The Sisters Arcana

By Ken Janssens

Children from the town of Patterson, Oregon are disappearing. And it does not appear to be ending anytime soon. Until two sisters rise to the challenge of the bizarre mystery. Pro Se Productions presents THE SISTERS ARCANA by Ken Janssens. The latest entry in Pro Se’s YOUNGPULP! imprint is an eerie adventure novel about the ties that bind and bend in a family of passionate people and the mysteries a person can uncover if they just choose to believe. A friendless, science geek and a feisty, sci-fi fanatic, Rowan and Nova are cut from a different bit of cloth. They don’t always get along, but they may be the only ones with enough guts and smarts to save their missing classmates from something straight out of Nova’s imagination. All they need is the right motivation. And to not disappear themselves. Equal parts adventure and mystery, THE SISTERS ARCANA invites readers into a world where nothing is as it seems at first glance and strength is found when and where least expected. An Adventure for all ages- THE SISTERS ARCANA by Ken Janssens from Pro Se Productions.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pro Se Press
• Release date: Jan 31, 2014

Book preview

Prologue

A storm was coming. The wind had picked up, and there were black clouds accumulating fast in the sky, the far-off, dull thuds of thunder announcing their approach.

It was the last day of August. School started tomorrow, and, really, that was all Becky and Tom could think about. Sure, the task their mother gave them and their two sisters, Maddie and Claire, was probably more important than mourning their last evening of academic freedom, but, hey, that’s what kept running through their minds.

Becky was the baby of the family—by fifteen minutes. She and Tom were twins, though don’t think for a second that Tom didn’t hold that extra quarter of an hour over Becky’s head. Whenever he was asked to do something like take out the garbage, he always responded with, Shouldn’t Becky be doing that; she’s the youngest? It rarely worked. Rarely meaning never.

Usually on a night like this, when the cattle had to be herded to a pen closer to the farmhouse and barns, their dad would lead the cows home. But Mr. Durant was in Montana on farm business, so Mrs. Durant sent her quartet of children out to play wranglers.

The chore was pretty much completed now. The cattle were in the pen, and Claire, clinging authoritatively to her clipboard, was doing a final head count to make sure they were all present. Becky and Tom were amusing themselves while they waited, competing in their never-ending tournament of Rock/Paper/Scissors. It was 205 to 198 for Becky, though Tom swore that he only trailed by one game. Their memory banks made for poor scoreboards.

Hey, Twofor, Claire called out to the twins, a collective name that family and friends called Tom and Becky whenever they lazily wanted to address the both of them at the same time. It was short for Two-for-one.

Get back out to the fields and see if you can see a straggler, Maddie interrupted, squinting at her fingernails for any unwanted dirt. We’re missing a heifer.

C’mon, Maddie, Becky whined defiantly. It’s about to pour.

Well, you better run then.

Fine, we’ll get it, barked Tom. But we’re not running.

Tom started to saunter breezily in the direction of the fields. Becky grinned at Tom’s rebellion and followed him at the same deliberately slow pace.

Just hurry up, Maddie shouted to them.

Can’t hear you, Tom hollered back. I’m having a loonnngggg, peaceful stroll.

When Becky and Tom were over the first hill and they knew that Claire and Maddie could no longer see them, they started to jog through the fields. It was drizzling now, and they did not want to get caught in a downpour. But they only jogged. Running would be like losing a match of wills, and the twins could never concede a loss to their sisters, especially Claire.

To speed up the search, the twins split up in different directions. No more than six seconds later, Becky yelled back in Tom’s direction.

Tom, come back. I see her.

Tom quickly rejoined his sister. Off in the distance they saw the backside of their dark-colored heifer sticking out from behind some bushes.

It’s lying down. Maybe it’s sick.

Probably just sleeping, replied Tom, not too worried. The two blond siblings crossed the quarter mile or so to the treeline. The spitting rain had increased only slightly, biding its time until it sensed the worst possible moment when it could dump an ocean on the pair. They stopped several feet behind the cow to decide how to attack the situation.

Soooo, what? We just, like, kick it until it gets up? pondered Tom aloud.

Well, we should see if it’s awake or foaming at the mouth from mad cow or something.

They don’t actually foam at their mouths, moron.

They call it ‘mad’ for a reason, responded Becky snootily.

Ugh. Fine, I’ll check it.

Tom fumbled in his jeans pocket for his keychain. The penlight that was attached was small, but it would serve its purpose in the pre-dusk shadows. The Durant kids ambled slowly around the bush, collecting more of the young cow in their sight. Becky pulled the back collar of her t-shirt over her head to protect it from the descending droplets. As they made it closer to the animal’s head, Tom flashed his light on the cow’s body.

I don’t think it’s breathing, Becks. I think it’s dead. You can really see its ribs.

Just shine on the face, then, reasoned Becky as she looked up into the sky, trying to determine if they were going to make it back home before the deluge. If it’s dead, we can motor and come back for it tomorrow.

The cow’s face wasn’t in clear view as it was tucked into the group of bushes. Tom rounded the body so he could get a final, definitive answer.

Grab its neck and pull it back. I can’t see its eyes.

Gross, answered Becky, sporting quite the soured expression. I’m not touching that thing, ‘specially if it died from mad cow.

Don’t be an idiot.

Give me the flashlight, and you can grab it.

Here, said Tom as he handed her the light. I swear you’re turning more and more into a girl as we get older.

"I am a girl, loser," Becky pointed out. She made her way around to the front of the cow. Tom slung his arms around its neck and jerked back with all his weight. He couldn’t budge it. Tom placed one foot onto the other side of the young heifer to get more leverage for a second attempt. Glimpsing the face of the cow for the first time, Becky screamed, startling her minutely shorter brother.

Geez, Becks! You’re gonna give me a heart attack.

Look at this, replied a disgusted Becky. It’s missing an eye, and it looks like all the blood has drained out of her. Look at her color. She must have been here forever if the scavengers have bled her this much.

Um, I think we should head back, proclaimed Tom with an almost indiscernible quiver.

Yeah, just a sec. There are some puncture wounds at the bottom of her jaw. Something bit into her.

Becky, let’s go now. The heifer’s still warm. Whatever did this could still… Tom stopped. He was now standing up straight and peered into the bushes without moving his head.

What? whispered Becky. With his sister shining her spotlight on him, Tom motioned with his finger towards the branches and their blowing leaves.

Becky’s voice returned to its normal volume. It’s just the wind, spaz.

Tripping over the end of her words, came a noise that was definitely not the wind. What it was, neither of the Durant twins could figure out. It was low and crackling. There were two large eyes watching them from the bushes. Initially, the horrible thought that it was a mountain lion that had strayed far from its terrain entered their minds. But it wasn’t one, not with those eyes.

Suddenly, the penetrating pupils—as if they were riding up in a slow elevator—rose from two-and-a-half feet off the ground to nearly double that height. Then the thing... the creature... whatever... seemed to smile.

This time, there was no slow jogging. Becky and Tom sprinted as fast as they could.

And the heavy rain came pouring down.

Rowan (Chapter 1)

I had waited two months, eleven days, sixteen hours, four minutes, and twenty-nine seconds. Approximately. That was the last day I had been at school. Everyone else was so happy that day. I wasn’t. Now, the roles were reversed.

That afternoon back at the end of June was the last time I saw Mitchell Tulipski and, heaven help me, it had been excruciating. All summer, if I wasn’t thinking about him, I was thinking about thinking about him. Why couldn’t I get him out of my brain? Why, when the sum total of words we had said to one another could be put onto one of those pieces of paper you find in a Chinese fortune cookie, had I started a million conversations with him in my head?

It wasn’t like I was pathetic… okay, it could very well be because I was pathetic. I did have one thing going for me, though. I was on track to being a forensic scientist, a regular CSI, like on TV. I got straight A’s, and last year I got bumped up a grade for Chemistry class. The plan was to move to Seattle for college, where I could put all this high school crap behind me.

I loved Chem class for a google of reasons, near the top of the list being it was the place I met Mitchell. He was in ninth grade and new in town. Mitchell’s a jock, but not, like, a dumb jock. He’s relatively quiet; I’d like to think introspective. Hah! As if I had any real clue.

Oh, and did I mention his smoky green eyes? Un-be-lievable.

After about three weeks here, he was dating Jill Pringle. They lasted about eight months. Mitchell eventually found out how much of a self-absorbed witch she was and dumped her. She spent the final two months of last year trying to get him back. Sorry, sweetheart, he’s too smart for you. Of course, a girl with the last name of a potato chip got him in the first place and I couldn’t, so who was I to talk?

Anyway, with Jill done, that gave me my opening. I just had to wait for the right time. And wait. And, yeah, apparently, wait some more. The last day of school came too quickly, so I had to make my move. There I was, hanging around the lockers, waiting to strike. My master plan? Invite him for ice cream. I’m bloody brilliant. I mentioned that I’m going to be a forensic scientist, right? I had been waiting for over forty minutes when I finally found out that I had missed him. All the football guys skipped the last day of school to go to the beach. Epic fail.

I was going to have to wait until September. I wasn’t the kind of person that was going stalk him all summer. I was the kind of person that would need to know where the new guy lived before I stalked him. Patterson might not have anywhere near the population of Portland but with all the sprawling neighborhoods and farmland, doing a house-to-house check would have been quite the summer project... which I attempted with no luck. Yep. Pathetic. Me.

Fast forward to today and I was bouncing off the walls; it had been a long enough wait and even though I was nervous, I couldn’t have been happier. I came in an hour early to set up my new locker, having moved to the high-schoolers’ end. I kept glancing down the hall, but I didn’t see Mitchell. Hmm, maybe kids were issued a different locker every year. I took as much time as I could to arrange my stuff without seeming like I was slow in the head, then decided to see if Miss Zimmer had arrived yet.

Miss Zimmer was the science teacher for grades eight through twelve. Over the last twelve months, she had grown into both my mentor and my friend, another reason I loved Chem class. We even hung out a few times during the summer. Actually, if you think about it, and I try not to, she was pretty much the only person I considered a friend.

I wasn’t sure why that was. I remember back in sixth grade I used to have lots of friends. I guess things changed—except me—which was probably the problem. The girls started to dress different, talk different, act different, and I didn’t. Mom was glad to see I kept my integrity and said I didn’t need friends like that. She was happy I didn’t turn into one of those little monsters as she so eloquently put it. That made one of us happy, I suppose.

As I approached the Chemistry lab, I weaved around a circle of girls texting on their cell phones. At what point in the universe did the human race stop conversing with the people they were physically with? I was glad my parents wouldn’t let me get a cell until I turned sixteen.

Just so darn, kick-yourself-in-the-head glad.

The girls gave me a quick glance to see if I was anything important and went back to not chatting with each other in a well-protected wheel. I arrived at Miss Zimmer’s class, peered in, then decided not to enter. She was talking to a couple of the other teachers, and I didn’t want to be one of those people who didn’t know boundaries. I instead made a beeline for the bathroom. It was a two-pronged attack. I wanted to check my appearance one more time to look my best for Mitchell. Also, thinking of that fact made me nauseous so I desperately needed to be around porcelain receptacles. Great, nothing says take me in your arms and kiss me like a hint of puke on one’s breath. I did my best to keep back the surge as I analyzed my reflection in the bathroom’s streaked mirror.

Shoulder-length brown hair still perfectly straight: check. Tasteful amount of make-up looking decent in school’s fluorescent lighting: kinda check. Clothes cutting-edge and form-fitting: ummmm, we’ll skip over that one. Contact lenses that I’m wearing for the first time not making my eyes bloodshot red: surprisingly, check. Okay, Miss Rowan Annabella Arcana, not so shabby. Back to stalking.

I kept my eyes peeled open as I voyaged through the different hallways that were lined with lockers, just in case Mitchell had been reassigned to one of them. It was getting close to first period so I was pretty confident that wherever his new nest was, he would be at it by now.

The hallway near my locker was a little darker than the rest. It was a half floor down from the main floor, a semi-basement-type thing that also housed the cafeteria and the band room. I turned the final corner with my heart cozying up to my tonsils.

There he was back at his old locker, a mere handful past mine. I should’ve just gone straight over there and talked to him. No hesitation, just boom, Hi, Mitchell, how was your summer? Annnnnnd here comes the puke surge again.

My heart-pounding fear made a decision for me; the best course of action was to take a pit stop at my locker to collect myself. I flipped around the lock combination a few times before the thin, creaky hinges confirmed my stupendous safe-cracking abilities. I snatched my binder and a pen then looked back toward Mitchell.

I couldn’t believe it! Mitchell was talking to another girl… and that girl was Nova, my little sister!

Nova (Chapter 2)

Mitchell passed me the note, and I quickly put it straight into my pocket. He didn’t want anyone knowing, which I could totally understand. Also, I didn’t think he was entirely comfortable with people seeing us together because of our age difference, but if that was the case, he hid it well. He still had the same excitement about him from when we first met online a few weeks back. We had clicked pretty instantly.

As I was about to leave to meet my friends, he made an offhand comment that made me laugh. I was still smirking as I turned and caught Rowan giving me the evil eye from down the busy hallway. She looked pissed! Great, what did I do this time? Eat the last Oreo? Hum the wrong song while walking through our living room? Jamie says that’s what happens when you become a teenager. So that gave me just over six months before I had to shoot myself.

I couldn’t put the entire blame on her for her attitude change over the last couple years, though. Mom and Dad did a lot more globetrotting these days because of their jobs as archaeologists. Rowan really didn’t have anyone to confide in. She didn’t seem to have many friends anymore, and the two of us weren’t anywhere near as tight as we used to be. That left our older brother Jamie. But ever since he turned nineteen, he seemed to have taken over the parenting mindset (though not the attentive part) and kinda stopped being that fun.

I was sure I’d soon enough get an earful of whatever the reason was for her pissiness, so I left in the opposite direction and the long way around to the cafeteria.

I walked into the less-than-sterile lunch area and scanned the groups of kids to find Sammy, Becky, and Tom. Before I caught them in my sights, I was beckoned from a bench behind one of the large pillars that seemed randomly scattered throughout the room. It was my best bud, Sammy Medeiros.

Sammy was about five foot one, the same height as me. He was a bit of a shy guy, probably because of his height. Though his Portuguese skin was by no means dark, he looked like he had a constant suntan when standing by me and my ghost-white complexion. I used to have brown hair like Ro but it had since turned red, now closer to Mom’s color.

Sammy got up, threw his backpack over his shoulder, and met me halfway. So what did summer last? About ten minutes?

Yeah, I responded with a sigh. Missed you over the last few weeks. How was Florida?

A lot hotter than here. The amount of B.O. that seeps out of the people in Jacksonville is awful. At least, I got to hang with my cousin most of the time, so it went by pretty quick. Where’s Twofor?

I haven’t seen them this morning. Actually I haven’t seen them since last week. Their dad’s away on business so their mom’s got them doing a whole bunch of farm stuff.

So who’ve you been hanging out with? asked Sammy, but I didn’t have time to tell him about my news before someone grabbed my arm. It wasn’t a forceful grasp but it caught me off guard, and I didn’t like it.

Hey, I spat out.

Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to freak you.

I looked at the guy who grabbed me for a second. He had medium-brown skin and was kinda tall. By the way he spoke, I took him to be Indian. Like India Indian not American Indian. He seemed like he was probably around Ro’s age: fourteen-ish.

My name’s Justin Tucker. I’m new here and I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of Room 24.

It was weird. As he spoke those few words, his accent seemed to disappear, as if he made the conscious effort to try to fade it out right away. Instant dislike filled me up.

Go out into the hall, up the stairs, and follow the numbers. It’s after 23.

Thank you. So…

We gotta go, I blurted out before he could strike up a conversation with us. It took maybe six steps to figure out how rude I had been. Uh oh, I’m not turning into Rowan already. Cue hair pulling here. I liked to think of myself as an easy-going person, and now I was pissed off at this guy for making me pissed off. Justin just wasn’t going to win in my book. I was thankful that Sammy didn’t point out my childish behavior.

I bet Tom and Becky are waiting for us in home room.

Probably, answered Sammy as he popped a piece of Dentyne into his mouth. He gestured the pack in my direction but I waved it off. Not a big gum fan. Remembering my interesting news as we walked to home room, I jumped back to his interrupted question.

Actually I was online, doing a bunch of research and after about five minutes on ‘3S’, I met this guy. I fumbled around in my pocket and pulled out the piece of paper that Mitchell gave me, sticking it in front of Sammy’s face for him to grab.

As we rounded the corner into our first class, Sammy started to unfold the note when I stopped him in his tracks. Twofor wasn’t here.

Rowan (Chapter 3)

I let my backpack thud to the carpet as I entered the front door to my house. I didn’t have the energy to lower it lightly. Emotional exhaustion. The whole day was this weird, fuzzy head trip that felt like a NyQuil overdose. Everything just faded in and out. When I was out, I thought of a billion different things, all of them having to do with Mitchell—and Mitchell and Nova. When I drifted back in, entire class periods were over and the only thing I had to show for it were crappy, 3-D renderings of houses on my notebook pages instead of actual notes.

My second wind grew inside of me when I thought about Nova again. By the time she got home, I was going to explode in her face. That little… Ugghhhhhhhh! There had to be some explanation that I was missing. She was almost three years younger than Mitchell.

The insane, constant rhythm of claws against wood required my services at the basement door. I prepared for the onslaught as I turned the knob. Four wet noses thrust the door open, making it unnecessary for me to help pull. We put our three dogs and one cat—when we could find her—in the basement when no one was home. That meant Jamie had gone out.

Chunk and Nugget, our two Golden Retrievers, shoved back and forth against my legs in an endless competition for my ear-scratching attention. Raptor, our English Spaniel/Poodle cross (or Engipoo as Mom liked to refer to her) headed for the food dishes in the kitchen. She was the hungriest whenever we let the pests out; I assumed this was because the bigger dogs hogged all the downstairs kibble.

Finally, Stardust, our odd-looking Egyptian Mau, ambled into the living room couch. She jumped up to her favorite perch along the backrest to resume her safeguarding of the street. That cat never cared a lick about me. Pardon the pun. We never actually bought her, she just showed up one day last year. Nova immediately named her Stardust, because of her infatuation with space, and insisted that we keep her. It wasn’t a hard sell since Mom and Dad were just as nuts about animals.

About twenty years ago, Dad worked in wildlife management or something at Silver Falls Park; Mom ended up doing biology research there for Greenpeace. They met, fell in love, and married nine months later. They jumped around doing a bunch of different animal-related jobs over the years until Mom got pregnant with Nova (they carted me around for two years; Jamie much longer). About the same time, Grandpa Arcana passed away, leaving Dad a good chunk of money. These two events led them to believe it was the perfect time to make the occupational leap to archaeologists. I still found it odd. I never really understood how my parents could go from jobs where they got to do what they loved more than anything (work with animals) to a job that had them primarily working with the long dead.

But, apparently, I didn’t understand anything in this world.

Nova and Mitchell? Mitchell and Nova??? Is that even legal? I needed to find my old Nerf bat so I could beat myself in the face with it.

I made my way into the kitchen and checked to see if the message light was blinking on our answering machine. There were two new messages but instead of listening to them, I just checked the call display to see who the callers were. One was my brother’s friend’s number and the other had an odd pattern of digits that started with 977. Over the last couple weeks, I had come to know that was the country dialing code for Nepal.

Mom and Dad headed out there for a dig two weeks ago. Now that Nova and I were old enough wherein they felt Jamie could handle our needs, our parents were gone over half the year, working. None of us really minded much. I mean, not having parental supervision for a good portion of the year was every teen’s dream, right?

Not in the mood to listen to one of Dad’s long-winded messages, I picked up a large paring knife from the utensil drawer and the big block of cheddar from the fridge. Back in the living room, I watched a few repeats of the Family Feud. They really needed to make the show full contact.

After polishing off a third of the wedge, Jamie walked in the door and the swarm of dogs abandoned the couch—and me—to attack him with slobbers. They were totally ga-ga over him. When he was in the room, I didn’t stand a chance of even getting a mutt to eat a Milkbone out of my hand.

Hey, Ro, what do you know? asked Jamie for the gajillionth time in our fourteen years of being siblings. The perfect word to describe Jamie was ordinary. He was one of those nineteen-year olds that was good, not great, at everything. What’s the saying? A jack of all trades but a king of none? That was Jamie... as far as skills go anyway. Good athlete, good worker (when he held down a job), good student.

As far as the people around him went, though, he was A-1. He had tons of friends, was nice to anyone he met, and even put up with Nova and I, despite the age gap between the three of us. And my recent "attitude" problems.

Jamie plunked himself down beside me and I passed him the last remaining, non-Chef Boyardee product we had in the house.

Life sucks, I said, finally answering his question.

Anything I can help with?

You can finally go shopping for some food.

Yeah, he muttered sheepishly. Sorry, I’ve been busy and I keep forgetting. I’ll do it tomorrow morning when you guys are at school. Promise.

Busy? Doing what? Playing pool, cards? I questioned with venomous bite.

Ro, don’t jump down my throat ‘cause you’re in a bad mood, Jamie shot back with a more tired than angry tone. I instantly felt guilty but instead of apologizing, I clutched the cheddar he held out for me to take back. As I cut the cheese (insert childish joke here), Jamie stood back up to his full five-foot eleven and scratched his shaggy, brown hair. He removed a twenty from his right jean pocket and threw it on my lap.

Treat yourself to some pizza tonight on me, okay? he said as he sauntered over to his bedroom, the only one that was on the main floor.

You’re not staying home for dinner again? I yelled across the house, trying not to snap at him like before.

No.

Wait, you’re paying for pizza… you’re ‘busy’ all the time… you’re going out for the third night in a row… Did you get a job? That would be unbelievable. Jamie hadn’t had a job in nine months, and I highly doubted he would’ve gone back to working at the Burger King in Grady. He didn’t respond to my question until he made his way back towards the front door.

No job. I’m just hanging with some friends that are in town. I found it weird that he couldn’t look me in the eyes when he said that.

Whatever. You better open your wallet for another ten because Nova is not gonna want to eat my vegetarian pizza.

Actually, don’t worry about it. She’s not coming home. She’s staying over at Sammy’s tonight, he remarked offhandedly as he threw open the front door, the strap of a duffel bag that I hadn’t noticed earlier over his right shoulder. Have a good one.

Now I was really mad. Not only was I not going to be able to find out about what was up with her and Mitchell today, I wasn’t going to be able to unleash this anger on anyone?

Yeah, I’ll have fun making voodoo dolls of you and Nova and stabbing them with a honkin’ massive screwdriver, I bellowed, at the wall, I guess, hoping to hurt its feelings. It gave me nothing so I roamed around the house to slam some doors.

Nova (Chapter 4)

As I walked behind Sammy in the dark, I banged the back of the flashlight to stop the beam from flickering. K-Mart definitely needed to stock some more reliable three-dollar wilderness gear. Sammy didn’t have to worry about the problem because he was carrying one of his dad’s sheriff department-issued lighting monsters. Not only could his flashlight produce a beam that would blind most people, it could probably knock an elephant unconscious if he used it to strike the animal upside the head.

As far as adventure-minded kids go, it was the oldest trick in the book. I told Jamie that I was going to Sammy’s for dinner, knowing full well that he would never check my story. Sammy did the same, using my house as his destination. His dad was on duty tonight, and there would be a ninety-nine percent chance that he would be too busy to call. In fact, Mr. Medeiros was probably quite happy anytime he knew his son had company for dinner. It had been fairly lonely in their household after Sammy’s mother passed away three years ago. When Sammy would go into one of his famous half-hour quiet spells, I was pretty sure that he was thinking of her. Twofor and I would pretend that it wasn’t occurring, aware that Sammy didn’t want to talk about it. He was just glad that he could distract his mind away from his sorrow by listening to his friends’ trivial gabbing.

Speaking of Twofor, they hadn’t shown up at all today at school. I called their place from Sammy’s cell about five times during the day but we didn’t get any answer. It seemed odd but in being townsfolk, there were a lot of things that Sammy and I didn’t quite get about country life. Farm work trumping school must have been one of them.

Becky and Tom had super-protective parents who could, at times, be a whole new kind of strict. Twofor had