Echoes in the Dark (67 page)

The rain fell softly, a scatter of drops that Jikata actually
enjoyed. She sensed no pollution in this rain like there would have been on
Earth.

Luthan didn't even grumble as he draped himself in a slicker and
took out an ugly hat—not white—not her White Knight now, her cowboy hero of the
white hat—and plunked it on his head. They rode for an hour before the dreary
day and lack of conversation wore on her nerves.

A rumble of thunder alerted her that she'd better find a warm and
dry place to take cover, soon.

The lightning struck no more than five feet ahead of her in the
middle of the road. Her volaran didn't rear and she was supremely grateful. Then
five women stood where no one had been before. Jikata blinked, but even on
second—and third—sight, they remained Caucasian—one small and silver headed,
one voluptuous red head with a wide streak of silver Power, a blonde dressed in
Chevalier leathers, a brunette wearing modified medica robes and a dark-haired
green eyed witchy looking woman.

The little one—sporting what Jikata knew to be a baton on her left
hip, a Marshall!—stepped forward. Jikata's mouth dropped as she saw the woman
spread her fingers in the old Vulcan greeting of "Live Long and
Prosper." "Greetings, Earthling Alien," the woman said in
English with a slight accent. "Welcome to Lladrana. Home of the
Dark."

The redhead closed her eyes in obvious horror. The blonde stepped
forward and before Jikata could check Hope, her volaran had pranced toward the
woman—as had Luthan's. The blonde accepted the volaran's whickered and mind
greetings as if this happened all the time. Stroking Hope's nose, she looked up
at Jikata, smiling, and spoke in English. "Don't mind Alexa, she has a
warped sense of humor."

Since the little woman was now laughing her head off, gasping
"Did you see the look on her face? Priceless! Priceless."

The blonde said, "I'm Calli Guardpont, the Volaran
Exotiques." She shot a look at Luthan. "We understand that no one has
told you of the rest of us."

Jikata's mouth had dried. "No."

Every one of the
women frowned. The curvy red head thumped Alexa on her back, nearly sending her
to the ground. "We have a rule among us," her voice was the best of
those who'd spoken so far, rich and with depth. "We stick together. We're
a sisterhood. Others may manipulate and lie to an Exotique, but we never
do."

Jikata could hardly believe
that.

The redhead continued smoothly. "I'm Marian, second in the
line up, from Boulder, Colorado." She touched the golden band around her
forehead. Jikata knew that meant the woman was a Sorceress, had built a Tower
with her Power and Song. Impressive.

She curved strong, elegant fingers over the small woman. "This
is Alexa Vauxveau, the first to come, last year, formerly an attorney in
Denver."

Jikata could hardly credit that. But Alexa, now sober-faced,
nodded. "That's right. I'm the Marshall's Exotique," she gave a half bow,
"and I speak to you, the Singer's Exotique." She grimaced, glanced
around at the others, "Marian and I probably have the most in common with
you as we were pretty much alone with the Lladranans after we were Summoned. It's
harder, then."

The blond circled Jikata's volaran and looked up at her.
"It's always hard. I'm Calli Guardpont, late of the Rocking Bar T in
Colorado, the Volaran Exotique and third to come." She raised a hand with
horse hair and drool on it to Jikata to shake. Jikata hesitated, remembering
past connections, but did. At the touch of the woman's fingers the sound of an
echoing gong shuddered through her.

First rough draft of Chapter 1

Robin D. Owens                                                                                             Echoes
In The Dark

CUT SCENE.  This
scene is not in the book. All rights reserved; copyright © Robin D. Owens.The
text contained within may not be reproduced in whole or in part or distributed
in any form whatsoever OR SOLD without first obtaining permission from the
author.

This READ ia the
FIRST ROUGH DRAFT OF CHAPTER 1 and is significantly different than the final
book.

ECHOES IN THE DARK FIRST ROUGH
DRAFT OF CHAPTER 1
—
WITH CAT INSTEAD OF BIRD

On the empty stage Jikata recalled the waves of applause, the only
moment when she felt fulfilled.

Everyone thought Jikata had left the Pepsi Center after her
concert. Her
smash
concert, the last concert of a smash tour. All her
concerts were sold out, all raves now. The wild shrieking and applause fed her
ego.

But nothing else. Her
life was as empty as the huge event center. As her great-grandmother would have
said, her soul was not receiving nourishment and was withering.

Fans adored her. No one loved her. No man, no good friend male or
female, no child. Her career was skyrocketing. Her life was tanking. She'd come
to the pinnicle of success for a rock singer, a female half-Japanese no less,
and found herself alone and panting after the climb.

She'd been thinking
about her great-grandmother on her mother's side more and more often lately,
and the old, straightlaced Japanese woman who so disapproved of her had been
dead for five years. She'd died just as Jikata had tipped over into the first
wild rush of fame. Though "straightlaced" was an English word and not
much about her great-grandmother had been American.

Jikata had taken a chance tonight. Despite her manager's advice,
she'd slipped in one of her own compositions, a ballad, into the concert.

It had bombed as
usual.

No one appreciated
her music. But composing it fed her soul.

Only one of her tunes had made it big, and it was hitting the top
of the charts now. That really strange concoction of bells and chimes and an
occasional gong tone. She'd sung—chanted—a mishmash of words in English and
Japanese and French and had layered her voice in the track again and again over
three octaves. She barely had a full three octave range and had worked hard on
that track until each note was strong and perfect.

"Come to
me" was going gold.

The tune wasn't
really her composition and that's what bugged her. She'd heard odd patterns of
notes, of chimes, of chants, the occasional gong beat in her head over the last
two years. It had started here in Denver, her home town, a year ago February. A
very dreary February.

As dreary and gray as her present life. She tried to shake off the
blues, but a low-level depression gnawed at her.

"Rrrrrrowwwww!"
It was a demanding howl.

Jikata winced. Ensou was unhappy. When the Siamese was unhappy,
everyone
knew about it. The Pepsi Center had better acoustics than she'd thought, she
could hear the cat easily.

And the gong and
chime and chants in her head continuously now. She shivered.

"Rrrrrowwww!"

"Over here,
Ensou. How did you get out of the dressing room?" Why hadn't her assistant
taken Ensou to the
hotel after the concert? The cat loved concert nights, seemed to feel the
energy of fans and Jikata and sound amps, so Jikata brought her.

There was a jingle.

"What's that?"

Ensou was playing with something, batting it, jumping on it,
sending it flying with her paw and pouncing again. Each time there were
jingles. A chiming ball.

She stood on the stage and felt the huge space around her then she
walked off the stage and into the dark and a wind caught her.

Jikata Chevalier Cut Scene

Robin D. Owens                                                                                             Echoes
In The Dark

CUT SCENE.  This
scene is not in the book. All rights reserved; copyright © Robin D. Owens.The
text contained within may not be reproduced in whole or in part or distributed
in any form whatsoever OR SOLD without first obtaining permission from the
author.

We are
at the Singer's Abbey, after Jikata has seen the vision of the planet, Amee.

*****************************************************************

The evening actually went well for Jikata. She watched as the
Singer gave the young Chevalier who was testing to become a Marshall—apparently
the creme de la creme of warriors in Lladrana—a potion. She was told that
sometimes smoke was used, or hand lotion.

The young man stared at Jikata, and she understood that she'd be a
good source of gossip for him. Then she took his right hand and the Singer took
his left.

Thankfully the dream wasn't intense and was full of images that Jikata
couldn't quite decipher. There was the curve of the world, edged in blackness
that gave way to a brilliant sunrise shooting yellow streaks into a blue sky,
the sound of huge applause. There were strange monster shapes and flying horses
and castles and a winding sapphire river, a hill covered with golden blossoms.

Though she felt the low, cycling throb of the planet beneath all
the visions, all the melodies engendered by the Chevalier, there was no vision
of a woman with her hand pressing her side over a horrible leech. Jikata thought
that the Chevalier was aware of the planet and her Song, but had never
visualized her. Naturally, she had no idea what the Singer might have seen over
her long years.

But Jikata was grateful she didn't have to face the world's
manifestation again. She had taken a nap but had not slept well, dreaming of
the crying woman, lifting a sword that was too heavy.

Her own heart hurt, simply ached, with a depth of compassion she
hadn't been aware she'd held. She
did
want to help the world, Amee, she
could fight. The idea of becoming the Singer—a different sort of Singer than
the old woman before her—tantalized.

Magic was in every sound all around her and she loved the music of
her new life.

She knew there would
be a price to pay.

Killing that evil
leech, whatever it was.

She didn't think that destroying it would be easy.

"It is done." The Singer rolled a low note and the
shared Song and with the Chevalier's subsided, the vivid images faded into the
dimness of sleep. The Singer withdrew her hands from the young man and as the
strength of his Song inundated Jikata, she hurriedly did the same.

The older woman was smiling with satisfaction. "You will
awake when I snap my fingers," she said, and put thumb and middle finger
together.

Jikata stared, then said, "Wait!"

"What?" The Singer glared back at her.

"Aren't you
supposed to count down to ease him from the trance and say that he'll be
refreshed, and..." She strove to recall the occasional hypnosis session
she'd experienced when she'd wanted to lose more weight.

"What?" Now the Singer sounded incredulous.

Even as the older woman narrowed her eyes at Jikata, Jikata said
in a soothing voice, "You will awake at the snap of the Singer's fingers,
after I count from ten to one." Could she do it?  Did she know the
Lladranan words for each number? She hoped so. She thought she'd heard them
all. "As I count down you the trance and the sleep will gradually become
lighter. You will awake relaxed and refreshed and able to recall your entire
experience without any disturbing emotions." That would have to do.

The Singer snorted
and folded her hands.

"Ten, you are rising from your trance and feeling energy—Power,
in every muscle..." Jikata spaced the count out over multiple beats, and
exactly on beat the Singer snapped her fingers and the Chevalier opened his
eyes.

He fixed his brown gaze on the Singer. "Did I pass my Song
quest? Can I become a Marshall?"

"Ayes," the
Singer said shortly.

A small frown knit between his brows. "But I won't be in the
invasion force, I don't think?"

"Ttho," the Singer confirmed. "I will leave you
with my apprentice." She glided from the room.

Apprentice. Not colleague,
not Friend, apprentice. Anger fizzed in Jikata.

The Chevalier gasped
and drew Jikata's glance back to him. "You're the Exotique Singer!"

She smiled. She rather liked that title. Much better than
"apprentice." She believed she'd left her "apprentice"
singing days long behind her.

"And
I've
seen you! Nobody except Luthan has seen you
and he isn't talking. I heard Koz is trying. All the others are avid to know
when you'll be coming to the Castle. Can you tell me—"

"—You will come with me now." A large Friend that Jikata
vaguely recognized and who looked more like a bodyguard entered the room. He
held out a massive hand.

Sighing, the young man put his fingers in the other's clasp and
was drawn to his feet. Another Friend came in, this one a young, pretty woman,
carrying a glass of orange juice. She gave it to the Chevalier, and winked at
him.

Attraction spun
between them.

Weariness settled in on Jikata and another large man, a Friend in
purple, moved from behind the two and took her arm. She stiffened, but all she
felt was concern from him, no threat. "Come with me, Lady. There's a light
meal and a soft bed waiting for you." He walked slowly and she leaned a
little on him. Before they left the room, she turned back to the Chevalier who
had an arm around the woman's shoulders. He worked fast.