Excerpt From: Carol B. Allen. “One If”
“PARKER PRESSED HER NOSE to the frosty glass. Her eyes stared down the frisky hummingbird darting about her terrace, then drifted back to her laptop and the experiment she was scheduled to present at school in the morning. It was the magic hour, just before dusk. The lampposts glowed as Central Park readied to settle into the hush of a quiet snowy evening ahead.
Outside, the daring bird torpedoed toward her face, rammed into the glass, then dashed away. Over the past several weeks, the same bird had been performing drop-ins, incessantly rapping at her window and disrupting her studies after school. Of all the windows in all the buildings across the city, how had the hummingbird found hers over and over again? And in the dead of winter! What did it want from her anyway?
Today, she’d had enough. Her inquisitive nature won. She grinned at the bird, crinkled her nose, knit her brows, and sent the corners of her mouth into their quizzical pattern. Could she get the bird to come to her? Parker grabbed a jacket, opened the terrace door, and stepped outside. A light wind tousled her long, wavy brown hair and billowed the hem of her pleated skirt. Despite the cold, the fresh air felt good. So pretty tonight, she thought.
Tiptoeing through the icy snowflakes, she approached the bird slowly, opened her arms and motioned to the hummingbird to come toward her. The bird’s white-tipped tailfeathers fluttered away and its dainty twig-like feet, frail as matchsticks, grazed the top of the wrought-iron terrace balustrade. Parker edged closer. Her fingertips whitened as she clung to the metal. Her mind galloped forward, and her eyes swept downward along the rows of bay windows and their respective cornices, all eighteen stories of them, to the traffic plodding along Central Park West.
Parker lightened her hold and faced the hummingbird’s distinctive black triangular marking centered above its beak—right smack in the middle of its head. She leaned over the handrail, her tummy balancing on the slippery metal. The bird dangled before her in the air. She extended her hand to the bird.
Just as her heart skipped a beat, Parker lost her footing, stumbled, and toppled over the rail. She plunged downward. Consumed by panic, she grabbed for something, anything, but she plummeted headfirst, out of control toward the pavement, and the terrifying thought of hitting it…
Blackness devoured her. Pulled by an odd magnetic force, Parker was drawn into a dark, jelly-like tube. She fell faster, accelerating, bouncing along the curving path of gel, waves of nausea and dizziness surging inside her belly. The unending, sloshing movement slowed.
The impact she expected never came. She was alive.”
Excerpts From: Carol B. Allen. “If Then.”
“In a breathy voice she whispered, “How can I be their leader? I’m not one of them. They know it. And I know it.
“But…” she said with her eyes cast down, “you belong on this planet. You are familiar with the ways of these worlds. Everything here is foreign and strange to me. My real life is on Earth. In New York. The meeting with the Great Ones proved that to me. Even more than I was prepared for or could have imagined.”
She summoned her courage to open the door to talk about the two of them. She searched his expression and finally said, “We haven’t even spoken about what happened between us.” She avoided the sparkle in his eyes and continued. “I keep thinking about you, but I don’t know what to do with my feelings. I’ve never experienced anything like this before. I don’t even trust my head, how am I supposed to trust my heart?”
Parker, though seventeen, felt like a young girl. Immature and inexperienced, and completely unprepared for the conversation with Cole she wanted to have. She had never experienced real friendship before. Worse than that, she was unseen. Invisible to her classmates. Not until she developed a bond and relationship with Edison and Henley. Now, she was pushed into a role she was unequipped to fulfill, a leader, with all eyes on her. She was uncomfortable in her own skin, which didn’t even resemble hers anymore.
The attraction to Cole was uncharted territory. Was it circumstantial? Was she seeking safety and protection? Did he represent her life raft? Her emotions were taking over. “I don’t even know anything about you. Who are you? And why am I here? Why me? My heart is pulled to you, but my brain says stay away!” She searched his face for answers and found encouragement in the warmth of his twinkling blue eyes.
“Parker, this feeling between us, is just as new for me. Something came over me the very first time I saw you with Stefanos. I wanted to know everything about you—what goes on in your head and in your soul,” Cole said. “Now that you’re beside me, I don’t want to ever let go. I want you with me. I need to keep you safe.”
He cupped her face in his hands and took in her eyes. “Many have come and gone, Parker. They have returned to Earth after helping Stefanos. But none have been you. None have been treated as you have by Stefanos. And when the time is right,” he paused and added, “you, too, will return home. There will be another Sky King or Queen. It will be your choice how long you serve.” He leaned in to kiss her again. Their lips met and dwelled in the innocence of the kiss.”
Excerpt
“DARKNESS CLOAKED THE SPYRIDON Sea. Tonight, the blackness felt like an uninvited guest determined to stay until the party ended. In anticipation, the Empress waited, knowing there would be no escape from the brightening sky when the sun appeared at dawn.
She stood with Pantione. Her guardsmen beside them. Her ultrasensitive eyes already pulsing with the thought of the approaching daylight. She steeled her frayed nerves and reminded herself she need not worry about the earthling. Nor the outcome of this meeting.
Her brother had prepared ample protection. The troops numbered nearly one hundred. They lingered below the surface of the waters outside the Shallows. It was little more than a glorified sand bar stretching out from where Katamoor had once risen.
Each second dragged with exaggerated slowness.
The waves curled in the darkness and the tide attempted to sweep them closer to the sand bar. They were pulled by the whim of the water and manipulated forward in vast arching motions. The Underworld Shark Force flashed white fangs in the darkness of the swells. A school of Piranhas formed a perimeter of safety, each positioned twenty feet apart, covering the outer edges of the sunken peninsula. The nets, looped and layered, slung from their mouths, would trap any Upperworlders who attempted to approach them.
Light prickled the sea and met the edge of the horizon. It was almost time. Diadora and Pantione were ready to rise from the water in their head-to-toe coverings of seaweed meshed with small stones that offered them further protection. They exchanged anxious glances.
She tugged her brother’s arm. “Let them come to the waters. If they think I’m nearing the banks of Upperworld, they are mistaken. I’ll stay until night falls again before I come within fifty feet of their land.”
“Our troops have their instructions,” Pantione said. “None of us are approaching the shore. No one moves without my approval, which requires your approval.”
Diadora and Pantione broke through the water’s surface. The hostile waves whipped their bare faces and blasted them with sand. They had prepared for the dawn visit and decided to allow their faces to be revealed. They would not be intimidated nor hide behind masks or shields from the earthlings or any of the Upperworlders.
The wind swept Pantione’s thick red curls across his face. He pushed his hair aside and put on his helmet. He threw a casual arm around his sister’s shoulder and leaned in to say, “We cannot always know what is on the mind of others. Intentions will be revealed. Soon. If the earthling truly represents the Upperworld as the Ruling Great One…” he stopped suddenly, “…let us listen to what she has to say.”
Excerpt
“PARKER’S EYELASHES FLUTTERED AND opened slowly. She abruptly snapped them shut. The dancing ghosts of the Middleworld had been replaced with the Underworld Empress towering over her. With one eye, she peered narrowly through the slit and confronted Diadora’s blazing emerald stare. The ghostly images were gone. Yet, their snickering laughter remained.
Parker twisted her head to find her comrades motionless on the floor. Cole lay sprawled on his back. Edison and Henley were out cold, several feet away. She scanned the room for Belliza who lay next to a wall of file cabinets—her wing hanging at an odd angle.
At first, she panicked, shocked they were so still. Parker hyper-focused for a closer look. She relaxed her breath when she detected the subtle rise and fall of each of their chests. They were alive!
If Diadora was poised over her and looking into her eyes, the Helm must have worn off and they were all visible. Maybe they had been passed out for a length of time, and the effect of the Silver Helm had worn off. Now, exposed and at the mercy of the Empress, she trembled thinking about the pain of a slow death that the Empress had promised her during her captivity in the Underworld.
“Are you alright?” She didn’t see from where the voice came, but she recognized it from her encounter at Zonoros Point. It belonged to Pantione.
She sensed someone edging closer toward her. She bristled and curled into herself. Wafts of the salty aroma of sea air filled her nostrils.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Pantione said softly. “I’m just checking to see if you are okay.” He leaned over her shaking body. She imagined he was kneeling. He felt that close. He gently brushed the tangle of brown wavy hair away from her face.
She didn’t respond but became increasingly uncomfortable with the heat of his body near hers. He leaned in and touched his lips to her forehead, just as her mother did when she had a fever.
His rough beard tickled. Pantione called out to Diadora, “No fever.” His large hand circled her wrist and she realized he was talking her pulse. “Her heart rate is racing, but she’s fine.”
The Empress tugged her brother’s arm and said, “Give her some space, Pantione. Let the poor girl breathe.” They both rose and stepped back a few feet.
Even with her eyes closed, Parker read the Empress’ thoughts—she regretted all the trouble Parker had experienced on Spyridon.
Diadora spoke quietly, “You could never have prepared for this, Parker. I owe you an apology. The Underworld and the Upperworld have been at odds for so long that when we
were confronted with the murders of our niece and nephews, in our own home…” her voice cracked. “…and then discovered a feather from your gown at the scene, it was enough to pronounce you guilty. We should have realized you had neither the will nor the resources to carry out such an attack.” The hushed voice of the Empress was soft, so different from what she remembered.
Sorrowfully, Diadora continued, “I struck a deal with Vibius… it was my mistake to trust him. Never put trust in a traitor.”
Parker opened her eyes to face the Amazonian woman posed before her. The flicker of truth resounded in the Empress’ heart. But what had brought on their visit to the Middleworld? There had to be a motive. She didn’t respond to the Empress but rose precariously to her feet and moved toward Cole. She whispered in his ear, hoping he would rise, but he moaned. With both hands, she tenderly lifted his head. She shook his shoulders, his eyes sprung open, and he too jumped unsteadily to his feet.
“What is going on here? Diadora? Pantione? Why are you here?” Cole demanded. “No one from the Underworld has ever come to the Middleworld before.” Cole’s voice was harsh and unforgiving, he was holding on to the last meeting at the Shallows, along with Pantione’s threats.
The Spirits must have thought his question amusing, maybe absurd. Their peals of laughter sent chills through Parker’s body.
“Cole!” Parker implored as she ran to Edison and Henley. “Please check on Belliza. She looks hurt.”
Cole held the tiny hummingbird in his hands. He pulled cloth from his pack and gently wrapped her wing. She was motionless but communicated silently to Parker and Cole, They come in peace. Lizten to what they have to zay. She closed her eyes.
Parker had moved beside Edison and Henley. She squatted between them and squeezed their hands. She whispered in Henley’s ear, “We’re okay. Open your eyes.” Then, she leaned in toward Edison and repeated, “Everything is okay. I’m right here next to you.”
She wished she could hum as he did. Edison shook his head as if ridding his brain of cobwebs. His eyes squeezed open—still apprehensive about the ghostly dancers. After a moment, he sat up and looked directly at Parker and then at Henley.
Parker raised her voice so that it would carry over to the wall where Cole held Belliza in his hands. The bird was still motionless. Parker asked, “What happened to her, Cole? Is her wing broken?”
Parker lurched to her feet, then approached the Empress. “How did you find us?”
Shrieks of laughter from the Spirits grew louder again. Diadora and Pantione seemed untroubled. Did they hear what Parker heard?
Pantione responded, “We have been patrolling all of our borders since we learned of suspicious activity coming from the Deeperworld. We discovered your Great Ones are preparing for war against us.” He waited for his words to sink in before he said, “We knew we must find you. We traced you here. We come in peace, to erase all hostility between us.”
Excerpt From: Carol B. Allen. “If Only.”
“Now was Parker’s chance to start over…For the first time, she found herself wondering who she could be. What could her life look like? Oddly, none of these thoughts brought on her usual insecurities. Instead, she was excited. Her mind played seek and destroy. Seek experiences that strengthen. Destroy the ones that held her back.
Truth and trust. The truth was, she’d always been most comfortable by herself any way because she was the only person she could trust.
She thought back to the conversation with her parents the night before as they had sat around the kitchen table. It had been time to tell them that she had made the decision to go on the MIT tour without them.
The unprecedented words escaped her lips as she had blurted out, “I’ve decided to go to Cambridge on my own.” She hadn’t waited for a reply before adding, “You don’t need to come with me. I’ll take the train back and forth—I’ll walk to Cambridge and then back to South Station. It’s easy.”
Her parents had exchanged looks of astonishment and served up quizzical stares of disbelief. There would be no further debate. Parker was firm.
“Are you giving me that eye, Dad? I know exactly where I’m going, and how to get there.” Her mother had winked—her delight centered on the notion that just maybe college would strengthen Parker’s confidence to step out of her comfort zone.
Parker did have one big quirk. Really, an array of quirks. She could pick people’s brains, and always seemed to know exactly what was on their minds. She tried not to poke around other people’s heads. Mostly because she didn’t like what she found. With her parents though, she was fairly safe. They weren’t thinking she was a weirdo nerd. They were just shocked that she had decided to declare her independence the night before they were due to leave.
Her father had indulged Parker, extending his hand to give hers a squeeze. “Good idea, Parker. Just text us when you’re on your way back. That way, we can be ready to celebrate when you get home.” Parker had picked up his flicker of well-disguised disappointment.”
Excerpt
“Parker observed the police troops lining the streets, keeping the crowd in check. As they neared Copley Square, she heard a series of loud crackling and hissing sounds. Their banner wavered. She tightened her grip, reminding herself that she was a city girl and used to a little disarray on the streets. Clouds of smoke rose from the Manhattan sewer grates all the time. There was no cause for alarm here in Boston. Unexpected incidents were part of city life, usually in tandem with loud, unanticipated noises. They never ruffled her. But in this situation, she had to acknowledge that one thing was different—she had never been part of a protest holding a banner. Something that, just maybe, put her at the center of risk.
A thick mass of cloudy air hovered above her. Her vision blurred. There was shouting and more piercing pops of noise followed by whizzing bursts of smoke. Then an earsplitting blast shook the ground beneath her feet. Parker felt the crowd scatter.
Her eyes burned. She needed to look around and see what had happened. She blinked and wanted to rub her eyes to swipe away the charred feeling. Another blast and she fell face-down on the pavement, her hands trapped underneath her. The heat rose from the[…]”
“Another blast and she fell face-down on the pavement, her hands trapped underneath her. The heat rose from the concrete and the smell of burnt smoke permeated her nose. The air scorched her lungs and she had difficulty breathing. Every inch of her body hurt as if she had tumbled down a steep flight of stairs. With all the strength she could manage, she rolled onto her side and squinted, trying to see, but smoke masked most everything around her. Moaning bodies were strewn across the pavement. A flurry of people had scurried from the sidewalk onto the street to help.
Something had gone very wrong. She wanted to reach for her phone, but she couldn’t move her arm, let alone grab her phone. The cascading sound of approaching sirens whirred in the distance. She needed to shut off the street noise and rest. A stern male voice lobbed through the air above her. He was not speaking to her. The voice addressed somebody else who wasn’t responding. Red alerts fired in her brain. Still, she kept her eyes closed, listening but not wanting to hear. Competent hands lifted her. They were firm, but not the caring hands of police officers. They were not the hands of medics, who would have had a soft touch and introduced themselves with an authoritative calm.
The noise from the street quieted. She was being transported from the scene, draped over someone’s shoulder. Her neck was twisted with her face buried in clean, soft, slightly moist skin that had been washed with a pungent, pine-scented aftershave. She told herself she would never forget that scent. That was her last memory for a while.”
Excerpt
“IT WAS NIGHTFALL. CHILLY and pitch dark. Chancey had spent the last several hours on the park bench watching the eighteenth-floor terrace. He hadn’t moved since the bizarre incident when the entire motley crew, including the psychopathic hummingbird and his million-dollar kidnappee, had fallen off the edge of the Earth. Either they were still inside, or somehow, they had slipped away. Still, he hadn’t noticed activity, so logically they must have gone off somewhere. At the very least, Parker would be returning home.
The Kittredge’s corner apartment was fairly dark. Chancey surmised a few interior lights had been set on timers to maintain the appearance of an occupied residence. With a steady pass of his 50x magnification binoculars, he verified every twenty minutes the apartment was empty.
Today, Chancey would make things right. Tomorrow he would update Wyatt. There was only one way this could end well—Olivia beside him on board the Gulfstream G-650ER. There was no other acceptable alternative.
Time’s up. The building’s property management shift change was minutes away. Chancey applied another thin film of the anti-recognition serum and dug into his backpack to alter his appearance. He changed his jacket, pulled on a pair of black pants, and substituted his hairpiece and glasses for a different look. He stashed the clothing bag under the park bench. Some poor, sad sack would likely be the beneficiary. It was the least he could do for his fellow man.
After a detailed study of the building equipment and service stations, Chancey had identified the location of the supply closet by the punch clock where the staff’s uniforms were stored. He had watched the personnel access the area and come away ready to perform their job. The cameras would be on, but there would be no possibility of a recorded visual that would give away his identity, thanks to the serum. As for the guards, in addition to his munition’s expertise, Chancey was also a skilled electrical engineer. He had deciphered quite easily how to cut the building’s electricity for a solid fifteen minutes without triggering the emergency lights while he accessed the Kittredge’s terrace. This was the most critical time of his plan to eliminate the potential of being seen.
With the key he had impressioned, he’d have no trouble getting inside the apartment and reaching the terrace next door. He needed to scope out the situation. If necessary, confront Parker’s parents. Not that he wanted to, but if they became collateral damage, so be it.
As luck would have it, two cable company vehicles were parked in the loading dock. Seamlessly, he slipped by, patting himself on the back for his impeccable timing. He listened to the service crew’s irritated banter—an entire apartment line in the building was experiencing a loss of cable service. The owners were up in arms, calling property management relentlessly. Now Chancey had the ideal opening to launch his plan and cut off the electricity. Maybe it was his lucky day. Time would tell.
Within minutes, he was riding the service elevator to the eighteenth floor and entering the vacant unit, without being seen. He activated his timed electrical device to shut off service to the property, including the emergency electrical sensor. Instantly, he heard a few apartment doors open and close. He wondered if one of them was the Kittredge’s. He’d find out soon enough.
Chancey checked his Glock and tucked it back into his holster. He had a few precious minutes to access the terrace and enter the apartment while the building was blanketed in darkness, both inside and out. He circled the rope around his waist and lassoed the other end around the Kittredge’s wrought-iron railing.
Within seconds, he was on the terrace, peering into the apartment and validating that his initial scouting had been accurate and that no one was home. He tried the sliding door, assuming it would be locked, but it opened effortlessly. At least he didn’t have to break the glass or crack the lock.
He set his phone’s flashlight on low, he carefully moved through the living area, casing the quarters for any sign of Olivia, Parker, or her friends. The apartment was spotless with the exception of a post-it note hanging lopsided from a mirror in the vestibule.
“P- We have the Conservatory Foundation gala tonight. We’ll be home late—love Mom & Dad.”
On to the kitchen. Chancey observed the kitchen chairs were askew, unlike the orderly furniture placement in the rest of the apartment. Still, no glasses, plates, or silverware were out of place to provide clues.
He wandered through the bedrooms until he found the one that belonged to Parker. Hers wasn’t difficult to determine. The stacks of books, piles of papers, science materials, framed certificates, lengthy list of awards and accomplishments from high school added up to the information he had read about her online. The MIT tour material had been printed out and held the premier position in her bedroom—front and center next to her computer.
On her desk, a blue light popped. Parker’s computer had turned on, which meant the electricity was restored. Chancey did another pass through the apartment to see if he’d missed anything. He silently acknowledged there were no surprises. The apartment was exactly as suspected, the kind of home he had imagined—pristine, perfect, full of subtly luxurious belongings.
He turned off the dim lights in the living room, pulled out his Glock, settled into a comfortable leather chair in the corner, and debated his next course of action. Prepare for the Kittredge’s entry with his gun in his pocket, ready to aim and maim if need be? Or wait next door for Parker, her friends, or her parents to arrive, then at nightfall, when they were asleep, go to Parker’s room, and take her for a little heart-to-heart?
Yep, the latter would be less trouble and most likely would serve him better.”
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