Fly: Fly, #1

By Kala M. Light

Imagine waking up one morning and seeing things that no one else can see.  It happened to me.  Am I going crazy?  Do I have a brain tumor?  I moved from Seattle to Savannah, hoping something would change.  But it didn't.

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Mark Erjie Tian sees spirits. He's seen them since graduating high school, and moving across the country from Seattle to Savannah hasn't helped. One day on his way home from work, he takes shelter from a sudden rainstorm under some trees by a mysterious gate. The gate leads to a house that isn't really there. Its owner, one Fiona Glenmara from the Autumn Country, might not be really there either. But she says she can help Mark if he works for her.

As Mark struggles to figure out exactly what Fiona wants from him and if she can really help him, his step-sister arrives to stay with him for the better part of a week. Though his relationship with her is complicated, he starts to realize that she might see him in a different way entirely.

Everyone knows not to make contracts with fairies. But what if you're desperate?  Follow Mark as he enters a strange world of magic, fairies and spirits and finds out what it means to be Crossed Over.

Fly by Kala M. Light is an ongoing paranormal fantasy series with a bit of romance set in Savannah.

• Language: English
• Publisher: EastWord Books
• Release date: Aug 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393701286

Kala M. Light

I’m Kala M. Light. I write in contemporary or AU fantasy worlds with an emphasis on ghosts, demons, and diverse characters. I live in the Seattle area and love the Northwest, so the vast majority of what I write is set there in some capacity. I primarily write urban fantasy, usually set in an alternate version of our world where there happens to be some manner of magic and supernatural workings.  Current series are: - Legend of the Death Star (supernatural crime fighters, ghosts, demons, etc.) - Fly (paranormal human drama) - Monster Tree (urban fantasy detective)

Book preview

Episode 1

The Trade

WATER HUNG IN THE AIR like a heavy blanket, augmenting the sultry heat of a midsummer day.  Squinting up at the gray clouds, Mark ran a hand through his already damp brown hair, pushing it out of his face.  He knew the next rain shower was likely not far off.  Glancing around the street, he searched for a place to run if the clouds decided to burst.  He caught sight of a spot almost immediately.  About half a block away there stood a large compound guarded by the overhanging branches of a tangled oak and willow.  The leaves dripped moisture on the stone pillars and iron gate directly beneath them.  Despite having come this way many times over the last three months, Mark couldn’t recall seeing the compound before, which seemed strange since it was so large and noticeable.  Suddenly curious, he glanced up at the menacing sky again and quickened his pace towards the compound.  It came up on his left just as the clouds exploded in a rush of warm rain.

Cursing under his breath, Mark pulled his jacket over his head and ducked under the trees.  There was a slight overhang from the gate, and he crouched under it as the rain flooded the pavement in front of him.  He sat there for what seemed like an interminably long time, watching the drops hit the street and join the cascading river flowing back the way he came.  At some point, the phone in his pocket vibrated, and he considered answering it.  While he spent the time considering, it stopped buzzing, and he left it.  It was probably his sister, and he didn’t feel like talking to her anyway.  It was better that he was on the other side of the country where he could just ignore everything if he wanted to.  Sometimes he felt bad about the way he treated his sister, but he couldn’t quite forget that her mother hated him, as much as she tried to hide it for his dad’s sake.  Not that his dad was in the business of caring much about him either, Mark thought bitterly.

He wrapped his arms around his knees and stared unseeing at the rain falling all around him, letting his mind go blank.  Finally, it slowed, and he started to make a move to stand up when a loud clank made him jerk in surprise.  Behind him, the gate was opening with a sharp creak of metal.  A woman emerged to stand in front of him.  She wore a gauzy, sea green dress sprinkled with dark blue flowers, and the same dark blue flowers were threaded through her red-gold hair falling in waves around her shoulders.  Her catlike eyes were a rather startling shade of green, and they regarded him intently.

For a long moment, Mark could only stare.  There was something about her that struck him as unreal, and he wasn’t sure if it was a legitimate thought, or simply a product of his visceral reaction to her beauty.  She had a slender, willowy form and full breasts, but the fine edges of her face made him think that she was quite a lot older than him, and older than she looked upon first glance.  But her complexion was flawless and pale, with high cheekbones and a sharp, thin nose.

Good evening, she said then, breaking the spell.  Her voice was pleasant and musical with an odd lilt.  She held out a pale, slender hand towards him.  I’m Fiona Glenmara.

Realizing that he was being painfully obvious in his staring, Mark scrambled to his feet, drying one hand on his pants as he did so.  Um, I’m Mark, he said, taking her hand.  He noticed she was perhaps only three inches shorter than his own 5 '11 height.

Her slender fingers entwined around his, and she smiled slightly.  Mark what?

Somewhat taken aback, he answered without thinking.  Mark Tian.  I’m a paralegal at the Chang Law Group.  He nearly reached for his business card in the back pocket of his pants when she stopped him.

No one ends up at my house without reason.  You look tired, come in for a moment.

Warmth infused his cheeks that had nothing to do with the weather, and he couldn’t seem to unscramble his thoughts.  Was she propositioning him?  He tried to make his mouth work.

Her smile was knowing.  Nothing like that.  I only wish to know what you have to tell me.

Mark knew his expression must have been hilariously confused to her eyes.  I don’t even know you, he protested.

Her smile only widened.  But I know you.  I see you pass this way every day.

You’ve been watching me?

I have been watching the things following you.

Her words hit him like a glass of ice water dumped down his shirt.  The what? he managed to gasp through his shock.

She cocked her head to the side.  You know them too, don’t you? She laid a hand on his arm.  Come.  Without waiting for a reply, she turned back to the gate.

Mark hesitated for a moment, chewing his bottom lip, and yet he knew he had to follow her.  She could see them.  Who was she?  He had to know.

The gate closed behind them with a muffled clank.  A stone walkway stretched out in front of him. Short trees with lacy leaves lined the path directly to the right and left, and then beyond that stood fruit trees filling the air with a muzzy sweetness.  At the end of the walkway sat a house from a lost age.  Mark had seen his fill of colonial mansions from a bygone era since moving to Savannah, but this one more than the others gave him the impression of a direct portal to the past.  Ivy covered the brick façade in the front with entwining arms as though trying to pull it back into some fairy forest.  Other towering trees grew around it, spreading their tangled branches around the sides and roof.  Tall windows gazed out like somber eyes, shrouded with heavy green curtains.  At the top of the porch, between two thick pillars, stood green double doors with heavy brass knockers in the form of a bushy-haired, wild-eyed face.

The woman pushed the doors open and beckoned for him to follow as she led him into a foyer  lit by faded sunlight that broke through the clouds and filtered through the partially drawn curtains.  The room just beyond it was filled with delicate, brittle furniture and various cases stood about housing curios made of glass and crystal that reflected the sunlight and bounced it off the walls.  In the center of the room stood a small iron table with two matching chairs.

She took a seat at one of them and gestured for Mark to take the other.  He did, and then proceeded to look everywhere else but at her.  Despite what she said, it was still weird.  Beautiful women in nice dresses didn’t just randomly invite strange men into their homes, as far as he knew anyway.  But then he remembered what she’d said about the things.  He reluctantly drew his gaze back to her and found that she was staring at him, her delicate chin resting on one palm.  Her eyes were perhaps more of an aquamarine shade, he thought absently.

Take your time, she said softly.

My what? he asked, wondering if she’d caught him staring yet again.

People don’t usually tell me why they’re here right away.  But if you are here, then you must have a problem that you would like to be rid of.

You already know my problem, Mark retorted, suddenly annoyed.

Quite the contrary, she replied with an unruffled smile.

That somehow annoyed him even more, and he fell silent again.  The ticking of a clock somewhere nearby was the only sound for a long while.  Mark was aware of his damp shirt pressing against his skin, warmth seeping in from the sun through the curtains. A drop of water slid down the back of his neck from his wet hair.  Fine, he said, breaking the oppressive silence.  I see spirits or ghosts or something.  Why are they there?  Why are they following me?

She arched a shapely eyebrow.  You don’t know?

Mark exhaled in exasperation.  Why would I be here if I knew?

So touchy, little one, she tsk’d lightly.

A warm prickle of irritation went through him at the diminutive term, and he glared at her.

The woman only looked amused.  The truth is, nothing in free in this world, or the next, for that matter.  If you want me to solve your mystery, it will cost you.

I have money, Mark replied, hearing the sullen tone in his own voice.

Her laugh was light.  Ah money, metal, I do not deal in that.

Mark ran a hand roughly through his hair in another attempt to quench his growing irritation.  What then?  I don’t have time for this.

I deal in trades.  If you work for me, I can unravel your mystery.

Why would I want to?

Do you want them to follow you forever?  Do you want them to notice that you can see them?  For the first time, her tone was serious.

Mark shifted uncomfortably.  He’d spoken to no one about his issue since it had first appeared about four years ago.  It made him something of a loner in college, as he was constantly aware of being watched.  What will happen? he finally asked.

She wound a strand of wavy hair around one finger.  My information is not free.  I’ve already said more than I should.

Who are you?

Fiona Glenmara, I’m sure you heard me earlier.

What do I have to do then?

Right now?  You can make me some tea.  She turned in her chair to gesture at the entrance to a room behind her.  The kitchen’s over there.

Tea? Mark repeated, raising his eyebrows.

Yes, tea, she replied with a small smile.  You do know how to make tea, right?

Yes, Mark replied reluctantly, pushing his chair back.  He hesitated, remembering where he was.  Cold tea?  Like, the tea they have here?  I’m not, um, from here.

Her smile didn’t waver.  You may make whatever tea you know how to make.

He said nothing in reply, simply standing and heading in the direction she’d pointed.  The kitchen was around the corner in an enclosed area with white cabinets, marble countertops and otherwise modern stainless steel appliances.  Rough, polished stone covered the floor.  Somehow it gave off the aura of both rustic and modern.

Mark looked around, wondering where he might