossed his arms lazily over his chest.

  “It’s not the same and you know it. He’s faster than other horses.”

  “Nah,” Derek smirked back at the dark look his mount gave him.

  “Smarter for sure.”

  “Now that’s a stretch,” Derek answered and gracefully dodged the horse’s lazy kick. “Listen, do I have an edge? Sure. Would you feel better if I just begged mom and dad to get me an expensive normal horse and paid someone to train him?” He sighed and rubbed Cal’s flattened ears. He continued regarding Alexander. “What’s wrong with you tonight?”

  He closed his eyes, wanting to argue and fight with his brother except he knew he needed to save his energy. “I have to take care of Remmy and the brats all summer while you’re screwing off. You’re all leaving me alone. It’s not fair!”

  He felt the waves of amusement from Calypso
an instant before Derek burst into laughter. These two were never going to be any help. Scowling, he stomped away from them, not even wishing his brother good luck at the event. Behind him Derek called, “You’ll be fine. Just show him who’s boss.”

  The stables were set up mostly for show. Oh sure, he and his younger siblings had equines of the non-mystical variety; however, the special horses, what Father and Mother called war-mounts, only used the stalls out of respect for appearances. There wasn’t a fence capable of holding them in if they wanted out. Once Remmy had showed up at school to join a fight Christopher found himself in. It took a month at Amy’s house with the formidable Aurora Borealis educating him to make sure it didn’t happen again.

  Alexander used the time getting the oats and grain to rally himself. If he ever got lucky enough to get a war-mount for himself he wouldn’t ever leave his mount without warning. It was just like Christopher though, jumping in with both feet without ever paying attention to anyone or anything else. Eldest brother rarely thought about how other people might suffer for something he did.

  Alexander added a little extra molasses to the mix and let out a breath. He fed his little gelding first and then carried the special bucket down to the stall where Remmy waited. The regal muzzle poked out first and then darted forward to the length of the powerful neck. The color of his coat was bright copper, like a penny struck by sunlight and his head was marked by a broad white blaze from eye to eye. Upon seeing Alexander, the ears perked a little more forward as an image of Christopher very clearly filled his mind and the single question, though not in words. The big stallion extended waves of raw emotion.

  Where?

  “Christopher’s gone to Scotland,” he said, glad his voice didn’t quaver. He tried to imagine pictures he’d seen of the place and to express the huge distance.

  The ears remained forward and again the image of Christopher and a more urgent enforcement.

  -Now!-

  Remmy expected Alexander to bring Christopher before his Highness to answer for the slight of making him wait.