Bone deep, p.1
Bone Deep, page 1
part #2 of The Legend of Andrew Rufus Series
Copyright © M.M. Crumley 2019
Excerpt from BLOOD STAINED Copyright© M.M. Crumley 2019
All rights reserved. Published by Lone Ghost Publishing LLC,
associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of
Lone Ghost Publishing LLC.
Andrew Rufus and all related characters and elements are trademarks of
Lone Ghost Publishing LLC.
The moral right of the author has been asserted (vigorously).
No part or parts of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part, stored in a retrieval systems, or transmitted in any form or by means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise (including via carrier pigeon), without written permission of the author and publisher.
Author: Crumley, M.M.
Title: THE LEGEND OF ANDREW RUFUS: BONE DEEP
Series: The Legend of Andrew Rufus; 2.
Target Audience: Ages fourteen though adult
Subjects: Apprentices-fiction/ Fantasy/ Juvenile Fiction/ Action & Adventure/ Survival Stories / Legends, Myths, Fables, Lore, hero’s/ Fantasy & Magic/ General Awesomeness and All Things Epic.
Also available in this series
THE LEGEND OF ANDREW RUFUS: DARK AWAKENING (Book 1)
THE LEGEND OF ANDREW RUFUS: BLOOD STAINED (Book 3)
THE LEGEND OF ANDREW RUFUS: BURIAL GROUND (Book 4)
THE LEGEND OF ANDREW RUFUS: DEATH SONG (Book 5)
THE LEGEND OF ANDREW RUFUS: FUNERAL MARCH (Book 6)
THE LEGEND OF ANDREW RUFUS: WARPATH (Book 7)
This is a work of fiction, which means it’s made up. Names, characters, peoples, places, and incidents (stuff that happens in the story) either are gifts of the ether, products of the author’s resplendent imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead or dying, businesses or companies in operation or defunct, events, or locals is entirely coincidental.
THE LEGEND OF ANDREW RUFUS
BONE DEEP
BOOK 2
M.M. Crumley
For my boys...
'Cause they're sooo cute
And the ether.
Also by M.M. Crumley
Urban Fantasy
THE IMMORTAL DOC HOLLIDAY SERIES
BOOK 1: HIDDEN
BOOK 2: COUP D'ÉTAT
BOOK 3: RUTHLESS
BOOK 4: INSTINCT
BOOK 5: ROGUES
BOOK 6: EMPIRE
BOOK 7: OMENS
BOOK 8: CHASM
BOOK 9: FERAL
THE LEGEND OF ANDREW RUFUS SERIES
BOOK 1: DARK AWAKENING
BOOK 2: BONE DEEP
BOOK 3: BLOOD STAINED
BOOK 4: BURIAL GROUND
BOOK 5: DEATH SONG
BOOK 6: FUNERAL MARCH
BOOK 7: WARPATH
https://www.loneghostpublishing.com/
Prologue
Deep, deep underground where only shadows thrive, the darkest shadow breathed a flame into being. The shadow whispered darkness and death, and the flame exploded with burning life. It burned to serve, burned with hatred and a lust for death, death and power. The shadow purred, very satisfied with its creation.
Elsewhere, a meddler continued his meddling, and time continued to shift.
Chapter 1
Andrew Rufus closed his eyes and looked for it, the power or strength or whatever it was. It was there. Dim, not nearly as vibrant as Pecos's, but there. Panic raced down his spine as he reached for it, hoping it would help him. He wasn't sure how they had found him, but they had.
A hoot sounded behind him, and Andrew ducked, feeling the air swoosh over his head. He reached for his gun, but he didn't have any. He wasn't in Pecos's body; he didn't have Pecos's weapons. He was in his own body, and he had nothing but his hands.
Talons ripped through the skin on his back, and Andrew dropped to the ground, rolling to the side. He jumped on top of the owl nearest him and shoved its head into the black dirt. "Help me!" he begged the power. He could feel it humming softly, but it wasn't enough.
Owls dropped onto his head and shoulders, and he tore at them, but their talons dug deep, anchoring. There were too many; he couldn't fight them. He wasn't strong enough, quick enough. He just wasn't enough. He struggled to push an owl off his head, but it didn't budge, just reset its talons. Andrew screamed in pain and terror as its claws tore through his eye, and he woke covered in sweat.
He ran his hands frantically over his face. There was no blood, and he could still see. They hadn't found him after all; it had just been a dream. He dropped his head onto his pillow and stared at the neon stars on his ceiling.
"Breathe," he whispered, trying to slow his heart. "Just a dream, and not even a bad one at that."
He laughed softly. He'd take owls over broken men and women and bloodied children asking him why he hadn't saved them any day. He also ranked owls above Septimis eating him or the darkness devouring him. Owls just really weren't that bad. He even kind of preferred owls to the dreams he'd been having about Pecos.
When he dreamed about Pecos, the dreams were so real he'd think he'd been sent back somehow. But then he'd wake up, and he hadn't. He missed his old life. His life before Pecos, before nightmares, before this obsessive need to see Pecos again, to know what the dark was, to know why he'd been the one.
He walked to his window and tried to see the stars overhead, but they were so dim, just barely there. The air was stifling. He was so sick of being inside all the time. Never seeing the stars as they really were. He suddenly wanted to be outside more than anything. He needed to be free, if only for a moment.
His mom was already in bed, so he crept down the stairs and out the back door. He grabbed his bike and pedaled for a back street on the edge of town. It was the industrial district, so everything was shut down for the night and nobody was around. Andrew parked beside a random building and climbed the fire escape.
He'd never been out on his own at night before, and part of him felt like he should be scared, but he wasn't. He heard a distant owl hoot and shuddered, wondering how long owl's memories were, wondering if the owls would recognize him in his own body.
He laughed at his own stupidity. Like owls were going to attack him one hundred and fifty years or more after he'd killed one of their old ones. That was ridiculous. Garden snakes didn't chase him either. He wondered if they chased Pecos.
He breathed deeply, wishing the air was clear and pure. He stared at the sky and sighed in frustration. The stars were just as dim here as at home. He'd thought he'd feel free once he was outside. He'd thought he could see the stars and breathe the air. But it wasn't any different. It was every bit as stifling as his room.
He climbed down the building and started running. He ran and ran and ran. He reached for the power, asking it to help him, and ran as fast as he could. He had no idea how fast it was, but it felt good. It felt right. He felt like he was finally doing something worth doing instead of wasting his time reading books and searching for clues. He ran all night, through town, past houses, past buildings and bridges, railroads and rivers and back again.
When he finally stopped he was barely winded. In fact, he felt fantastic; better than he had in months, maybe even years. He stretched, grinning as he remembered Pecos's reaction the first time he'd stretched in Pecos's body, then he mounted his bike and rode home.
He didn't bother going back to sleep since it was nearly morning and he knew he'd dream something horrible. Instead he opened his laptop and pulled up the photograph the librarian, Ms. Whyte, had helped him find of Joe. At least he was pretty sure it was Joe. The young man in the photograph had the same laughing eyes and curly hair. Andrew stared at him, trying to put a mustache over young Joseph Du Pont's lip.
Andrew pulled out the newspaper article Ms. Whyte had printed for him that accompanied the photograph. The article reported that Joseph Du Pont had disappeared on the eve of his engagement party. The date read 1850. So Joseph Du Pont would have been about sixteen or seventeen when he disappeared, and that's how old Joe had said he was when he'd met Pecos.
Andrew had researched the Du Ponts after he'd discovered the article. They were filthy rich, and they had been since the early 1800s. He had a hard time picturing Joe as a rich boy, but he guessed that made sense. Joe was much more careful spoken than the other three; and he used what Andrew's mom called proper grammar. And, now that he thought about it, Joe had a slightly different accent, a bit faster and sharper than Pecos's slow drawl.
But how had he ended up with Pecos? It was hard to believe it was all true. Everything that had happened to him had actually happened. It was real. Pecos and Joe and Charlie and Doyle all existed. Here. In Andrew's timeline or dimension or whatever it was. He had been part of his own past.
His head began to ache, and he closed his eyes. He could hear Joe's harmonica in his mind, and he imagined them around a fire, Joe playing, Charlie thinking, Doyle whittling, and Pecos doing whatever it was Pecos did.
"Andrew!" his mom called up the stairs. "Come down for breakfast; it's almost time to go!"
Andrew groaned, shoving Joe's watch into his pocket and headed for the kitchen. His mom had insisted they take an end of the summer camping trip with the Colburn's to make up for the trip they'd missed. Andrew had tried to tell her he didn't want to, but she hadn't listened. The last thing Andrew wanted was to spend a week in the woods with Chuck.
Andrew didn't speak the entire ride to the woods. He honestly wasn't sure what to say, and his mom was filling the silence just fine singing to some old song about things happening at the zoo at the top of her lungs. She sang the same line over and over again until Andrew wanted to scream. He missed the silence of riding with the cowboys, missed the silence of the horses, the wilderness, the night.
The closer they got to the woods, the harder Andrew's heart pounded. He hadn't realized how much he'd been yearning to be outside and see the stars and the sunrise and sunset. He hadn't seen a single sunset since he'd been back, and he missed them, missed the wash of colors, the warmness.
When they pulled into the campsite, Andrew saw Chuck and Ed were already there with their mom and dad. Their dad was helping them set up their tent, and Andrew felt a sudden flash of jealousy. He couldn't remember the last time his dad had helped him set up a tent or helped with anything else for that matter.
Andrew nodded to Chuck and Ed, but other than that, he ignored them as he pulled all the gear from the car and started setting things up. He couldn't believe how much crap his mom had brought. The entire car was full. Pecos just had a couple saddlebags, and somehow that was enough.
"Do you need help with the tent?" Mrs. Rufus asked.
"Nah, Mom. I got it."
Andrew had just set the last tent stake when he caught a whiff of campfire smoke, and suddenly all the memories he worked so hard to ignore came tumbling forward, and tears gathered in his eyes.
He dropped the hammer beside the tent and walked off into the woods, needing to be alone, needing to get as far away from everyone as he could. He heard his mom call his name, but he ignored her, ducking behind a tree and running over a ridge and down the other side. He walked blindly until he was sure he was far enough away she wouldn't come after him, and then he dropped to the forest floor.
It was ridiculous that he missed them. He'd only been with them two weeks or so, but he missed them so much; more than he'd ever missed his dad. He missed their expectations and their criticisms. He missed how they hadn't given him any slack, hadn't treated him like a child, never let him slide by. He even missed being called "boy".
He rolled to his back and stared up at the clear, blue sky, wondering what they were doing. Were they running cattle or fighting some monster? Were they gathered around the fire telling stories?
A cloud rolled over the sun, and he thought about the darkness. Would Pecos ever fight the darkness? Would he win? Andrew hoped so. He didn't want Pecos to ever lose a fight.
Andrew stiffened; someone was behind him. He listened for the soft crunch of pine needles and readied himself. If it was Chuck, there was no telling what he'd do. Andrew sighed with relief when Chuck's dad sat down beside him.
"You okay, Andrew?"
"Yeah, just needed a minute."
"This summer's been a little different," Mr. Colburn said.
"Yeah, it has."
"You haven't been hanging out with the boys much."
"I've been doing some research for a project."
"A summer project? That's not like you."
Andrew laughed softly. "It's not, is it?"
"Your mom said you've been having a hard time lately. I'm sorry about your dad," Mr. Colburn said, putting his hand on Andrew's shoulder. "I'm always here, if you need anything."
"It's not really about Dad…" Andrew started, but then he paused. Maybe it WAS easier if it was about his dad. People seemed to feel sorry for him because his dad was never around. Hell, even he felt sorry for himself, wondering where his dad was and why he would rather be gone than at home with them. "I just miss him sometimes," he said softly. Which was true.
"I know he misses you too. His new job has been hard on all of you."
Andrew didn't think that was true. He didn't think his dad missed him at all, but he nodded anyway.
"How about some s'mores?" Mr. Colburn asked. "S'mores make everything better."
"Sure," Andrew said with a grin, wondering what Pecos's reaction to s'mores would be. He didn't think it would be good.
As they walked back to camp, Mr. Colburn chatted about his work, some repairs he was making to their house, and a car he was thinking about buying. He occasionally pointed out a bird and told Andrew its name.
Andrew thought it was funny how easily Mr. Colburn talked, like nothing was a secret and nothing had to be hidden, like there were no questions he wouldn't answer; but the longer they walked, the more Andrew appreciated the cowboys' silence.
When they reached the campsite, Mrs. Rufus rushed up to Andrew and enveloped him in a huge hug. "Andrew! Baby!" she cried. "I was worried about you! Why'd you run off?"
Chuck sneered at Andrew behind his dad's back, mouthing the words "momma's boy".
Andrew glared at him, hugging his mom back. "Sorry, Mom. Just wanted some air. It's been forever since I've been in the woods."
She smiled brilliantly. "I'm so glad I brought you! You just enjoy yourself, but don't run off again, okay?"
"Okay."
Andrew ignored Chuck, sat on a log beside Ed, and handed Ed marshmallows to put on a stick. "You want yours burned?" Ed asked.
Andrew laughed, thinking of Doyle's biscuits. "Sure, why not?"
Mrs. Rufus and the Colburn's laughed and joked as they ate the sticky s'mores, and Andrew watched silently, grinning at the goofy smile his mom got when she said something she thought was funny. There was something comforting about the fire and the laughter, but every time his eyes caught Chuck's, Andrew was reminded that his best friends in the entire world didn't believe him, and he felt cold inside.
Chapter 2
After s'mores Andrew sat at the edge of the lake and watched the sun set. He'd been so excited to see it, but the colors seemed dull in comparison to the last sunset he'd seen. Maybe it was because he was seeing it with his own eyes instead of Pecos's. The stars blinked to life overhead, but even though he wasn't in the city, they lacked the brilliance he remembered.
He crawled into his sleeping bag feeling discontented, sad, and angry. When he opened his eyes and saw brilliant stars glowing above him, he started laughing.
"What's so funny, boy?"
"This," Andrew said, pushing to his feet and surveying Pecos's tall form. "I've finally figured it out. This is a dream. I keep thinking it's real, but it's a dream. For real this time. I remember falling asleep. I'm asleep right now. You're a dream, Pecos. My mind is making you up, playing nasty tricks on me. I mean, you may not even look this way; I never got a good look at you when I was… well, you get the idea."
"Not sure you makin' much sense, boy," Pecos drawled.
"I never do anymore."
"What you doin'?"
"Camping. It's dull."
"Shouldn't be."
"No; not like that. The colors, the brilliance, life; everything is duller than it was when I was with you. I think your eyes must see color different."
"Maybe."
"What're you doing?"
"Just got back from a drive."
"Did it go good?"
"Yep."
"Any sign of the darkness?" Andrew didn't know why he was asking. This was just a dream; it wasn't real, but it felt so much like Pecos, spoke like Pecos, grumped like Pecos. Andrew just couldn't help feeling it was real.
"Nope."
Andrew nodded, then woke abruptly when his mom rolled over and kicked him in the leg. She wasn't the easiest person to sleep in a tent with. Last year she'd given him a black eye. He scooted closer to the wall, but the tent suddenly felt suffocatingly tight, and he couldn't breathe. He wiggled his way out of his sleeping bag and crept to the door, holding his breath as he unzipped it. His mom mumbled something about marshmallows, but didn't wake.
He stepped out into the cool night air and sighed in relief. The air felt wonderful on his skin, and for a moment, a very brief moment, he felt free. And that's when he realized the difference. When he'd been in Pecos's body, trapped as he was, he'd felt free, unhindered, set loose. Here, as Andrew Rufus, he was caged.
He loved his mom. He even liked having hot water available upon request, but he missed the just is of being Pecos. He missed the open air, the lack of rules. He missed the sense of purpose. He missed the expectations and the knowledge that he was more than a boy, the knowledge that he could actually play a part in something bigger.
