William Wilde and the Unusual Suspects Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Other books by Davis Ashura

  Dedication

  Acknowledgment

  Chapter 1: Nightmares

  Chapter 2: Truths and Fears

  Chapter 3: Memories

  Chapter 4: Learning to Live

  Chapter 5: Teaching Disagreements

  Chapter 6: Outback Trials

  Chapter 7: Ongoing Struggles

  Chapter 8: Fire to Farms

  Chapter 9: Tests

  Chapter 10: Present Relaxations

  Chapter 11: Winter Games

  Chapter 12: Masteries

  Chapter 13: Different Teachings

  Chapter 14: A Dream of Doom

  Chapter 15: Achieve a Dream

  Chapter 16: A Fool’s Plan

  Chapter 17: Leavetaking

  Chapter 18: Heartbreak Meeting

  Chapter 19: Battle of Mysteries

  Chapter 20: Aftermath

  Thank you!

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  William Wilde and the Unusual Suspects

  Copyright © 2018 by Davis Ashura

  All rights reserved.

  Cover art and design by Deranged Doctor Design

  Interior design and art by Mikey Brooks (www.mikeybrooks.com)

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing: 2018

  DuSum Publishing, LLC

  eBook Edition

  Other Books by Davis Ashura:

  The Castes and the OutCastes

  A Warrior’s Path

  A Warrior’s Knowledge

  A Warrior’s Penance

  Omnibus edition (available as ebook only)

  Stories of Arisa — Volume One

  The Chronicles of William Wilde

  William Wilde and the Necrosed

  William Wilde and the Stolen Life

  William Wilde and the Unusual Suspects

  William Wilde and the Sons of Deceit (available Spring 2019)

  William Wilde and the Lord of Mourning (available Summer 2019)

  Dedication

  To my Amma and my Nanna, who raised a strange Indian boy,

  made sure he stayed on the straight and narrow,

  and supported him even amidst his many disappointments and failures.

  Acknowledgment

  None of us would be able to enjoy the wonderful world some of us are fortunate enough to live in without the dedication of nerds throughout human history. Engineers, physicists, chemists, scientists of all sorts, doctors, risk-takers … so many strange thinkers who made it possible for people in far-flung places to have access to what a stranger writes. I wish they were more widely lauded, certainly more so than the reality stars who use the products of geniuses to sell their stupidity. A strange acknowledgement, but a true one, at least for me.

  July 1987

  william’s shout of fear echoed in the darkened room as he bolted upright from a dead sleep.

  Where am I?

  His thoughts swirled. His heart thudded in his ears. The dream …

  Dangling from the Servitor’s Palace. An abyss beneath his feet. Fingers clutching, reaching for safety.

  No. That terrifying event had happened weeks ago.

  Memory returned haltingly as the nightmare dimmed, but the fear continued to linger.

  Sinskrill.

  William had survived the mahavans’ horrifying island, but sometimes he felt as if he’d never left. The terror Sinskrill kindled remained with him like a festering wound.

  Would it ever leave?

  “You all right?” Jake asked. The aroma of cut grass from his lorethasra—his inner magic—wafted across the room, a smell only an asrasin could sense. Next came the scent of sulfur, and a wave of cold as Jake braided Fire and Air. The small lamp on the nightstand next to Jake’s bed lit, and the room brightened under its golden glow. Jake rubbed his eyes, his tousled, sandy-brown hair falling over his face.

  A pair of twin beds flanked the only window in the bedroom, and on the wall opposite stood a chest of drawers. A ceiling fan stirred the air, while a half-moon beamed ivory light into their room. It shone on the cedar trunk crouched beneath the window. From outside, crickets chirped and a stray breeze rustled the curtains and brought in the fragrance of jasmine.

  Initially, William and Jake had been given separate bedrooms when they had arrived on Arylyn, but their time on Sinskrill marked them too deeply. The horrors they’d experienced, the pain and trauma … They hadn’t been ready to be alone, and a month later they still shared a bedroom in Mr. Zeus’ home.

  William rubbed his eyes and sat up with a sigh.

  “Nightmare?”

  William nodded.

  “Maybe you should let Mr. Zeus … you know,” Jake wiggled his fingers.

  “Take the memories away?” William asked.

  “It helped me.”

  “You needed it,” William replied. “You were lashed. No one should have to live with a memory like that.”

  “You’ve got your own bad memories.”

  “I know, but I don’t want to forget them. Then it might as well have not happened. But it did.”

  “You want to remember Sinskrill?” Jake asked, his dark brown eyes reflecting his confusion.

  “I don’t want to remember, but I also don’t want to forget,” William said. He frowned, struggling to more clearly express his thoughts. “We lived through something awful. It sucked, but we made it, and we shouldn’t forget what it was like.”

  “I don’t think I can ever forget what it was like,” Jake said. He snapped his fingers. Again the cut-grass smell wafted from Jake, followed by sulfur. A tuft of flame lifted off his fingertips. It floated upward before dissipating into the air above his hand. “I couldn’t do that before, and I never wanted to. I only wanted to hang out with my friends and family and play safety for Notre Dame.”

  “And I only want to …” William’s voice trailed off.

  “You want to what?”

  William almost spoke the truth, but at the last instant he folded it up and put it away like a spare blanket. Jake wouldn’t understand. Or worse, maybe Jake would understand.

  William wanted to see Sinskrill burn, to see every building torn down, and feel it when he threw the Servitor to his death off the Judging Line. But a guilt-ridden reluctance kept him from speaking the entire truth.

  “I want to go back and free Travail and Fiona,” William said at last.

  Jake sat up further in his bed. “You still stuck on that notion?”

  William’s brows rose at Jake’s questioning tone. “You’re not?”

  Jake shifted, and an uneasy expression flitted across his features. “I want to save them, too.” He looked down and picked at his comforter, clearly nervous. “They saved us, but I don’t want to go back to Sinskrill.” He lifted his gaze and stared William in the eyes. “I don’t know if I can.”

  William took in Jake’s words, which merely reflected his own sentiments. He didn’t want to go back to Sinskrill either, but he had to. Without Travail and Fiona, he and Jake would have died. He owed them, and he couldn’t allow them to remain enslaved.

  “Pr
obably think I’m a wimp, don’t you?” Jake asked, going back to picking at his comforter.

  William shook his head. “No. I understand what you’re saying.” For a moment, his earlier terrified thoughts reared back to life. Sometimes they got mixed up with the nightmare of Kohl Obsidian murdering his family, and he grimaced.

  He wondered anew if he should ask Mr. Zeus to remove some of his memories. But not the ones about Sinskrill.

  Jake bowed his head. “I owe Fiona and Travail, too,” he whispered.

  “You shouldn’t go if you don’t want to.”

  “Yes, I should,” Jake said. He raised his gaze once again. “What about Rukh and Jessira? Are they still planning on going with us?”

  William nodded. “Yeah, but they have their own reasons for helping us.”

  “Like what?”

  William shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “And Mr. Zeus? Have you talked to him about it?” Jake asked. “About rebuilding Blue Sky Dreams? Or Serena’s part in what you want to do?”

  William shook his head. “Not yet, but I will. Serena can’t leave Arylyn, but we’ll need her help navigating Sinskrill’s coast.”

  “Mr. Zeus and the others managed that on their own,” Jake noted.

  “They got lucky. The mahavans, and maybe the unformed are bound to be watching the coast from now on. We need her to tell us the most secluded places there, the ones least likely to be guarded.”

  Jake eyed him askance, his doubt obvious. “They’ll still be watched,” he said. “You have to come up with a better way of sneaking onto the island than that.”

  “I’ll figure it out,” William said, hoping his words would turn out to be true.

  Serena sensed a presence looming over her and she sat up, alert and ready with her lorethasra sourced. Old habits died hard. A month since escaping Sinskrill and she retained the ingrained vigilance impressed upon her by Isha.

  She searched for who might be standing before her and found a slight figure at the foot of her bed.

  Selene.

  Serena’s nerves quieted, and she offered up a silent prayer for patience. While she wanted nothing more than to go back to bed, sleep would have to wait until she found out what Selene needed. Serena patted the mattress, offering a place for her sister to sit. “Why are you still awake?” she asked once Selene settled onto the bed.

  Selene didn’t answer at first, but through long experience, Serena knew eventually she would. In this, even more than their dark skin and hair—in the Far Beyond, the two of them would have been thought to be Brazilian—they shared certain traits, such as speaking only when ready.

  A stray breeze billowed the lacy curtains of the room’s single window, puffing them out so they appeared like inflated cheeks. The light of the half-moon shone on the edge of their cottage’s veranda and the nearby beach, which was golden during the day and ivory at night. The ocean waves gently washed against the shore.

  Selene sat with her back to Serena and her head resting on bent knees. “I couldn’t sleep,” her sister finally answered, her voice muffled but obviously troubled.

  “Bad dream?” Serena asked. She stroked Selene’s head and ran her fingers through the little girl’s dark mass of hair, an unthinkable gesture of affection on Sinskrill.

  “No.”

  Serena waited for her sister to explain herself, but Selene remained silent. “Then what?”

  Selene sniffled and Serena stiffened, outraged by her sister’s demonstration of weakness. A harsh rebuke, one often spoken to her by Isha, leapt to her lips.

  It died unspoken. They no longer resided on Sinskrill or lived beneath the hobnailed boot heels of mahavan culture. Sorrow, gladness, regret, love … all emotions were freely expressed on Arylyn. Expected, actually.

  Serena’s sniffles faded away. “I hate it here,” her little sister finally declared, speaking in passion and anger.

  “What happened?”

  “Everyone makes fun of me.”

  “Is it so different from your life on Sinskrill?” Serena asked, continuing to stroke her sister’s head.

  “It is different,” Selene insisted. “No one on Sinskrill liked anyone. I wasn’t different. Here, we’re supposed to have family and be friends with everyone, but it’s not true. Arylyn is a lie.”

  “No one can be friends with everyone.”

  “Friends with someone, then. No one likes me.” Selene sniffled again.

  Serena pulled Selene close, loving how good it felt to give her sister all the affection and love she’d longed to offer but couldn’t during their years on Sinskrill. “Are we not family?”

  Selene snuggled against Serena. “Yes.”

  “Are William and Jake not your friends? Your family, even?”

  “Yes,” Selene said, sounding annoyed rather than mollified.

  “Then what difference does it make if others don’t like you?”

  “Because William and Jake are adults. None of the other children will play with me. They won’t even teach me the rules to their games.”

  Serena hugged Selene tighter, aching for her sister’s pain. Empathy rose within her, an emotion deemed brittle and breakable on Sinskrill, a weakness that enemies could use to their advantage. Serena didn’t care. She’d rather soothe a little girl’s hurt than remain the hard, unyielding mahavan she had once been.

  Then again, had she truly been hard or unyielding? Had she not all along wished to live a life of love and compassion? As much as she longed for a loving God?

  “Is there anything I can do?” Serena whispered, her mouth pressed close to Selene’s ear.

  Her sister shook her head. “Not you, but maybe William and Jake can.”

  “What would you have them do?” Serena asked.

  “I want them to set all those lying children’s pants on fire,” Selene explained. “They’re the ones everyone says should be my friends, but they’re not.” She paused and chewed her lip in apparent uncertainty. “Their parents will probably be mad, though.”

  Serena laughed. “I’m sure they would be.”

  “Or maybe I should ask Rukh and Jessira,” Selene mused.

  Serena’s humor faded. “I told you to stay away from them.”

  “But they’re nice,” Selene protested. “They talk to me.”

  “About what?” Serena asked, her suspicious nature taking over.

  “About you. Sinskrill. But mostly about how I like Arylyn.”

  Serena grimaced. Rukh and Jessira. There was something wrong with those two. Not only the way they finished each other’s sentences, but something more integral to their natures. She didn’t trust them, or their avowed purpose of wanting to help free Travail and Fiona.

  “I still don’t want you spending time with them,” Serena said.

  “Yes, madam.”

  Serena scowled at the unwelcome reminder of their relationship on Sinskrill. “Those are words from a life long past,” she reminded Selene. “You don’t have to speak to me like that anymore.”

  “I do if you tell me who I can and can’t be friends with.”

  Serena grimaced at Selene’s unassailable logic. “Just be careful around them.”

  “I will,” Selene said.

  They settled into silence, and Serena rocked Selene in her lap. “Are you still upset?” she asked after a time.

  Selene shrugged. “No. I’m fine now.” Her voice held the dull affect of a drone, the tone meant to hide her true feelings.

  Serena sighed. “I’ll talk to Mr. Zeus and find out what I can do.”

  “Thank you,” Selene said.

  “But I doubt he’ll approve of having William and Jason set a group of children’s pants on fire.”

  Selene laughed. “It would be funny though, wouldn’t it?”

  Serena chuckled. “Yes, it would.”

  “Will you ever be friends with William and Jake?” Selene asked.

  Serena kept her limbs loose, but inside she stiffened. She’d once been very good friends
with William, and in another world they might have been much more.

  You can still be friends with him. Even Jake, a voice whispered. Her conscience, maybe.

  But that would require an apology to the two of them. To seek their forgiveness. To truly face what she’d done to them.

  She didn’t have the heart for it.

  Coward, the voice told her.

  “Well? Will you?” Selene asked.

  “Maybe someday,” Serena replied.

  William woke up groggy-headed and sleepy-eyed, and he yawned mightily as he made his way down the stairs. The smell of freshly baked bread and something else cooking drew him like a magnet. He passed through the living room which, along with Mr. Zeus’ study, took up the front part of the house. The staircase leading upstairs split the two spaces. From there, he entered the dining room and kitchen, a single, open area filling the back of the house.

  The last of his sleepiness dissipated when he saw and smelled the food laid out for breakfast: mangos and kiwi, an egg casserole, a plate of bacon, and a freshly baked loaf of bread. William’s mouth slipped open, and he had to wipe saliva from the corner of his lips.

  Mr. Zeus, Jason, and Jake were already up, but no one had eaten yet. When home, the four of them always ate together. It was a tradition Mr. Zeus insisted upon.

  Jason laughed when he saw William’s wolf-famished expression. “It’s like you’ve never seen food before,” he said. On Arylyn, Jason’s blond, California-surfer good looks mixed with Polynesian dark skin didn’t appear as remarkable as they did in the Far Beyond, the rest of the world. Although originally from Louisiana, Jason could have passed for a native born. Most here—just like on Sinskrill—had dark skin, hair, and eyes, similar to what Serena and Selene possessed.

  Mr. Zeus smirked in a knowing fashion. “It’s his teenage brain,” he said. Mr. Zeus, also known as Odysseus Louis Crane III. An odd name for a sometimes baffling man. With his long, lustrous, white beard and twinkling blue eyes, Mr. Zeus bore an uncanny resemblance to Merlin or Gandalf or any wise, old wizard from myth. “All your teenage brains,” the old man added. “Help yourself.”