Seven Bridges Read online

  Copyright 2020, Ciana Stone

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, businesses, places, events, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 Ciana Stone

  Cover by Syneca Featherstone

  All rights reserved.

  7 Bridges

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  7 Bridges Copyright © 2020 Ciana Stone

  Cover art by Syneca

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  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Dedication:

  As always, for the love of my life.

  Always and forever. I do.

  PART 1

  "Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil."

  -Aristotle

  Prologue

  The Present - 2020

  It's over, Isabelle.

  I win. If you surrender now, I'll let him live.

  Oh God, not again. She thought the last time was bad. Now here she was, once more faced with losing the man she loved, scared to fight, yet without another option. She had to find a way to overcome her fear, or they wouldn't survive.

  Are you listening, Isabelle?

  How she hated that voice, how she hated him. If only she could stop shaking. Fear was as much her enemy as he. Yet, she couldn't blame it all on him. This was a trap of her own design, one that had, unfortunately, not unfolded as planned.

  Every creak of wood, drip of water, or brush of leaves against a window made her heart jump in her chest. A sheen of sweat made her hands slick, and her clothing cling damply to her. Isabelle rose just enough to peer from behind the curtain of the window.

  She didn't see movement outside, but at present, clouds covered the moon, casting the yard in indistinct shapes and varying degrees of darkness that shifted in the wind of the approaching storm.

  At her feet lay the man she loved, the man who had already nearly died once trying to save her from this monster. The last time, the monster had used a knife. He'd used one again tonight and now her love's life was on the line again. Just like eight years ago. Would this nightmare ever end?

  The deepest of the stab wounds in his upper back had luckily missed his lung, but she was worried that the second might affect his kidney.

  The third, the one in his shoulder, didn't appear to have hit any major arteries but was bleeding profusely and rendered him unable to raise his arm or grip the big 9mm handgun he carried as a service weapon.

  She'd done all she could to bind the wounds. With the power shut down and no internet or cell reception, they were cut off. If he was going to survive, she had to figure a way to get them out of there.

  The problem was, Isabelle didn't know how. The moment she opened the door, they'd be vulnerable to attack, and she was certain the monster would kill Gib this time. She couldn't let that happen, but she had no weapons. She didn't know how to fire Gib's gun, and even if he told her, she probably couldn't hit the broad side of a barn.

  Isabelle, I'm waiting for you.

  Come to me, my love.

  Don't make me kill him.

  Come to me, and he lives. Just take that step, Isabelle. Cross the last bridge that will bring you forever to me.

  She sank back down and whispered to Gib. "Maybe if I go outside, you can–"

  "No," he cut her off.

  She put her fingertips to his lips. "Listen to me. I'm not going to let him kill you, and you know he doesn't want me dead, so this is the best way. I'll make a deal with him. I'll make him call for an ambulance, and then I'll go with him."

  "So he can put you back inside a cage? Iz, don't. We'll fight him together. Just help me get my gun from the holster."

  "Gi–"

  "No, you listen. Take my gun from the holster and do exactly as I say. You can do this."

  For a split second, she hesitated. The part of her that was terrified to lose him said to just leave him there. Leave him and go make a deal with the devil so Gib could live.

  The part that was trying not to scream in terror at the idea of being a prisoner to the monster told her to take the chance. If she killed the beast, it was over. They were free, and the long nightmare could end.

  "Do it, Iz. For us. Let's end this."

  "Yes," she agreed, letting herself succumb to her own darkness and need for the terror to end. "Yes. Tell me what to do."

  Within moments they were ready. She was ready. For the first time in her life, she willingly opened herself, allowing the evil to hear her.

  I have to see you. Face-to-face. Come inside.

  She waited, trembling, and felt her hands grow wet with sweat. The gun felt too heavy, too big. If he came in, could she pull the trigger? Could she hit him?

  Isabelle watched the door until she was nearly blind, and everything seemed to merge into a featureless blur of shadow. When the door handle moved, making a slight click, she almost wet her pants.

  The door opened, and a darker form within the gray moved across the threshold. Two more steps and the cloud cover shrouding the moon lifted. Light from the window to her left slanted across two tall figures. Between them was a tiny figure, a child whose hands were in the grips of not one but two monsters.

  All the air went out of Isabelle's lungs, and she nearly dropped the gun.

  "Oh, dear God." It was worse than she could have imagined.

  "Shoot him, Iz," Gib panted the words, every moment, every breath an effort.

  Come, her monster urged. I promise I'll let him live. I'll let them both live.

  "Iz, shoot him!"

  "I said come!" the monster's twin roared, this time for real, not just in her head.

  Isabelle screamed, raised the weapon, and pulled the trigger. It flashed brightly in the darkness, making spots of light dance in her vision, and the rapport of the gun made it impossible to hear.

  She felt someone grab her, trying to take the gun, and she pulled the trigger again. Almost simultaneously, there was another shot. And then the world exploded into an endless sea of white.

  Chapter One

  January 3rd, 2020

  The past held her prisoner, refusing to release her. She didn't want to remember, to sink back into the night her life changed, but sometimes memories refused to be ignored. Like now.

  Unable to banish the thoughts, she let them claim her.

  "Shhh, now. If you talk like that, I'll have to hurt you. Do you understand?"

  Of course, she didn't.

  She didn't understand any of what was happening. One minute she was playing Super Mario Brothers with Donny in his room, and now she was in the middle of a nightmare.

  Donny's tears tore at her heart. He
loved that game. It didn't matter that sometimes it stopped working, or that the old television it was hooked to had lost its color, and often half of the screen vanished.

  That old television would never display Mario after today. The bad man, all dressed in black with the scary black mask, kicked the screen out. He laughed when he did it because it made Donny cry. He must enjoy making people cry. Mama was crying and begging him to leave, or to please let her children go.

  That obviously made him mad because he shouted at her to shut her mouth or he'd cut her tongue out. Mama went white as a sheet. Donny peed his pants, and she almost threw up.

  Almost. But her Dad had taught her to stand up to bullies and not let them rattle you, so she yelled at him to leave her mama alone.

  That made the bad man angrier, and he started beating on her mother, punching her in the face and the belly. She wanted so much to help her mother, but there was nothing she could do since she was tied up, just like Donny.

  All she could do was yell at the bad man, call him names and say how her Dad was going to kill him when he found out. That she would kill him if he untied her.

  That took his attention off her mother, and onto herself.

  She would soon find out the cost of her actions, and the price was one she'd face every day for the rest of her life.

  Isabelle screamed her way to consciousness and struggled to wake, climbing through the fog of sleep as the terrors fought to keep her trapped in the memory.

  Isabelle.

  She sat straight up in bed with her heart hammering in her chest and a cold sweat forming on her body.

  Her eyes moved, searching the darkness as her hands clenched into tight fists. There was nothing amiss. Her room looked no different now than when she fell asleep.

  But appearance often lies, and this was one of those times. Everything was different now. She knew she hadn't dreamed that whisper. She'd feared it her entire life, knowing that each time he gave her respite, the moment would come again when she'd feel him reaching out for her.

  There was never a time she could just relax, stop standing guard on her walls, watching for the monster. She couldn't let her guard down because she couldn't predict when he'd reach out again, brushing her mind with his whisper.

  Now the time was upon her, and she could barely function from the terror. Her breath was ragged, and sweat dampened her nightshirt and made her hair stick to her skin.

  Isabelle.

  She knew she couldn't acknowledge the call. It was imperative she keep her barriers in place, to hide behind those mental walls she'd constructed. It was the only way to stay safe, the only way to keep him from locating her again.

  Happy New Year, my love.

  I've waited a long time, Isabelle. Soon it will be our time. You'll cross the final bridge, and then you will be mine.

  No. She would not.

  Bile rose in her throat, and she bounded off the bed and to the bathroom. By the time she was bent over the toilet, the need to vomit had dissipated, but her heart still pounded, and her skin felt clammy. She recognized what was happening.

  A panic attack.

  It'd been a while since she'd had one, and she knew what to do to combat it, so she went back to the bedroom, sat cross-legged on the floor in a patch of moonlight, and forced herself to focus on one thing. Breathing.

  In and out. Inhale for a slow three count, exhale for a slow six-count, and with every three cycles, increase the length of the exhale.

  By the time her exhale count reached seventeen, the attack had abated, but the whispers were still there, just at the edge of her perception. Intelligible, but audible, like the buzz of an insect from afar.

  Confident she was now in control, she remained where she was. Thinking. Why now? Was it because this was the anniversary of the night he killed her family? Or had he been calling out to her all along and had just now broken through to her mind?

  What had changed to weaken her mental barriers enough for him to breach her defenses?

  The answer came to her immediately. She was alone. Lonely.

  That annoyed her. She should be stronger, able to stand on her own.

  After all, it wasn't just herself she was protecting.

  That thought acted like alchemy, transforming her fear into anger, and strengthening her resolve, allowing her to fortify her defenses. She felt the barrier grow denser, solidifying until it was as strong as iron forged in the fires of hell.

  Her body was drenched and trembling before the whispering faded into nothing. Even then, she delayed, scared it might be a ruse.

  After several long hours, she felt safe enough to stop pouring her strength into the barrier.

  That's when the memories closed in on her. Like a hungry pack of wolves, they circled, snapping and growling, growing ever closer until finally, they overwhelmed her. Images and sounds pounded her, wearing her down.

  She saw it all again, felt every awful moment. No, not every moment. Why was it that no matter how many times the memories imprisoned her, there were gaps?

  Just out of reach. She'd tried many techniques, undergone hypnosis, regression therapy, and a host of others, but nothing would summon those missing moments.

  Unexpectedly, it became clear. Finally, after all these years, she understood. It was him. He didn't want her to remember. If she did, then she would have something to tell the police or FBI, and he couldn't allow that.

  With effort, she pushed the memories back down into the dark, seeing them disappear in a swirl, down the drain, and into the deep well before she closed the lid and locked it.

  Then she rose, stripped off her wet nightshirt, and picked up the smooth worry stone from her nightstand. She walked over to open the window, letting the night air whisper over her skin. As much as she'd hoped to escape this path, she realized now she had no choice.

  Isabelle.

  She grimaced.

  She'd known he'd try again, thinking her too weak to endure another assault tonight. Isabelle was smart enough to realize that something had to have taken place to prompt him to reach out.

  He'd left her alone for a year.

  She sensed that he'd done so to try to lull her into a false sense of peace. To make her believe he was finished with her. That way, when his whisper came in the night, it would provoke a higher level of terror because she thought it was over.

  Isabelle? I know you can hear me.

  Do you still hear them? Your mother and your brother? Do you hear their screams of anguish? Do you still dream about it? About me? Can you still feel me? Feel the touch of my hands, the searing pain of the blade as it sliced through your eyes?

  Or perhaps those old memories have faded, been replaced with thoughts of our last special time together. I thought perhaps you'd be ready for me, but you'd sullied yourself with that man. I had to redeem you, you understand. You're my special girl, my true love.

  I'm happy that you've finally come to your senses and banished the men you allowed into your life who do nothing but let you down or disappoint you. Perhaps this past year of reflection has finally shown you they're not your destiny.

  We've crossed many bridges together, my love. From that first one, when I claimed you until you turned your back on me in favor of him.

  I have forgiven you. I will accept your apology and your submission when the time is right.

  Isabelle felt the hate rise, and she latched onto its heat, letting it replenish her resistance . He wanted to believe she could care for him, but she never would. She'd used her respite from his contact to work on ways to strengthen her ability to thwart his attempts to penetrate her mind and locate her.

  A flash of light in her mind brought a revelation, one she'd prayed for and thought she'd be denied. Miraculously, she felt the acrid heat of her hatred fade. This epiphany made her weak with gratitude, then amazingly filled her with power.

  Izzi felt a bit ashamed to not have realized it before now. She no longer needed her hatred for strength. She wasn't a frighten
ed child anymore, or even a terrorized young woman, unsure of her own ability to fight. Now she knew where to find her power. Where it'd been all along, waiting for her to recognize and accept.

  He was a creature of the dark and gained his power from it. She was his opposite. A child of the light. The one place where he held no sway.

  Isabelle's eyes lost all color, and she dove into the light that flowered like the opening of a blossom for her. Here she found assurance that he'd not laid claim to her soul.

  Nor would he ever.

  She'd never forget or forgive, and one day, she would destroy her monster, watch him blaze like dry tinder until not even his ash remained. That was her destiny. She just wasn't sure when she'd find the courage and strength to physically face him again. Today definitely wasn't the day. As much as she longed for it, the time had not yet come when she was secure in her ability to best him.

  And until she could eliminate all fear, she couldn't win. So how did she dismiss the fear and dread? The problem was the anticipation of what might happen seemed to constantly gnaw at her. She tried to remember the last time she felt safe, powerful enough to battle the monster.

  It came to her, and the memory brought tears. She almost sunk into self-pity, almost wailed to the fates, Why me? She'd never understood why her life had been filled with so much horror and pain. Was it some kind of karmic debt she had to pay? If so, she prayed every day she'd paid in full.

  She wanted a life, one that had no monsters whispering in her mind, one where the man she loved was by her side. One where she was just a normal woman, living an ordinary life with a husband and maybe children.

  What a sweet dream.

  She didn't know if destiny would grant her that. All she could do was wish and try to find ways to bolster her courage so that when the time came, she could banish the monster once and for all.

  And with luck, survive to seek that life she so desperately wanted.

  Chapter Two