ForNevermore: Season Two: ForNevermore, #2

By Coraline Cole and David W. Wright

From the bestselling authors of Yesterday's Gone, Karma Police, WhiteSpace, and more comes ForNevermore, a compelling and lush dark fantasy.

 

Noella Snow finds herself drugged and trapped in King's Point Psychiatric Hospital unable to remember what's come before, or who and what she really is.

 

Meanwhile, Dante finds himself on a mission to not only save Noella, but his entire world, against an unspeakable, seemingly unstoppable threat.

 

ForNevermore Season Two is a thrilling journey across two worlds—with more action, more secrets, and more twists than ever.

 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sterling & Stone
• Release date: Jun 21, 2018
• ISBN: 9798215162323

Book preview

PART I

Episode 7

Chapter One

Noella’s nightmare started in the usual way.

She was submerged in the liquid mix of light and shadow where dreams were born and anything might happen. Water could clear into a crystalline realm or bubble and churn into a murky sludge of fear and trouble.

She broke through the surface of her dream, into the big open kitchen of her childhood home. She stood on a stool pushed up to the counter so her seven-year-old body could stand at the same height as her father’s lanky six-foot, two-inch frame. They stood side-by-side, shoulders bumping comfortably as they worked. 

NPR played on the countertop radio. It was that funny song about ketchup. Noella laughed. Her father wasn’t paying attention. His mind was elsewhere. But when he looked over and saw her laughing, he laughed, too.

She reached up and touched the brand-new necklace at her throat. The one her father made from beach glass and knotted twine they found by the sea. He’d given it to her this morning for her birthday.

Dad measured the wet ingredients, then the dry ones. He set each cup and spoon beside the bowl.

Noella poured them in, one by one. She was in charge of stirring. The mixing bowl was her domain. She also spooned the contents into the sizzling pan for pancakes, or into the cupcake papers or the cake pan.

Wide kitchen windows looked out over the deck and farther on, past the seagrass dunes, out to sea. The skylight spilled even more sun inside. Noella loved the bright kitchen more than any room in the house. Especially the window seats leading to the open dining area.

When she and Dad weren’t cooking together, he worked at the dining room table. Noella read or drew, sometimes even played while sitting on the window seats with the sun warming her body and wrapping her in light. Even when icy winds whipped over the beach, the sun through those windows warmed her.

Noella knew this dream so well.

She’d been having it for over a decade. Sometimes it stayed happy and she got to spend time at that house with her father. But on nights like this, when it tipped sideways and slid into nightmare, a shadow descended over her mixing bowl.

She looked up and saw a large dark shape pass by the window. At first, Noella stared, too surprised to say or do anything. A moment later she heard the shattering of glass and her own scream.

Noella! Her father hissed, sudden and urgent. Hide!

This was when Noella usually realized she was knee deep in her recurring nightmare and tried to wake herself up. She closed her eyes tight and opened them suddenly. She tried pinching and shouting herself awake.

It never worked.

The next part always came.

She could do nothing to stop it.

Noella jumped down off of her stool and climbed into the cabinet under the sink. A tight fit between the bottles of dish soap and detergent. She had to duck sideways because of the u-bend. She pulled the doors closed and shut herself up with the scent soaps and sour mildew.

Her father yelled something, but no one answered.

A scuffle, followed by a SMACK! and a THUMP!

The next part always came fast, Noella was never sure exactly what happened.

The cabinet doors flew open. Light poured in. A pair of large, gloved hands seized Noella and dragged her out.

Her head hit the top of the opening. The impact flashed light across her visual plane and made it feel like there was a spike shooting down into her brain.

She felt sick and dizzy. Her mouth filled with saliva like she might throw up.

The next thing she knew, someone set her down on a flat rock near the water. A dark figure stood over her, wisps of smoke curling off his hands.

She turned back toward the house, her house, the home she loved. Wisps of smoke curled up from the windows. The house burst into flames.

And Noella was slipping away.

Noella Snow woke up in the white room. Again.

Her heart sank and her mind felt sluggish. Like wading through mud. Thoughts washed up in watery little waves, but she was stuck in the silt underneath. Each ripple rolled by and then was gone. The second Noella spotted something that seemed important, it slipped through her fingers.

Butterfingers.

Who used to call her that? Noella remembered butter on her hands, small hands, a rolling pin and a flour explosion from an open bag falling to the floor. Her father. They were baking pies. Maybe for Thanksgiving.

The memory made her smile.

Ow!

Why did it hurt to smile? Her head was throbbing. So was her face and jaw.

She lifted her hand to touch the bottom of her chin.

Double ow!

Everything was swollen and sore.

Tap, tap, tap.

Someone at the door.

Come in, Noella croaked. 

Her throat was raw, pushing sound like a rusty hinge.

The door opened an inch on a familiar eye. Then it opened further, and the whole face emerged. A name floated to the surface of her mind.

Josie? Aunt Josie? Her voice still wasn’t cooperating. It came out in a twisted whisper.

Noella! You’re awake. Oh, honey, you look great! So much better. It looks like the swelling is almost gone already. Josie’s worn, worried look cracked into a wide smile. And you have some color in your cheeks. Did you walk outside yesterday?

I don’t know, Noella said, knitting her brow, trying to remember. "Was I here yesterday? Were you?"

Of course, honey. I stopped in yesterday morning before work. They said you were going to walk through the grounds in the afternoon if you felt up to it. Don’t you remember?

No. She looked down at the counterpane covering her bed.

Counterpane? 

That seemed like an old-fashioned word. Where did she know it from? A Brontë novel maybe? No, that was last year. What was she just reading for AP English? Moby Dick. That’s what it was. Weird book for the word counterpane. Weren’t they out on a boat in the ocean the entire time? Did the hammocks in fishing boats have counterpanes?

She swam for the answer.

Then it came to her. Ishmael woke up in bed at a port with Queequeg. The harpooner’s massive arm flung out across his chest, pinning Ishmael in the bed. The tattoos on Queequeg’s arm blended strangely with the quilted pattern of the counterpane.

And then there was the other part. That part that Sam thought was so funny.

What were we talking about?

Noella studied her counterpane. It looked as though someone had come in and made the bed around her as she slept. The sheets were tucked in tight on all sides, with hospital corners at the foot.

What better place for hospital corners than in a hospital?

The bedspread lay flat and unwrinkled, as though Noella hadn’t moved or shifted an inch all night. A starched straight jacket across her legs

When Noella looked up again, Josie was eyeing her with concern. It was weird being in bed like this with Josie sitting on the hard chair beside her. Like she was sick.

What happened? Noella asked, involuntarily touching her cheek again.

Your wisdom teeth honey. You had to have them out. Don’t you remember? Josie’s face fell. We talked about it a lot before it happened. You had to take pain meds and antibiotics on top of everything else. How do you feel today, sweetie? Any pain?

Noella gingerly pressed on her lower jaw bone, then tentatively touched the tip of her tongue to the very back of her teeth on either side. Sore. But not too bad. She tried giving her aunt a brave smile, but it was more of a grimace.

Do you want me to ask the doctor to bring you more pain pills?

No. She was too confused as it was. Will you take me home? Noella sounded like a child. She could hear it in her voice.

Josie’s forehead creased and her arched eyebrows flattened into two straight lines. No, not yet honey. Dr. Foster thinks you need to stay a little while longer.

Why?

Her eyes stung. She blinked away the wetness, not wanting to cry despite her helpless confusion. It’s not because of the wisdom teeth. Is it? Why am I here Aunt Josie?

Josie stared. She opened her mouth for a moment then shut it.

Noella waited.

Josie opened and shut her mouth again, this time with a sigh.

Did I have another … episode at school? Is that why they put me back in here? Noella had been here before. That much she knew, but when she reached into her mind for more details, they were gone. It felt like trying to stretch an amputated arm and feeling only the itch of empty air.

Josie was still opening and closing her mouth like a fish. Then finally, "You really don’t remember anything, honey?"

Noella shook her head.

Dr. Foster wants to run a few more tests. He says you need more time to rest. And recover.

Recover from what? Noella was pleading. What happened to me? 

A vague memory bubbled up from somewhere deep and dark.

A girl in a darkroom, the smell of developer, the smooth feeling of contact paper against her fingertips, blindly rolling rolls of undeveloped film in a black bag.

Red lights, then some kind of flash. A struggle with something huge and terrifying. The smell of formic acid …

Then screaming. And blood.

Blood that turned from black to red when the white lights came. Blood that covered the girl on the floor. The girl screamed and writhed and clutched her stomach.

Blood all on Noella’s empty hands.

Teachers running in.

Another flash as something burst in her brain and she blacked out.

The memory made her mentally recoil. It hurt to think about it. And yet it seemed so distant, so far away. It felt cold and stale.

Tap, tap, tap.

Someone else was tapping at the door.

Dr. Foster knocked as he entered through the half-open door, a tall nurse with a high, tight black bun in tow. A turn of her head revealed the slight shine of a scar beneath her left eye.

Don’t mind me. He smiled kindly at Josie, skin crinkling on the sides of his almost colorless eyes. I’m going to check her chart. Please, keep right on chatting.

His hair was at least partially gray, but the rest almost seemed like the color was just … missing. Maybe it had been blond when he was younger.

She swung her eyes back over to Josie. Was that a flash of relief on her face? Noella waited for her to say something more, but her aunt just sat by the bed. Silence yawned into something uncomfortable.

So, how’s Randy? Noella asked to try to fill the silence.

Josie’s face ran through a series of ugly expressions that Noella couldn’t read. She recognized shock and pain, but the rest went by too fast and were too muddled to make out.

R-R-Randy? Josie’s voice barely made it out of her mouth and over to Noella’s ear. He’s, well, he’s … gone, honey. Don’t you rem—? She paused, drew a breath, and continued. "Do you remember anything? Anything about what happened? About what Randy did?"

Noella felt a flush of relief — Randy and Josie had finally split.

Was he really gone for good? It was no secret Noella never liked him, not with the way he treated her aunt. For some reason Josie always let him come back. But there was something unsettling in the way Josie was looking at her now.

Should Noella know what happened to Randy?

Did he cheat on Josie?

Or get stationed in another town?

She thought about his face, his often angry scowl, searching for memories of what happened, but found nothing.

Another mental amputation.

No. What happened?

You know, honey, I think we should probably talk about this some other time. Josie turned to the doctor. Don’t you think so? Another time?

Instead of agreeing with Josie and leaving the subject for later, he jumped in.

He disappeared, Dr. Foster said in a voice that wasn’t just devoid of emotion, it was an absolute vacuum.

Dr. Foster was still running his eyes down the flip chart at the foot of Noella’s bed. He made some marks on a smaller clipboard in his hand. When he finished writing, he tapped the board with the tip of his pen, and handed the clipboard to the nurse. He turned and faced Noella and Josie.

It’s no secret. It’s been all over the news. It’s time she tried to remember. At least a little, the doctor said as he turned to Noella. After Randy killed those women and kidnapped you, your aunt, and your friend, Sam—

Sam! Yes, there was something about him too.

—he disappeared off the face of the earth. The police haven’t found a trace. Everyone is hoping your memory will recover enough to fill in some of the puzzle soon.

Sam. Randy. Josie.

A strobing image of Sam curled up on a filthy cement floor. He clutched his stomach, groaning and gasping as Randy kicked him, hard, again and again. The scene was lit by the harsh glare of a bare lightbulb, swinging back and forth above the fray in what looked like an unfinished basement.

Noella inhaled, wincing at the sight. She could even smell the damp, the mold, the stench of urine and sweat, and—

—Old Spice.

Then it was gone.

Noella felt like someone plugged her spine into an outlet. A static shock sizzled across her nervous system. She reached out for Josie’s hand but they both recoiled at the sharp POP! as a static shock passed between them.

Oh, honey, I’m so sorry! Josie said.

Noella smiled and rubbed her hand. It had been a doozy. Her fingers hurt.

Did you remember something, Noella? Do you remember what happened? To you and your aunt? To your friend and those women? The doctor’s piercing eyes locked onto hers. Do you know what happened to Randy?

Noella balled her fists and pressed them hard to her temples.

There was something there …

Randy, Josie, Sam, some other women … a woman with red hair … and Tori.

Tori!

That’s right, the little neighbor girl she used to babysit. Tori was there, too!

Wasn’t she? But then what?

Noella squeezed her eyes shut, desperate to remember. 

No one spoke.

I don’t know, Noella finally admitted, at the edge of tears. I’m trying to remember, but I just can’t seem to, to, to … she looked hopelessly at the faces around her. 

The nurse stepped forward. Quietly, she said, Doctor, it’s time.

Dr. Foster moved his head in a single affirmative nod. The nurse left the room.

Time for what? Josie asked. 

For Noella’s medication. And for you to be going, Miss Snow. Visiting hours are over.

Are you changing her medication? I’m her guardian. Is this something I need to know about?

Not at all. We just want to make sure Noella takes her medication at the right time each day. Nothing to worry about. Dr. Foster took Josie by the elbow, gentle but firm. He lifted her from her seat and guided her toward the door.

Well, okay then. I’ll be back soon Noey. I love you, honey, Josie called back over her shoulder as she was escorted from the room.

The nurse returned with a paper pill cup in one hand and a clear blue plastic cup of water in the other.

Here you go, the nurse said, unsmiling as she tipped the pill cup directly into Noella’s mouth. The nurses usually let her do that herself.

She caught a glimpse of color in the medicine cup. A glowing purple elliptical capsule. The nurse kept hold of the cup of water, helping Noella to drink like a toddler.

Didn’t Dr. Foster just tell Josie they weren’t changing her meds?

But Noella didn’t care.

Noella opened her eyes in a different room.

The walls were painted a pleasant shade of butter yellow and the carpet was an almost periwinkle blue. She was lying down, looking up at the light fixture above her — a lovely stained glass piece with a circus theme. Brightly colored animals, acrobats, and clowns covered the surface. The room smelled familiar. A light, airy scent, like warm strawberries out in a field. 

She inhaled and felt something in the back of her neck unknot.

Noella, wake up!

She turned to the right and saw the bright eager face of her eight-year-old neighbor.

Tori? What are you doing here? Noella looked around and realized she was lying down on the daybed sofa in Tori’s playroom. Wait a minute, what am I doing here?

Listen, Noella, I don’t have time to explain everything right now. We only have a few moments together. It was hard enough to arrange that. But I have to tell you something. Don’t tell the doctors or the nurses at the hospital anything. At all. Don’t tell anyone anything, not even your aunt. Tell them your memories are all a blank, no matter what. Whatever you remember, or start to remember, pretend you don’t. Got it? Don’t give them any reason to think you’re crazy or they’ll never let you leave.

But Tori, what’s going on? What—

I’m sorry Noella, I could only buy us a few seconds. I’ll explain everything when you get back home. Just remember, don’t tell them anything!

Then Tori and the room were gone.

As Noella’s consciousness faded to black, she found herself thinking about Ishmael and Queequeg again. The massive tattooed arm pinning Ishmael in bed, both forcing and allowing him to contemplate the complementary patterns of inked skin and quilted cloth.

She imagined a colorful, stained glass circus scene swirled among the fisherman tattoos. Oddly tender amid such a violent and overwhelmingly masculine book. She and Sam talked about that scene after class. He brought her attention to the line describing Queequeg as being stiff as a pike-staff lying in bed with Ishmael.

They laughed hard over that. Then Sam underlined it in his heavily marked paperback. His sense of humor was so childish sometimes. Noella was surprised by how much he liked the book. It didn’t seem like his kind of thing.

She fell back to sleep, wondering what Sam’s sailor tattoos would look like if he had any.

And then, another man — tall, pale with dark hair, and dressed all in black.

Dante. Her lips formed the shapes that made the sound of his name.

Dante, Noella whispered out loud.

She fell asleep, and all memories of him slipped under the surface and then out of her mind.

Chapter Two

Dante tilted his chair back against the wall behind him. Dark hair swept his forehead, partially obscuring his gray eyes. His form faded into the surrounding shadows.

He arrived early to install himself at the back of the balcony before the town square filled. When the Elders made their appearance, he would be ready.

The balcony overlooked the square and stood just above a bakery. Dante inhaled deeply, enjoying the divine scents wafting on the breeze. Buttery rich crusts, fragrant spices, chocolate. The big open pit roast was just up the way, smelling strong enough to rumble his stomach. He wished he had grabbed one of those pastry-wrapped meat pies on his way up. Too late now.

Sensing a shift in the crowd below, Dante leaned farther into the shadows and studied the Agora. 

The Elders held court on a stage constructed of pale boards, raised a two feet off the ground. Seven tall-backed chairs sat on it — thrones made of wood and leather, each with a different symbol carved into