The Specter in the Spectacles

By Kyt Dotson

Come with Alden MacAlrey and discover that there's more to a new town than busy grown-ups and school bullies. While unlocking secret doors and exploring mysterious streets, Alden learns that faeries are real and can get him in real trouble. He finds himself thrust into a world where his new best friend might be hiding more than secrets, and a trip to the library turns into a wild chase.
See magic at work when dragons appear, spells paralyze, and tulips turn to axes!
Join Alden's quest to retrieve a deadly artifact, save his new friends, capture an evil wizard, and prove himself worthy of being called a Knight Investigator!

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Aug 10, 2003
• ISBN: 9781469782713

Kyt Dotson

I’ve always disliked introductions—they make me uncomfortable. I’m used to listening, smiling... These always involve too much talking. I could copy and paste something I already have, I’m sure, but I suppose that would be cheating anyone reading. And that wouldn’t be fun at all. Should it be posh or vulgar? Crystalline and perfect in reception or scrawled out with the grace of a child with crayons and chalk... I guess that both would fit equally well, but truthfully, I’d rather avoid the clever. So posh it is. So a metaphor came to me, let’s try an introduction like mixing a drink. All the elements are there: first a spirit—whiskey, rum; second something for substance—soda, juice; and finally perhaps flavor—ice, mint, cinnamon-snap. So the substance... I live in Michigan during the summer and Arizona during the winter, rather particularly like a snowbird, except that I don’t drive. And I don’t quite adhere to that schedule either, I just have friends split between those states and I work in Phoenix. I am Irish by heritage but demure by demeanor. I dress in black because of tradition. I expect to die of heart failure, unless my friends somehow find me immortality. So some flavor... My favorite author is Mary Woolstonecraft Shelley, further that I’ll oft’ refer to her as my adopted mother. I love reading, always have book on my desk, in my pocket, at hand, or simply tucked/tied/wrapped to my notebook and pen. I like Goth Industrial music and Harsh EBM, folk, rock, Celtic. VNV Nation, Covenant, Blutengel, In Strict Confidence, Qntal, and myriad manifold others. And finally the spirit... I am an author—and a glowing one at that; I also write poetry—but nothing worth mentioning. I like street corners and thunderstorms, small furry creatures and libraries, the sound of a thousand feet walking and the smell of morning after a long night. I’ll try not to wax poetic. I am a healer, ex-medic; now if only I could keep everyone from breaking themselves. Most importantly: I love people. Too clever, I suppose, but hopefully entertaining naetheless.

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All Rights Reserved © 2003 by Kyt Dotson

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

iUniverse, Inc.

For information address:

iUniverse, Inc. 2021

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Lincoln, NE 68512

www.iuniverse.com

ISBN: 0-595-28251-2

ISBN: 978-1-469-78271-3 (ebook)

Printed in the United States of America

This story and all herein is dedicated to my son, William Jaysen Dotson.

’Tis that I love thee with all my heart.

Contents

PROLOGUE

The Case

CHAPTER 1

ANOTHER DAY

CHAPTER 2

ALDEN’S GREAT AUNT

CHAPTER 3

THE FAERIE RING

CHAPTER 4

PIXIES, PIXIES EVERYWHERE

CHAPTER 5

THE YARD

CHAPTER 6

THE ROSES

CHAPTER 7

A DRAGON FOR EVERYONE

CHAPTER 8

A CANDELCHARME BOX

CHAPTER 9

THE LIBRARY

CHAPTER 10

MNEMOSYNE

CHAPTER 11

THE SPECTACLES

CHAPTER 12

SURPRISE!

CHAPTER 13

THE EXCHANGE

CHAPTER 14

THE DAY AFTER

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Foremost I would like to thank my Editor (yes capital E) Djenna Hirschman, without whom this work would have never become so glorious!

Thanks to Michael T. Sandborn for the beautiful cover art, and additional thanks to Luis Boisvert for the blueprints of the spectacles.

Also I would like to offer thanks to Marcy Abramson for her valuable input.

Further thanks to: Dan Hirschman, Sam Hirschman, Dawn Perry, Maxilstein, and (last but not least) Victoria J.M. Gann.

Finally to RyAnne and Joram for being just who they are.

PROLOGUE

The Case

Ireland, 1883

The rain was coming down in great white sheets, turning the eaves of houses into waterfalls, and the roads into deep swamps of mud. The downpour wasn’t uncommon in Ireland, especially for the counties closer to the sea. The worst bother wasn’t so much the rain but the wind. It teased at the locks on the doors, rattled the windows of the houses, and roughly buffeted anyone unfortunate enough to be caught outside during its rampage.

Detective Kylemore Huron ran to the stables and roughly flung open the doors.

As he approached his horse’s stall, he said, We must ride now, Chevonne. The suspect has killed again and is fleeing to Galway. He vaulted onto his mount’s back.

Before Kylemore could say another word, Chevonne launched herself into a gallop. Her hooves struck the muddy road and landed as if it were solid ground. Elvensteeds could not be restrained by anything in their environs. Even with the quagmire roads, she ran along with ease.

Kylemore could do nothing but hold onto Chevonne’s mane with all of his strength as she exploded down the road.

Their arrival in Galway was as abrupt as their flight. Chevonne’s route led her directly to the docks.

The rain had already passed Galway, so the night was clear enough to make out a group of grungy-looking mortals clustered nearby. They were crowded about a man lying on the ground.

Kylemore dismounted quickly and made his way toward the crowd. They would assume he was a member of the local constabulary, and he was willing to play the part.

Step aside. Detective on the scene! he shouted. When there was little reaction, he pulled his badge out and shoved it into the face of one of the onlookers. He roared, "Make a hole! Get back! Give him some air!"

Kylemore knelt down next to the man and examined him thoroughly. He didn’t know the man’s name, but it was definitely the suspect. He wore the same white shirt and rough brown pants, but there was something missing from him that Kylemore couldn’t put his finger on.

The man was breathing but he seemed lifeless, almost as if he’d lost his spirit.

He was wearing specs, Kylemore said suddenly and looked up into the startled eyes of the people crowded around. This man was wearing spectacles last I saw him. Who has taken them?

Startled by the accusation, most of the crowd took a step back.

He wasn’t wearing no specs, a workman said. But the feller standing over him when I got here was.

Kylemore focused on the workman.

What did he look like? In which direction did he go?

Was a tall, thin lad with short red hair. He headed toward the docks, sir, the man said, nodding several times as he spoke and pointing at the docks. He ran off in an awful hurry, I doubt that you could find him now.

Are there any ships leaving tonight? Kylemore asked the crowd.

Aye, sir, the workman replied. The Haverford would have done away anchor a few minutes ago.

How do you know that? Kylemore asked.

I work on the docks, sir, I load cargo. I loaded that ship just before I left for the night not a quarter hour ago. I was on my way to drink a pint at the pub—

You have been a great help. I must pursue the fellow wearing the specs. If you could do me the favor of taking this man somewhere he can be looked at, I shall make certain you are rewarded for your trouble, Mr.…?

Flynn. Tom Flynn, sir.

Thank you, Tom Flynn. Kylemore set the name of the man to memory. He was a man of his word and Tom Flynn deserved to be rewarded for the information.

Before Tom could finish thanking him, Kylemore ran toward the shipyards. He quickly found the boathouse that his partner, Avalane, was stationed in, but when he opened the door he didn’t see her. Instead he found devastation.

The room looked at if it had been hit by a whirlwind. Papers were strewn everywhere, a wall lamp had been smashed on the floor, the chairs were splintered to pieces, and a table in the center of the room had been hewn in two. To Kylemore’s relief there was no sign of bloodshed. He ran from the boathouse and scanned the wharfs.

A large passenger vessel, with its sails unfurled, immediately caught his attention. It was still at the docks but was ever so slowly pulling away. Kylemore raced toward it.

When he arrived at the wharf, he saw Avalane drooped over one of the wooden pylons halfway down the pier. Her long red hair was covering her face and she appeared to be injured.

Kylemore rushed to her side.

Avalane, what happened? he asked, kneeling next to her. Are you wounded?

Avalane looked up at him and Kylemore could see that she was gravely hurt.

He was not the suspect we were after, she said weakly. I was ambushed. I’m sorry, he got past me. I believe we should not have been after the man, but instead the magical device.

Yes, it turns out it was a pair of spectacles—but, we must get you to a healer, he said. He started to pull her up, draping her arm over his shoulder.

No, she said, struggling weakly against Kylemore’s strong arms. You have to stop him, you have to get to the boat and capture him. Otherwise he will take the artifact to America and we may never recover it.

Kylemore knew that she would die if she did not receive the attention of a healer soon.

You are more important, he said. We will capture them some other day.

Avalane did not reply; she had fainted in his arms. Kylemore looked out over the dark water at the ship that was now sailing away from the pier. He could hear grim laughter as a pair of glowing spectacle lenses burned brightly on the deck of the boat.

Detective Kylemore Huron vowed that he would find the spectacles no matter where they hid themselves. He would follow them and stop them.

CHAPTER 1

ANOTHER DAY

The spectacles lay in the middle of a green meadow, awaiting their next owner. They kept themselves invisible to everyone they were not interested in.

Their most recent owner had moved to an immigrant settlement in Minnesota. In this meadow on the outskirts of town, the spectacles had parted ways with their owner.

Years passed. The meadow was trampled by time and horses. It became a park. A sandbox was added, some swings, and a jungle gym with a swirly-slide.

The spectacles watched all of these happenings, waiting in silence.

* * * *

Lily scratched her forehead as she looked over the playground. The jungle gym was an ugly green and the curly-slide was a hideous bright orange. The playground looked like it had been dropped in the middle of a giant sandbox. She could imagine workmen wearing orange hardhats waving to a crane that was slowly lowering the jungle gym into the sandbox.

Any other day Lily would have gladly leapt upon one of the swings and spent some time there, but today something else caught her attention. Something glittered brightly in the grass, not too far from the jungle gym. Curious, she moved to investigate.

At first Lily thought that it might be a mirror that someone had dropped, perhaps part of a makeup case, but once she got closer she could see that it was a pair of glasses.

She knelt down and snatched them up from the ground.

They weren’t like any other pair of glasses that she had seen. The lenses were a soft blue color that reminded her of water. The wires that held the lenses together were gold and did not bend at the sides. They could not be folded up like normal glasses.

Lily slipped them onto her face and to her surprise they fit perfectly! They were snug against her ears and didn’t wobble or wiggle. She squinted for a moment, expecting the world to be blurry or warped like it was when she tried to wear her uncle’s glasses, but it was perfectly clear. She looked back and forth, slowly surveying the world through her new toy.

After a few minutes of looking through the glasses, Lily noticed a man dressed in an old-fashioned suit, leaning against a tree. He seemed somehow sad. She squinted to get a better look at his face because—while everything else was sharp—he was blurry. Lily waved to him, but he did not notice. He didn’t look up, even when she shouted, Hi!

Frustrated, Lily tried again to get a good look at him, but he remained as blurry as an old photograph. She couldn’t see him clearly so she removed the glasses. Her hands blocked her vision for only a moment, but after she had finished taking the glasses off he had vanished.

While she was thinking about going to see where he’d disappeared to, a voice called her name.

Lily! It’s starting to rain! It was her mother’s voice.

I’m coming, Mom! she replied, as loud as she could, forgetting the funny man and his suit. She ran toward the sound of her mother’s voice, as drops of rain beginning to collect on her glasses.

* * * *

In the school next door, a fifth-grade boy sighed and put the book that he was reading down on his desk.

Alden had set his book down because the words were swimming before his eyes. He started watching the clock on the wall at the head of the room. The forlorn white face watched the classroom in an endless vigil. The hour hand sat very close to the four o’clock mark, while the long minute hand almost pointed straight up. Alden’s eyes followed the red second hand as it jumped around its circuit.

Another minute passed. It was the end of the third week of the school year. At Alden’s new school Friday classes ended at three o’clock instead of four. However, kids whose parents didn’t pick them up still had to stay in After School for a full hour.

Alden usually used the time to do homework, or if he didn’t have any, to read one of the many books that he had on hand. He would have preferred to play a game, but there were no other kids and handheld video games were not permitted in the school. Alden had already watched another student have his taken away and the rumor was that they were given back after the school year ended. He wondered how many cobwebs the box that contained all of the confiscated video games would collect by the end of the year.

As usual, he was the only one left in After School by the time the hour was up. Sometimes a couple other students spent part of After School