Taboo (A Tale of the Talhari Book 1)

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Authors: Heather Elizabeth King

BOOK: Taboo (A Tale of the Talhari Book 1)
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Contents

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Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Epilogue

A TALE OF THE TALHARI

TABOO

 

 

 

 

 

HEATHER

ELIZABETH

KING

Tainted Love

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Tainted Love Copyright 2014 © Heather Elizabeth King

Cover design by Syneca

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review.

Trademarked names appear throughout this book. Rather than use a trademark symbol with every occurrence of a trademarked name, names are used in an editorial fashion, with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.

The information in this book is distributed on an “as is” basis, without warranty. Although every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this work, neither the author nor the publisher shall have any liability to any person or entity with respect to any loss or damage caused or alleged to be caused directly or indirectly by the information contained in this book.

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

 

 

 

Chapter One

Sydney Taylor sat at her desk, two different versions of the Bible open in front of her. One was the King James, the other was the New International Version. On the other side of Sydney’s office, her friend Cora sat in an overstuffed armchair, a large book open in her lap, and her legs curled up beneath her. Her blonde hair was disheveled, the pony tail drooping. Her white tee-shirt had been crisp when they’d arrived at Sydney’s office a few hours ago, but now it was wrinkled and looked worse for the wear.

“I’m hungry, Sydney. We’ve been at it for hours.”

Sydney looked up from the book then down at her own clothes. Her jeans were much looser than they had been upon arrival. That fact alone was a good sign that she’d been sitting so long she’d stretched her pants. Her shirt wasn’t so bad, but she knew her curly hair could probably stand a fluffing. She’d been to the bathroom three times, courtesy of the large green tea she’d been sipping on, so she knew she smelled good. After every hand washing she’d rubbed scented lotion into her skin. She realized belatedly that there was glitter in the lotion. It made her brown skin shimmer. “The exhibit opens in two months and I have to turn this article in to the magazine tomorrow. I told you, it can’t be any article. This is an exhibit on the life of King David, the second king of Israel. It has to be an extraordinary article. Do you know how many people are coming to view this exhibit?”

“I don’t get what you’re hoping to find,” Cora complained. “You already have all the pertinent facts. That’s what people will care about.”

“I know.” Sydney tucked a thatch of curls behind an ear, sighing a bit. “I just thought it would be nice if we could find out something about him that people don’t know. Something that isn’t in the Bible or history books.”

“If it’s not in the Bible or history books, how could we find out about it?”

“By putting information together in a way that nobody has thought of before.”

“I know you believe whole heartedly in all that mumbo jumbo, but I personally think it’s a lot of smoke and mirrors.”

“But evidence of David has been found in the historical record. Archaeologists have found proof—”

“I don’t get it,” Cora rubbed her eyes and stifled a yawn as she spoke, “he played a harp, was a soldier and shepherd, right?” She stared at Sydney, eyebrows raised. “Doesn’t that seem unlikely to you, I mean seriously, how does a harp player become king?”

“According to the story of David, by getting anointed by a prophet of God. And yes, the fact that he was a soldier is important. David was honorable, fierce, and popular with the people. He was more popular than Saul, the actual king at the time. Also, he didn’t just play a harp. Saul was tormented by an evil spirit. When David played the harp, the spirit left Saul alone.”

“And I don’t understand how it is that this Saul, a king of Israel, couldn’t kill a shepherd boy. He was king for crying out loud. Just send out an army. I just can’t believe this story.”

“David was protected by God.”

Cora snorted. “I ain’t buying.”

Sydney had known Cora for years. When Cora began making noises about wanting to move out of her dead end job and into something more meaningful, Sydney had come up with the idea of letting Cora help at the magazine with research and fact checking. There were three writers on staff, including Sydney, and every one of them could use a research assistant. But it fast became obvious that research was not the field for her fun-loving friend. Cora had been bored witless thirty minutes upon arrival today.

“I guess to believe the story of David you have to first believe in God,” Sydney said. She pushed back from her desk and surprised herself by yawning.

She stood and gazed out the window at the empty street below. It was close to eleven so the office had closed hours ago. And Lynchburg was a small town; the sidewalks rolled up by ten, at eleven it was like a ghost town. Three stories up, the desolation seemed starker. The building across the street was dark, except for a few emergency lights, and the museum on the corner was shrouded in darkness. There were no cars on the streets and no people on the sidewalks.

Cora closed the book she’d been reading with a
smack
. “I believe in God. I just don’t believe in miracles and all that woo woo stuff.”

“So what do you think God is if you don’t think He can perform miracles?”

Cora shrugged. “I guess I never gave it a lot of thought. But when’s the last time you saw a miracle?”

“Every day.”

“Every day?”

“I was in line at Kroger and the lady checking out didn’t have enough money for the food she’d gotten. She had two kids beside her and a baby strapped into the cart. The cashier told the lady she’d wait while the lady decided what she wouldn’t get, but the man behind her gave the cashier a twenty so the lady could get all of the food she needed for her family.”

Cora looked at Sydney, clearly unimpressed. “Lovely story, but what does that have to do with God performing miracles.”

“God works through us. He performs miracles through us.”

Cora snorted again. “That’s not a miracle. That’s some guy giving some stranger a twenty.”

“Tell that lady who has three mouths to feed that it wasn’t a miracle.”

Sydney closed the books on her desk, then hefted them into her arms.

“Leave them,” Cora said. “Put them away tomorrow.”

“Someone else might need them before I get here.” She walked out of her office and to the small room at the end of the hall she and the rest of the writing staff referred to as the library. It only took her a minute to slide the books into the right spots.

She wasn’t ready for the chill April air that greeted them when they stepped out of the building and into the night. She loved Lynchburg, but the weather was so unpredictable. Forecast was calling for eighties over the weekend, but tonight it didn’t feel more than sixty.

They headed toward the museum on Ninth, walking quickly. Sydney loved the smell of spring, knowing soon, on a night like tonight it would be warm enough to wear short pants and a tank top.

“You mind if we walk a bit?” Cora asked.

Sydney stopped on the corner of Jefferson and Ninth and motioned down Jefferson. “That way?”

Cora shrugged.

They turned and walked down the empty street. Lofts and apartments lined the road to their right, while smaller, more decorative buildings sat to their left. Like the view from her office had told her, the streets were deserted.

Cora walked briskly, not saying anything for a while.

“Is everything all right?” Sydney asked.

Cora sighed. “My life is total shit.” She let her arms drop so the palms of her hands slapped against her jeans.

The sound seemed to echo up the empty street. Sydney looked over her shoulder, trying to make sure Cora hadn’t attracted any attention. But attention from who? There was no one on the street to hear them.

“Your life isn’t shit. You’re in a transitional period.”

“I’m thirty-five and I’m a cashier at the corner grocery store. I don’t make enough money to support myself, so I have to live in my parent’s basement.”

“At least you have someplace to live. That’s a good thing.”

Cora shook her head. “You know what I mean. Look at you. You’re doing it.”

“That’s why you came to the office with me today, so you can do it, too.”

Riverfront Park came into view. They stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the park and continued to walk. In the distance, Sydney saw the shimmer of the metal fence closing the park off from the train tracks and trees on the other side. Riverfront Park was where the city held festivals. Friday Cheers, the Lynchburg Beer and Wine Festival. She’d had countless hours of fun here with her friends. But she’d never seen the park at night. It was kind of creepy at night.

Cora slowed gradually, then stopped. “The bench?”

“Sure.”

They walked to a bench and Cora sat, exhaling. “I’m at the end of my rope, Sydney. Seriously, something has got to change for me.”

Sydney was about to sit, but froze when she heard rustling in the brush. She turned to face the far off fence, but didn’t see anything.

“What?” Cora asked, looking toward the fence, too.

“I thought I heard something.” Sydney looked up and down the street, but nothing was there.

“I think you’re spooking yourself cause it’s so quiet out here.” Cora said. “We’ve never been here at night. And to think, you almost bought a condo down here. You’d have been scared silly every night.”

“I don’t know.” Sydney scanned the street again, but still saw nothing. “Maybe we should go back to the office.”

“Come on, Sydney.” Cora tugged her arm to get Sydney to sit. “I need to talk.”

Cora’s unexpected laugh made Sydney jump about a foot into the air.

“Relax! You’re so jumpy.”

Sydney didn’t laugh.

“Come on, Syds. I didn’t mean to spook you.”

“It’s not you. It’s this park. This street.”

“Okay, then let’s go back.” She stood and started walking with Sydney back toward the office. “We’ll go back to your place and I’ll make you some cocoa.”

“Adults don’t drink cocoa, we drink hot chocolate.”

“Ah yes, I forgot. Hot chocolate.”

“With marshmallows.”

Cora grinned. “With marshmallows,” she agreed.

Sydney couldn’t help it, she grinned, too. Cora always knew how to make her laugh.

The sound of rustling came from behind them again. Sydney spun around, scanned the overhanging tree limbs, skimmed the metal fence.

“Did you hear that?” She pointed toward the trees near the tracks.

“Hear what?”

“Something moving in the trees over there.”

“Your mind is playing tricks on you. You’re hearing things.”

“No, it’s not. I heard something.”

“Maybe it’s an animal. A squirrel.”

“Making that much noise?”

“What noise?”

“Cora stop.”

Cora slowed, “Let’s keep moving. Now you have me spooked.”

“Something is out here with us. I don’t want to walk into it. We have to know where the sound is coming from.”

They were quiet for a few seconds, but the sound was gone.

“Let’s just get to the car. We’re spooking ourselves.” Cora turned in a slow circle, eyes darting left and right.

“I’m not spooked. I heard something.”

“Well you’re spooking me.”

Something broke from the trees, launched itself over the fence, and streaked across the grass toward them.

Sydney, who’d been listening for a sound, turned in time to see it bearing down on them. And it was fast.

“What the hell is that?” Cora froze in place, her hands held out in front of her.

It looked like a man, but somehow that didn’t seem right. Its face, even from a distance, looked misshapen and distended. It didn’t move like a man, either, but like an animal. Like an ape. Even its skin seemed off. Not peach colored or brown like her own, it was more a bluish white.

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