Cycles of the Lights: Vesper's Curse

By Ava Reiss

Ivan meets a young victim of human trafficking. Through a heroic act he saves her and many others. Afraid those he crossed might be after him, Ivan moves out of state and establishes a new life. Years wear on and Ivan’s shadowed past eventually catches up. With his wife and daughter abducted, he turns to Agatha as a friend. Can they solve the case before it’s too late?

A novella following the reincarnations of Meliora and Jedrek from Fall of Ima.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ava Reiss
• Release date: Sep 7, 2018
• ISBN: 9781949195064

Ava Reiss

Ava Reiss started journaling at age eight. Since then, she hasn’t stopped writing. At first she merely recorded daily events. Then as her imagination took off, her journals became littered with short stories. Ava loves legends, myths, and the fantastical. Many of these themes carry into her writing nowadays.During her grade school years, she recalls constantly bugging her artist uncle. She whined and begged him to illustrate for her little homemade books. Graciously, he conceded a few times- to which she was grateful. Eventually, Ava picked up a pencil and learned to draw herself. “Only I truly know how my characters should look. If I can’t draw them to look as they should, I’ve got no one to blame but myself,” says Ava. Her novels will include her illustrations.

Book preview

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Ava Reiss

A Novella

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Copyright © 2018 by Ava Reiss

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, please email [e-mail].

Printed in the USA

ISBN: 978-1-949195-06-4

First Edition

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Warning: This story contains scenes of human trafficking. Some readers might find it triggering.

Author’s note:

When I first set out to write the Cycles of the Lights series, Vesper’s Curse framed the scenes in my novel, Fall of Ima. They were a single book. After conversing with beta readers, it was decided the stories worked better separately. The events in this novella take place after Fall of Ima.

For my beta readers. Thank you for all your help!

Ivan stepped off a bus, returning to the states after World War II. A fellow soldier, Oliver had invited him to his hometown. Ivan’s folks had long since passed and he was without immediate family, so he welcomed the invitation. As they walked along a dusty road, the two reminisced on their final days in Europe.

I’ll never forget the smile on those kids faces when we rolled in, Oliver grinned. But it’s sure good to be back on American soil.

Ya know, when I was a kid I used to have dreams about fighting in a war, Ivan shared. He wasn’t normally forthcoming, but felt he owed camaraderie to Oliver.

Really? Guns and all?

Ivan shook his head, Like knights, with swords. We were protecting planes that could fly to stars, from a sorceress or something.

Oliver chuckled, Bet your folks had their hands full with you and your imagination.

Yeah, Ivan joined in, sure did. He grew silent as long forgotten feelings arose. He could almost feel that cold metal of a blade in his hand. Visions came of electricity crackling through the air. A sense of urgency told him he was losing time. Time to do what? he wondered aloud.

Time to find a job! Oliver patted him on the back.

His friend introduced Ivan around. It wasn’t long before he landed a job as a diner cook. Ivan’s pleasantness helped him fit in and soon he was on a first name basis with the town.

A year later Oliver met a girl and moved away. Ivan stayed behind. Time rolled by and he found no complaints. Sadly, another year later, a fire burned down the diner. Ivan tried to find employment elsewhere, but came up unsuccessful. Disappointed, he packed his things and prepared to leave.

Before he hit the road, Ivan stopped at a local pub. A truck driver came through every now and then. He was at the bar the day Ivan went for his last drink. Being the only two patrons, they struck up a conversation. Ivan told him about his situation and asked if the driver could give him a lift to the nearest city. The truck driver gave a sly smile.

Sonny, I can do you one better. I can get you a job that pays real good.

Ivan perked. Really? Thank you sir! What’d I have to do?

Can you drive? he asked.

Ivan smiled. He loved to drive. Yes sir!

Meet me by the pumps in an hour and we’ll get you started! The man finished off his beer and grabbed his cap. He pulled it over his ears as he paid his tab. With a stiff leg, he strutted outside.

Boy, did’ya hear, Dave? Ivan asked the bartender. I just found me a job!

Dave glanced uneasily at the door. Be careful, Ivan. I hear that guy’s always in trouble one way or another. I think you’re better off staying here.

Ivan frowned. Wish I could, Dave. I like this place. But in life, a man’s gotta do what he’s gotta do to make a living. I’ve tried here, but looks like my luck’s run dry. I’ve got no choice but to go.

Dave nodded sympathetically. Just be careful. He added taking the empty glass, Beer’s on me. Take care of yourself out there, bud!

Thanks, Dave, you’re a swell guy! Hope to see you again! Ivan grabbed his things tossed in a sack and headed towards his new life.

Years later Ivan looked back and wished he’d taken Dave’s advice. The job had started innocently. The truck driver had introduced him to his boss, Ricky.

Ricky put Ivan to work delivering cargo to seedy warehouses. Ivan would be lying if he didn’t say it made him nervous. Yet being paid a decent wage in cash made him hesitant to ask questions.

On a hot day in July, Ricky pulled Ivan into his office outside San Francisco. There, he introduced Ivan to Stew. Ivan stuck out a hand but Stew brushed it aside. Never looking directly at anything, his gaze darted about. His sharp jowls seemed perpetually clenched and his jacket reeked of oil. Ivan searched, but couldn’t find a shred of friendliness about the man.

Ricky looked to Ivan, eyes bearing skepticism. You’ve never shot a gun before, have you? Stew’s eyes mocked, entertained by the scrappy man.

Ivan’s amiable demeanor faded a bit. Yes sir. It’s not the best of my memories.

Ricky raised eyebrows, I’m impressed. He paused for dramatic effect. Ya ever kill anyone? his voice hardened.

Ivan’s eyes drooped. When I was in the war.

Ricky let out a whoop, slapping his desk in good spirits. Well look it here! We’ve got a veteran! You’re the perfect guy for the job! Ivan felt confused but kept his mouth shut. Ricky pulled open a drawer with a bang. He reached in and dug around. A moment later, he produced a pistol and tossed it to Ivan. He caught it with a clap. The coldness of the metal transferred to his palm and Ivan gulped.

Ricky dug around some more and pulled out a box of bullets. He slid it across the dusty desk. You probably won’t need it, but hold on to it just in case there’s trouble. Ricky leaned back. I’m glad I’ve got a seasoned shooter on this run. His laughter echoed with sarcasm.

Perplexity seized Ivan as he slid his thumb over the trigger. Morose recollections flashed. Sir, why might I be needing a gun?

Stew scoffed and folded his arms. He and Ricky exchanged a look. Ricky pulled a cigar out of his pocket and took time finding a match. Once he did, he held it ceremoniously before his face, striking it against a calloused thumb. He took deep puffs, making Ivan wait.

Son, Ricky finally said. It ain’t any of your concern. You run cargo for me. That there pistol, he pointed, it’s just insurance. Ricky ended the conversation by sending Stew and Ivan on their way.

Stew led Ivan to an old warehouse where run down boards begged whitewashing. Rusted nails bent at angles indicated the place was hastily thrown together. A garage opened and gruff looking men handed Ivan a set of keys. They showed him the truck. Ivan frowned to see it different from the ones he usually drove. The cab was small and instead of a tarp over the cargo bed, a trailer was latched to the back.