Ravel (A Paranormal Romance)

By Evie Lester

Pretty, sensitive and bereft, sixteen-year-old Abby Lyle is coming undone. Just like her mother before her. At least that is what people are saying. People who remember her mother as the weird girl in town. The one who saw things. Dark visions of the future that always came true.
Raised in Los Angeles by single mother, Reva, Abby’s life is turned upside down when she is suddenly sent 2000 miles away to live with the father she has never known in the town where she was born. The town her mother had run away from so long ago. The father her mother had never wanted her to know.
In the seaside town of West Beaufort, South Carolina, Abby will be forced to confront the mysterious past that drove her mother so far away, even as she finds all the things she always dreamed about. Alone, among strangers, missing her mother and her old life, Abby is fortunate at first. She finds so many of the things her heart had been longing for--love, friendship, the envy of all the best people.
Griffin, is everything any teenage girl would ever dream about. Tall, handsome, athletic. Not to mention, smart and sensitive. And he has the insight to see Abby for the understated beauty she is.
Lisa and Daniel are the fun, loyal and fearless friends everyone would want to have on their side.
Abby even finds herself suddenly faster, stronger and more self-assured. Supernaturally so.
And Roxanne, Hailee and JayLynn are the vain, self-absorbed, mean girls no one would want to go up against. The fact that they are green with envy says a lot about the good fortune Abby attracts when she first arrives.
But something is terribly wrong. Evil lies in wait. Someone, or something, is stalking her. Attacking her and the people around her. Visiting her in her dreams. And Abby is about to confront the past her mother ran so far away to escape.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evie Lester
• Release date: Feb 6, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301202966

Book preview

Chapter 1

They say at times like these you entire life passes before your life. That you see it all unfolding before you like a landscape. And you suddenly understand it all clearly. The why of it all, I mean. Like why you did things the way that you did. Or what you should have done differently. And why things had to be the way they were.

I mean, it’s like you finally understand the lessons you were supposed to get out of it all. That you suddenly know.

But I don’t know anything right now. And I am not sure anymore if any of us ever really know anything anymore.

What do we know? I mean, what do we ever really, really know for sure? Is that a dumb question? I think I would have thought so at one time in my life. All right, my relatively short life. I’m only sixteen and some people think that’s young. But not when you’ve seen things. Things that shouldn’t be. Not by all the laws of science and nature. But they are. Things you would never believe. Things I would have never believed. But I know now. We know nothing. We can be sure of nothing. We can count on nothing. That’s just the way it is.

I thought I knew things. About my life. About my family. About who I am and where I come from. What I come from.

But the sad thing is I don’t think I am going to have the chance to deal with it. I don’t think I will have the chance to hug my Mom and say, It’s okay. I know. Because even though I know now. And it would be okay. I don’t think I’m going to live to see tomorrow.

I feel myself falling. Drowning. Being pulled down for the third time by a being of supernatural strength. There is no way I can overcome it. But I have too. I have to give it the fight of my life.

And the funny thing is all I can think about is how I promised my Mom I would cut my hair.

Chapter 2

Abby Lyle dug her fingernails into the armrest and pressed back into the upright seat as the jet strained against gravity to pull away from the steel gray California tarmac. Her first flight would be her first time leaving the state since her mother brought her to Los Angeles when she was a baby almost sixteen years ago. Her head throbbed. The vein behind her right eye was pounding in time with her heartbeat. The engines roared ferociously in her ears almost blocking out the thoughts inside her head. Almost.

Closing her eyes, Abby tried to sort through the checklist of anxieties she had to deal with when the Boeing 757 landed at Charleston International. Number one on the list was the father she had never known who would be waiting for her at the airport. The father who had never once in her sixteen years of life picked up a phone and called her.

She didn’t want to think about it. The meeting would come soon enough. And the abruptness of her leaving had unsettled her. She wanted to hold on just a little longer to the past. To her life in Los Angeles that was being interrupted. Interrupted, but hopefully not destroyed.

Just a week ago, things had been normal. Better than normal really. School had just started. Senior year was going to be a good year. As a senior, she had gotten all the classes she had wanted. Mrs. Rice for Calculus who everyone said was the best at explaining derivatives and Mr. Schmidlack for English Literature because she had had him before for American Literature and his imaginative teaching style was the reason English was her favorite subject. And she had already signed up for French Club, Film Club; and the Book Club that met at the Tea Leaf and Coffee Bean near her house was going to read Northanger Abby, which was the only Jane Austin she hadn’t read yet. She even had a part-time job at the Celadon Tea and Candies shop in the Santa Monica Mall.

Her mom, also, seemed to be happy for a change. Abby had finally been chosen for the cheerleading squad a couple of years of being listed as an alternate, but never making the actual squad. She never cared much but it was her mom’s dream for her. It was as if she believed Abby’s future happiness would be guaranteed, if she only had cheerleader on her list of adolescent accomplishments. But that was her mom for you. She had always had very strong opinions on what would make Abby’s life better, fuller, happier and safer. Most of all safer. She had a lot of safety rules. She was always coming up with new safety rules.

But there were three rules Abby had grown up with that her mother had always told her were for her own safety and protection. She had been told this from as long as she could remember. Never fly cross-country on an airplane. Learn to swim well. And never, ever grow out your hair. They were they only rules her Mom was completely inflexible about. So although Abby hated being in the water and longed for long flowing locks, she had honored her mother’s wishes, becoming an expert swimmer and keeping her chestnut brown hair short—until recently. And she had never flown in an airplane.

It had taken nothing short of a major catastrophe that had led to the necessity of breaking her mother’s last rule about flying across the country.

Reva Lyle was a tiger mom and mama grizzly rolled up into one. But most of all Abby liked to think of her as a Kanga mom. That was her secret name for her. Kanga was the mother kangaroo in the Winnie-the-Pooh stories by A.H. Milne that her Mom had read to her when she was little. Kanga was the fiercely protective but kindhearted and caring mom of baby Roo, who was always saying But Momma! whenever Kanga warned him of what he must not do.

Los Angeles was no 100 Acre Wood. But with Reva’s nurturing guidance her daughter, Abby, had grown up to be a smart, responsible, levelheaded girl with street smarts. The kind of daughter everyone wants his or her child to grow into. Reva knew she was lucky. Not many single mothers were so lucky raising a child alone in the big city.

Reva and Abby had managed so well because they were a team and Reva could rely on Abby to always do the right thing. And there was so much to be done. After school Abby took the Big Blue Bus from Sepulveda High School down Santa Monica Boulevard to their apartment on 20th Street where they had lived in a modest rent controlled apartment since Reva had first moved to Los Angeles.

The neighborhood was quiet and safe and close to good schools and the Santa Monica beach. It was an idyllic place to grow up. And finding an affordable rent controlled apartment in Santa Monica had been a Godsend. Reva had been able to get her nursing degree from Los Angeles City College and there had been childcare for Abby too. With her high marks and willingness to work long hours and do the hard assignments without complaint Reva had easily found work as a nurse at St. Johns Hospital just a few blocks from their apartment. Reva had felt so fortunate. So blessed.

Still, despite their good fortune from the time they had set foot on California soil, Reva had always lived her life as though the shadows were closing in. There were so many things that Abby had to do so that her mother felt sure she was safe. Always be prepared. Preparation is not just for boy scouts, Reva always said.

Abby learned to cook simple things very early on even though she always stayed with Mrs. Bellingham, the retired lady who lived down the hall from them. She learned the security code to their building when she was five. And she started judo lessons at six. She had a monthly bus pass that she carried on a chain around her neck until she was old enough to remember to put it in her book bag after she’d used it. And she had been enrolled in swimming lessons since she could remember. Apparently, Reva was so fearful of her drowning that she had taken Abby while still an infant to those Mommy and me swimming classes for newborns. The ones based on the assumption that kids should learn to swim before they learned to fear the water. Abby was a big exception to that theory. Abby feared water. Big time. It was hard to say if her fear was natural, or if her mother had simply pushed the lessons too hard.

Or perhaps she was simply channeling her mother’s ever present and interminable fears for her daughter’s life. Well-done burgers in case of e coli. Look both ways before you cross the street. Always count five before driving into an intersection. Keep your hand sanitizer handy; it won’t do you any good at home on your dresser. Don’t walk under ladders or ever spill salt (because throwing a pinch over your shoulder might not work). Wear your seatbelt. Don’t fly. Don’t ski. Don’t rock climb. Don’t jog on hard pavement. Don’t go barefoot on hot sand. And most of all. If someone is chasing you. Run. And don’t look back.

It was a hodgepodge of aphorisms, wives tales and superstitions all mixed together with good common sense. And Abby had spent her childhood figuring out which to embrace and which to take with a grain of salt.

Anyone who has ever been loved. Truly loved, unconditionally, by a parent could understand how easy it was for Abby Lyle to patiently tolerate these small eccentricities of her mother’s that complicated her life from time to time. She worked with it. She worked around it. And kept the peace in their comfortable, orderly life. Until she finally couldn’t. Until five days ago. When it all exploded in such a crazy way. In such an unimaginable way. For no good reason that Abby could see. And that was how Abby came to be on a plane leaving Los Angeles for South Carolina and a father she had never known.

Chapter 3

It all started at cheerleading practice. Abby thought back and shook her head, still in disbelief. She would be laughing if it were not so tragic. Who even takes cheerleading seriously anyway? Sure, Abby’s mom was a little paranoid and ocd about it. But she was never crazy. Never clinical. She was never one of those stage mother type cheerleader moms. The ones who hire hit men to whack the competition. Or hire coach/stylist to prep their daughters for try-outs. She was normal.

What is this? Reva Lyle had demanded of her daughter. Why didn’t you show this to me? Her tone was not harsh, but she was insistent. If anything there was concern in her voice.

Abby breathed a sigh of relief. At least they weren’t about to have yet another argument over their latest issue. Abby’s hair had curiously become the object of a power struggle between mother and daughter. Abby had always worn her hair short to please her mother and keep the peace. But just recently Abby had the right to wear her hair long if she wanted. Reva had tried to argue, but really, there was no argument she could make that made any sense. And Abby would not give in this time. So she had reluctantly given in.

Geeesh, Mom. It’s okay, Abby tried to reassure her even though she was no stranger to her mother’s crusades and knew this would possibly be their next battle. Abby took the gold and purple bundle gently from her mother’s outstretched hands and pulled it close to her belly, as if her protective embrace could ward off her mother’s concerns.

I know it was my idea that you try out for cheerleader. Reva began in the tone that signaled that this conversation was not over by a long shot.

Mom, I wouldn’t have tried out if I didn’t want to, Abby reassured her without really knowing where this conversation was going but hoping she could head it off before it became a major issue.

But the whole point is to enjoy the experience.

In a flash of mother-daughter intuition, Abby understood what the conversation was about then. The outfit won’t keep me from enjoying the experience, Mom. I promise.

How can you say that? Reva asked, again more concerned than angry.

Just don’t make a big deal out of it please, Abby pleaded. Turning to take the gold and purple cheerleading outfit back into her room where her mother had found it, Abby held her breath, waiting to see if Reva had given in.

I could talk to your coach, if you’re afraid to.

Given in? No such luck. Reva followed Abby into the smaller of the two bedrooms that lay right off the small living room. The laundry lay in two piles on the floor and the spoils from a recent back-to-school shopping spree were scattered around the room along with schoolbooks, notebooks, CD’s and stuffed animals. The big gold and purple pompoms were conspicuous, so it was easy to see why her mom’s curious eyes were drawn to the outfit. After all, Reva had wanted this more for her daughter than she had wanted it for herself. It was natural she would want to be included on every milestone of the cheerleading experience.

It was silly really, her mother’s objections. The outfit was really rather modest really. The top part was a high cut collar and sleeveless. The skirt was pleated on the side and short, but not any shorter than any average cheerleader skirt in any high school across the country. The large purple tiger lashed out from the purple embroidered patch on the chest and was crossed by the word TIGERS in purple with gold outline. It was perfectly normal and average. But it was also a two-piece with a midriff top. And this was a problem.

It barely shows, Mom. Abby walked over to the full-length mirror on the back of her closet door. She lifted the left side of her T-shirt enough to reveal the jagged, darkish-pink scar that extended from just below the left side of her ribcage down into the top part of her jeans.

It wasn’t a fresh wound. In fact, it had been with Abby her whole life. Her old, familiar friend. Her secret Harry Potter scar she called it. And when she was very little she had secretly made up stories in her head about how it had happened. She knew this wasn’t something other kids her age were doing. But most of the other kids on the playground at school who showed off their scars had a story to go with it. They fell off slides and Jungle Jims. They got their fingers slammed in car doors and their arms broken from falls off trees. They got hit with balls and bats and hockey pucks. And rocks and sticks. And they fell off bikes and skateboards and skates. But Abby had no story.

The scar had been a focal point of her mother’s anxieties since she could remember. She had learned very early on not to ask about its origins. It was all some grave secret. The thing not to be spoken of. Presumably the thing that had caused her mother to flee to Los Angeles all those years ago when Abby was a baby.

At least, that was Abby’s guess. She imagined that there was some tragic accident or, perhaps even some act of unspeakable violence that catapulted her mother into this self-imposed exile in California.

Looking at her reflection in the mirror, Abby fingered the slick gash of dark pink skin. It didn’t look that bad. And, anyway, she had gotten used to it.

Don’t trouble yourself, Reva said. She still sometimes came out with a strange turn of phrase that was a remnant of her southern upbringing. She gently pulled the hem of the T-shirt down over the scar and rested her chin on Abby’s shoulder and embraced her. You are such a beautiful girl, she said, smiling lovingly into her daughter’s eyes reflecting back at her. Don’t trouble yourself about that old scar.

Abby searched for the words to reassure her mother that this scar on her body had not scarred her heart, her mind. That her mother’s worrying about it troubled her much more than the scar ever did. But she knew it was no use.

The uniform is okay Mom. It’ll be fine. You’ll see. The scar doesn’t show much. And anyway, no one will care.

And Reva kissed her forehead as she used to do when Abby was small.

Farmer’s Market bright and early tomorrow? she asked, her bright smile signaling that she was ready to drop the issue. For now.

I better get this all picked up then. And Abby began to put her room in order. She secretly blamed the whole cheerleading uniform incident on her carelessness. If she had just put it away like she should have done her mother wouldn’t have seen it, at least not for a while.

And a movie at the Grove in the afternoon? her mom added.

That was their perfect Saturday. Fresh fruit and vegetable shopping at the Santa Monica Farmer’s Market. Then Reva prepared a healthy lunch while Abby did her homework. And when all the chores were done they would see a movie and go celebrity sighting at the Grove, the trendy shopping area in West Hollywood.

This was good. This was right. This is the way things always should be, Abby thought. No arguments about crazy stuff like her scar.

Wake up sleepyhead. Reva was perky as sunshine as she tugged at the covers pulled up over Abby’s head.

It was 7 a.m. Saturday morning and by Reva’s way of thinking time to start the day. She liked to get breakfast out of the way and get down to the outdoor food market at Arizona and 2nd, find a parking good parking space and have first dibs on the best organic produce.

Abby groaned. But this was their Saturday morning ritual and she was used to it. The morning sunshine and crisp ocean breeze beaconed her as much as it did her mother. The first warm rays pouring through her window as Reva threw open the blinds told her the day would be fine. The morning haze that was typical of fall mornings at the beach hadn’t arrived for the season yet. The summer was over. But the fall was still sweet.

Abby could hear her mother humming as she prepared a hearty breakfast to fortify them for their morning in Santa Monica. There would be Spanish omelets with hash browns. The rest of the week they would have healthier faire, but Saturdays and Sundays were their days to indulge. Sundays were reserved for buckwheat pancakes with real maple syrup and bacon on the side. Abby knew that when she emerged from the shower the table would be set and then, after hungrily devouring their morning meal, they would be out the door.

All the tension of the night before was swept away by the crisp air coming in off the Pacific, flooding the Santa Monica beach and drifting inland up Arizona Avenue, washing over the early morning shoppers at the Farmer’s Market. Reva and Abby were among the first to arrive, but they were quickly joined by the usual throngs.

They tasted fresh papaya and mango. Sipped fresh squeezed carrot juice. And got their morning wheat grass juice shots washed down with fresh orange juice. One man even had organic beef jerky, which was surprisingly good considering Abby wasn’t a huge beef eater. Everything just tasted better her in her little place in the world.

A Katie Perry song blasted from one of the food stalls. The latest one. The one that celebrated summer. Even though summer was winding down, slowly yielding to autumn.

Abby really couldn’t imagine any better life. It was days like these with the sunshine and blue skies and peacefulness all around that kept the dark clouds at bay. She was hardly aware of the constant low-grade drumbeat of caution her mother sounded almost daily. Look both ways. Take you vitamin C. Don’t talk to strangers. Always keep bus fare in your pocket, just in case. Don’t run in heels. Take a jacket, it might turn cold. The warnings faded into the background, like white noise.

By late afternoon Abby’s homework was done and Reva had finished all the chores, as usual, before Abby had an opportunity to help.

Walking around the Grove--the Los Angeles outdoor shopping mall--after the movie was nice. It was normal. Reva bought a cookbook that was marked 70% off at the Barns and Noble. And Abby browsed the Apple Store envious of the sleek high-end electronics she couldn’t afford to splurge on just yet. The smell of fresh brewed coffee called to them, but on a nurses salary they knew it was wiser to brew their own at home, except on special occasions, like when the pumpkin spice lattes came out around Halloween, which was just around the corner. Umm.

We better head back Abby-Kaddabby. Abby’s nickname since she was three and she took the Muppet on Sesame Street as her best friend, Reva had never completely let go of the old term of endearment.

Not in public Mom. Abby rolled her eyes. But she knew it was pointless. She would probably still be Reva’s Abby-Kaddabby when she was old and gray. Little Abby-Kaddabby.

So what’s the plan for tomorrow? Reva asked.

I’m meeting Sarah and Kayla at the library and then I have practice.

Cheerleading practice, right?

Right Mom. Our first practice.

Be sure and tell me everything. I want to know about the girls and the coach. I want to hear the cheers and see the tumbles…

Reva froze solid, her eyes wide like two saucers. Abby honey. You won’t be doing any dangerous gymnastics will you? You won’t let them put you on the top of one of those human pyramids? Promise.

Abby laughed imagining how pathetic it would be if the Fighting Tigers had to depend on her gymnastic skills. She was hopeless. Maybe she could manage a cartwheel. But she could never master the stunning flips and summersaults that most people associated with award winning cheer squads. Her athletic skills were limited to running and swimming, which she hated because she feared water but learned to do for her mother’s sake.

Mom, we don’t do those scary tumbles and pyramids. We lead cheers and do routines to the band. I think the national cheerleading competitions would call us underachievers.

But it’ll be fun?

I’m sure it will be Mom. It’ll be fun and laidback. That’s a good thing. Abby would have a really hard time dealing with it if it were any other way.

Reva smiled approvingly. Her little girl was a straight A student and a cheerleader. Since she first laid eyes on Abby Reva had known she would have to fight very hard and be very strong to ensure that her daughter lived a good life. She had been so vulnerable. Not like other babies. Abby was never like other babies. But with all the strength in her being, Reva had promised herself, her little Abby would grow up to be like everyone else. Better even. Stronger. Healthier. Smarter. A woman living a full life despite the dark cloud she was born under.

Abby and Reva walked happily arm in arm back to the parking garage. Heading home down Santa Monica Blvd. Abby knew nothing about her mother’s pledge, made to herself so many years ago, to protect her daughter from some dark fate. She knew nothing of how fragile her future promised to be. How fragile it still was despite her mother’s efforts.

And Abby had no idea how close she was to meeting her fate. Her mother’s fears were so close. The hot breath of her mother’s fears was pressing upon the nap of her neck. Gaining upon her. Bidding its time. Waiting for the time when it could strike.

Abby had only a few more weeks of these perfect days. Soon it was all going to hit the fan.

Chapter 4

Two, Four, Six, Eight—Who do we appreciate!

Abby heard Cecile, one of the girls on her cheerleading squad, warming up her voice and burning off some of her irrepressible enthusiasm. The girls on the squad were all quite enthusiastic and it made Abby wonder if she would fit in. She had always been more reserved. Cautious. Controlled. But the girls had turned out to be friendly and welcoming. It felt a lot like having a popular sister who is always trying to make sure you don’t feel left out.

Abby was keenly aware that even if she hated cheerleading. Even if she was the worst cheerleader on the face of the planet. She would be better off pretending that she loved it for her mother’s sake. Reva would be simply tortured if she thought for one moment that she had encouraged Abby to do something that made her miserable. Or worse, if she felt Abby really didn’t fit in.

Luckily, cheerleading was cool. So far.

Did you have a good summer? Cecile had run up to her and was giving her a big Welcome back! hug. Most of the other girls had already arrived and were waving hello from a few yards away out on the practice field.

Don’t look now, but we have an audience Cecile said in a low voice, taking hold of Abby’s arm and talking to her conspiratorially. Tossing her wavy blond