Iron Tears (An Iron Souls Novella)

By Becca Andre

After her mother’s tragic death, Kali finds herself alone in the world—until a newspaper article accuses her mother of witchcraft. Now Kali can’t even drown her sorrows at the tavern without attracting the attention of local bullies, as well as an enigmatic stranger who comes to her aid.

Perseus has no trouble stopping the bar fight—much to Kali’s annoyance at being denied a good brawl. But when he insists that she is only half human, like him, she decides it is best that they part ways.

But avoiding her new acquaintance isn’t as easy as she hoped. Not when she is confronted by the cloaked man Perseus is hunting. When the man recognizes her mother’s filigree-covered tear catcher, Kali sees in him a possible link to the past and answers to her own mysterious ancestry. If Perseus doesn’t kill him first.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Becca Andre
• Release date: Jul 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005923792

Becca Andre

Becca Andre lives in southern Ohio with her husband, two children, and an elderly Jack Russell Terrier. A love of science and math (yes, she’s weird like that), led to a career as a chemist where she blows things up far more infrequently than you’d expect. Other interests include: chocolate, hard rock, and slaying things on the Xbox. She also finds writing about herself in third person a bit strange.

Book preview

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Table Of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

The Iron Souls Series

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Iron Tears

An Iron Souls Novella

Copyright © 2020 by Becca Andre. All rights reserved.

First Edition: 2020

Editor: Shelley Holloway

Cover and Formatting: Streetlight Graphics

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

Chapter 1

T

winkling light from the gas

lamps over the bar danced in the amber liquid that filled the shot glass. The fiery tonic promised a reprieve, an escape from the loss, and the memories. A welcome oblivion that would mask the emotion entirely—provided Kali had enough money to purchase it.

I know I have another quarter, Kali insisted, digging through the pockets of her trousers and waistcoat for the third time. She’d had the money when she walked into the tavern this evening. The problem was, she couldn’t remember how many glasses of whiskey she’d bought.

It’s already been paid for, the bartender said, taking his hand from the glass he’d set before her.

What? By whom? No one in this place would buy her a drink.

The bartender turned and looked toward the end of the bar, and Kali followed his gaze. A man she didn’t know was seated at the far end. His cool blue eyes met hers and he dipped his head in greeting.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and she realized that she had been aware of him the whole time, like an itch in the back of her mind.

The occasional odd sensation was nothing new to her, but this was the first time she’d had it toward a person.

Laughter carried from a table behind her, and Kali made the mistake of turning to look.

Harold Bartley grinned at her from his chair, then gave his buddy a nudge before nodding toward the stranger at the end of the bar. Reckon we ought to tell him she’s a witch? He might not have read the newspaper.

Kali knew she should ignore them, but her hands curled into fists despite her better judgment.

Harold caught the reaction and pushed himself to his feet. She chided herself for not noticing his presence sooner, but she’d been too intent on seeking an escape from reality to bother with such matters. This day just got worse and worse.

He walked over and leaned against the bar beside her. You gonna drink that or not?

Kali eyed her fresh glass of whiskey and considered downing it—or throwing it in Harold’s face—but she didn’t want to be beholden to anyone, and certainly not to some blue-eyed stranger who was still watching her. She left the whiskey where it sat and got to her feet.

Where you going? Harold asked.

Home.

You ain’t got one, remember?

She hadn’t forgotten. Step aside.

He just grinned. Clearly, that mug of ale he’d been nursing wasn’t his first.

I left you crying in a puddle of your own blood once, she reminded him. Do not test me.

He leaned closer, lowering his voice. I was a boy. I’m a man now.

That is a matter of opinion.

I ain’t afraid of you, witch. He spoke those words loudly, then grinned at his buddies. They obliged him with another round of laughter.

At least the time he’d cornered her in that alley, he’d been alone. It had worked in her favor. She hadn’t needed to hold back. Though she’d only been fourteen, she’d had no trouble taking down a boy several years older. The best part was that for the past six years Harold had gone out of his way to avoid her. Until tonight.

Well? He lifted his arms from his sides, inviting her to try him.

She longed to take him up on his offer, but her mother’s warnings held her in place. Kali didn’t think she possessed a talent out of the ordinary. She was simply a little stronger and faster than most young women her age. It was no different from having a talent to draw, or play music. Kali’s talent was fighting.

Go away, Harold.

What’s the matter? Harold asked. Ain’t got your witchy mother to back you up? Was that why he was in her face tonight? Had he avoided her these past few years because he was afraid of her mother?

She wasn’t a witch, Kali said between clenched teeth. According to Mama, Kali’s father had been the magical one.

That ain’t what the papers said. Harold cast a grin over his shoulder, taking courage from his buddies. And then there’s the part that wasn’t in the papers. Like what they found in the ashes. Dark stuff no respectable—

Kali didn’t realize she’d moved until her fist connected with his mouth. He didn’t see it coming, either, and did nothing to avoid the blow. His head snapped back with the impact, and his body followed. It wasn’t enough force to knock him down, but he stumbled away several steps before he regained his balance. He lifted his hand to cover his mouth, his eyes widening. Her punches always took people by surprise. No one anticipated how hard she could hit.

Harold’s buddies broke into laughter—as did several other patrons around the room. One exception was the man at the end of the bar. His cool blue eyes locked with hers, and he gave her a slight head shake. It almost seemed he was disapproving of what she’d done. She must have misread that. If there was anyone to disapprove of, it was Harold.

Stop your laughing. Harold glared at his buddies. Bitch punched me without warning.

I did warn you, she reminded him. I warned you that I would make you bleed, like I did last time.

With something close to a roar, Harold came back at her. He doubled his fist and threw a punch of his own.

Even after—she wasn’t sure how many—glasses of whiskey, Kali had no trouble leaning out of his line of fire, allowing his fist to brush harmlessly past her cheek. Before he’d completed the blow, she was moving. She stepped closer, and though tempted to ram her knee into his groin, she opted to slam the heel of her hand into the underside of his chin. His head flew back, but she continued her move