Heart Of Ice

By Crystal Crichlow

The town of Fort Nelson has secrets, and Charlotte Heart is about to stumble onto the tip of its blade.

Ace Dillon was born in the eighteenth century, but a curse on his town has transformed him into something...frightening.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Class Act Books
• Release date: Feb 25, 2017

Book preview

Heart Of Ice

by

Crystal Crichlow

Published by

CLASS ACT BOOKS

121 Berry Hill Lane

Port Townsend, Washington 98368

www.classactbooks.com

Copyright  2013 by Crystal Crichlow

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

ISBN: 978-1-938703-24-9

Credits

Cover Artist: Blaise Kilgallen

Editor: Juliette Brandt

Copy Editor: Anita York

Printed in the United States of America

Dedication

For those who believed…

Acknowledgements

The publication of this book would not be possible if it weren’t for Class Act Books. They have given me what most writers only dream about; hope. And for that I am forever grateful. The city of Brampton gave me my first ever award in the Arts Acclaim Category. I have no words for this act of kindness, only that I am proud to be a member of your community and will cherish it always. You gave me something to look at whenever I feel like my efforts are going unnoticed. Your support means a lot.

More importantly I’d like to express my thanks and gratitude to you who are reading this right now. Thank you for buying my book and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it. Charlotte Heart’s story is far from over. To the self-published authors, you’ve made a dent in the writing world. I see you. Cheers to breaking that self-published stigma. Lastly, to all those unpublished authors still chasing the dream, don’t give up. Like Franklin Roosevelt said When you get to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on.

Prologue

Nathaniel ‘Ace’ Dillon – 1890

I do not remember the last time I ate. Two days? Maybe three? Every few minutes my stomach growls at me angrily, reminding me that it’s empty. I can’t grant its request for food. Ever since the famine struck our quaint little town of Fort Nelson, the same tune often rings in everyone’s bellies, just a loud, incessant moan of starvation. Water is a luxury that we cannot afford to waste. The town’s well is drying up, forcing us to hike a mile to the nearest fresh water source, a journey that is difficult to make on an empty stomach. Most don’t make the hike. Others put up with the allotted provisions given to each home every week. My family and I do the best with what we are given. The days are getting colder, the nights especially, which is a nuisance for those who rely heavily on their crops as a source of income. My mother says that this is the cause of the famine. Fort Nelson is too cold, even our summers aren’t as warm as they should be. Most of us stay anyway, refusing to be bullied out of our homes by the weather. It's not like we have any place to go even if we wanted to. This town is all we know and all most of us have.

A cold wind blows into the living room, slapping the flame of the fire place back and forth. I give my brother a dirty look as he closes the door behind him.

Sorry. He replies meekly. Kameron, my older brother, shakes the snow out of his hair and hangs his hat on the hook.

In his hand is a ball of fur. I look at it sheepishly.

You won’t believe my luck. He goes on. I found this guy in the shed. His tail was caught in some of the old man's tools.

What is it?

What do you think? A squirrel.

I don’t think I’m that desperate yet.

My stomach took this as the perfect opportunity to make an appearance, betraying the lie.

A cocky brow rises on my brother’s face. You were saying?

We’ll be fined if the mayor ever finds out about this. Hunting in these lands is forbidden.

He rests the day’s spoils on the kitchen counter. I wasn’t hunting, he says matter of fact. There’s no crime in putting a living creature out of its misery. The leg was caught in some junk and was cut real bad. It would have died anyway and why waste food when it’s so scarce?

I didn’t answer him. I turn back to staring at the fireplace, engulfed in my own despair. I hear my brother tinkering around in the kitchen, but I don’t bother to watch him dismember the animal. Fact is, he was right; I was just about ready to eat anything. Just the other day I was walking home from school and a caterpillar scurried by and I found myself fantasizing about what it would taste like. How desperate had things become, that I was willing to ingest an insect? The hunger made the days drag on and I had to fight the urge to put a bullet in my head. It was a much quicker death than starving.

Nathaniel? my mother calls. I hated my name more than I hated being hungry. I was named after my great-grandfather and he was truly a great man, someone I could never live up to.

Yes, mother, I reply with as much enthusiasm as a nail.

She walks into the living room swiftly, her eyes appraising me.

You’ve been sitting there all day. Perhaps a little fresh air will do you some good. A smile plays at the corner of her lips. Mom was just as miserable as I was, maybe more so, but there was something different about her today. Like a light, something hopeful. Hope was as scarce as food and water.

I did think about venturing out in the cold today, but I just didn’t have the strength to carry out that task. All I could do was sit here and stew in my own misery. My mother looks at me and smiles. How I wish I could be happy for her, be strong and brave like my brother Kameron. She has enough things to worry about. Having me sulk all day was an extra burden that she did not need.

I’m alright, I assure her, twisting my mouth into a smile that would probably look right at home on a corpse. I like watching the fire. It helps me to relax.

She seems to buy that. Well, I have news for you both.

Kameron joins us in the living room, his eyes sparkle with interest. He was probably noticing the change in mother's mood.

She holds up an invitation. This came this morning. I wanted to wait for your father before I shared the news, but I just couldn’t help myself.

What is it? I ask.

It’s to a feast.

My heart did this amazing thump that seemed to light a flame inside me. Feast? Impossible. Too good to be true. If this is some sort of sick joke…

A feast? I try the words out on my tongue. They even tasted good.

The mayor has put together a feast for tonight.

For the entire town? Kameron asks.

That’s right, she says excitedly.

All right, Kameron crows. Looks like you won’t have to eat that squirrel after all.

I roll my eyes. Where did all this food come from? I wonder out loud.

Does that really matter?

Not at all. I’m just curious.

Well, you know what they say about curiosity, mother says. You two get dressed in your best suits. The mayor promises that this will be a night to remember.

I don’t quite understand why, but those last four words that come out of my mother’s mouth make my stomach twist with fear.

~ * ~

Mother insists that a tail coat and my best pair of trousers—usually reserved for special occasions—are the most appropriate attire for the evening’s festivities. I oblige, but don’t agree. If there is anywhere near the amount