Shadow Riser

By Deborah Barreto

Kennedy Riser never thought that she'd want to go back to her boring life in the suburbs of Villa Chica. But, after all was said and done, she found herself wishing that she could return to her former Freak Girl status and continue to lead her once inconsequential life away from demons and shadows and overgrown insects from hell.

But, fate had other plans for her and now she had to hide, to run away from everything that she knew and thought she hated.

The one good thing that came out of it, a fire that burned at the pit of her stomach ignited by electric blue eyes and a crooked smile.

Shadow Riser is the first book in Deborah Barreto's Shadow series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Deborah Barreto
• Release date: Jul 25, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476233734

Deborah Barreto

Deborah Barreto is a writer, movieholic and extreme chocolate junkie that enjoys living in quiet seclusion within the misty mountains of Puerto Rico.A hopelessly unrealistic – dreamer, if you may – mother of two beautifully well adjusted boys that spends all of her free time sitting in a corner either inmersed in a book or trying to write one.Ever the eternal daydreamer, she can almost always be found with her head stuck in the clouds.Her debut novel, Shadow Riser, is the first book of her Shadow series.

Book preview

Shadow Riser

by

Deborah Barreto

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 – Deborah Barreto Hernández

All rights reserved.

Cover art by Joryson Lee

This ebook, or parts thereof,

are for your personal enjoyment only.

It may not be reproduced in any form

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If you’re reading this ebook and did not purchase it,

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then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy.

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedication

For my boys, Kenneth & Kayden…

Who give me reason to always see the good in life, no matter what.

You guys are the kights in shining armor that saved my life.

Also, for Mina,

my favorite cousin, the Super Girl.

Thanks for making Damien your dream guy

and stalking me until I finished the damned story.

And Kenny, because he actually read the story,

even when he didn't want to, and felt for Kennedy

like I'd hoped, but had never expected anyone to do.

"What would your good do if evil didn't exist,

and what would the earth look like

if all the shadows disappeared?"

- Mikhail Bulgakov, The Master and Margarita

Table of Contents

Prologue

1. Antisocial

2. Up for Breakfast

3. Lonely Day

4. Emergency

5. Kill All Your Friends

6. Read My Mind

7. Don't Fear the Reaper

8.Vertigo

9. Tie Your Mother Down

10. For a Pessimist, I'm Very Optimistic

11. Near Life Experience

12. Communication Breakdown

13. Road to Nowhere

14. To Live is to Hide

15. Sweet Little Sister

16. Point of Know Return

The Good Left Undone (Epilogue)

About the Author

Connect with Deborah

Book Two Preview

Prologue

Thick black smoke obscured her vision as she moved around blindly.

Her outsretched arms tried to find something solid to hold on to. She knew that she was searching for someone, but she couldn’t remember who.

The foggy haze disipated by fractions.

Soon, what appeared to be the outline of a man could be made out. His features indistinct, darkened by the shadows of the still dispersing fog.

She walked closer wanting to see who it was that she needed so badly. The form shifted. It moved, getting farther and farther away from her with every step she took. She was frantic.

He couldn't go. He couldn’t leave her!

Wait! She shouted desperately, but he just quickened his pace. She ran after him, nearly catching up to him.

Just two steps behind him, she reached out to touch him, to take his shoulder and make him turn to look at her. But, as soon as her fingertips made contact with the fabric of his shirt, the figure simply vanished.

He faded away into nothing and left her hands grasping at air as she ran them through the remaining smoke left in his place.

Her knees gave out. She collapsed, broken on the ground as the murkiness engulfed her once more.

And she fell, like a poor man's version of Alice through a dark and dreary rabbit hole.

Then, just like magic, she sat up on her bed.

1. Antisocial

Please, come back!

Soon.

But, everything here is so warm and sunny and extremely boring without you!

It's only been a week, Nedy. Lauren's voice reached her ear out of the cordless phone that she held in her hand.

Yes, but a really long one. Kennedy whined into the phone. I've done everything there's to do around here.

What about the movies in Villa Grande? Her friend suggested.

Done it, twice.

The mall, then?

Can't find anything worth spending my parent's hard earned money on.

Museum?

It's not the same without you there to make fun of the exhibits.

Beach?

Too crowded.

Lagoon?

Too many bugs.

Okay, I give up. Lauren concluded.

Exactly! Kennedy exclaimed, glad that she had managed to make her point. When are you gonna put me out of my misery?

You know that I won't be back for another three weeks. Lauren reminded her. It just wasn't fair. What did her friend have to go on vacation to celebrate her eighteenth birthday with her parents for?

No! She cried, the dramatic effect of it lost on her friend that listened all the way from the other side of the receiver, on the other side of the island they lived on.

Don't be such a crybaby. It's only a few weeks. How about El Gato Negro? I'll bet anything that you haven't been there since I left.

I'm not going there by myself! Was she crazy? She was truly appalled at Lauren's audacity at telling her to go to the local pub all by her lonesome.

How does the saying go, misery loves company, right? Well, that was how Kennedy felt, miserably bored out of her mind.

You're my only friend, Laurie. It sounded so pathetic when she said it like that, but it was the sad and ugly truth.

She was the only one to ever stick by her, even when it meant that she would never be as popular as she wanted to be because of it. Lauren was the Freak Girl's sidekick. Because being her father's daughter made her the punchline to their jokes. By them, she meant that year's graduating class of San Miguel Arcangel's Bilingual High School.

Then it would be a good opportunity for you to make new ones. Lauren urged.

Easier said than done. I'm the Freak Girl, remember? She couldn't keep the bitterness out of her tone.

High School's over, Kennedy.

Yeah, tell that to the douches that look at me funny every time I walk into the drugstore.

Well, they're asses. But, not everyone went to our school.

Enough of them did.

Hey, you're going off to college in seven weeks.

And?

Fresh start, new people. No more Freak Girl, just Kennedy.

No more Freak Girl. Kennedy muttered. That would be a welcome change for once.

Good. Now, I have to go. Stop contemplating the barrenness of your social life and go get yourself a really cold glass of your mother's delicious lemonade. With that, she was gone, leaving her to deal with the tediousness of summer vacations in that small town on her own. She should have accepted the university's offer of early admission.

Fine. Kennedy grumbled as the line went dead. She hated to admit it, but Lauren was right. At that moment, her only choices were to hide out there on the far corner of the porch or to stay locked up in her bedroom upstairs.

She could always opt to spend the day listening to her father’s lectures on paranormal investigations. They were fun to listen to around a campfire, but had lost their appeal to her after having heard them a hundred times over.

She felt bad for him. Kennedy never saw him with anyone apart from her mom either. Although, he would sometimes leave on one of his investigations for days on end.

Ever since she was a child she had always seen him spend all of his spare time sheltered in his office studying the occult and its meanings. And yet, she was sure that his most authentic encounter with a ghost had in all likelihood been a kid with a white sheet thrown over his head on Halloween night.

She couldn't help but giggle out loud at the thought.

Her skin flushed with laughter and the once soft fabric of her white top turned into rubber. It clung to her skin like wrapping paper.

She had come out of the house dressed in what her father liked to call her, almost indecent, pair of denim shorts, with a cotton tank top to stay cool. Now, she would be going back in wearing a wetsuit. Her mouth felt drier than the Southern woods during wildfire season.

The heat was nearly unbearable.

Kennedy placed her bare feet upon the swing and readjusted her position so that she could support her head with the armrest. Her shoulder length brown hair danced in the air as she fanned herself with a hand.

Her parched tongue craved a nice cold splash of that lemonade that Lauren had mentioned earlier. But, it was in the kitchen. If she wanted it, she would have to either walk all the way around the house under the scorching rays of the sun and go in using the back door or go in through the front door. Meaning that she would have to go by her father’s study to reach her goal.

The question stood, did she want that lemonade bad enough that she would risk being spotted by her Ghostbuster father?

She actually considered going through the back door. Then her eyes landed on her bare feet.

Great, she had no shoes on.

Aw, Screw it! She was so thirsty.

Kennedy got up. The seat swung forward after her due to the sudden absence of weight. She opened the front door as silently as she could and made her way down the hall walking on her tip toes.

‘Thank God!’ She thought. The door that belonged to her father’s headquarters was closed. The sound of muffled classical music could be heard coming from inside. She kept on with her quest for refreshment before her luck ran out.

When she finally arrived at her destination, she found it empty. She looked around and spotted a piece of paper held in place by a small fruit shaped magnet on the refrigerator's door. Her mother’s handwriting stood out in bright blue letters.

Kennedy placed the cordless phone on top of the kitchen counter and walked closer to read it.

"Went shopping for groceries, be back soon. I love you both. P.S. Kennedy, you are hereby prohibited to touch the tray I’ve left cooling in the oven!"

The girl smiled triumphantly. She pounced on the stove, the lemonade forgotten for the moment. She opened the oven door, her face still adorned with a predatory grin, and discovered her favorite snack. A freshly baked batch of caramel topped, white chip brownies.

Memories of the sweet taste of the fudgey chocolate as it melted on her tongue when she bit into one of the small square cakes the last time that her mother had baked them assaulted her.

The note clearly stated that she was forbidden to touch the tray, but it said nothing about its contents. Pushing her conscience aside, she stretched a hand out to take a piece. She was just about to make her conquest when the cordless phone she had left quietly resting on the counter rang loudly.

She jumped in surprise.

Ouch! She cried out as she accidentally bumped her hand against the hot oven rack.

Even after she'd pulled it back, her thumb felt as if it were on fire. She looked down at her hand and saw that a red welt had already begun to appear just at the base of it. Kennedy blew on it and brought it up to her mouth to suck on, just as she used to do when she was little. It really stung.

And everything had been going so well.

The phone rang again, reminding her of the cause of her recent injury, and she instantly dove for it.

She knew that her father never answered the house phone when he was on one of his brainstorming sessions. He had his own private line in his study and always said that if it really was important, they wouldn't be calling the house line. But, she didn’t want to risk it anyway.

Kennedy shook her head at her own silliness. She pressed the green button that read, talk, and held the phone to her ear with her uninjured hand.

Hello? She greeted, there was a pause and then a stern male voice could be heard on the other end.

Hello, may I speak to Mr. Riser? The strange voice asked, in English.

I’m sorry, but my father is busy right now. Would you like to leave him a message? She had been expecting the usual Spanish that accompanied regular phone calls. The fact that the caller greeted her in English immediately let her know that it might be important after all.

No, I’m afraid this can’t wait. I’ve got something very important that I need to discuss with him. The unidentified caller’s voice echoed her thoughts as it suddenly acquired a sense of urgency that concerned her.

I’d like to help you sir, but he specifically asked not to be bothered today. She had already taken a tentative step towards her father's office. However, she was still debating whether the call was actually important enough to warrant a lecture.

Just tell him that Archer needs to speak with him, he won’t refuse. Kennedy hesitated, the man sounded desperate. Would her father really want to talk to him?

Please, Kennedy, it’s very urgent. Archer insisted.

How– She was starting to get anxious. How did this Archer know her name and why was he so adamant that her father would immediately accept his call? She finally caved and decided that maybe she really did need to get her father and ask him about it. All right, just wait a second while I go get him.

Thank you. Please, hurry. She just hoped that it truly was an emergency or her father wouldn't be very happy with her. Grave thoughts in mind, she made her way to the door of the study and nervously knocked on it twice.

She heard the music pause and her father’s answer of a tired, Yes?

Papa, there’s a Mr. Archer on the phone and he says that it’s very important that he speaks with you. She could have sworn that she heard him curse under his breath. The sound was quickly followed by the loud scrape of a chair against the tiled floor as he hastily got to his feet.

The door clicked open almost immediately and the offered phone was abruptly snatched from her hand. She looked up as the door swung shut on her face once more and didn’t even have time to complain about her father’s rudeness before his angry voice interrupted her.

She could make out a few of the muffled words through the closed door and by the sounds of it, he wasn’t at all pleased with what this Archer guy had to tell him.

It appeared that her father was angry at the man for calling the house instead of his mobile or private number. Also, that he – she didn't know whom – had known the risks of doing something beforehand and that Mr. Archer, whose first name seemed to be James, needn't worry about it.

Kennedy’s curiosity was piqued. The matter appeared to be a serious one and up until then, she'd never believed that her father might actually be involved in anything dangerous. He wrote the monthly weather column in the local newspaper for God's sake. It both worried and intrigued her.

She'd been so lost in her own thoughts that she didn’t hear her father end the conversation and head out. The door opened so fast that she had no opportunity to move and she looked up to meet the disapproving stare of Steven Riser.

I– She didn’t even know what she could say to justify her eavesdropping. It was like her brain had shut down momentarily and she was left a blabbering idiot.

We’ll talk about it when I get back. Tell your mother that I’m meeting with Archer. Having said that, he rapidly walked out of the house.

She stared at the now closed door for several passing seconds. Her stomach rumbled. The noise snapped her out of her stupor.

She wanted to take one of the brownies that waited alluringly in the oven, but she was afraid of the world ending the next time that she stuck a hand in there. Instead, and against her very nature, she made herself a tuna sandwich and followed it with that glass of lemonade that she had also been craving. Then, she headed upstairs to take a shower.

Before she could reach her private bathroom, Kennedy stood at the doorway to her room and regarded it pensively, just like she had done millions of times already. She knew that it was time that she started thinking of changing the room’s décor. But, she never got around to it.

The walls were still the same pink color her mother had picked out for her when she'd been five. The paint was so pale and rosy that every time that she looked at it she was tempted to go, blah!, and run out of the room.

Kennedy distinctively disliked pink, every cute and sweet shade of it. Far from the EMO cliché of it all, the color just made her feel out of place in her own space. To her predisposed mind, it spoke of femininity and poise and shiny cotton candy flavored lip gloss. None of which applied to her.

The floor was lined with a furry purple carpet, which she did like. It was probably the only thing that she had been able to decide on in her room, so it would stay.

Her mother could be very controlling when it came to the looks of her house. She had decorated every single room, even the cellar, all except for her father’s study. It remained the epitome of nerdish bookwormness, if those were even real words, set in green and brown tones that could also be found dominating most of his wardrobe choices.

She sighed and made her way to the closet to get a change of clothes. All the while, she tried her best to ignore the flowers and butterflies print of her bed sheets. Her mother had said that she wanted her daughter to be more feminine, more delicate, when she had bought them.

Poor mama, instead of the little girl who liked to dress up as a princess that she had wanted so much, she got stuck with her, a tomboy that refused to even look twice at a skirt and was always elbow deep in mud when she'd been smaller.

Following that line of thought, she remembered the time when she had asked for an all terrain vehicle for her sixth Christmas. Santa and her mother had plotted against her and she got an extremely hot pink convertible – that to her horror played loud upbeat music while she drove it around – as a substitute.

It died from lack of use at the back of the garage.

She had been so disappointed that the following year she'd left the red-clad traitor some saltines and water instead of the usual chocolate chip cookies and milk that she always left. She figured that if he wasn’t going to be nice to her, she was in no obligation to do so either, let him go on a diet for all she cared.

Kennedy smiled at the memory as she walked into the bathroom that adjoined her bedroom and placed her fresh clothes on top of the toilet’s tank.

She stepped into the shower and turned it on at full blast, set the temperature to its coldest and let the water fall over her head.

The cool liquid turned warm as soon as it made contact with her hot skin, it flowed over her legs and down the drain. Then, colder water began to replace it as it kept raining from the shower-head above her.

Halfway through her shower, she heard the faint sound of a car coming up the driveway and the tell tale squeaks of the brakes as it came to a halt. Her mother was home. She hurried to finish cleaning up so that she could go help her mother carry the groceries inside.

Sure, she was a great daughter and the possibility of finding a chocolate bar at the bottom of one of the plastic bags was more than compensation enough.

She turned the water off and pulled the yellow towel to her. She wrapped it around her body and stepped out, letting out an undignified, eep!, as she almost slipped on the cold tiled floor.

She got dressed quickly and left the bathroom without even stopping to look at herself in the mirror. But, when she reached the top of the stairs, she hesitated for a moment and toned down her urgency to carefully go down them.

She had been eleven years old when a bully at school, who had been making fun of her Freak Girl status, pushed her down a flight of stairs. Kennedy had ended up with a broken ankle, a few bruises and an even more wounded pride. It also made her paranoid when going down even two steps ever since.

By the time that she arrived at the kitchen,