Colin and The Rise of The House of Horwood

By M. E. Eadie

Colin suddenly finds hist life turned upside down. His friend and mentor, Grandfather Thunder, is gone, replaced by their merciless aunt Grizzelda.

Transplanted to Horwood House, a Victorian mansion that has family history and secrets, his personal abilities begin to reveal themselves.
He finds out that he is the great grandson of Zuhayer Horwood, and his grand father is coming for him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Adambooks
• Release date: Dec 3, 2010
• ISBN: 9780981001647

M. E. Eadie

Michael lives on an island in the Ottawa River with his six children and wife. Formerly a visual artist, he has turned his attentions to writing. The cover of "A Thousand Kisses Deep," is his own art work.He binds, by hand, his hard cover books. In his opinion it adds to the emotional value of the book.He invites any conversations on the matter of art.

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Colin and The Rise of The House of Horwood

by

M.E. Eadie

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PUBLISHED BY:

ADAM BOOKS on Smashwords

Colin and The Rise of The House of Horwood

Copyright 2008 by M.E. Eadie

Smashwords 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 Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

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Table of Contents

Chapter One: Shadow Nix

Chapter Two: Pansy Patch Park

Chapter Three: Horwood House

Chapter Four: The Bank and The School

Chapter Five: Ofelia

Chapter Six: New Skills

Chapter Seven: Seven for Dinner

Chapter Eight: Waking Dreams

Chapter Nine: Slumber and Soccer

Chapter Ten: The Wind

Chapter Eleven: Costumes

Chapter Twelve: First Game

Chapter Thirteen: Maestro

Chapter Fourteen: The Clown Master

Chapter Fifteen: The Debate

Chapter Sixteen: Dad

Chapter Seventeen: Confrontation

Chapter Eighteen: Jaeger

Chapter Nineteen: The Return

Chapter One: Shadow Nix

On a tiny blade of grass, a dewdrop rested. Within its watery sphere there was a billowing, black cloud. Sometimes it just floated; at other times it gave the impression of becoming big enough to break out. Jim Thunder had to find out what this vision meant because his old body was dying. Beneath him he could feel the earth’s rhythm, its pulsating heart. He slipped into the dewdrop and around him a light blazed. Squinting from its intensity he watched as the black cloud dispelled. Then the dewdrop went blank.

Jim rolled away exhausted from the effort, and stared up at the sunless sky. It was always sunless; Inbetween, but that didn’t bother him. He wondered at the vision he had just seen. What could it mean? He sighed. In the end, even though he could see so much, there was very little he could do. True, he could suggest here, tweak there, but in the end it was free will that would reign. No matter how much persuasive talent he had, it was a person’s free will that mattered. It was what made people so magnificent. It was what made living so interesting. A person with free will could do anything! It had to be, because to take free will away was tyranny. It was so simple and so elusive in its nature that most people missed it. Only in the plain clarity of a young mind could it be fully understood: in that way, bad was always bad with no shades of gray.

Soon he would have to return from Inbetween to the floor of his tent, return to his body lying there, barely breathing. It had taken years to learn how to separate his spirit from his body, to view the visions available in this sunless place. And there were certain dangers being Inbetween, between the worlds: there were those who guarded this place jealously, and others who wanted most desperately to leave it. If the Shadow Nixes caught him here, they could tear his spirit from his body and leave him eternally floating between the worlds, neither here, nor there, neither alive nor dead.

Jim scanned the skies for any black dots that would signal the arrival of the Shadow Nixes and decided to take one last look into the dewdrop. The swirling cloud of inky darkness flooded back into the dewdrop, and, he nearly panicked. He thought it was gone, but obviously it was back. A sensation of being pulled away came over him and he knew his body was calling him back. He struggled to collect his wits, to remain Inbetween, to pursue the vision to its end.

He was now within the cloud itself, the very heart of evil. A face took form, the face of a man, his complexion a sickly shade of ashen white. Within the two dark pits of his eye sockets, black marbles glittered threateningly. There were many other eyes all around him, but they just watched, but the man’s eyes darted about, looking for something, someone. Then they found him, fixed on him, and then moved on, eyes returning to their intense, desperate search. Jim felt spiny prickles of fear crawling up the nape of his neck. He knew the man. His name was Zuhayer Bombast Horwood and he had been dead for years, or so he thought.

The vision was now replaced by another, a boy, disheveled dark hair hanging about his face, was struggling to catch a soccer ball. He kept missing, but would not give up. Jim smiled. He knew this boy. He had taken care of him since he was a baby, but what did Colin have to do with the black cloud?

The scene changed again. A girl replaced the boy. Her glowing orange-gold hair flaming in the dewdrop. A spray of mischievous freckles covered her cheeks and ran up over the bridge of her nose. Although she looked wild, he could sense there was an inner calm, a dynamic red courage that was unmistakable.

Then all the images were gone, and he was simply staring at a limpid dewdrop. He turned away letting his spirit return to his body. Even though things were uncertain, there was one thing clear, these two young people were in grave danger.

***

Kicking the ball with a fierce energy, Colin sent it spinning through the air. At least there was some satisfaction in that. Kicking was the best part of the game. Since it was a given that they were going to lose, it probably made sense to put their worst player in net. Not even that bothered him, because every time his foot came in contact with the ball, it was like kicking away a piece of himself, a piece he didn’t like, and it was strangely gratifying.

He had plenty of opportunities to kick the ball, because it had been buried in the net behind him so often. Surging down the left side of the field, the orange and blue stripes of the other team were coming again, passing back and forth with adroit skill. His own blue-shirted side was not having much effect in stopping the onslaught, and he knew it was just a matter of time before the other team scored again.

Get off the line! Get off the line! screamed the coach, Justine Bone, his swollen, beet-red face threatening to burst.

Colin glanced down at the white chalk line he had been standing on, and wondered what the big, beefy man was yelling about. Wasn’t he supposed to stand on the line? Distracted by the perplexing yells of the coach, he felt the soughing wind as the ball whizzed past him, saw the agonized, defeated faces of his teammates. He tried to ignore the, now apoplectic, coach jumping up and down on the sideline. Mercifully, the final long whistle went and the game was at an end.

It was the walk of shame off the field, but Colin figured a little bit of shame was the price of playing. He knew too much of what it was to be excluded. If he wanted a normal life, a life other kids took for granted, he would just have to brass it out, as Sergeant Peary would say. Unfortunately, Sergeant Peary was just a comic book character -- or a voice in his head.

Come on! Come on! squawked Edge like a chicken. The coach’s son, his face jabbing intrusively into Colin’s space, was a miniature version of his father, quick to anger and slow in thought.

Where are we going? mumbled Colin unable to pass up the opportunity to taunt the thick-featured Edge.

What do you mean? the boy’s beady eyes went hard, his breath smelling of sports drink and oranges, Maybe next time you can let in six instead of seven! But wait, there won’t be a next time!

From previous experience he knew it was best not to taunt Edge. Even as slow as he was, he would eventually understand, and along with understanding came revenge. Colin fought down the urge to point out that most of the goals were caused by Edge’s unwillingness to pass the ball, but he just shrugged. When he reached the point where everyone was gathered in front of the furious coach, Colin prudently continued to stare at his feet. He found that if you looked at someone who was angry, looked them in the eyes, you became a target. He saw something glittering on the ground: a dewdrop on a blade of grass.

Scowling, Mr. Bone jabbed a thick, sausage-like finger towards Colin’s chest and started in on him. What were you doing out there? You call that net minding? My arthritic Grandma could do better than that! If we weren’t short, I’d sit you on the sideline where you belong. Boy! Whatever possessed you to think you could play this game?

The coach went on, and on, and Colin felt the heat of embarrassment rising into his face. Eventually, the man would vent enough steam that his swollen head would begin to deflate and then he would find someone else to pick on, or better still, he would just go away.

There was a self-satisfied, haughty smirk on Edge’s face, as if he was about to say: I told you so. I told you we shouldn’t have let him play. I can spot a weirdo, a loser anytime. He’s not one of us.

Colin merely shrugged looking down at his untied shoelaces. Of course he wasn’t like them. His clothes were different, his shoes were old and he lived in a tent, but it didn’t stop him from wanting friends and wanting to play games that others played. It had seemed like a logical thing, telling the coach he knew how to play. Even though his little lie didn’t seem very bad, he regretted having told it. But, how else was he going to get to play? And he wanted to play more than anything. It seemed like a good idea at the time…

Standing in front of the coach, he felt Mr. Bone’s hot breath, like the fetid inside of some musty cavern, blowing on his face. He waited for a pause in the man’s blustering. Eventually he would stop -- or blow up. He was beginning to hope for the latter to occur.

You leave me no choice, said the harsh, but fractionally mollified, voice. I’m going to have to ask you to hand in your shirt and leave the team.

Colin looked up askance. Boy, did Edge and his father ever think alike! But, coach, this is the last game of the season. Don’t we all have to hand in our shirts?

Don’t talk back to me! Now, give me the shirt, snapped Mr. Bone, insulted by the boy’s impertinence. His bald head, sweaty and red, shimmered in the evening sun as he thrust out a meaty hand, thick fingers twitching.

Colin pulled the sweater over his head, revealing his red, yellow, blue and green shirt beneath. Edge snickered. It didn’t bother Colin; he liked the colours and so did his aunt, which was strange, because she only wore black. The only complaint he had was that it made him stand out. It was hard to be invisible when you were glowing with colour. He pulled a matching toque over his head, and felt everybody’s eyes on him.

Hey, Rainbow, did you’re mommy buy your clothes? snickered Edge, his voice accompanied by a few other derisive laughs.

Colin slid his sunglasses onto his face, Actually, my mother is dead, and my aunt made them from the hair of animals you’ve never seen. It was true, and the truth broadsided Edge into silence. At that moment his irritation with Edge disappeared, because on the ground, just in front of him, a black dot was beginning to form. He knew exactly what it meant, and what was coming. Quickly he tossed the sweater at Mr. Bone and walked briskly away. He wasn’t particularly concerned about the comments anymore; it was the dot he was running from -- the Shadow Nix.

Boy, do you understand me? Boy? called out the coach, hoping his message hadn’t been misunderstood. The last thing he needed was the kid showing up next year expecting to play.

Colin understood the coach perfectly; however, he had more important concerns to deal with at the moment.

Rusty, leave him be, called out Mr. Bone.

There was a flash of red hair and the sound of running feet and the breath of someone trying to catch up to him, then settling in beside him, matching his striding paces. If he refused to look at the girl, she’d go away.

Don’t listen to Egg Head. He’s all bluster. In fact I’ve been meaning to thank you.

Colin glanced at her, perplexed and confused; for a moment he forgot about the black dot that was following him. I don’t know what you’re talking about. He noticed how a spray of red freckles bridged over her nose. Her hair wasn’t rust colored at all -- it was like a golden flame. Why did they call her Rusty? He looked back down at his feet and tried not to stumble.

Before you came along I used to be Egg Head’s victim, she said grinning.

Why you? stuttered Colin disbelieving. You’re really good.

I’m a girl. Haven’t you noticed there are no other girls on the team? Where are you going?

I’m going home, and of course I noticed, said Colin wondering why she was insisting on following him.

Mind if I come along?

Colin panicked, feeling the black dot behind him. He could sense it, feel it with his mind. It had grown legs and was now increasing its pace in an attempt to catch up to him. He could feel its blackness, its absence of being as though it was there and yet not there, extending, trying to catch him. If he didn’t pick up his speed, it would overtake him, and that would not be good. This was how bad things always started: with a black dot that would grow into a Shadow Nix. Something nasty was about to happen, and it was trying to happen to him!

I really have to go home now, he said breaking into a full run.

Even though Rhea Li wanted to get to know the strange boy, sprinting after him seemed a little too desperate a measure. So, she stopped and watched as he ran away, fascinated by this odd boy, and wondering when he was going to trip on the flapping laces of his untied trainers.

Colin hazarded a glance over his shoulder to see if the Shadow Nix was gaining on him, when in fact his feet did tangle up with his laces and he pitched forward onto his face. He fell headlong into a concealing hedge in front of a series of low-income row houses. He rolled onto his back and stared between his feet. He had only made it to the other side of the field; off in the distance his teammates were still watching his embarrassment. The Shadow Nix wasn’t coming for him! It was pursuing Rhea. Cloaked and cowled like a monk, it was now more solid in form; it floated above the ground, turning the grass underneath it into a sickly gray. He swallowed hard.

A voice, like rocks grinding against each other, barked in the back of his head. It was the voice of Sergeant Peary: Diversionary tactic! Buy some time! You’ve got to help the girl! DO IT, NOW!

Colin scrambled to his feet, and without any thought for himself, raced back to Rhea. She was unaware of the threat stalking her. The Shadow Nix was now as large as Rhea. In fact it was an exact duplicate of her and was moving to overtake her. If the shadow did so, a multitude of things could happen, none of which were good. He must distract the shadow long enough until it ran out of time. From dot to Shadow Nix, the thing had only two or three minutes to find a victim, to attach to someone. If it didn’t do it in that time, it would simply disappear.

Rhea! he yelled, running at her.

She turned to face him, a perplexed and querulous expression on her face. Colin?

Don’t just stand there! he said, dancing about her, waving his hands. Move! The Shadow Nix had an easier time attaching itself if its victim wasn’t moving. Rhea stared at him like he was a lunatic, but that was understandable, considering the circumstances. And since it was hard enough finding a friend, let alone one that was nice to him, he knew he must save her from harm.

Colin dodged between her and the shadow, confusing it and providing a protective barrier for Rhea. For some reason, the shadow wasn’t after him this time, or so he thought; then the edge of the shadow began to fluctuate, becoming soft, and then it took on a different edge and dashed at him. Colin went from chasing the shadow to being chased by it, from protecting Rhea to using her as a shield. Then again it reversed and went after Rhea. Colin, in his awkward dance, caught one of Rhea’s elbows in the face, hard enough so that his nose started to bleed. Skipping and waving his hands in the air, he felt a bit like a fool, but the tactic was working.

Weird, muttered Mr. Bone in fearful disgust beneath his breath, watching the two on the other side of the field. As the strange boy danced around Rhea, waving his arms. The kid was beyond strange, should be locked away, out of the sight of decent folk, he thought. There had to be something mentally wrong with the kid. It was a gut feeling he prided himself on, knowing when someone was different. Oh, jeez, he muttered, knowing he was eventually going to have to get involved. Rhea was not only one of his players, but she had an influential parent, an Educational Psychologist or something. He didn’t like getting involved, not in situations that he couldn’t control, and this was one of those questionable situations. He wouldn’t mind slapping a few of the kids, now and then, but he had no desire to get in trouble with the law.

Hey! Leave Rusty alone. Get out of here, boy! His yell had no effect, and the boy continued to jump about wildly. Edge, he said to his son, keep the team together. I’m going to see what’s going on. He began to trundle across the field to where Rhea and Colin were, as fast as his blocky frame could carry him.

Colin lunged to the side, just missing Rhea and deflecting the Shadow Nix again. Rhea flinched confusedly trying to get the handkerchief, that had been tied around her neck, onto his bleeding nose. At first she had been too bewildered by Colin’s actions to try it, but strangely enough, she was getting used to his bizarre behavior, it was oddly endearing, and of course, she felt bad about smashing him in the nose. She waved the handkerchief at him as he dashed by.

Here, take this! You’re getting blood all over the place. If you don’t stop moving, you’ll never get it to -- stop that! she yelled out as Colin spun away from her attempts to stop the bleeding. She swung at him again trying to shove the handkerchief at his nose, and hit him in the eye, smashing his sunglasses.

Oww, he said, dancing to the side.

Sorry, but you’ll have to stop moving!

He knew that the moment he stopped, the Shadow Nix would grab one of them. Before he could get in the way again, the Shadow Nix slipped by him and almost brushed up against Rhea. He gasped and threw himself at her knocking her to the ground. Sorry! he said springing to his feet and looking about wildly for the Nix.

Rhea shook her head, not offended by the bump or the tumble; she had gotten far worse playing soccer with boys. What disturbed her was the gentle flutter she had felt against the skin of her arm, the cold fear it caused inside her. She rubbed the point of near contact as though she was trying to warm away frostbite. Feeling dreadfully light headed, as though the sun had momentarily been shut off and a great black cloud threatened to overwhelm the pair of them, she bent forward and let the blood rush to her head.

What was that? she demanded.

Shadow Nix: It’s trying to get us, groaned Colin, slipping around her in a circle, trying to elude the spectral form again. He knew she wouldn’t understand, but could think of nothing else to say.

She was about to say The what? but then saw something, an undulating wave, distorting the air like the rising heat from an asphalt road in the summer. Within the wave a black dot appeared, growing steadily larger, expanding outwards, taking the shape of a complete shadow, the black dilating cavity of an arm distorting, elongating like a snake, reaching for her. She gasped in horror. Colin stepped between them, and the thing hesitated, changed, and went after him. Fortunately, it seemed to be slow, as if some great ponderous weight was holding it back.

I...I...can see it! stuttered Rhea, eyes wide, What is it?

He dodged. A Shadow Nix, repeated Colin. Don’t let it touch you, whatever you do. Then he tripped again on his untied shoelaces. Falling hard onto the grass, the wind was pressed painfully out of his lungs; but he managed to push himself upright. The shadow was just about to wrap itself around a horrified Rhea who seemed unable to move. It stopped as though thinking, then suddenly inflated, growing in size, turned and plunged into the oncoming, stomping form of the red faced Mr. Bone. The Shadow Nix slipped into the coach as though it was fitting a suit, and apparently, disappeared. The big man halted, wavered on his feet, and lifted a thick hand to wipe his forehead. His face went from red to a peculiar sickly shade of green. Rhea, are you all right? said Mr. Bone, wobbling as though he was on a ship in a rough sea.

Rhea nodded. Yeah, nothing wrong here. Colin was just showing me the latest dance moves, she lied. She continued to hop around waving her hands in the air. Aren’t they like really rad?

Right, said the coach doubtfully, but sedately. He wavered again and put his hands out to maintain his balance. I don’t seem to be feeling so good. Let’s go home. His shoulders slouched as he ambled off the field.

Colin got to his feet and Rhea instinctively reached for his nose, covering it with the handkerchief. Mom says never leave home without one of these. It’s got a hundred and one uses.

Tanks.

The bleeding had stopped, but he put the cloth over his nose anyway. It felt awkward, someone being nice to him.

What’s going to happen to him? asked Rhea. The coach’s broad shoulders continued to sag.

I don’t know, answered Colin. I’ve never seen one do that before. Usually they attach themselves to a person like a shadow, not slip inside them. Sometimes, a Shadow Nix can make people really depressed. I don’t know much about them, just enough to know they aren’t good. Grandfather Thunder says they’re a type of ghost that wants to live again, but they can’t do it by themselves.

That’s eerie. Normally, I’d say you’re nuts, but I saw it, like a black sheet or something, said Rhea much too brightly. Who’s Grandfather Thunder?

A friend. I better get going. Colin was staring down at his trainers, trying not to look Rhea in the eyes, trying to find a way to end the uncomfortable feeling that was growing inside him.

My mom is an educational psychologist. She would love to hear about these Nixes and she’d love to talk to your Grandfather. You know …, she stuttered, trying to voice her next thought, it was trying to get one of us, wasn’t it?

Colin nodded. It was after me, but because you tried to help me, it went after you. Listen, I’ve got to go home now. He was feeling more and more uncomfortable, not because of the subject, but because he had never made friends with anyone on the outside that could see anything. He felt excited . . . and confused.

Where do you live? Rhea asked.

Colin was afraid she was going to ask this. He disliked having to lie. Shrugging, he just said, Around.

Rhea watched as Colin turned and walked away, the blood-spattered handkerchief still held to his nose. Deciding she wasn’t through, she ran after him, catching up to him. School starts tomorrow. Which school are you going to?

Colin stopped, hoping she wouldn’t persist in following him all the way home. He shrugged. What school are you going to?

High View. What about you?

Same. It didn’t matter if he lied. He’d probably never see her again, not after his aunt found out what he had been doing.

See you tomorrow.

Colin waved. Yeah, see you tomorrow, he said a bit despondently.

Chapter Two: Pansy Patch Park

Colin backtracked twice, like Grandfather Thunder had taught him, making sure nobody was following. He was especially careful because he didn’t want to give his aunt any more reasons to deny him access to the outside. As it was, he was on tenderhooks with her. One more slip and he’d end up like Spike, confined to Pansy Patch Park indefinitely.

From his vantage, on the cusp of the old riverbank, he was able to scan the park through the trees. In this way he was able to make sure it was clear. Not too many people frequented Pansy Patch Park because it was haunted. It wasn’t really haunted; they just wanted it to seem that way, making it easier for them to come and go. As he waited, Colin’s eyes went to the sunlight bouncing in splashes off the little river and creek that made Pansy Patch an island. The ever-constant sound of the running water, the detritus smell of the earth, the gentleness of the unseen wind, were comforting. The rich autumnal smells of coming fall swirled about him. Soon the time of change would be upon them, and they would get ready to leave. They would board Grandfather Thunder’s houseboat and sail somewhere else. The only problem was, this time; he didn’t want to leave.

He slid down the slope on the dead leaves. At the bottom he approached the little bridge that spanned the creek. Suddenly, the wind picked up, assaulting him from the front and blowing cold against his face. The obnoxious clattering of a bone rattle filled the air. Adrenaline shot through his body, but did so needlessly. Rolling his eyes, he shouted, Come on Spike! Is that the best you can do?

A disembodied head materialized, floating in the air in front of him. Spike had nut-brown skin, sandy-colored hair that was tied back in its usual ponytail. He stuck out his tongue in distaste. His nose crinkled: a trait that revealed thought, humour, or irritation or a combination of the three.

Aunt Grizzelda wants me to use traditional methods to scare people off. She says it’s more natural. If it were up to me, I’d love to get my hands on a few cherry bombs! You wouldn’t…the next time you’re out…would you mind picking…

No way! Are you kidding? If she catches me, we’ll both be stuck

Spike gave a mild grunt, At least I wouldn’t be alone. So, how was it? continued Spike enviously, a body joining his head. Did you win?

He always asked the same question and each time Colin gave him the same answer, No, we lost. Colin didn’t want to go into detail describing his less than stellar performance in net. The coach kicked me off the team.

You’re that good, eh? So, did you get it? asked Spike anxiously rubbing his hands together.

Colin reached inside his jacket, grateful for not having to talk about the game, and pulled out a comic book. He looked around guiltily, then unrolled it and gazed down admiringly at his hero. Sergeant Peary was holding a blazing machine gun in one arm while protecting a curly-headed blond girl with the other. Clenched and smoldering between his grimacing teeth was a stubby cigar. In a bubble above his head were the words: EAT LEAD YOU DIRTY NAZIS!

Awesome! said Spike. What’s a Nazi?

I don’t have a clue, answered Colin. When he bought the comic it hadn’t seemed important, but now he wondered about it.

Open it up. What’s the story about? urged Spike.

Yes, do tell. What’s the story about? said a cold, reptilian voice over their shoulders as a bony hand, complete with long claws masquerading as painted fingernails, shot down and tore the comic from their fingers.

Grizzelda, looking down her aquiline nose, regarded them as if they were twin insects. Her piercing dark eyes gave the impression of a set of laser beams slicing to pieces anything that met her disapproving gaze. When she regarded you, it was like being examined, taken apart, one piece at a time. Spike swallowed hard and turned pale.

It’s Colin’s, he confessed. I had nothing to do with it! he said imploringly, hoping Colin would forgive him.

Colin glared at his friend. Even though they both called Grizzelda their Aunt, she was Colin’s real aunt with the full weight of unrealistic expectation. Spike, out of pity, was permitted to call her aunt even though there was no relation. Thanks, thanks a lot, he muttered.

What I want to know, said Grizzelda, staring down at them imperiously, is how you got the money to buy it – if that’s what you did?