Return to Enchantas

Return To Enchantas

Corey M. LaBissoniere

Martin Sisters Publishing

Published by

Martin Sisters Publishing Company

www. martinsisterspublishing. com

Copyright © 2014 Corey LaBissoniere

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without by monetary gain, is investigated by the Federal Bureau of Investigation and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or publisher.

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 permission in writing from the publisher.

All rights reserved. Published in the United States by

Martin Sisters Publishing Company

Young Adult/Fantasy

Martin Sisters Publishing Company

Dedication

I dedicate this book to my father, William LaBissoniere. His guidance, wisdom and love has steered me throughout my life. His guidance helped me be the boy I’m proud to have been. His wisdom has made me the man I am today, and his love continues to make me strive to be better every day.

Acknowledgements

A sincere thank-you to Chandra Murrell for helping me keep the dream of Enchantas alive and for always being there for me. Your love and encouragement kept me going when at times I faltered and struggled to continue.

A special thank you to Cyndi Perkins for her support in my writings and help in the initial edits of this book as well as my first book Land of Enchantas.

I also want to express my sincere gratitude to all the fans of my first book Land of Enchantas. A heart felt welcome to all my new readers to the glorious world of Enchantas. I genuinely hope you delight in reading my creations as much as I enjoyed writing them. May your imagination never diminish!

Prelude

The cold cellar was dark and dreary. The smell of must, mold and mildew surrounded the young blonde girl as she sat on a torn dirty mattress. The floor was drenched from the water dripping through cracks in the cement walls. Hot wax sizzled from a tiny candle when it hit the wet floor.

She cowered in one corner of the mattress wrapping her skinny arms around her knees and covering her bare legs with her shirt. She was very pretty, but her bruised face and dirty body concealed her beauty. Her body shivered and rocked as she wondered how long she had been there. Footsteps from above terrified her, and at each step she feared they were headed for the stairs and ultimately to her. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness after the first day of her imprisonment. She had lost count of the number of days she’d been there. At first she wondered why her father had imprisoned her, but now it didn’t seem important. Now she only cared about her freedom.

Wiping a tear from her cheek, she thought about the night her loving, caring father changed into a frightening monster. She was sleeping peacefully in her warm bed, snuggling with her favorite doll. Her dream was invigorating and blissful, though now she couldn’t pinpoint what it was actually about. That fateful night, her father stormed into her room, picked her up and carried her down the stairs. His forcefulness was uncharacteristic; he was always a loving father who constantly spoiled his little girl.

Father! she had pleaded and begged. What are you doing? Let me go! She had kicked and wiggled free for a moment, but he was too quick and too strong. He grabbed her ankle as she tried to crawl away, pulling her toward the basement door.

Father! Please! she kicked again. He let her loose, but only for a second.

This is for your own good Alexis! he growled, clasping his hands around her ankles again and tugging.

Let me go! Please! she pleaded.

Alexis, this is for your own good! his voice was frantic, even insane. You’ll be safe! We’ll be together!

Stop it! Alexis tried wiggling free again. Please! Why are you doing this?

She’s coming!

Who’s coming? Her nails scrabbled on the floor but she couldn’t dig in, couldn’t break free.

His father stared at her, his eyes transmitting horror. He was more terrified than she had ever seen him before.

It’s you!

What? What’s me?

You’re the one! I have to protect them all!

Father! Let me go! she pleaded again as he opened the basement door.

Her father did not stop dragging her as they went down the stairs. Her head slammed into several step on the way down, blood trickled down her back. Though still conscious after the first couple steps, she didn’t feel pain.

Father! Please stop this!

Passing the furnace, then the washer and dryer, they reached the far wall.

Where are you taking me?

Her father didn’t answer; his silence was scarier than his ranting.

Father! The wall opened outward revealing a hidden room. What is this? Her panic banged in her skull, thumped at her heart. Where did this come from?

He pulled her in easily, tossing her to the floor like a doll before stepping out. She was too weak to fight. She laid face down on the damp floor sobbing as her father slammed the door shut without a word, leaving her alone in the dark.

Father, please! she begged again, crying. Let me out!

But there was only silence – cold, black silence.

She was jolted back to the present by a voice overhead. It was her father. She couldn’t make out the words but it sounded like he was either on the phone or talking in person to someone.

If she were bolder she would scream, but she knew all too well what that would bring. She moved her hand to her lower back, rubbing her fingers over the scars. There were other welts, higher up. If she made a sound he would use the belt on her, or worse. He had used a club twice before, before she learned about the consequences of disobedience. He would break her if she broke the silence.

She wondered why he was doing this to her. What does she mean to him? What changed? Time was all she had now, time to wonder, time to try to remember the good times and how safe she used to feel when she was with him.

There was the day he took her fishing. They woke up around five in the morning, making hot chocolate and packing an enormous lunch in the big blue cooler that they loaded along with the old blue metal tackle box, poles, net and neon orange lifejackets. Everything fit neatly into the little red boat as they towed it on its trailer to Clear Lake.

She remembered the earthy smell of the fat, fresh night crawlers as she managed to bait her own hook with careful instructions from her father. She remembered his smile when she got a tug on her line. I think I got one! she hollered as he happily advised her on how to set the hook and reel in her catch of the day, a small-but-plump bass. Not a keeper, but that didn’t matter.

Happiness was no longer part of her existence. The worst part was having no idea why. Their relationship would never be the same. That much-loved little girl in the boat was forever lost.

The muffled voice upstairs stopped. She heard footsteps moving toward the basement door. She trembled, braced herself by pressing her back harder against the far wall of her prison. The door opened and the footsteps on the basement stairs made her heart skip and body stiffen.

She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping it would all go away. The jingling of keys sent violent tremors up her spine and through her body. She instinctively tried to scoot back farther, but there was no more room to retreat. The cold, wet wall felt oddly soothing against her wounded back.

Alexis, her father said calmly. His beard was unkempt, and there were greasy smears of dirt spattered on his gray shirt and sweat pants. His partially bald head was filthy. His potbelly protruded slightly, even though he was skinny everywhere else. I have food.

She remained silent, still, fearing a trap to lure her closer so he could beat her again.

Come on, Alexis, he coaxed softly. I won’t hurt you.

She moved her hands from around her knees and placed them on the nearby pillow, almost leaning toward him. Weak with fear, she couldn’t sustain her momentum and again crouched into her defensive position thinking how crazy they both were.

Alexis! he bellowed, accelerating back to the authoritative, angry tone that had become his new normal. Get over here right now!

Alexis slowly stood up and tentatively made her way toward him, arms limp and head down.

That’s better, he cooed. That’s a good girl.

What am I now, a dog? She was about to ask the question aloud, but thought better of it and took the plate instead.

I made your favorite, grilled cheese, he smiled again. Hope you like it.

Alexis replied with a short grunt and turned away.

Don’t you turn your back on me, young lady! His mood changed as if someone flicked a switch. I taught you to be respectful!

Alexis leaped to the mattress and hovered over the plate.

Alexis, his demeanor was again soothing. I’m not going to hurt you.

She noticeably tensed up again.

Alexis! He was back in rage mode. I said-

The doorbell rang. Stunned, her father stood up quickly, moving from the secret room faster than she thought possible for a man his age.

Shut up, and don’t say a word, he hissed through the closed door. The lock clicked; she could hear him swiftly stomping up the stairs.

Alexis ran to her prison door. Dumping the water from the drinking glass he’d handed her she put it against the door and held it against her ear. She couldn’t hear distinct words with the old-school spy method, but could distinctly make out a second voice. The wooden door was a decent conductor. She moved the glass more toward the middle of it seeking the ideal spot. There!

Kevin, I know she’s here. Alexis recognized the stern voice. It was Uncle Brad. Where is Alexis?

Brad — she’s really sick, her father was trying to sound caring and concerned. I’ve called the school all week to let them know, keep them posted.

Alexis smiled. The relief was intense. As long as she could remember, her uncle had been a kind man who always loved and cared for her, but then again, so had her father.

Well at least let me go look in on her, Uncle Brad insisted. Footsteps moved upstairs toward her bedroom.

No, her father’s voice sounded nervous now. She’s trying to rest. And she’s contagious.

I’ll be fine, Kevin. She blessed her insistent uncle as he moved closer to her bedroom. How she wished she was there, resting! Then the footsteps stopped.

What are you doing? Let me see her.

Alexis heard a small scuffle before the door to the bedroom banged open hard enough to hit the wall. Alexis? Where are you? Where is she, Kevin?

I’m down here! Alexis screamed. Uncle Brad! Help!

What the hell? Uncle Brad had heard her. He was coming. Two sets of footsteps barreled downstairs, echoed more loudly as the men approached the basement door.

They were fighting, full out. Alexis heard the sound of fists clubbing and bodies bouncing into walls. Finally, someone hit the floor.

Kevin! What the hell are you doing? Uncle Brad was panting, shocked and exhausted.

I’m saving everyone! her father yelled. She’s evil! Just like her mother!

After the loudest thud of all, the basement door opened. Alexis scuttled to the far corner unsure who was coming for her: demented father or savior uncle.

Alexis, it’s me.

I’m in here, Uncle Brad! She ran toward the door, wincing and laughing as she banged on it with her bruised arm. I’m here, I’m here!

I can’t see how to get in. Where’s the door?

It’s hidden. Alexis couldn’t stop crying. It’s there, right where you’re standing.

Yep, there’s a door. But you’ll need these. The keys jingled as her father dangled them, teasing.

You locked her down here? Why would you do that? What is wrong with you? Brad couldn’t hide his outrage and alarm. This is your daughter, Kevin!

She’s evil Brad! Just like -

Kevin. You’re not rational. This is your little girl. Her uncle spoke in a calm-down tone that she knew would only set her father off.

She’s evil! Kevin was frantic, wild-eyed, and insistent. Just like her mother! I saw the signs!

The rant used up the last of Brad’s patience. He spoke in clear, slow, harsh words designed to snap Kevin back to sanity. Kevin. Listen. You’re talking like a crazy man. Her mother isn’t evil. She left you. I’m sorry, Kevin. She left you and it’s really sad, but this is not right. Now give me those keys!

Why aren’t you listening to me, Brad? Kevin moved closer to him. Did you see what she did to me?

My God, that was years ago. Brad shook his head. That life is over now. You need to move on.

You’re wrong! It’ll come back to haunt us Brad! You’ll see! She’s just as evil as her mother!

Give me the keys now, Brad demanded.

No. Try and st-

Alexis was startled by a bright flash of blue light that briefly beamed through the cracks of the wall.

In the silence that followed she heard the sound of her father’s key chain, a sound that rattled her heart, ramming her entire being back into a dark place of fear. She cringed as the key turned in the lock, not daring then daring to hope.

Uncle?

It’s me, sweetie. It’s Uncle Brad. He stepped from the shadows, arms wide, inviting her in. You’re safe now.

Oh my God! Alexis threw herself into Uncle Brad’s secure, enfolding hug, weeping. I thought I was going to be down here forever. I thought I was going to die in there.

It’s okay. He held her tight. I’m here now.

Her father was face-down on the cement floor.

What happened?

I just knocked him out, her uncle reassured, as he patted her back as rhythmically and soothingly as a father burping his baby. No lasting damage. He’ll be fine ‘til the police show up.

The hours after her rescue were a blur of flashing red-and-blue emergency lights from the police cars and emergency vehicles surrounding the house, their beacons shining into every window. The vague, murmuring dark humps of concerned and curious neighbors just beyond the yellow police tape made her wonder, briefly, what stories they were telling themselves. She didn’t really care because they couldn’t come up with anything worse than what really happened.

She’s evil! Alexis saw her still-spewing father being escorted by three officers to a patrol car. You’ll see! I’m trying to protect everyone! Kill her! Kill her now before- the closing door turned his rant into soundless babbling. Alexis watched, bewildered, as her father bounced around the back seat in a series of wild contortions despite the handcuffs, banging his head against the side window-glass and security cage separating him from the front seat.

Uncle Brad, she asked, eyes still trained on the police car, and neither of them able to stop watching the insane performance, What’s my father talking about? Why did he do this to me? What is he saying about my mother? I thought she died when I was born.

Your father’s been sick for many years, her uncle told her. Your mother isn’t dead. Sweetie, she left you when you were a baby. He gave her another hug.

Why didn’t anyone tell me?

He didn’t want you to know. None of us wanted you to be hurt by it. You see how it’s hurt him. He didn’t want that for you. He squeezed her a little more. I am so sorry, Alexis. I never thought he would resort to this.

Alexis had no words. How many levels of shock can there be, she wondered.

Alexis. Uncle Brad gently clasped her shoulders, looked directly into her eyes. For now all you need to know is that you’re safe and you’re going to stay that way. Let’s find you a spot to rest away from these lights. They’ll be coming in again soon to examine the crime scene. You’re going into shock. I’ve got a sleeping bag in the Explorer that we can wrap around you.

Uncle Brad led her to the large black Explorer parked just off the driveway leading into the garage. He opened the seat flat, shaking out a navy-blue bag lined with soft red-plaid flannel.

Here, sweetie. There’s a pillow, too. Just go ahead and snuggle in. Everything will be all right now. You’re with me.

But I don’t know if I can sleep, she protested.

Just settle in, Alexis. It’s fine. It’s really all right. You’re safe. You’re with me. I’m not going anywhere.

Alexis obediently closed her eyes, but relaxing, let alone going to sleep, was easier said than done. The questions rushed through her mind in a continuous stream. What would drive her father to lock her in their basement and beat her time and time again? Who was her mother? Why would she leave them? What was the evil her father both hated and feared? She needed the answers. She would find them when the time was right.

Chapter 1

Becky

The setting sun gleamed over the pine forest as a young girl sat on the warped wooden steps of her old ramshackle trailer. Even with closed eyes it would be clear that no one bothered with lawn care in this neighborhood. The strong scent of dead wet leaves and fermented rotten apples smelled like neglect. Only half of the trailers in the twenty space park were occupied. Although the girl’s trailer suffered from torn siding and a leaky roof it was superior in comparison to the rest.

Becky wasn’t just attractive; she was a strikingly beautiful girl with black hair so dark that it glimmered with natural navy-indigo highlights in direct sunlight. Her startling sky-blue eyes mesmerized boys who dared look into them. She wore tight-fitting blue jeans with artfully slashed vents in the thighs and a brand-new black long-sleeved shirt with sequins that sparkled like her eyes. The snug top revealed a figure too mature for her age. Not one to shy away from make-up, her bold, crimson-traced, lush lips popped wetly into ripe contours. Her eyelashes, winged and shaded with many coats of mascara and artfully applied liner were designed to flutter and flirt with skill. A temptress at heart, Becky enjoyed the effect she had on the boys at school and didn’t feel the need to hide her beauty, making her all the more mysterious and desirable.

Becky counted on precious moments alone, eager for coveted alone time while her dad was away. When he was home, life was uneasy, unproductive, unhappy, and only slightly unpredictable: he was either drunk and short-tempered or drunk and passed out.

Becky took a drag from her cigarette and sipped on a can of warm beer as she thought about what her night entailed. She was going to her brother John’s football game, of course. She never missed a game. After that, her night was open. She would most likely hit a party with a of couple friends — as long as she didn’t get too wasted before the night started.

Becky thought about the recent changes in her big brother, who was a little over two years older in age, but only one grade ahead of her. She had always looked up to him; attitudes expressed loud and clear in her rebellious antics.

But John had changed. Since school started in the new year, he’d been living that self-improvement cliché ‘turning his life around’.

If only her dad would do the same.

John started working for good grades and earning them. He joined the football team. As his attitude changed, he both attracted and found new friends. His old friends, of course, were angry and disgusted. Now Becky hung out with most of them, although it bothered her when they made fun of him behind his back, calling him traitor, preppie, or jock. Mostly she ignored it but every now and then the trash-talking got to be too much and she was drawn into standing up for John. Knocking back-stabbers down to size with a cutting comment, a scolding or a rare and thus unexpected punch was usually her style.

She loved John. She really would do anything for him. The shift was weird; it felt lonely, missing the tough guy that influenced her own cocky, outrageous persona. She wasn’t ready to follow in his most recent footsteps now or ever. She’d never admit it publicly, but she was proud of him, all the same.

Becky poured the last of the foamed beer onto the gravel driveway. Standing, she teetered, but quickly regained her balance. Normally she didn’t drink alone. But her dad had been gone for five days and yesterday the power company had shut off the electricity. She figured his beer wasn’t going to get any colder.

Dad’s job at the mill, the town’s main way to make a living, tied him up all day. Released from hard labor, he immediately headed downtown to the local pubs. If he ran out of money or was close to passing out he’d often sleep in his old battered truck. Still, there were too many nights to count when John would ride his bike to whatever watering hole his dad was getting wasted at, just to drive his drunken butt home. The bartenders knew who to call. But there hadn’t been any late-night calls in more than two weeks –unlike the electricity, their phone bill wasn’t past due.

Becky had a feeling that it wasn’t just her brother’s behavior that had changed. For as long as she could remember, dad’s behavior ran in predictable seasonal cycles. For a few weeks he’d stick to going out with friends for a few drinks after work. The friends, he went through a lot of them, would either tire of the routine or tire of him. He’d turn to partying alone, drinking himself into oblivion in one pub or another, trying to buy new friends with cocktails. Until he’d run a bar tab so high he would be kicked out and not allowed back in until the debt was paid. Then there would be weeks where he lounged in the tatty brown fake-leather living-room recliner watching re-runs of old TV Westerns or worse, sporting events that he barely pretended to be interested in. It was all about betting on any game available with the local bookie.

After this phase of his binge drinking, her father would sober up, go back to work and begin the daunting task of slowly paying off his delinquent bills. In a matter of weeks the cycle began again. This time, however, the cycle was off. He just kept drinking downtown, showing no desire to lick his wounds at home, gather his strength and begin again the process of getting his life together before his next binge.

John had helped with his bills the previous summer before he lost his job at the Pizza Shop. Football and schoolwork didn’t leave time for a job. He didn’t have any time for Becky, either. She told herself she really didn’t mind; she enjoyed her time alone. She also liked to watch him play football even if she didn’t like the game itself.

Becky handled her concerns using the traditional family method. She went inside and grabbed a quick shot of dad’s bottom-shelf whiskey then pulled the last warm beer out of the silent fridge. She flopped back down on the steps and took a swig of the bargain-brand brew.

A crisp breeze ruffled her shiny black hair, flattened the lighter flame as she stoked another cigarette, drawing smoke deep into her lungs and coughing slightly. It felt more like summer than fall. She wished she could relive the past summer, between seventh and eighth grade. It had been the best summer yet. The beginning was boring, but her best friend Jessica had introduced her to high- school-boys and high-school-parties. She’d never understood the fascination for finding a remote field, beach or forest, fueling a large bonfire with wood and tires, drinking, fighting and generally being obnoxious. Her low opinion of these activities changed when she got drunk for the first time.

That was the legendary night that she went skinny dipping in Clear Lake, emerging on the beach next to a teacher’s house. She, of course, didn’t remember, but everyone at the party did. Her nickname for the rest of the summer was Little Guppy. Rather than being embarrassed, she enjoyed the attention and she was too thick-skinned to let a little teasing bother her.

Becky was surprised her brother never mentioned her summer escapades. If he knew, he never let her know it. She avoided trouble even when the police busted the parties and scattered the panicked teens. Her first raid was hilarious; she found it highly amusing to watch all of her peers scurry into the woods. They looked like a flock of gazelles running from a pride of lions, only not as fast or as gracefully. To her it was uncool to run away. She sat next to the beer keg, nonchalantly sipping her drink. No one ever got in trouble anyway; the police just ordered them to go home. She figured it was their way of avoiding late-night paperwork hassles, and a good way of getting free beer for themselves.

The best summer so far also had some love drama. Becky fell hard for the first time with, of all things, a senior. She knew that if her brother found out she was involved with an older guy he would beat him up, so she was trying to keep the relationship as secretive as possible in certain circles where John might pick up on it.

Carl was a partier, too. Becky thought it quite the achievement that Carl was an upperclassman. All of her other friends were dating freshman or sophomores. She would brag about it every now and again; nothing good or special ever happened to her, so she felt entitled.

She met Carl after the first few parties. Becky, Jessica and a few other girlfriends had decided to compete with each other to find out who could kiss the most guys by the end of summer. Becky was on ten going for eleven when she met Carl at yet another outdoor kegger. She was trying to get a beer but the hand-tap wouldn’t work. Carl helped her out. At the time, she believed it was love at first sight. He was so handsome with his long curly light-brown hair; she had a weakness for curly hair, and romantic blue eyes. But by the end of summer Becky saw that it wasn’t love at first sight. It was drunken lust at first sip.

The relationship started out as perfectly as a teen love movie. They took long drives in Carl’s yellow Mustang through the hilly and mountainous countryside, passing large lakes hidden in thick forests. They ran in the waves at Clear Lake and lay, warmed by the sun, on an old blanket spread on the sand. They even hung out at his house with his parents. She lied about her age; she didn’t think they would take too kindly to their almost seventeen year old son dating a thirteen year old eighth-grader, even if she was turning fourteen soon. Make-up, hair, and clothes, along with her womanly figure, helped her look older. Her friends all agreed she could pass for at least seventeen.

Her first love ended on Mid-Summer Blast, a party that coincided with her fourteenth birthday. Becky discovered Carl and her best friend Jessica making out in the Mustang. Little Guppy no more, Becky pulled Jessica out by the hair, punching her repeatedly. The partying kids enjoyed the show, many chanting chick fight, chick fight as Becky bloodied an unresisting Jessica. The boys cheered themselves silly; the girls tried to jump in, siding almost evenly between Becky’s and Jessica’s. Eventually some of the boys decided to pull Becky off before she did more damage. Becky, still unmarked and furious, turned on Carl. Like her brother and father, her short-fused temper and fast reflexes made her a feisty scrapper.

Not surprisingly, Jessica and Becky were no longer friends after the incident. Becky debated continuing the kissing competition and decided she didn’t want to go back to school with a reputation of being the summer skank, or something worse. She didn’t really care what others thought about her, but to keep her don’t mess with me reputation, she’d have to beat up everyone who’d call her a bad name. By the end of the school year, she wouldn’t have any friends because everyone would be too afraid of her.

Becky was heartbroken for the first week or so. The bloody lips and black eyes on her ex-best friend and ex-boyfriend may have made her feel better for a moment, but it didn’t alleviate the sadness or stop the tears from flowing. John noticed her crying a few times at night. He would ask who the guy was that hurt her and threaten to beat him up. Becky would smile, knowing that was how John showed his love; protecting his little sister. She would always