Quietly Recovered: Redemption Shorts, #1

By Rei Rosenquist

This is a collection of short stories all set in the Redemption Universe.

Wait, but what is the Redemption Universe?
I'm glad you asked.

Redemption is the title of my upcoming novel series featuring the characters you see traveling roads and riding horses in these pages. Think of these stories as a teaser, a bird's eye view into a universe that is about to explode with romance, intrigue, adventure, betrayal, and…well, of course, redemption.

Wait, but why now?

I decided to publish these shorts prior to releasing the novels because I fell in love with them, and I'm sure you will too!
The slow burn of these stories captures what I love so much about building the universe around the Redemption Series. The tangled way in which characters are led to explore their even-more tangled world speaks to the heart of not just the soon-to-be novels, but it speaks to the world in which they're all set. And it speaks to the world we are living in.

They're raw and real, full of trauma and healing, full of difficult choices and hard lessons. These are the stories of broken people living in a broken world, trying their hardest to live unbroken lives and never giving up.

I hope, with the current climate of the world, these stories bring us all a little glimmer of hope that no matter what goes wrong, there is always a redemption arc waiting for us.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rei Rosenquist
• Release date: Jan 29, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224687831

Rei Rosenquist

Rei Rosenquist first remembers life as seen out the high window of a hotel balcony. Down below is a courtyard, swarms of brightly dressed tourists, the beach. The memory is nothing but a blue-green washed image. Warmth and sunlight. Here, they are three years old, and this is the beginning of a nomadic story-teller’s life. Over the years, they have traveled to many countries, engaged many peoples, picked up new habits, and learned new languages. But, some things never change. For them, these are stories, food service, and traveling. These three passions have bloomed from hobbies, studies, and jobs into a way of life. These days, Rei can be found in between Tokyo, Kailua, and Bellingham, Washington pouring beautiful latte art, baking off a batch of famous savory scones, and cozying up with a laptop to obsessively write mountains of dark speculative fiction. You can find Rei’s stories and blog at reirosenquist.com. You can also reach them via email at [e-mail] or connect via Facebook (Rei Rosenquist), Twitter (rylrosenquist) and Instagram (rylrosenquist).

Book preview

REDEMPTION

This is a collection of short stories all set in the Redemption Universe.

Wait, but what is the Redemption Universe?

I’m glad you asked.

Redemption is the title of my upcoming novel series featuring the characters you see traveling roads and riding horses in these pages. Think of these stories as a teaser, a bird’s eye view into a universe that is about to explode with romance, intrigue, adventure, betrayal, and…well, of course, redemption.

Wait, but why now?

Well, I decided to publish these shorts prior to releasing the novels for a couple of reasons. The main reason is that I fell in love with them myself. The slow burn of these stories captures what I love so much about building the universe around the Redemption Series. The tangled way in which characters are led to explore their even-more tangled world speaks to the heart of not just the soon-to-be novels, but it speaks to the world in which they’re all set.

The Redemption Universe is about growing, stretching, yearning, and hurting. It’s about pushing yourself to your limits, meeting failure, and refusing to let that be the end of your story.

So, what you see here is an exploration of how even the arc of the novels is no one’s whole story. Each relationship, each situation, each character is layered and complicated and complex in ways that I learn more about whenever I write them.

The more I write, the more Fenugreek and Skailore, Strayer and Bon give to me. So naturally, I keep writing.

I hope in reading these small asides to these characters’ lives, you too will feel that urging on toward more, deeper, truer exploration. A magnetic pull toward the very heart of what it means to be redeemed.

Read on.

-RR

Agency Returned

ONE

Acircular time piece with many moving gears sat on a black stone banister, quietly ticking away the seconds and firsts. Then, one big clunking click snapped against the warm dry air of the small dimly lit den. At the same moment, a gust of wind grabbed a branch outside and sent it snapping against the antique window pane, making a sound like a bird clacking to get in. Through narrow cracks in the window frame, wind howled and grumbled. A myriad of voices raised in lament.

I sat up in my worn wooden high back chair, ears perked.

Another gust whispered untold secrets through the wood frame of my apartment.

I sagged. Nothing more dangerous than some wind. I returned my gaze to the sprawling aged oak desk where a letter lay with blotched ink at my left elbow. My fingers twirled a very expensive real quill pen, gifted from a recent client. The letter's ink blot was no fault of this pen, but my own carelessness. Lack of inability to pen the words I wanted. My eyes slid up to the clicking time piece.

Zero click. The hour of tragedy and struggles.

I stood. Old wooden floorboards creaked as I crossed the small studio to boil water on the fire potbelly stove. Hot tea ought to stave off the cold creeping in from the harsh unseasonable storm outside. Above the stove hung a collection of wooden spoons and a single true copper pot. Along the well-worn handle, a hand-pressed label caught a glint from the guttering candle light on the mantle. This, I touched with a single fingertip. It was cool, chilly. A reminder of the storm both in my heart and in the air.

From Strayer, with love. To the one and only Skailore, I read aloud with a soft cadence, pronouncing your name as if it were two words. Sky and Lore. The keeper of the stories of the sky. An apt name for a space-born ambassador who descended back to Earth in order to save us all.

If only to save me from myself.

I sighed and moved across the room, tea in hand, and stood astride the desk. Looking down at the unfinished letter. Not to a client. Not so much even to the name addressed. More, to myself.

My dearest lost Skailore,

I work without blinking. Thirteen, fourteen clicks a turn. I barely sleep. Barely eat. Barely breathe. Furtive, I am. Life slips by without notice.

You are gone.

The world moves. The moon phases. The seasons turn over and the weather changes.

Only I remain the same. Unchanged.

A knock stirred me. Not the cackling of the wind, this. An unmistakable fist rapping against the door frame. I glanced again at the time piece. Three full clicks from sun sight. I jerked to attention, thinking of only one person who would dare call on me so late.

Skailore. Your name slipped from my lips like a gasp.

I could practically see you through the door. Your high shoulders covered in snow. Hair a beautiful golden brown tousle, bleached strawberry blond by the brilliant white winter sun. Amber eyes bright and full of life. Your face chapped and legs aching from riding so many clicks to arrive so late to me. Your hand outstretched, waiting.

Fenugreek? a dark and heavy voice called out instead.

Not my Skai. A stranger checking about a job. Some unwelcome interruption.

I set the tea down, went over, and cracked open the door, keeping the chain in its lock. The linked metal cut a line across my face. A clear sign that I did not trust this stranger.

Let an old friend in, no?

Bon! I jumped back, recognizing the black tumult of tight curls. The dark brown imperturbable face. The piercing black eyes.

Here alone? Bon asked gently.

Who else would I be with? I bit.

Bon knew my fate. Not just any resistance agent, Bon was one of the core team of The Protectorate – the one remaining organization who managed to secretly collaborate resistance cells all throughout the land. Worse, Bon was the agent who’d come to take you away from me. Bon, the transmitter of information, the bringer of bad news, the maker of broken lives.

May I come in? Bon had the gall to ask.

Why? shot from my mouth sharper than I thought possible.

To discuss a job.

Ha, I moved to slam the door.

Wait, Bon said and put a hand out through the door's crack.

I froze at the thought of that touch.

Any touch.

A stabbing violation to my isolation. A hand shoved into the crack that revealed my insides. My own private world of misery. Nobody touched any piece of that place. Not even you, the mighty Skailore.

Yet, here was Bon. Weathered and calloused hand pressed, hot and sudden, inside the crack in my barrier. Black eyes judged me. I was petrified at the thought of being hurt by the types of magic I knew Bon could use. Things I didn’t understand. Things I had tried once to learn – and failed.

Let me in, Bon’s voice did not soften.

I opened my mouth wanting to protest, but nothing came out. Maybe, somewhere in my exile damaged heart, I wanted to let this thief in purely to see how badly it’d burn.

Bon leaned in to the crack between door jamb and door’s edge. I have a message.

I unchained the door without thinking, hope flickering inside me. I needed to know. What message could come from the ones who’d shut me out? What, but word of your whereabouts? Or better yet, your heart. Your intention.

I gave so easily at the mere idea of it.

Bon came into my apartment and sat directly on the edge of a table crate. On it, my covered lamp shakily oozed out uneven and guarded light. Bon considered my draped several kerchiefs.

What’s all this mess?

Scraps of fabric, I said, not bothering to clarify.

Why? Bon insisted.

Well. I’ve found lamps to be the most readily available hanging places for various needs. Emm – a hot mitt or a coaster. A Mop, a napkin. Blindfold, weapon, wrist brace.

I was rambling.

Not that I have need of the last few, I added quickly. B-But I might. One day. One can never be too prepared.

Bon looked over the amalgamation of colors and textures blocking out the majority of the light with a skeptical eye. You keep it dark in here.

This is dark? I asked, rubbing my stiff neck. I find that ironic from an underground dweller like yourself.

All I could recall of Bon’s hovel in the tunnels beneath the city of Mouth was darkness and bitter smoke. In those tight, uncomfortable rooms, shoddy pipes and damp concrete shadows mixed with tears, making Bon’s world impossible to see through.

It’s not a choice I’d have made is all, Bon said, matter-of-fact. Everything is so changed since I was here last.

Isolation isn't pretty, I bit suddenly. A wave of resentment welled up instantly. I sneered without trying.

Bon’s hands went up. I’m sorry.

I settled down but felt no less acrid. A pause where neither of us knew what to say. I could see the look of wary regret in Bon’s fiery brown eyes shrouded now by a knit, worried brow. An expression that said: I shouldn’t have come.

Why have you? I asked.

Come? Bon asked, brow furrowed deeper now. In confusion.

Yes, I answered, blanching.

Embarrassed because I’d just fallen into old habits. Only half speaking sentences that only you, Skai, would know the other half of. You always did. How often has that remained my habit, even now? Speaking to myself in the dimness of this room, all my thoughts only finished, half anticipated by things you'd think I'd say.

Or was it before that? Had I picked this habit up in our stolen moments back at my parents’ inn along the