Sea Of Untold Stories

By Andy DeJong

Book 2 of the Ghosts Of Pinkerton series.

An imaginative western/fantasy/sci-fi genre mashing supernatural adventure!

Welcome back to an alternative 1880s influenced by outside forces of light and dark—and different eras. It differs from our own in subtle, and not so subtle, ways. If you like your stories strange, a bit campy, and full of historical inaccuracies, then this is your type of book.

Nearly one year has passed since the battle with the chaos demon known as Malice. Cole Owens has spent the better part of that year searching for Jasper Longley, who vanished after defeating the demon.

Cole is convinced that the answer to Jasper’s disappearance lies in a place called the Sea of Untold Stories—a place not of this world. But he has no clue on how to open the barrier that separates the earth from the otherworldly location.

Close to giving up, Cole happens upon a salesman, who also dabbles in magic, and strikes a deal with him—find a mysterious orb and, in return, he’ll open the Sea of Untold Stories.

Unfortunately, the salesman turns out to be a bit of a swindler. Running out of options, Cole enlists the help of some old friends, and they strike out in search of the dirty snake. When they find him, he agrees to open the barrier.

But some things are better left closed. When the barrier is opened, and the gang is ready to retrieve a certain someone, they end up unleashing something else—something that has no business on earth. Now they need to put the being back where it came from, before it imposes its will on humanity.

Watching everything unfold from her safe place in the Nexus is a modern-day girl named Kelly—she’s not some simple valley girl. Soon she finds herself, quite reluctantly, caught up in the middle of the action. Her life, and future, are forever changed by the string of events that lead to one last confrontation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Andy DeJong
• Release date: Feb 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215275993

Andy DeJong

Andy DeJong is the author of the 'Ghosts of Pinkerton' series and 'A Wintervale Tale' series.Growing up in the heavily populated state of South Dakota could explain my slight weirdness. I enjoy stories and shows dealing in fantasy and the supernatural. I draw inspiration for writing from shows such as Supernatural and Buffy The Vampire Slayer. Anything dealing with ghosts and monsters that has a dash of violence, a helping of humor, and a whole lot of fun is up my alley. A good conspiracy theory gets me intrigued as well. And don't mention superheroes or RPGS around me, I will talk all day on those subjects.I would describe my writing style as more in line with movies or shows. I write primarily to entertain the reader. My prose isn't flowery or long-winded, and I don't use overly large words to try to impress. I let my characters take center stage. There are a plethora of books available that teach valuable life lessons or have a deep moral view that the author wants to instill in the reader. I want you to read my books for escapism. There are enough serious burdens and horribleness in the world already, and if you are looking to escape from it all and not think about it for a few hours, then my books are meant for you.If you do discover a valuable life lesson or deep philosophical meaning in my books, I likely did it on accident ... or did I? You'll just have to read and decide for yourself!Andy currently resides in South Dakota with his wife and children.Follow on Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/andydejongbooks/Follow on Twitter- https://twitter.com/AndyddejongFind on Goodreads- https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6298572.Andy_DeJongTo keep up with news on his future book releases, follow his linktree at https://linktr.ee/andydejongbooks

Book preview

Ghosts Of Pinkerton

Sea Of Untold Stories

Andy DeJong

Copyright © 2022 Andy DeJong

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Cover art by grandfailure at www.123rf.com

Other Books

Ghosts Of Pinkerton Series

Book 1 - Vampire And The Frenchman

Book 2 - Sea Of Untold Stories

A Wintervale Tale Series - for kids ages 8-12

Book 1 - Lost Carnival

Book 2 - No One's Home

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Other Books

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Other Books

About The Author

Chapter 1

You’ve Seen The Butcher

Nearly a year had passed since the ill-fated day Jasper Longley vanished after defeating the chaos demon, Malice.

Since then, Cole Owens had been on a never-ending quest to find his lost friend. But he’d made little progress in his hunt—almost the opposite. Whenever he thought he’d found an answer, it came up empty. There were times he’d considered giving up, but something—call it hope or stupidity—kept pushing him along. If Jasper was out there somewhere suffering, and Cole had decided to quit looking because the search was too challenging, he’d never be able to live with himself. And thus, he continued to follow leads that ended up in dead ends.

He prayed this lead was the one.

Shit!

Cole slipped, and his feet kicked out from under him, planting him on his ass and sliding down a steep, muddy hill. During his slick journey, he pondered. He thought about the wet dirt currently filling his pants, and he wondered about Jasper’s whereabouts. But mostly, he was curious as to what ghastly thing with jaws was waiting to devour him at the bottom of the hill. Near the end, he bounced off a large rock, giving his nether regions (the region Kelly with a y had once told him he didn’t know how to use, like she knew … ) quite a lot to complain about, and he landed face-first on the ground below. Gasping for breath, he jerked his head out of a gooey brown puddle and cleared the muck from his eyes.

There went the element of surprise.

A high-pitched howl cut through the chaotic noise of Cole’s choking and sputtering. He peered in the direction of the sound. Hulking shapes, barely visible in the torrents of rain, weaved between trees. Another howl echoed from somewhere in the distance. As the figures neared, Cole heard deep, guttural growls, and what sounded like claws dragging across tree bark. The term "no man’s land" took on a new meaning.

Cole steadied himself for an altercation by lowering into a defensive position and resting his hands against the butts of his revolvers. But the howls ceased, the growls grew silent, and the dragging claws stopped—being replaced instead by the heavy patter of the rain and the rumble of thunder. His breathing came in short bursts, much like the first beasts that leapt from the woods. Those creatures were greeted by silver bullets from a pair of Colt Frontier Six Shooters. Cole sidestepped the powerful animals, and they tumbled out of sight behind him. The two revolvers kept pace for a moment when the second wave came—but werewolves often require more than one silver bullet to keep them grounded.

A strong paw swipe from one werewolf caught Cole on the arm and flung him against a nearby tree. His spine took the brunt of the collision, and he landed on his knees in the dirt, rainwater running off the edge of his hat as he hunched over from the pain. He quickly checked his arm to make sure those claws hadn’t cut him. Searching the folds of his coat, he was relieved to find that only the fabric had been ripped, not his skin. He looked up to see the overwhelming odds.

C’mon, you smelly sons-of-bitches! Cole yelled, now surrounded by a pack of eight. They circled around him with predatory gaits, shoulders shifting with every step. Their jaws snapped wildly. Let’s see what you’re made of, he groaned as he pushed himself to his feet.

One werewolf rose on its hind legs, towering above the rest of the pack for what seemed like miles. Found the alpha. The sinewy muscles in its neck bulged as it released a ferocious roar and a powerful spray of saliva. Long strands of drool glistened on the tips of its teeth and stretched to the ground.

Is that how you do things in these parts? Cole asked, wiping the gunk from his face and shaking it from his fingers. I can play that game, he screamed at the werewolf as loud as humanly possible, but his voice broke and went from deep and intimidating to an awkward, high-pitched screech. Still wanting to match the werewolf’s intensity, Cole tried spitting at it, but due to a sudden case of dry mouth, nothing happened.

The restless alpha slapped the ground with its front legs, splashing water everywhere, and dashed at its meal. The meal’s response time was not quick enough to move out of the way, and the monster soared through the air, ready to tear flesh.

Thankfully, Cole had an ace up his sleeve. The vigilant Emma McGaul flew out of the trees and collided with the massive werewolf in midair. Emma’s force was enough to knock the big animal off course, sending them both rolling across the ground.

Not one to be wasteful, Cole used the momentary distraction to dump silver bullets into the rest of the pack, aiming only at their heads and hearts to guarantee a kill. Knowing that the werewolves, if left unharmed, would turn back into humans in a couple of days made taking their lives unpleasant. But this was a kill or be killed situation. And he had too much work left to be dying so soon.

After a quick inspection to make sure none of his kills were getting back to their feet, Cole ran to find Emma. The fight had moved to the top of the hill that Cole had just slid down minutes earlier. He sighed, unenthused about having to trek back to the top. It was very steep, after all. But he needed to get there quick—even with Emma’s vampire strength, she wouldn’t survive long against a werewolf that size. He hiked up his pants and ran, almost like a werewolf, using his hands to grip the earth, barely keeping ahead of the sliding mud.

Once he reached the top, he found Emma and the werewolf still locked in a brutal battle. Emma slapped the furry fiend across the face multiple times, using her sharp nails to cut its eyes. But the alpha used its head to ram Emma, knocking her to the ground. It opened its jaws wide and went at her throat. At the last second, she caught its mouth and kept the jaws pried apart and the teeth from clamping down on her neck—instead, those fangs punctured her hands, and blood ran down her arms. Her entire body shook trying to overcome the werewolf’s strength.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Bang!

Cole stood, keeping the revolvers aimed at the werewolf. The creature, no longer full of hot breath, collapsed on top of Emma. With a loud grunt, she pushed it off, sending the body flying through the air and rolling down the hill.

Emma used the rainwater to rinse the mud from her face and the blood from her arms. Her dress was shredded, and her exposed skin was covered in deep cuts. She inspected the tattered clothing, clutching ruined pieces of it in her hands, and shook her head at the sight of the remains.

Cole helped Emma to her feet, trying his best to brush the dirt off her dress—but only made it worse by smearing the mud over the clean parts.

Thanks for the rescue, Emma said. "But it’s embarrassing that I needed to be rescued. I should’ve fought smarter. If I had gotten on its back, I could’ve snapped its neck."

Don’t worry about it, Cole said, checking the valley below for movement. "Werewolves are too strong to fight hand-to-hand. Silver weapons are the only way to go. And I owed you one anyway, for saving my ass from those wood sprites back in Murville. I’d never seen a vampire bite a sprite’s head clean off—I’m still dumbfounded."

It’s nice that you’re so easily impressed, Emma laughed, joining Cole to inspect the death at the bottom of the hill. It makes my life much simpler.

Let’s finish the mission then, shall we? Cole produced a map from his coat. He unfolded the parchment and studied the faded ink. We passed the rock shaped like a snake about a mile back. The cabin should be straight west of here, in that tree line. He pointed to the spot.

Emma led their descent, slowly as she went, to stop Cole from taking another spill.

I think we might find it this time! Cole said with a chime in his voice. The area was guarded by a pack of werewolves, just like the weird guy told us it would be.

Emma looked at Cole with concern. Keep your expectations low. We’ve been down this road before, and we’ve been burned before. I have my doubts that this time will be any different. She hung her head and kept moving.

The cabin was in rough shape, leaning heavily to the right. The wooden walls had rotted a long time ago and were littered with irregular-shaped holes, providing a view of the collapsed beams inside. Cole stepped across the doorless entrance, and his foot immediately broke through the floor. Walk along the walls, he advised. The middle will crumble from our weight.

They scooted along until reaching the back of the cabin. There, Cole said, pointing to the fireplace. It should be buried underneath.

Together, Emma and Cole grabbed half-burned logs and tossed them aside. The remnants of old fires drifted into their nostrils as they brushed away years of ash. Cole tried punching through the flooring, but it didn’t break. He tried again … and again, slamming his fist harder and harder each time, but to no avail. At last, Emma nudged him aside and broke through on the first try. Cole sneered at her and pulled up the loosened floorboards. They gave each other hope-filled looks.

Cole plunged his hands into the black hole and pulled out a large blanket covered in soot and dead bugs. He eagerly unfolded the wool and shook it out, checking every fold and square inch.

Ahhh! he roared, whipping the blanket against a wall. Reaching in his duster, he pulled out a friction match and swiped it against the wood to ignite the tip. He lowered the match in the hole and stuck his head inside. After slowly lifting his neck, he got to one knee and slammed his fist against the fireplace, striking it hard enough to knock out a few bricks. He shook his hand and flexed his fingers as he stormed out of the cabin.

A moment later, he heard Emma coming outside. Fuck! he hollered. The rat bastard lied to us. He grabbed a pinch of chewing tobacco from his secret stash in one of his hidden pockets. Resting his hands on his hips, he spit on the ground and shook his head. He felt the veins in his temples bulging. What are we supposed to do? We are no closer now than we were one year ago. The book Allan left behind says we need the orb to open a passageway.

Emma wrapped her arms around Cole’s shoulders and across his chest. He grabbed her cold, dead hands and held them tight. She rested her head against his and whispered in his ear, Let’s go back and get Richard and Richard II, and I think it’s time we reach out to your old friend.

You’re right, Cole agreed. We’ve waited long enough—never should’ve left him alone for this long. But as much as I like our horses, I miss portals that much more. I never realized how slow horses were until I got a taste of that fast travel strangeness. Steam engines be damned.

They began the slow walk toward the next part of their journey.

I hope he takes us back, Cole said.

Chapter 2

Can You Hear Me? Because I’m Lost

A black sky, or a blank canvas might be more appropriate, was interrupted by a human body free-falling across it.

The body looked like a tiny pebble floating in an endless ocean. But it had thoughts: a consciousness. It recognized the space in which it inhabited—recognized the void as the Sea of Untold Stories. How it knew? It wasn’t sure. Now it remembered that it had a name in a previous dimension—a previous life.

Jasper Longley.

His name he knew, but his memory of how he came to be in the Sea of Untold Stories was vague. He noticed his falling had become more of a drifting, as if gravity had ceased to exist. With a lazy turn of his head, he looked in the direction he believed was down. Below him was the ocean of books that he knew to be untold stories. He watched as the endless sea of books rose and fell like waves. At first, he had believed he was falling or drifting, but now it appeared he might not be moving at all, as the ocean seemed to be pulling toward him—attracted to him as if gravity had been inside his body all along.

After an uncertain period of time, he merged with the books. They splashed when he hit the surface feet first. It felt like he was in water as he sunk underneath, but while he rose back to the top, he observed that his clothes and skin were completely dry. Temperature seemed to be obsolete, as he felt neither hot nor cold. In fact, he didn’t feel much of anything, really. However, he did sense that the sea was very rough. As the books kept shifting back and forth, he was dragged down and brought back up with them, getting jostled and hit by tomes of all sizes.

After one particularly forceful wave, he was pulled down without rising back to the surface. Panic overtook his body until he realized he didn’t need to breathe—he hadn’t taken a single breath yet since arriving in the Sea of Untold Stories. He thrashed his arms and legs, hoping to get his head above the books to see his surroundings, but he was stuck, as if frozen in amber like an insect.

Just when he thought he would be trapped in his current position forever, a faint glow appeared. It grew brighter, turning the books a vibrant shade of yellow. Then the books around Jasper began to vibrate, and they parted above him, forming a narrow tunnel. A high-pitched hum resonated, and he was pulled to the surface, where he floated momentarily. The tunnel below him closed, and he was set gently on top of the sea, where he sat staring at a ball of light in the distance.

Without blinking, he watched the light approach until it became so large and brilliant that he was forced to shield his eyes. When the light dimmed enough to be safely observed, he made out the shape of a small rowboat. A pole, with a lit lantern hanging from a metal ring, was attached to the front. Enchanted by the gentle swinging of the lantern, Jasper was surprised to see a cloaked figure standing in the middle of the boat.

The mysterious person grabbed a paddle and held it out to him over the side. Hesitating, Jasper reached and grabbed the end with one hand. As soon as he touched the paddle, he was instantly transported onto the boat, landing on a bench and finding himself sitting in front of the cloaked figure. Calmly, he reached down and picked up his Stetson, never turning his eyes away from the other occupant. It wouldn’t have been as unnerving had Jasper been able to see a face, but the hood of the cloak formed a dark cavern, to which no light entered.

At a snail’s pace, two hands, covered by the oversized cloak, reached up and pulled the hood back. Jasper’s muscles tensed with anticipation, and his trigger fingers flexed involuntarily. At last, the hood was peeled back to reveal a … SKULL?! The bleached bones came complete with two unsettling hollow eye