Fallen: Including the Sequel Stumbling Toward The Light

By Erika Knudsen

Fallen: Their earliest memories were of each other. For three decades, Davis and Wilhelmina rendezvoused in their dreams, grew together and shared intimate moments. They never realized that the other was real.
When tragedy strikes Davis, he’s spurred on to practice magick once again. His actions set them on a course that will change not only his life, but also that of the woman of his dreams.
The spell awakens a long hidden truth within Wilhelmina and she is summoned to Davis’ side. The moment they are finally brought together again, the evil that has been lurking in Wilhelmina’s life threatens their very existence.

Stumbling Toward The Light: It's a matter of life and death as vows promised a year before are tested to their fullest. Now, Davis is concerned his magickal abilities have become more than he can bear, and his nightmares have taken on a new, more sinister edge.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Erika Knudsen
• Release date: Jul 3, 2020
• ISBN: 9780968747995

Erika Knudsen

Daring to walk in the shadows, Erika Knudsen never came back. At an early age, she was intrigued and mesmerized by suspense, horror, and drama. The idea of “creatures” coming to life at night was a scary and thrilling idea. After years of being a fan of horror and the supernatural, she took her fandom of the genre to the next level. Erika resides in a quaint hamlet northwest of Edmonton, Alberta with her husband and daughter where the dark country nights add to her nightmarish and twisting plots.

Book preview

This book is a work of fiction.  Names, characters and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2020 by Erika Knudsen

Published by Eris Publishing at Smashwords

Discover other titles by Erika Knudsen at http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/erikaknudsen

All rights reserved.  No part of this book covered by the copyright hereon may be reproduced in any form or by any means—graphic, electronic or mechanical without the prior written permission of the publisher, except for reviewers who may quote brief passages.  Any request for photocopying, recording, taping or storage in any information retrieval system of any part of this book shall be directed in writing to the publisher.

Cover design by Psykotyk Graphics

www.erispublishing.com

* * * * *

Dedicated to Jess and Christine; may our ship sail forever.

* * * * *

Fallen/

Stumbling Toward The Light

Erika Knudsen

* * * * * *

FALLEN

Chapter 1

The screaming sirens of fast approaching first response vehicles filled the humid summer night air. Trapped in the driver’s seat, Davis turned to look at his wife. Lydia was unconscious and unresponsive when he called out her name repeatedly, the worry and desperation thick in his voice. He could see a thick line of blood oozing from her ear. He knew this wasn’t good. Needing to distract him from his morbid thoughts of the grim reaper coming to visit, he decided to check on his daughter, Emma. Instantly the air was punched from his lungs when he saw that she was slumped forward in the booster seat. The seat belt was the only thing holding her upright. Glass from the shattered window sparkled all over her and the place her tiny skull impacted with the glass was smeared with blood. Davis could barely say her name.

It had been raining earlier that evening when he took his family out for dinner at a burger joint and a movie afterward: How To Train Your Dragon 2—Emma’s choice. There was no way he was going to win against his four-year-old daughter, and besides, Davis couldn’t find it in him say no to her either. So, he sat through the nearly two-hour animated movie. Even though he did enjoy it, he would never let anyone know that small fact.

Emma had fallen asleep in her booster seat as he and Lydia talked about trivial stuff as they headed home. It wasn’t really late, only nearing nine pm, when out of nowhere, someone ran a red light and t-boned their SUV on the passenger side. It was later that night that he overheard one of the emergency nurses and doctors at the hospital talking to the police. The driver who hit them was an older male, in his early fifties, who was drunk.

Sir... Sir! Can you hear me? What’s your name? a male voice woke him but he didn’t escape the nightmare. Davis turned to look at who was yelling at him. To his utter shock and amazement, the driver side door had been opened already. So rather than looking out the window, he just looked up with ease to see the fireman who stood there.

Davis nodded. After a moment he responded, Davis Wesson.

We need to use a hydraulic spreader to get your wife and child out. You need to come with me.

Davis nodded his dazed compliance.

The fireman turned and nodded to one of his colleagues. When the other man who was a paramedic approached, he brought a stretcher with him. The two men collected Davis from the mangled SUV and placed him carefully onto the stretcher. All the while, the paramedic braced his head from any major movement. Once lying down, a brace was put around his neck, his body was strapped to the gurney and they started to wheel him away.

Wait! he yelled out. My wife, my daughter... Where are you taking me? I can’t leave! He started to squirm under the restraints. The gurney paused and the EMT looked down at him, a look of sympathy on his face that broke his heart. It spoke volumes. Davis didn’t need to know the man to know what he was being sympathetic for.

Davis, the paramedic said firmly, yet gentle in his tone. The first response fire team will get your family out of the car soon. They will be at Memorial Hospital. That is where we are taking you. Your injuries are more significant than you may think. So please, stay still and let me and my team take care of you.

Davis went still and as the words the man was telling him sunk in, the tears that had been building, fell. Not that the EMT actually said it; his tone only confirmed what his instincts already told him. Before they closed the rear doors to the ambulance, the whir of machinery and screeching of bending metal and breaking glass resounded in the night air. Not long after the vehicle began to roll forward, Davis fell unconscious.

Chapter 2

Wilhelmina looked at the glowing blue numbers of her alarm clock: 4:17am. A long sigh passed her lips as she lay in bed. She pressed a cool hand against her fevered sweaty, forehead and attempted to calm her rapid breathing. Most nights she dreamed of the man with short cropped sandy brown hair, the man who had been blessed with a soft spray of freckles across his nose and cheeks, and moss-green eyes that sparkled with a sensuous burn. She wished that the sweat was from a hot dream, but alas, her brain was playing horrible tricks on her. Instead Wilhelmina dreamt of her coveted companion in a deadly car accident. Wilhelmina didn’t like it at all.

Over the years Wilhelmina had tried to tell herself that the man wasn’t real, but the fact that she had been dreaming of him for most of her life is where it became tricky for her. She had feelings for this green-eyed boy who grew to be a teen, and was now a full-fledged man at roughly the same rate as herself. She interacted with this person in her dreams all the way from childhood to now, and she feared that this nightmare was her mind telling her blatantly to give up on the idea of finding that someone perfect in her life. That she had to suck it up and accept the love that she was receiving from the man who laid beside her now.

Another sigh escaped her when guilt twisted her gut as she looked over at her lover of the past five years. Bennett had always been good to her. He put up with Wilhelmina’s multiple idiosyncrasies, didn’t ask questions—well, many questions anyhow—about her family and why they never visited them or vice versa. She felt such guilt that she couldn’t love Bennett back the way that Bennett loved her. Wilhelmina knew that, despite her efforts at masking that, her lover could never understand what it was that held Wilhelmina back from loving him back wholly. Whenever Bennett tried to bring it up, Wilhelmina would become furious and instantly deflect to something else, which was usually something stupid, and would eventually storm off. She was never good with her feelings, let alone telling her lover that she wished to be with someone who she made up in her mind.

Wilhelmina sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, trying her best not to wake Bennett. However, she could hear the man stir as he woke. Hey babe... You getting up already? It’s still dark out. Wilhelmina looked over her shoulder at him, a fond smile spreading across her face. She knew Bennett wasn’t truly awake and his dazed state was cute.

Don’t worry. Go back to sleep, it’s okay. I just can’t sleep is all.

Methodically Wilhelmina smeared a thin layer of butter onto six graham wafers then poured herself a glass of milk. With only the light from the hood fan above the stove, the kitchen was dimly lit as she sat at the small kitchen table to eat. She knew that it was too early to be up, but there would be no way she’d be able to sleep for a couple hours before she’d have to get up at seven for work. She’d be a zombie if she did that. The thought of having to get up for work made her laugh a little. It wasn’t like she was a doctor, lawyer or even a labourer and had set hours. She was a writer and other than having to meet deadlines and either actual meetings with the publishing house, her agent Liam Doyle, or book signings and special appearances, she was pretty much free to do whatever she desired with the hours of the day. She liked it that way and was grateful to live the life she was able to.

However, there was that guilt again. It was all because of Davis, this green-eyed man, that she was even successful. In high school Wilhelmina had begun writing stories about him. Feeling odd about the sometimes-intimate moments she had within her dreams, she portrayed herself as a man in the book, making it a same sex story. She had no real reason to do so, and it was a large gamble, but in her fractured mind, she needed to separate her written work from her dreams and desires as much as she could. No good writer truly writes about themselves, let alone uses their own likeness and name—so Wilhelmina named herself Cayden in the books that eventually became published. Even though no one knew that it was based loosely off of her dreams, she never did use Davis’ name. Wilhelmina was the only one who knew that and she wanted to keep it that way. So, Davis became David.

Wilhelmina’s bestselling books could be found under the pen name of M.J. Nevins and the ever-growing supernatural-drama-love story series fell under the title of Sleepwalkers with each book having a subtitle below. Not only did Wilhelmina draw from her dreams, she pulled from her life as well. Her family was Wiccan and practiced magicks. Wilhelmina never shared that information with anyone. Well, to be honest, she wasn’t even sure that what she remembered was even true. Wilhelmina had asked Luke and Gabel many times over. But they would never talk about it. Gabel, many times over the years, told her that it was just Wilhelmina’s hazy, weird and psychedelic dreams, where she gets her imagination to write, making her think that it was memories where it’s clearly not. Wilhelmina knew that it wasn’t just her weird dreams—those very brief memories have a different feel to them.

When their father left them, Wilhelmina was only two. There was no warning or even a letter with some sort of explanation as to why. Her eldest brother Luke was too young, just shy of two years too young, to take over the household and raise her and Gabel, so they unfortunately landed in foster care.

After rinsing the glass and placing it in the sink, Wilhelmina padded her way into the living room. She eyed up her lap top, but she couldn’t get herself to jot down what she had dreamt about. She didn’t want to accept it, so she was going to avoid it. Instead, she lay down. Grabbing the knit blanket that always rests on the back of the couch, she wrapped herself up and turned on the TV to watch old re-runs and infomercials. Wilhelmina watched, but didn’t pay attention. Her mind floated with thoughts of Davis and hoped that she would drift off and be able to dream that her nightmare wasn’t real. That her mind wasn’t trying to break her of her coveted desire.

Soon enough Wilhelmina had some answers.

Chapter 3

The house was too quiet for his liking and he was left alone with his acidic, self-loathing thoughts. Davis grabbed the tumbler filled with his poison of choice. The amber liquid burned Davis’ throat then warmed his belly, but not his soul. He pushed the glass away from him to rest beside the now half empty bottle of Jack Daniels. His cell phone suddenly began to buzz and dance intermittently on the kitchen table. He saw that it was Rob calling and a grunt of displeasure escaped his throat. Davis has been ignoring his brother’s calls and texts for three days now. He knew that if he let it continue that Rob would just end up on his doorstep—wanting to talk about his feelings. He had just seen his brother three days earlier, albeit for the funeral for his wife and daughter and they may not have talked much, but he did see him. Rob should know I just want to be left the fuck alone! he lamented to himself silently.

Begrudgingly, he picked up the phone in a large, sweeping action. He thought if he let it ring just a couple more times that he’d miss the call. With a sigh, Davis swiped a finger across the screen to answer.

What? he answered unceremoniously and a bit too harsh.

Well hello to you too, Rob replied. Davis could hear the sympathy in his voice and it grated at him already.

What do you want, Rob. I’m fine.

"No, you’re not fine," Rob let his words fall away.

Davis closed his eyes. His broad hand spanned across his forehead as he pressed his fingers and thumb into his temples, rubbing. He knows his brother is just worried. They have always been each other’s anchor in life. Davis had pretty much raised his brother after their mother died. After a ten-month battle with breast cancer, her body finally gave in and she died.

Julian, their father, lost his hold on reality quickly after the death of Abigail. His sanity became thinner once the drinking to drown his grief consumed him. Julian swore that a malicious spirt was to blame for Abigail’s death, not cancer. That was when he began practicing dark magick to find this invisible, unseen evil and vanquish it.

In that moment of memory, a shudder ran through Davis. He now realized what Rob ultimately feared for him.

I’m not gonna to turn into dad, Davis blurted out. He could hear Rob on the other end suck in air from the surprise of his words.

Uh...okay—But tell me, what are you doing right now? Honestly, do tell. Rob’s concern was still there, yet tainted with a bit of sass to drive the point home.

Davis sighed, "Fine, yes, I’m drinking—I’m drunk! So what? I just fucking lost my wife and child, Robbie! Can’t I have time to grieve?"

There was a long pause on the other end then Rob finally spoke. I know you just had the funeral and all, but would you like me to come over and together we can do a Wiccan ceremony... for us, to say goodbye? You know—like Dad taught us? I always found that ceremony more meaningful than what the funeral home offers. Davis could hear his brother trying his best to word it carefully. He was surprised, for as he listened to Rob’s suggestion, he didn’t lose his temper. The idea of it actually did seem to appeal to him. He remembered the ceremonies they had in the past for friends, who were more like family to them, and yes, it was still sorrowful but the ritual itself seemed so much more releasing than the stifling one he had to sit through for his family.

Before he realized, he was saying, Yeah, sure. I’d really like that.

I’ll be at your place tomorrow morning with all the stuff we need for the ceremony. Sound good? Davis could practically hear the relief in his brother’s voice and visualize the small smile on his face.

Yeah, that’s good. And, you know... thanks Robbie.

I’ll see you tomorrow—and try not to kill your liver in the mean time, ‘kay?

Yeah, sure. I’ll try. See you soon.

Rob was true to his word and he arrived the next morning at 10:30am with a duffle bag filled with white candles, cone incense of Frankincense, Myrrh and Dragon’s Blood, and a small brass bowl. Davis could see there was other stuff in the bag also, but Rob only took out what they needed.

Davis was lucky; even though he lived in suburbia, his yard was surrounded by older trees and flowering shrubs, a few flower gardens and a small patch for vegetables and herbs. When they went to the backyard, they were sure to have privacy when they performed the ritual.

It had been many years since either of them had even Cast a spell, and even longer since either of them actually believed that the Wesson family was even powerful. When they were kids, Julian used to tell them stories of how strong the Wesson family line was, how his father Henry could cast a spell without even needing elements such as incense, candles and an altar, etcetera, that he could affect his surrounds and even toss someone around with just a thought and a flick of a wrist. As kids, both Rob and Davis lapped up the stories like they were real, but as their father descended into his alcoholism and madness and the boys grew up, neither of them took to heart any longer the stories that Julian told them.

Davis was both nervous and fighting back the urge to weep the second he saw his brother and even more so when Rob embraced him.

How you holdin’ up? asked Rob.

Peachy... Davis’ voice waivered.

This’ll help, Davis. I know it will.

Davis nodded and showed his brother to the back yard. He let Rob take the reins on this. Davis didn’t know if he’d be able to remember exactly what to do. He always saw Rob as the smart one, since he is the doctor in the family and Davis is only a carpenter—an amazing one, but still, only a carpenter with a GED. He was proud, though,