Incubus Moon Read Online Free PDF Page B
Author: Andrew Cheney-Feid
that enjoyed the status of being the fourth oldest general law city in Los Angeles County. Its position high atop a hill afforded the property spectacular views of the San Gabriel Valley and the sprawling old Craftsman boasted a prestigious spot on the Registry of Historic Homes, which only added to the home’s prominence. It had also been in my father’s family for five generations.
Correction. It had been in the Iverson Family for five generations. I hardly owed allegiance to a legacy that didn’t belong to me.
Besides, what reason was there for me to hold onto it? Laura was gone. She’d been dead for almost four months. I couldn’t bear another moment of the loneliness and grief of being bound to a place that represented a lifetime built upon deceit and betrayal. I wanted out.
Was this being too emotional? Irrational? Disrespectful?
Too bad.
Plus, the house gave off a weird vibe; and always had.
I had vivid memories from childhood of whispered voices at night coming up through the old heat registers. Sometimes, I’d even glimpse bursts of bluish light through them. On more than one occasion, I awoke to find a tall blonde woman standing in the shadows of my room. She would stare back at me for a moment or two before vanishing. These encounters always left me shaken, but also with a curious sense of the familiar, as if I should have recognized the woman but didn’t. Whenever I confided these bizarre occurrences to Laura, she’d offer an indulgent smile, followed by a reassuring hug, and then chalk them up to a young boy’s overly active imagination. After which she’d tuck me back into bed, kiss me on the forehead, and smile down at me again. “Sweeter dreams, my beautiful boy.”
But as she’d turned to go, I’d see it. A momentary flicker of fear or sadness in her eyes which left me with the vague impression that Laura believed my stories, after all.
An hour after breakfast, I emerged freshly showered and into the bright, warm Southern California sunshine on my way to meet with my realtor friend.
Above me, a lone, circling falcon cried out against the backdrop of the imposing San Gabriel Mountains. The remarkably clear air made every fold and crevice in them seem etched into earth and rock, the dry air laced with the delicate scent of rose and gardenia from Laura’s garden. Surely such a glorious day screamed for an open-air drive.
As luck would have it, the perfect vehicle for the task was parked in the driveway.
Yet another break with the past, I’d retired my old Jeep in favor of the sleek, new Audi convertible that sat winking back at me under the dazzling sunlight. My sole splurge with Laura’s money, there was no reason to feel guilty about purchasing it.
With my first priority of the day underway, the second would entail finding a suitable new place to live. And I knew just where to begin the search.
My cell phone roared to life through the Audi’s Bluetooth as I was pulling away from the realtor’s office and out into busy Colorado Boulevard traffic.
I glanced at the caller’s info displayed on the nav screen and was tempted to let the call go to voicemail. Instead, I held my breath and depressed the button on the console to accept it. “Hey,” I said in a lighthearted tone, hoping to avoid the storm I knew was coming.
“Seriously? You drop an adoption bomb on me. Bail on the birthday dinner my wife went to a lot of trouble to prepare for you. Then you fall off the grid for a couple of weeks.” Mark’s voice filtered through the convertible’s Bang & Olufsen speakers as smooth and bass-filled as though God was speaking to me. “Where the fuck have you been, Iverson?”
Underestimating my new car’s ability to give good phone, I lowered the volume. The entire city of Pasadena did not need to hear me getting the ass chewing of the century.
“Sorry. A lot’s been happening and—”
“Oh, peddle that to someone who doesn’t know you better,” Mark cut me off to
Correction. It had been in the Iverson Family for five generations. I hardly owed allegiance to a legacy that didn’t belong to me.
Besides, what reason was there for me to hold onto it? Laura was gone. She’d been dead for almost four months. I couldn’t bear another moment of the loneliness and grief of being bound to a place that represented a lifetime built upon deceit and betrayal. I wanted out.
Was this being too emotional? Irrational? Disrespectful?
Too bad.
Plus, the house gave off a weird vibe; and always had.
I had vivid memories from childhood of whispered voices at night coming up through the old heat registers. Sometimes, I’d even glimpse bursts of bluish light through them. On more than one occasion, I awoke to find a tall blonde woman standing in the shadows of my room. She would stare back at me for a moment or two before vanishing. These encounters always left me shaken, but also with a curious sense of the familiar, as if I should have recognized the woman but didn’t. Whenever I confided these bizarre occurrences to Laura, she’d offer an indulgent smile, followed by a reassuring hug, and then chalk them up to a young boy’s overly active imagination. After which she’d tuck me back into bed, kiss me on the forehead, and smile down at me again. “Sweeter dreams, my beautiful boy.”
But as she’d turned to go, I’d see it. A momentary flicker of fear or sadness in her eyes which left me with the vague impression that Laura believed my stories, after all.
An hour after breakfast, I emerged freshly showered and into the bright, warm Southern California sunshine on my way to meet with my realtor friend.
Above me, a lone, circling falcon cried out against the backdrop of the imposing San Gabriel Mountains. The remarkably clear air made every fold and crevice in them seem etched into earth and rock, the dry air laced with the delicate scent of rose and gardenia from Laura’s garden. Surely such a glorious day screamed for an open-air drive.
As luck would have it, the perfect vehicle for the task was parked in the driveway.
Yet another break with the past, I’d retired my old Jeep in favor of the sleek, new Audi convertible that sat winking back at me under the dazzling sunlight. My sole splurge with Laura’s money, there was no reason to feel guilty about purchasing it.
With my first priority of the day underway, the second would entail finding a suitable new place to live. And I knew just where to begin the search.
My cell phone roared to life through the Audi’s Bluetooth as I was pulling away from the realtor’s office and out into busy Colorado Boulevard traffic.
I glanced at the caller’s info displayed on the nav screen and was tempted to let the call go to voicemail. Instead, I held my breath and depressed the button on the console to accept it. “Hey,” I said in a lighthearted tone, hoping to avoid the storm I knew was coming.
“Seriously? You drop an adoption bomb on me. Bail on the birthday dinner my wife went to a lot of trouble to prepare for you. Then you fall off the grid for a couple of weeks.” Mark’s voice filtered through the convertible’s Bang & Olufsen speakers as smooth and bass-filled as though God was speaking to me. “Where the fuck have you been, Iverson?”
Underestimating my new car’s ability to give good phone, I lowered the volume. The entire city of Pasadena did not need to hear me getting the ass chewing of the century.
“Sorry. A lot’s been happening and—”
“Oh, peddle that to someone who doesn’t know you better,” Mark cut me off to
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