salt, smoke, and sorrow

By Danielle Guerrero and Christian Knudsen

Evie doesn't have a last name, nor does she have a family. Escaping Dylath to the shores of Meridia, she finds herself still imprisoned by questions about her past as well as her telepathic abilities. Enter Marlowe, the cunning and irritable stranger who claims to have her

• Language: English
• Publisher: Indy Pub
• Release date: Feb 20, 2024
• ISBN: 9798869224002

Book preview

Prologue

Laying on the damp ground in the middle of the night with her feet propped up on a tombstone is as close as Evie could get to death. While the dew soaked her back, she laid her arms across her chest and imagined herself laying over a decayed corpse. Evie envied the dead for their ability to rest. She’d been sneaking into the cemetery for weeks. At first, it was because of her dreams, but the more she went, the more she found solace. She took a few gulps of the wine she’d stolen from the sacristy and welcomed the warmth of the alcohol through her veins. Clumsily breathing over a hiccup, she giggled at a tombstone’s inscription upside down: the faster you run, the quicker it comes. Evie smiled even though the script haunted her. But instead of steering her away, it only drew her in. Evie was lured by the darkness, not deterred by it. 

She stared at the tombstone before her and tried to remember the dream she’d had. She heard a twig snap beneath the weight of movement and paused. It came from deeper within the cemetery. She looked behind her and squinted her eyes further into the darkness. She couldn’t make out any movement or shapes. Keep going, she felt. Nobody spoke, but the feeling was clear.

Evie! Thomas whisper-shouted from a row over.

She jumped up and dropped the booklet at his approach.

His eyes widened at where it’d fallen. Slowly, he stepped closer. What have you done?

She snatched the booklet up defiantly. I found this in a trunk in the attic weeks ago, she stuttered out. I recognized some of our belongings and there was a photograph of us with other people. Surely this belongs to us. She held it out desperately for Thomas to look at.

He stepped back, holding his hands up as though he’d been burned. I know what it is, Evie. I remember.

She squinted her eyes and shook her head, stepping back. How could he remember? She was only months old when she and her brother were taken to the monastery. Thomas was a few years older, but he always seemed to know more than she did. She felt slighted.

Then why are you angry with me? This is part of us. Why else would I recognize it in some way and know how to use it? Evie pleaded. Any morsel of her past, she craved.

Thomas grabbed the book and tucked it into his pocket before turning to walk away.

Thomas! Don’t walk away from me. Don’t do this! Don’t close off when parts don’t belong to only you! Evie caught up and reached for his shoulder, pulling him back to her. She grabbed on to him and buried her face in his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of cedar. She pulled at his leather jacket tightly. Her fingers brushed over the patch sewn on the shoulder and it was only when she heard the threads beginning to snap that he stopped trying to pull away.

Thomas hugged her tightly and then took a step back, grabbing her shoulders. You, Evie! You want answers? We are here, because of you.

Evie stepped back, hurt. I don’t understand,

Thomas turned around and began to pace. He let out a long sigh, intertwining his hands behind his neck. When he turned around, his face was defeated. People have been killed over this. It’s unnatural. It’s unhinged, and you seek it out. You always find trouble. You just can’t control yourself. I don’t know how this made it into our belongings, but you’re going to get yourself killed practicing this witchcraft.

Evie flinched. Not even a physical blow had ever been delivered as fiercely. 

Thomas looked down at her and softened his eyes. When you were born, you never cried. You never made any noise. You were just, still. It wasn’t normal. They called the doctor to come look at you. They didn’t have any answers. You weren’t unhealthy; you were just unnatural. I don’t remember what happened after that,  just that it was the next night she dropped us off here. And she never came back.That’s all I know.

He reached for her arm, circling the bracelet around her wrist. Fitting, he laughed humorously, lost in thought. When I gave this to you, I just wanted you to have something special on your birthday. Now I know why the symbol came to me. He motioned to the booklet. It was around this time when the dreams began to come to me, too. 

Evie had so many questions. Thomas had finally given her a gift; a piece of their past. He’d spoken of their mother. He never mentioned their father, though, not that he could know much more than she did. But he spoke to everyone on the grounds more than she did, as well. He was permitted to go more places than her. 

Thomas always got a bitter look if the subject of their father was approached. Maybe he didn’t know anything more, and just hated more of the fact that he didn’t know anything at all. But what stood out to Evie the most was that Thomas said he had dreams, too.

Do you understand this? Evie asked timidly, holding up the book.

Thomas chuckled and shook his head. No, I don’t. I’ve always had a feeling that it’s part of what brought us here and the reason our mother left us. But I can’t stop the dreams. It’s the only time my guard is down. He reluctantly gave the booklet back to her and cupped her shoulder. Come on, let’s go. We’ve been gone too long.

They jogged back to the monastery, staying hidden in the shadows. The wooden gate was wedged open, but just slightly. A person wouldn’t be able to see the small rock blocking its closure unless they knew to look for it. Once inside, they buried the small rock back underneath the rose bush closest to it, then Thomas grabbed Evie’s hand and ran across the path towards the kitchen entrance. It wasn’t until the blow she felt to the back of her head that Evie realized the shadows couldn’t hide everything. They’d been caught.

Where have you been? the abbott asked, punctuating each word in a bored tone. He’d returned a night early. Evie scooted herself up to a seated position and tried to right herself from the hit, whereas Thomas stood up quickly. He hadn’t been hit from what she could tell. It was her fall that took Thomas down.

We took a walk, Sir. It was my fault, Thomas covered up. 

Evie shot him a glare. He’s lying. I left and he came to find me.

But the abbott wasn’t listening to either one of them. His eyes were trained to the ground beside Evie. On the booklet Thomas had reluctantly given back.

His eyes went cold, like a shark about to attack. Whose is it? It was a careful question seeped in warning.

Evie stood but Thomas shoved her back down. Mine, Sir. It was in my possession.

Evie yelled and launched her body in front of Thomas. But the abbott slapped her across the face, throwing her back. 

Enough, the abbot said calmly. He turned to Thomas and shook his head. Come, he said around a sigh, and turned to walk away, expecting Thomas to comply. 

Evie went after him, but was pulled back by two nuns who dragged her back towards the kitchen entrance. Evie kicked into the air, fighting their grip. 

Stop fighting, child. Evie heard one of the nuns. Except she wouldn’t have heard them around her screams. It wasn’t spoken, just like before. She closed her eyes and felt the voice wash over her, settling her. Wait until it’s time. Evie felt the voice from the cemetery again, eyes still shut. She felt a resolve of armor come over her body that fueled her anger. She looked towards the trees near the river and saw a figure standing in the shadows. Her hair illuminated her even in the darkness. Evie calmed and looked at Thomas’s retreating form. He never looked back.

She let the nuns carry her away, letting her salty tears go silent in a baptism of resolution. She never spoke another word to them. Her whispers to herself would be the only time the walls of her room heard her voice. When it was time to run, Evie finally saw what she’d been looking for in the cemetery. And she too, never looked back.

I

I

Inverted Knight

Does a person feel the point of impact after they jump, or does death grant them the mercy of taking them just before the hit? Evie imagined the freefall; looking up but not seeing anything, arms spread wide, anticipating the end. The euphoria that lay within giving up and letting go tempted her; fear and freedom coexisting. Maybe grace was given if a person had reached that point and the hit was never felt because a person would’ve already had to endure too much that led them to that place.

Silence echoed her thoughts, but it’s all Evie could think about as she looked over the ledge of the balcony she and Samena had been on for hours. A river ran a few yards away and if she let herself ponder it, Evie knew she could follow that river back to the monastery where she’d grown up. She’d never known Samena prior to this past year, but she’d spent her life living just downstream. She could’ve swam here if she’d wanted, even against the current. She’d been going against it her entire life.

Her stomach growled. Her palms were clammy. She’d grown up in Dylath. But it wasn’t until she realized it had been more of a prison that she questioned her sanity every time she returned. Some people grow up good and continue their legacy from childhood to adulthood, proud of their roots. Others spend their lives trying to escape the place they came from just so they don’t have to acknowledge how much their brokenness will never leave them. Evie wanted to escape. But first, she needed to understand who she was escaping from.

The iron chair that Samena occupied scraped against the floor as she got up and tossed the cards on to the table. I haven’t quite decided if you’re just deaf or blind. Perhaps both, considering I’ve never met someone who misread cards as much as you, and also lacked the vision to connect them. You aren’t even focused.

Evie trained her face to feign indifference at her insult. She was too far in to take things personally, despite the lack of patience Samena possessed along with the arrogance she harbored. Samena was her mentor, but she was as egotistical as they came. Not that she had much to compare it to. Although Evie had been reading tarot for over a year, she’d only been formally practicing for half that time since she began returning to Dylath. Since she’d met Samena, her accuracy with reading had sharpened, even when she didn’t use a familiar deck. When she read cards, it wasn’t that Evie couldn’t focus, she was just apprehensive to discover answers to questions she didn’t want to ask. She didn’t want the burden of truth. The more she practiced tarot reading, the easier visions were coming to her without the cards. She met with Samena every week to help her discern where the visions stemmed from and what they consisted of. 

Despite her aggression, Evie was thankful that somebody was actually there to guide her. She didn’t know why Samena had taken to her, but she did say that abilities were important to hone in on instead of wasting the energy. Evie felt indebted to Samena for taking her in. She didn’t have anybody else.

I can do this, Evie said with more determination, squaring her shoulders. 

Then prove it, Samena bit back, shuffling and realigning the cards. Tell me what you see. She handed the deck back to Evie.

Samena, I am tired and I am hungry, and you’re pushing me to untangle a web of vines when my hands are still bloodied by its thorns. I need a break. It wasn’t that Evie couldn’t read the cards, she just knew that the more that she tried to explain, the more she would be pushed. She looked down at the knight inverted. It covered the card of justice.

Samena pursed her lips as she considered Evie. Her black hair lacked any sign of age. She had a porcelain complexion and green eyes as deep as the foliage that grew up the sides of her stony two-story cottage. She was slender and moved with a grace that reminded Evie of a willow tree, its overarching branches and elongated leaves swaying with the breeze. She sensed the moment of relentment when Samena sighed, the sound her only giveaway. The woman was as still as a statue. Smooth as stone.

Fair enough. Come, let me feed you. Samena turned and went back inside to the kitchen. She walked with an aura of power and spoke with a tone of directness. It was a contradiction to the care she showed Evie, which made her more driven to succeed in her mentoring.

Evie grabbed the cards and took them back to Samena’s box. She lifted the heavy lid; velvet casing with gold edging that drew lines to encase rubies. Inside was a golden satin interior. Evie was intimate with its contents. There were three candles, a container of salt, a pendulum, tarot cards, a tiny dagger, a chalice, and an onyx stone. There were other stones and herbs in the cabinet that held the box.

Samena’s box was the most grandiose thing in her home. The inside of the cottage was humble and quaint. It immediately put Evie at ease. The smell of incense permeated the air and Evie located the stem on a shelf in the corner and fixated on the plumes as they billowed up before disappearing. She inhaled deeply and walked over to the chair near the door and slipped her boots back on. It rocked as her weight shifted with her movements and the knitted blanket fell to the floor. Evie picked it up.

Take it with you, Samena said from the entryway, watching her with a certain look in her eye. And take this too. She held out a container that smelled of freshly baked bread and a jar of jam. It’ll help soak up the rapture so that you don’t get sick. She didn’t hold any judgment in her tone, but it made Evie feel a twinge of shame, nevertheless. Jana also packed some clothing for you."

You know I can’t take this, She’d visited Dylath through her dreams since returning. It was her way of guarding herself while being back. She felt safer than entering physically. Samena hadn’t pushed her on how she visited. Evie wasn’t used to being taken care of, and it was only with Samena that she felt it, despite Jana’s presence. Jana was Samena’s live-in servant. The pair had a close relationship, but Jana rarely spoke. When she did speak around Evie, it was often in whispers close to Samena, but it was enough that Evie picked up a Creole accent. Her skin was the color of the autumn brown leaves, but her freckles were still prominent and smattered across her nose and cheekbones. Her eyes matched the color of them; a reddish-brown, like cinnamon. She was striking. Her hair was the same color, but Jana always had it pulled up into a tight bun. It made her appear more fierce and less like meager help. It was her posture and stare. She always seemed rigid and on guard, ready to attack if needed. And she looked at Evie as though she was the one to be weary of every time she visited Samena.

Samena smiled warmly. You’ll be able to take it with you soon enough when you begin returning physically. Be sure to eat. When your body is weak, your mind is dull.

Evie returned her smile. I’ll be back next week.

Ensure that you practice. Continue to embrace visions as they come. Focus on the sounds, the sights and colors. Pay attention to the surroundings. You have to sharpen them yourself, they won’t come to you on their own if you aren’t aware of what to look for. Samena stood at the door and waved Evie off. Although Samena was warm and accepting, it didn’t escape Evie that she was sensitive to touch. Not that she expected a hug, but her tone always denoted a close relationship, even though one late evening, Evie went to touch her arm and Samena jumped back at the contact.

Evie left, inhaling the dewy air. It wasn’t humid, but Evie felt warm; sweat pooled behind her neck and at her lower back. She made it to the end of the walkway when a chill slithered down her spine, freezing the dampness on her skin. She glanced back. At the top of the balcony stood Jana. No longer smiling, only watching; hands down her sides with a defiant jut to her chin. She didn’t look away at the eye contact, nor did she blink. Her stoic expression penetrated Evie’s thoughts, as if Jana was reading something that Evie had not spoken. Dread consumed her. And Evie knew. Whatever she was beginning to see in the tarot cards, Jana knew that Evie was withholding it from Samena. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but Evie felt it in her gut. Evie turned and walked at an even pace until she reached the end of the road and turned.

Even when she was sure she was out of sight, she still felt seen. She fought the reaction to run. The faster you run. Her panic began to set in and she didn’t have the rapture with her. Her palms began to sweat and her hands shook. A dizziness overtook her steps. She took deep breaths as blackness began to vignette her vision. Her memories were spotty. The more time she spent practicing, the more often the pieces would come back. She couldn’t control it all just yet.

Thomas kept his hands busy. He was always fighting and getting into trouble growing up. One day, one of the monks placed an ax in his hand and sent him to chop wood. It wouldn’t be a surprise if he was a carpenter by trade now. It tempered his anger and gave him the space to exert his aggression. But he always found time to spend with Evie. He walked in through the back door where Evie was kneading dough. He had a smirk on his face and his hands behind his back.

What? Evie asked through a laugh. Thomas would always be mischievous, no matter how old he got. 

A surprise, Thomas said, rocking back on his feet, teasing her. 

Thomas knew Evie hated surprises. She couldn’t handle knowing there was something coming that she didn’t know about.   

Evie picked her hands up to show how much flour she had on them and took a step towards Thomas in warning. He laughed and held his hands out, revealing a winged horse. It reminded her of the carousel they used to ride when they would sneak out during the times the abbot had to travel. The music, the laughter. She’d squeeze her thighs against the horse and spread her arms pretending to fly. And just for a moment, she was free; the wooden horse carrying her and her brother far away. The underside of the horse was carved in where a tiny music box had been attached. She wound it up and smiled when music began to play.

Your craftsmanship is astounding, Evie said in awe. Thomas had managed every detail in the carving, from the horse's muscular thighs to the strands of its mane falling along the side of its neck. 

It was the day before her eighteenth birthday. They weren’t allowed to celebrate, but Thomas snuck into her room to give her a bracelet just that morning. It was an intricately braided black leather band with five strands. Evie could barely master three, but she was too impatient to learn more. Within the strands, small ivory beads were woven into whichever strand happened to be in the center at the time of placement. They were unevenly placed and all smooth, except for one at the end that had a small engraving of a crescent moon with a horizontal line across the middle.

Promise me you won’t ever remove it, he’d told her, taking her hands and squeezing.. Promise me you’ll always remember this. He kissed her on the forehead and slipped out to go work.

Evie giggled quietly, already knowing she’d hold on to it forever. I promise, she whispered to his retreating back. It was the last promise she’d ever made to him.

Evie jolted at the sudden movement. 

Shh, I’ve got you. 

She opened her eyes and before she could understand where she was, a man had wrapped his arms around her and was lifting her to his chest. You need to breathe, he said coldly, but still blanketed her with warmth.

Evie counted. Counting always helped her. She counted his steps, his breaths; how many times his heart beat between his strides. She counted the seconds that took her further away from her memory and closer to her present. She could still feel the flour in between her fingers; smell the wood that clung to Thomas. She wanted to go back. She timidly put her arms around the man’s neck and rubbed her bracelet with her right hand. He continued to carry her. 

They reached a bench at the edge of town square. The mature trees shaded the sitting areas from the sun. People milled about and Evie was conscious about hiding her face. Nobody would have recognized her growing up since she was so secluded, but she still didn’t want to draw attention to herself.

The man set her down and sat beside her. He kept his arm wrapped around her waist. As much as Evie entertained the thought of leaning in, she pulled away to separate them. Comfort wasn’t in her cards. She would’ve smirked if she wasn’t so disoriented. She hadn’t actually ever read her own tarot before.

Do you not feel me staring at you? the man asked. Evie’s eyes were trained straight ahead focused on a child skipping rope. She didn’t understand the appeal.

I do, she responded after clearing her throat. I’m waiting for you to stop.

The man chuckled. I was trying to give you a once over. Care to tell me what happened?

If I knew, why would I tell a stranger?

I did save your life.

Blacking out is hardly considered a life-endangering event.

That depends, how much have you had to drink…or drop?

Evie cuts her eyes over at him. Go to hell. She went to stand when he grabbed her arm.

Soon enough, he said, staring intently at her now. Your eyes. They’re both different. You don’t catch that in the shadows.

Evie tried to look away and not panic. He took her chin and pulled her face back to his much closer than before. She should’ve been more bothered by the intrusive man than she was.

I didn’t know that I’d ever find you.

Evie swatted his hand away and jumped back. Leave me alone. I don’t know you.

Marlowe. And you will. I can help you find your answers in exchange for your help. He spoke with a certainty that didn’t leave room for question.

Evie stilled. She should’ve been more careful about talking to him. Samena told her not to trust anybody. But this man, Marlowe, claimed to have answers to questions she didn’t ask him.

I wouldn’t have saved you if I had any ill-intent against you. Marlowe looked around as if he was suddenly aware of people nearby. He lowered his voice. Look, meet me at the tavern in three days. Sunset. I can explain more then.

Without waiting for an answer, Marlowe turned and walked away.

Evie sat there confused. She didn’t know if she should go tell Samena or pass him off as a crazy person. Everything happened so suddenly. When the shaking subsided, she jogged toward the cemetery. It was the only place she knew where to enter in Dylath. Despite the time, she could still smell the burning from the corridor where she spent her childhood. The night she left, she set it aflame and hoped like hell they assumed she’d burned with it. She avoided looking in its direction, scaring herself into believing she’d see her own ghost amidst the ruins staring back at her, mouth agape, screaming at her to run. So she ran, and she didn’t stop until she reached the cemetery gate, grateful that she escaped Dylath once again.

Evie woke up, breathing heavily. She had been crying. She looked around her room, grounding herself with the reminder that she was safe in the cathedral. She’d entered Dylath only once through the cemetery physically, but Samena taught her how to enter as she fell asleep. It was safer that way because she couldn’t be harmed. Evie was still afraid of the monastery, even though she was older now. Scars carried memories. But she would need to go physically if she ever wanted to bring anything back.

She got out of her bed and reached for her vial and pipette. After taking the drops of rapture, she put it in her satchel and swung it over her shoulder. She walked to her door and paused, committing to memory where everything was before leaving. She walked downstairs and through the empty building, needing to get to the Inferno. She pulled the hood over her head and kept her eyes trained on her boots while she walked. 

The puddles on the sidewalk reflected the lamps above her. Now and then she caught her own reflection. Her disheveled black hair poked out of her hood. Her jeans were dirty and her sweatshirt was loose and somewhat tattered. She fisted her hands in her pockets and sped up her pace. It