Rye Nova: Between Sight and Sound

By K.M. Greffe

Rye Nova has suffered with visions and night-terrors for most of his life.
Striving to control his PTSD anxiety, Mama Reese and Turnip his dog, continue to act as a ballast in Rye's guarded world.
Recently diagnosed with a brain tumor, Rye struggles with his purpose and future. If that were not enough of a burden, - now he is hearing voices.
Following a chance encounter with Evelyn Sterling- who has her own experience in 'jabbering' – Rye now has an ally to assist in navigating this new ability.
When three women go missing in Rye's newly adopted city of New Orleans, he half-heartedly looks into the disappearances as a way to keep busy. That is when he is not attending a shady poker game. Both activities being thinly veiled attempts to distract his mind from the creature growing in his head.
Between what Rye sees in his terror-visions and hears in his troubled mind, will he know enough to stop the misguided drive of the killer?

Aaron Thibodeaux cannot stand being a lawyer anymore. Once he meets Lilith a new direction, a new dream, becomes the end goal. Lilith was Aaron's original lucky charm and now that she is gone, he must find a replacement. Mae-Lin continues the winning streak until she used up her three chances. Kristin was also given her three chances, until she too disappointed Aaron. They were both discarded. Now Ingrid was in his possession and proving her worthiness as Aaron's most rewarding lucky charm. His dream was now within reach.
That is until Aaron becomes too greedy ...and sits down at the poker table next to Rye Nova.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Dec 19, 2022
• ISBN: 9781667879482

Book preview

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Rye Nova: Between Series

Rye Nova: Between Wrong and Right

Rye Nova: Between Flight and Fight

Rye Nova: Between Sight and Sound

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

All characters are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

ISBN: 978-1-66787-947-5

eBook ISBN: 978-1-66787-948-2

Copyright © November 2022 by K.M. Greffe

Contents

THREE MONTHS AGO

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

THREE MONTHS AGO

February 22

His constitution changed dramatically after Lilith walked into his life. Now he had a new option. A new direction. A dream he was going to build for himself.

That night, in particular, Aaron had been leaning against the leather bumper, watching the roulette wheel spin, placing his bets – black or red – as a casual gambler. Up thirty bucks. Down by twenty. Most of the time, he’d walk away from the table breaking even, having blown off some steam after a stressful day in a career he hated, under the pressure of a successful father.

Pinching the marker between thumb and forefinger, raising it near his temple, contemplating which number felt suitable for this particular spin, a warm breath brushed the back of his hand. Shifting his gaze from the table to look over his shoulder, there she was. Tall, sultry, exotic, and smiling at him. At him! His mouth dropped open to ask the question racing through his brain but the words remained stubbornly locked in his vocal cords. He’d literally been stunned into silence.

To bring you luck. Even her voice was like honey.

Blood red silk blouse with a deep plunging neckline snugged into the waist of form fitting black leather pants. Long, pin-straight black hair swept back into a ponytail. A near-invisible thread of gold held a single perfect shining pearl against the hollow of her throat. Aaron couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Black and red. Red and black – the same colors found on the spinning wheel. The gleaming pearl was the ball. Blindly his hand reached out towards the green felt of the table top. The marker was placed somewhere beyond his vision. The blustering sounds of the casino dulled as the tiny white ball danced around the wheel- plink, plink, rattle, plunk. Suddenly boisterous cheers erupted around him as back slaps from strangers thudded against his shoulders. All eyes encircling the table fell on him. He’d won. Big time. To this day, Aaron had no idea which space his marker had rested.

The exotic beauty planted a deep kiss, hard and wet, against his mouth, before grasping his hand, enticing him away from the roulette table. Fully expecting to be lured across the floor towards the exit, Aaron decided that instant he would follow her anywhere. In the end, she directed him deeper into the room towards another roulette table.

You’ll not have any more luck at that table tonight. This one has a good vibe about it. A second hard kiss was pressed to his lips as her hands encouragingly pushed him towards the padded table edge. My name’s Lilith by the way and I will bring you luck. Slender fingers, tipped in black polish, selected a chip from the stash cupped in his hands. Once again, a gentle puff of breath passed over the piece of plastic, caressing his cheek on the way. Good luck. The whisper was like smoke against his ear.

Two hours later, after cashing out the bucket of chips – seventeen thousand nine hundred and eighteen dollars – Aaron floated towards the exit with Lilith on his arm. That was amazing. He intentionally kept his voice low, partially to not attract attention to his fortune, but ultimately he intended to draw the mysterious woman closer to himself.

It worked. She turned to face him. Snaking her slender arms inside the open suit jacket, running her hands along Aaron’s ribcage, coming to a rest against the small of his back, Lilith leaned in again with another long, hard kiss. Finally withdrawing for the next breath, she took a step back, running her hand along his arm until only their fingertips remained in contact. Little girl’s room. There was a flash of fire in her ocean-blue eyes. Get your car. I’ll be right back.

Just as her hand was about to slip free entirely, Aaron caught hold of her fingertips. You are my lucky charm. Warmth washed over him; a boyish blush colored his cheeks.

I am your lucky charm. Lilith agreed, even as their touch

separated.

Aaron, uncharacteristically, shuffle danced across the parking lot to his BMW sedan. The euphoric meeting of such an intriguing woman eclipsed the dollar amount stamped on the cashier’s cheque in his pocket. If asked to articulate what he had just experienced, to put it into words – powerful, dazzling, amazing - sprang to mind. Better yet, other worldly. He likened it to the moment of witnessing a star explode.

The BMW came to a gliding rest under the glittering lights of the main entrance. Glancing around for his new lucky charm, Aaron’s euphoria fizzled away when, after ten minutes, then fifteen minutes, evaporated, and Lilith had not emerged from the glass doors.

The valet caught the keys as Aaron rushed back into the sensory overload of the casino. Head wildly swinging left and right as he spun around, desperately searching for the beauty among the mundane everyday faces.

Requesting directions from a cocktail server, he located the closest bathrooms and pushed open the door to the ladies room. Lilith? he called out.

A startled octogenarian gasped, Young man, you have the wrong facility.

Have you seen a tall woman wearing a red blouse and black pants? Aaron ignored the scolding.

Get out! Peeping Tom! The blue-haired granny swung a purse before her as she marched towards the door. Security!

Weaving franticly among the different gaming sections, another two hours passed before Aaron, defeated, returned to collect his BMW from the valet. He had no idea where she could have gone, let alone understand why she had gone. Yet, all the same, she was gone - his lucky charm.

Was it fate? Was this to be a one-off situation? A single stroke of luck? Aaron vowed to return tomorrow night, clinging desperately to the hope the cosmos would allow for their paths to cross once again.

It wasn’t until Aaron returned home did he realize that this wonderous beauty, who captivated his world, had taken his slim billfold. He couldn’t control the laughter erupting from deep within. Lilith, the sly scammer, probably thought she was getting the money he had won, but the rich leather fold only contained a few credit cards – one a company card and the other three were maxed out – and his driver’s license. The cashier’s cheque remained safely tucked into the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

At that moment, the situation became complicated. The anger that should have developed as a result of the theft never grew past the initial fleeting moment. All he wanted was to continue winning. Accumulating more wealth. Building his bank account. Having the lucky streak evolve into a winner’s lifestyle. He saw a new future. The second-hand leased BMW became a new model fresh off the lot. The rented apartment became a luxury condo. The suits became Italian and tailored. And most importantly of all, he would remove himself from the oppressive shadow cast by his old man. Impulsive decision made: he was going to purchase a bar.

Every evening for the next three weeks, he’d push through the glass doors and shuffle among the hoards of people in search of his lucky charm. Placing a bet here and there. Sitting at a table once or twice, joining in on a hand of poker. Tossing the dice at the craps table. Watching the roulette wheel spin and the ball bounce. Waiting for the soft breath to once again brush against his ear. It never came. His lucky charm was gone. Shift focus; he convinced himself. Find a new lucky charm, and things will get better.

CHAPTER ONE

April 19

Slowing to a walk for the last hundred yards before turning around and heading back home, Rye noticed the figure of a woman standing at the edge of the water. The time felt somewhere between two-thirty and three in the morning. With the final forty feet between them, he watched as she raised her hands in a V over her head. In the moonlight, the thin, flowing white gauze dress she wore became translucent. The sound of tiny bells tinkled on the breeze. Rye stood and watched, transfixed with curiosity.

Turnip sat by his side and panted for a moment before announcing he was ready for the return home, letting out a short bark.

The woman gracefully lowered her arms, turning to face them.

Half lifting a hand in apology for the intrusion, Rye Nova reined in the leash a few inches, preparing to set off for home.

‘It’s okay. Please, join me.’ Her voice was so quiet it nearly didn’t reach him. The words sounded muted, as if by a thin pillow.

Turning back, out of bewilderment, Rye accepted the woman before him hadn’t actually spoken the words aloud. It was her thought of the words that filtered to him. He was hearing voices. More precisely, he was hearing her voice. With that, strength evaporated from his legs, buckling him to the ground.

The last few months crumpled around him like a folding house of cards. It was just then; he realized there had been no true night-terror since his concussion. Visits from the dark-fiery creature were still frequent enough, but that was as bad as the dreams had been as of late. Rye suddenly felt panic begin to set in. In an instant, he was six years old again, waking from his first night-terror, utterly unaware of the extent of what he had just experienced. A tremor violently shuddered through him as his fingers clenched into the dirt - pulling against the dampened grass - struggling to achieve a sense of being grounded. Turnip, whining with concern, leaned against his human and licked the side of his face. Rye lifted his head towards the moonlight to see the woman moving in his direction.

Rye, I know you’re scared. These words were real, My name’s Evelyn.

He could only blink with dismay.

Turnip lifted his snout to further investigate the air brushing past them.

Evelyn lowered herself to the grass, sitting a few feet from Rye, remaining silent, studying. The flowing skirt haloing around her reflected the bright moonlight.

A moment passed. Then another before Rye found his voice. It felt thick and stubborn. How? Head tilting slightly.

Turnip pressed closer against his master, tilting his head as well, seeming to ask the same question. This new person hadn’t yet earned his trademark grin.

I wasn’t sure if we’d be able to jabber. That’s what I call it when another person can hear my thoughts. And you did. Her voice was quiet and soothing. She was pleased.

He managed to ask again. How?

Like souls find like souls. She saught his dark, tired eyes and held them with her own. I have always been able to hear other people – some people - however, only a few have been able to hear me. She pushed back a loose strand of her long wavy hair, tucking it behind her right ear. Figured I’d take a chance on you. Her head tilted to match the angle set by the man before here, offering a warm smile.

Rye, by nature, generally avoided most people and many conversations; even so, there remained very few incidents where he’d been at a total loss for words. He reflected back to when a tall, slender Black woman - Mama Reese - rescued him from the bridge, derailing his plans of suicide. He didn’t talk to her for two days. At the time, he was sullen and pouting, attempting to comprehend why and how a complete stranger managed to talk him out of jumping. The larger question was why she cared enough to welcome him into her home, offering shelter, support, and comfort. That was six and a half years ago.

Now, this.

Who? was all he could manage.

Evelyn Sterling. She smiled. Even in the shadow cast by the moon behind her, her eyes sparkled. When you’re ready, please come find me. The tiny bells hemming her skirt tinkled as she stood. I have a book store. Pirate’s Alley. The woman took a few steps away, back towards the water’s edge. Have a good morning, Rye.

Tentatively he found the strength to stand.

Turning back, seeming to perceive the man was about to leave, Evelyn approached a few steps again. Very quietly from about ten feet away, It’s not really any of my business, but you should see the doctor. I think you’ll be okay. I feel good energy within you.

The journey back to the houseboat was taken at a walk rather than the usual steady pace of his practiced run. Turnip didn’t seem to mind, glancing back every few minutes to check in, occasionally offering a grin or chuff. Rye, moving on autopilot with heavy feet, permitted the dog to lead him home. The first delicate threads of orange began to edge the horizon by the time they stepped aboard the thirty-six-foot Gibson.

Rye felt like he’d been enveloped by a gossamer cocoon of spider silk. It was invisible, nonetheless clinging, difficult to cast off with just the brush of a hand. Sitting on the small bench he’d built on the aft of the floating dwelling, he couldn’t bring himself to enter the comforts of home quite yet. With the rising sun at his back, Rye considered how curious it was. Shouldn’t his mind be whirling and dizzy with questions? Shouldn’t there be a sense of fear? Jabbering (as Evelyn had put it) with someone through pure thought was unfathomable. However, once he was able to push past the stickiness of the spider silk, nothing lingered. Nothing waited in the shadows. His mind was void of any anxiety. A fresh, clean white canvas awaiting a new artist to impress upon it.

The sound of a thump followed by a baritone bark finally brought his attention back to the present. The thump was the seabird depositing another dead fish on the roof of the houseboat. The bark was Turnip at the glass slider, eager to continue their daily routine. The sky had changed color from the oranges of dawn to the softer blue hue of early morning. He’d been sitting on the bench for at least an hour.

Pushing the slider open, Turnip led the way to the small galley as if to remind Rye where he needed to be and what he needed to do. After making the peanut butter sandwich for the dog and refilling the bowls with kibble and water, Rye took two previously boiled eggs and a glass of orange juice to the small dinette table. He had forgotten all about stopping at the convenience store to pick up the morning newspaper, so he ate silently without the usual sanctuary offered by news articles as a distraction.

Dialing the phone and swallowing the last of the juice, Rye called Mama Reese.

Three rings before. Hello? Sleep draped her voice.

Rye immediately apologized, I’m sorry, Mama. He hadn’t considered the time. I wasn’t paying attention.

She cleared her throat, That’s okay, m’boy. I was with Alvin and Lucien perfecting a recipe and didn’t get in until quiet late.

He was unsure of how to continue.

Respecting a brief silence, Mama reassured him, You know you can call me anytime.

Barely allowing time for her words to reach his good ear, he blurted out, I’m hearing voices.

Mama was aware of, and disappointed in, Rye’s stubbornness revolving around his decision making process for scheduling a follow-up appointment to investigate the brain tumor further after it had been discovered a few months ago. She was worried; her voice now cleared and sharpened by the admission, Please, Rye, call the doctor –

That’s what she said.

Who

Evelyn.

Who’s Evelyn?

She’s the one who’s voice I heard. He closed his eyes, pressing a thumb and finger against the bridge of his nose. She could hear my thoughts. I could hear her too. I mean, she did really talk to me, but at first, I just heard her in my mind. Now he tapped his temple. She told me not to be scared. Then she told me to call the doctor.

Would you like me to come down? Mama lived in Baton Rouge, an hour away. Knowing his troubled past, she was concerned Rye would crawl back into the bottle or consider something more drastic.