Before Leonora Wakes

By Lee Thompson

In the first Division Mythos book, Before Leonora Wakes, Red Piccirilli is a runt, a dreamer, a naive boy with an imaginary friend and little else. But right before summer vacation starts he finds an albino girl trapped in a shed behind a local house. After Red frees her, the world he knew quickly unravels into something more mysterious—an unsteady reality where a man with silver teeth and buzz saw voice points him toward the true meaning of sacrifice. With his friendship tested, he fights for life to be as it once was, but he finds out that things can never be the same once the strange girl wakes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lee Thompson
• Release date: Oct 10, 2010
• ISBN: 9781458175298

Book preview

BEFORE LEONORA WAKES

by

Lee Thompson

SMASHWORDS EDITION

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PUBLISHED BY:

Lee Thompson

Before Leonora Wakes

Copyright © 2010 by Lee Thompson/Bloodberry Market

Digital Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

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DIVISION MYTHOS:

Before Leonora Wakes

Within This Garden Weeping

The Collected Songs of Sonnelion

Nursery Rhymes 4 Dead Children

The Dampness of Mourning

Iron Butterflies Rust

As I Embrace My Jagged Edges

Down Here in the Dark

http://divisionmythos.com/

Chapter One

Red Piccirilli looked at the school behind him, glad he only had another day left. The scent of lilacs and fresh mown grass hung in the air, and a soft breeze caressed his back. He had a lot of plans for summer vacation he wanted to throw into motion once it began. He’d just turned thirteen and life had a glow to it. Thor—who preferred to call himself Pig because of his weight—walked beside him. Red had always thought Pig would evaporate or something by now, he didn’t think an imaginary friend could stay with you once you hit junior high. His world was full of facts now, not imagination, and he had to get used to it, had to grow up.

Pig elbowed his ribs, and though Red couldn’t feel it, he acted like he did, because it was nice to let his friend think every little thing he said and did was real. Pig snorted and said, I been thinking.

Red slowed as they neared the intersection of M-46 and Blithe Street. A crossing guard stood with a handful of younger kids beside a light pole. Traffic was light, the sun bright, and he felt good, thinking of freedom. He smiled at Pig. Thinking about what?

Pig tugged at the collar of his shirt. What if I’m not imaginary? What if I’m a ghost?

Red shrugged his backpack into place. Ghosts aren’t real either. It hurt to say it, hurt to see Pig frown, the pout forming on his thick lips. Pig shrugged too and looked at the sidewalk as Tommy and two other boys walked up behind them. Red was glad that Pig wasn’t real, because he’d watched Tommy pick on Derrick Brick too many times for being chunky.

Pig said, I think I am a ghost. I have memories of my family, of Christmas. Then ice, a lake, a loud crack, and screaming.

Red didn’t know what to say. Tommy shoved into him; shoulder to backpack. Red lost his footing and almost tripped over his sneakers as he stumbled forward, arms flailing out for something to grab hold of. He caught his balance at the last second, just when he thought his chin would bounce off the concrete. Shaking, he spun around. Tommy said, Watch where you’re going, runt. The other two boys—Aaron and Jason—laughed. Both of them stood a head taller than Red, and Tommy stood a head taller than them. His dad was the coach and lots of grownups thought he’d be a star quarterback in a few more years because he had an arm on him. Red wished he’d get cancer and die first, but he doubted his wish would come true.

Pig said, Great, the three stooges.

Red stood his ground, facing them. He knew that if he backed down, or let them see his fear, they’d just feed off it. Come on, he thought. All you can do is leave me with a few bruises. But if I get a lucky swing in then you’re going to be embarrassed when they ask who gave you a black eye.

Pig said, Punch him between the legs.

Tommy smirked. He had an angular face. Red always wished he’d been born with a face like that. His was too thin and long, and he knew he was going to look like his father in another ten years. He shook his head. Tommy stepped up until only an arm length separated them. You think you’re tough, runt?

Pig said, Zang! Boom! Right in the kisser!

Red clenched his right hand, tried to keep his knees from shaking, his feet from carrying him to the cross guard. Aaron and Jason both had blunt faces, lots of baby fat, deep set eyes, but muscle already showing on their frames. Red knew that Aaron was one of the best wrestlers in junior high and even some of the freshman gave him high fives. Both of them cracked their knuckles and grinned, and Red thought, What do you get out of this? Why can’t you do something nice for people?

Tommy tilted his chin up in challenge. Answer me. You think you’re a tough guy? You going to go all crazy one day and bring a gun to school and unload on everyone? He looked at his friends and nodded, and they moved on either side of Red. We have to make sure that never happens, runt. We have to let you know your place in the world. What are you going to do when they grab your arms and I hit you?

Red let his backpack fall off his shoulder and caught it in his left hand, ready to swing it across his body at Aaron, who he considered the toughest of the three, even if Tommy was sort of their leader. Pig walked through Tommy, smiling at Red as he did it, and Tommy paled and took a step back.

See, Pig said. If I was imaginary I wouldn’t affect him like that. I must be a ghost.

Red was about to answer him but Aaron grabbed his right arm and jerked it behind his back. Tommy’s eyes flickered, darker, as if he’d regained some mental footing. Red tried to hit Aaron with the bag but the kid was stronger and he wrenched Red’s arm up higher, brought him on his tiptoes, brought tears to his eyes as the pain flared inside his brain and spread through his whole body.

Tommy stepped forward. You’re a weird little dude. You bring this on yourself. If you were normal, you’d fit in. Think about it.

Red saw spittle fly from his mouth and hit Tommy in the face as he said, You’re jerks, and you’re cowards.

Pig laughed. He put his index finger in his mouth and pulled it out and stuck it in Tommy’s ear. The bigger kid jumped and swatted at the side of his face like a swarm of bees had attacked him. Pig said, You’re crying, Red. You want me to bite this jerk hurting your arm?

I can fight my own battles.

Tommy raised his shoulder and wiped it against his ear. What’d you say?

The grip on Red’s wrist slackened. He thought, Aaron’s getting ready to pull a move on me, throw me in a headlock or something.

He stomped down and back, felt the heel of his shoe dig into the wrestler’s instep, hot breath on his ear, heard Aaron’s cry of pain. Red pulled his arm free and spun, trying to face all three of them, feeling surrounded, waiting for the first punch to land from whatever direction he wasn’t looking. He hated getting hit—the bright light, that sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach, the numbness that followed.

Pig said, Dang. You’re making them wonder why you stand up for yourself.

Good.

Tommy took a step back. You’re a freak. He waved his friends away. He’s not worth it. But Aaron glared at him as he limped, his eyes saying, You’re going to pay for stomping on my foot, Runt.

Red swallowed, saw the crossing guard lead a group of kids across the road. A tall man in a blue coat stood near the corner, fifteen feet away. It was much too warm for a coat. Red wiped sweat out of his eyes and tried to will his heart to slow its stampede as the man in the blue coat looked at his watch and something squirmed beneath the shoulders of the jacket.

Pig said, Good job, but those guys are only going to get meaner as we get older. So you better get meaner too, or raise your pain threshold. I could teach you karate or something, maybe. Pig touched his arm. Red didn’t feel it. What are you looking at? Red turned, saw Tommy and his goons glancing over their shoulders as they headed back in the direction of the school. Pig waved a hand in front of his face. Well?

Red trembled. His right shoulder burned when he turned back to the intersection. The man in the blue coat smiled at him, flashed a mouthful of silver teeth. He stepped across the street and blue lightning spider-webbed out beneath his boots, glimmering in his wake. It fizzled along the concrete and then disappeared.

That guy, Red said.

Pig followed his gaze. Whoa. I didn’t even see him until you pointed him out. And those guys thought you were the freak. Pig put a hand on his shoulder. Are you okay?

Yeah. Red rubbed his arm, as far up his back as he could reach. He winced as he pulled his back pack on. Let’s go.

So, you think I might be a ghost?

What if you were? How would that make things any better? Red crossed the road and headed east.

I don’t know, Pig said. Hey, why are you going this way? Your house is that way. He pointed behind them.

I know.

So? What gives?

The man in the blue coat rounded the corner onto Laramie and disappeared a half a block ahead. Most of the houses down that way were in worse shape than the rest in town. Adults called it the ‘Other Side of the Tracks’ though Red found that confusing because there weren’t any tracks.

Are you following that bum?

Red wiped hair out of his eyes and slowed as they neared the corner. Trees lined the street. He hid behind one and peeked around it, down the road, eyes roaming up the hill a hundred yards to where the rundown houses thinned and met the woods. The looming oaks and maples, which he loved to climb, hide out, and get away from the world in, called to him in a way he felt more than heard. Red hoped no one was in the tree-fort down by the river again this year. He planned to spend a lot of time there, just reading and thinking, listening to the universe speak, maybe stealing one of his dad’s Playboys and staring until his eyes fell out of his head.

Pig said, I don’t think it’s a good idea, us coming over here.

My dad had a friend over here. I remember coming over with him for something, but it was a long time ago. Red took a deep breath. There he is. He saw the man shimmer like a mirage, there one minute, gone the next, reappearing farther up the hill. What the heck is up with that guy?

Pig said, He walks fast.

A woman smoked a cigarette on a sagging porch and blew a plume of gray toward Mr. Blue, head turning to follow his progress.

That lady saw him too. I think.

Pig grunted. He gives me the creeps. Let’s go home and play with Maggie.

My sister can’t even see you.

She does. Five-year-olds have the Gift. They don’t lose it until adults train it out of them.

Red shook his head. Where would a guy like that live? He was walking forward before he realized it, a sheen of sweat on his upper lip that tasted of salt, shirt sticking to his back.

Who cares. He’s scary. I want to go back to the house.

And I vote we at least see where he goes. Come on, it’ll be exciting.

You know what a peeping tom is?

Does he live on this side of the tracks?

What tracks?

Pig, you don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to. Go home. Play with Maggie.

What if I’m not imaginary, or a ghost? What if I’m like your guardian angel?