Chrysalis, p.1
Chrysalis, page 1
Chrysalis
The Formicary, Book 1
S.E. Harmon
Copyright © 2021 by S.E. Harmon
All rights reserved.
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 for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Chrysalis © 2021 by S.E. Harmon. Cover Art © 2021 by S.E. Harmon. Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
For Max
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Afterword
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by S.E. Harmon
1
A man that studieth revenge keeps his own wounds green.
-Francis Bacon
I was having the strangest dream. Either that or I'd died and gone to heaven. Literally. I didn't have any evidence to back up my theory, but all signs certainly pointed that way.
I had no other plausible explanation for my current state of being, which was drifting through miles and miles of fog. I wasn’t tired or hungry or thirsty. I wasn’t cold or hot. I just was. I couldn't remember how I’d gotten here or why, and the longer I drifted through the mist, the farther away reality seemed.
Get a grip, I instructed myself firmly.
With that helpful advice in mind, I tried to get my bearings. It was difficult, mostly because everything looked the same. Clouds blanketed just about everything as far as the eye could see, and the freaking mist swirling around certainly didn’t help. I reached out to touch the fog and swirled it with my hand. It slipped through my fingers like smoke.
"Is there anyone out there?"
My voice echoed like I was in a chamber. I stopped myself from doing the clichéd thing and calling out hello, but just barely. No one responded to my query, and I wasn't sure I was disappointed about that. I wasn't ready to find out the circumstances of my death. Instead, I continued to wander around, feeling my way through the smoke.
The ground elevation changed under my feet, and without warning, I was climbing. Unconcerned for my safety, I just went with it. I was meant to go this way. If something happened, then it was probably beyond my control. There was something strangely comforting about that.
I kept walking until I crested the top of the hill, and suddenly, the clouds parted. I looked out at the valley below, staring at the landscape before me. A field of profusely blooming pink flowers stretched as far as I could see, parted by a river, blue and clear as crystal. Everything was quiet and serene as the river babbled gently. I lifted my gaze to the outline of snowcapped mountains in the distance. And quite suddenly, I knew I wasn't alone.
“Someone help me,” I said quietly.
“I'm right here.”
I turned to find a woman standing there dressed all in the palest of blue. Her long dark hair was liberally mixed with gray, reaching her waist in a thick, neat braid. Her dark brown eyes were kind and surrounded by crow’s feet—a badge of honor from a lifetime of smiling hard and not caring about the aesthetic consequences. Those eyes were all too familiar.
“Mama,” I breathed. I tried to touch her face, and my hand went right through her skin. I was only slightly disappointed. I might not have been able to touch her, but she was here. It was more than enough. I hadn’t seen her since I was eight years old.
“I'm not your mother,” she said kindly. “I just came in a form that would make you feel more comfortable.”
I knew the truth of it even before I processed her words. Her appearance was dead on, but the voice wasn’t quite right. And it wasn’t right because she wasn’t real. It was a blow unlike anything I'd ever felt before, and it almost sent me to my knees. As it was, I staggered back a few steps as I dealt with that reality. Please don’t tell me that I’ve died, and I still don’t get to see her again. Just tell me that.
I blinked away tears. “Is she here? Can I speak to her?”
The woman looked sympathetic as she shook her head. “I’m sorry, child. It's not your time.”
I took a deep, fortifying breath. “Then why am I here?”
“Because things have taken a very wrong turn.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“You know all you’re supposed to know.”
I looked around at the stunning vista, which was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. I couldn't remember much, but I had a feeling it was better than anything I'd ever had on earth. “Do I have to go?”
“Yes, and you must go now. When it's your time, you'll find the answers you seek.” Her voice grew firm. “Do not come here again.”
Last time I checked, dying isn't always up to you. I scowled as I bit back a response. I certainly didn’t want to piss off a spirit guide or angel or whatever the hell she was. I didn’t know what she was capable of. She might just turn me into a frog for shits and giggles. Were angels allowed do to that kind of vengeful shit?
Her mouth twitched as if she could read my thoughts, and I wondered if that was a possibility here at the intersection of Where The Fuck Am I and Who The Fuck Are You.
Clear. I heard the word faintly, but her lips didn't move. I blinked. “Clear what?”
She shook her head. “It's time.”
“Can I see my mother before I leave?”
“No.”
“Just for a few seconds?”
“No.”
“I promise I won’t tell a soul—”
“No!”
Apparently, I could test the patience of even an angel. “What kind of spirit are you?” I groused.
“The busy kind,” she snapped as she took my arm and pulled me closer without any effort at all. “I'm also the kind that doesn't mind breaking rules.”
Clear!
“Obviously, you don’t care about things like manners, either,” I said primly, trying to pry her spiritual paws off my arm. “And just why do you keep saying clear?”
She gritted her teeth even as she gave me a little shake. Just my luck to get an angel that was about two millennia late for an anger management meeting. I didn't even know you could get bounced from heaven. I squinted at her. “Have you ever seen Roadhouse?”
She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Just so you know, what I’m about to do next is completely necessary and not at all retaliatory for you being a major pain in the ass.”
I gaped. “You said ass. You can’t fucking say ass.”
“You said fuck,” she snapped. “One isn’t worse than the other.”
“Yeah, but you’re a fucking angel.” I huffed. “I mean, really.”
“You’re so bloody annoying.”
“I want to talk to HR,” I demanded. “Where’s Saint Peter?”
“And the mystery of why someone tried to kill you has been solved.”
“What?” Briefly distracted from forming a formal complaint against my spirit guide, my eyebrows climbed my forehead. “What are you talking about? Who tried to kill me?”
Her reaction was unexpected. She slammed her hand into my chest, hard. I gasped and fell back a step. “What're you—”
She hit me again, and I staggered. Suddenly, my airflow seemed restricted, and my face contorted in a rictus of pain as she shined the brightest light I'd ever seen in my face. I gasped as I took in a shallow breath. “I can't seem to catch my....”
“Breathe,” she said gently. “Just take a deep breath.”
I did as she requested, and the pain intensified. Everything hurt. Everything. The quiet of the hilltop was gone, replaced by loud beeping and people moving. Those sounds were accompanied by urgent but calm conversation.
I blinked into the light, which was not heavenly like I’d thought, but some sort of overhead light contraption. A hand crossed my field of vision and adjusted the lamp. My eyes watered. If blinding me further was the goal, then mission fucking accomplished.
The controlled chaos continued to swirl around me. People on both sides of the table spoke to one another, asking and answering questions. Most of what they were saying went way over my head. That didn’t mean much. I blinked blearily. Making a peanut butter sandwich was over my head right now.
“There he is.” A man appeared in my line of vision, close to my face. I cataloged his features with a clinical detachment. He had silver hair and kind blue eyes with a lot of laugh lines. The rest of his face was concealed with a mask. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”
I wasn't sure if it was good to be back or not. Standing on a serene hilltop in the most beautiful place in the world, completely pain-free, was hard to beat. I was hurting so much right now that I couldn’t even tell where my injury was.
It took me a few seconds to realize the doctor was talking to me. “Shot? Me?”
My voice sounded slurred and strange. I tried to sit up, and suddenly, the controlled chaos was directed my way as several people made sure that didn't happen. “Whoa, there.” The doctor patted me on the shoulder. “We're giving you a little something that's going to help you sleep.”
I didn't want to sleep, but I didn't have much of a choice. I could already feel it working. My eyes drifted shut on a heavy blink. Something was wrong here, but I couldn't quite wrap my mind around it. I also couldn't work up enough energy to care properly. Two more blinks and my lids refused to lift again. Worry later. Right now?
Sleep.
2
I woke up alone.
My eyes felt scratchy and my throat a little raw. I tried to sit up to get a better look around and regretted it almost immediately as pain zinged through my head. I lowered my aching cranium to the pillow.
A memory flashed through my mind of a woman with long raven hair smiling at me and holding out a baby goat in her arms. Isn’t she just darling? It’s your turn to hold her, but be careful, sweetheart.
Her again. Mom. I was tempted to stay there with her, caught up in that easy, wide smile and those kind brown eyes, but I was distracted by a disturbing thought. I didn’t know her name. How could you not know your mother’s name? Did I even know my name?
I tried to calm myself and my racing mind, but it wasn’t an easy task. Of course you know your name. Gray. Grayson. No, wait. I shook my head to clear it. That was the name of my partner... who was nowhere to be found. Had he even bothered to check on me?
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t come up with my freaking name. Or Grayson’s last name. I shook my head frustratedly. I needed…I needed to move. This time when I attempted to sit up, I actually managed it. My head felt three sizes too big for my body, like I was a human bobblehead. But I managed to stay upright.
I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, which deserved a good cheer. My feet touching the cold-ass floor was one step closer to getting out of this fucking place. Too bad I was weak as a newborn kitten.
I scooted my butt closer to the edge of the bed, so that I was more off than on it, and then attempted to stand. I was grateful when my wobbly feet held my weight. But that was about all I could do. My attempts to take a step didn’t work. I felt like I was mired in quicksand.
Okay, you tried. You failed. Back to bed.
I couldn’t manage that, either. I was also getting tired and winded just by standing there. I didn’t even know how much longer I had before I’d hit the floor. I was sure that would be fanfuckingtastic for my recovery.
The door opened, and a nurse bustled in, humming under her breath, her hands filled with medical supplies. Resignedly, I waited for her to notice me. It was for the best. Yes, she was going to foil my plan of escape, but honestly, I had no idea how to get back in bed. I also had no strength to walk forward. I was stuck in no man's land where stubbornness was king, and I was his loyal subject.
She put the supplies on my bed tray in a neat row, still humming, and then she spotted me. Startled, she stared at me for few seconds. I stared right back. She only had to lift her brows, and my face colored. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m an idiot, and I should’ve known better. Can we get on with the rescue before I faceplant, please?
Using that secret super strength that all nurses seemed to have, she helped me shuffle back to the bed. Then she helped me get on the bed, which required a lot of huffing and puffing. Our creative maneuvering worked, though, and soon, I found myself stretched out in the same position I started. She helped me get comfortable, fluffing my pillow with vigor. After she stuffed it under my head, she pulled up the bed rails, effectively caging me in as she created an impromptu adult crib.
“How are we feeling today?” she asked as she practically snapped the covers up to my chin.
Like a three-year-old, thanks. “Fine,” I said begrudgingly. That wasn’t the least bit true, but I didn’t see how it would help to complain that I felt like I’d been run over by a Mack truck… then used as a hood ornament for the rest of the trip.
She pulled over my bed tray where she’d put her supplies. My gaze went straight to the syringe and the clear little vial of medicine next to it. I didn’t recognize the name on the label, but I didn’t need to—I knew a sedative when I saw one. They might as well have named it You Go Nite-Nite Now. If she thought she was going to stick me with that, I was ready to disabuse her of that notion.
“I’m assuming that syringe isn’t to take blood,” I said shortly. She ignored me, and my heart rate kicked up a notch. “Where’s Gray?”
“This isn’t Grayside, hun.” She broke the seal on the clear vial, and my scowl grew. “You’re at East Regional in Clark, Michigan.”
“Gray,” I said more stringently. I didn’t care what hospital I was in. Or the state. “Grayson. I need to see him.”
“Grayson?” She paused in preparing her torture needle. “Dr. Laurie is otherwise occupied.”
Laurie. The name meant nothing to me, so I hoped she had the right Grayson. “Too occupied to see his boyfriend who’s been shot in the fucking head?”
Her eyes widened. “Um.”
“What?” I said exasperatedly. I was damned tired of feeling left out of the loop. My mind was soup right now. I had no extra brain power to spare to figure out…well, anything. My distraction gave her the opportunity she needed to jab me with the needle.
Before I could do more than snarl, I succumbed to the darkness again.
The next time I woke up, I felt perfectly lucid. That was a good and a bad thing. I’d been convinced that lucidity would bring clarity and help me remember some finer details about my life that seemed to be missing… just little things like who the hell I was and who’d shot me in the fucking head. Nothing too important.
No such luck.
I reached up to rub my forehead, but I couldn’t quite get enough arm extension to do so. It only took me a second to realize why as I peered down at my wrist. I was fucking handcuffed to the bed railing. Now that I knew it was there, the coolness against my skin was impossible to miss.
A nurse bustled in dragging a vitals machine behind her. Her brown hair was pulled up in a ponytail, and her scrub top had puppies on the front. I glanced at my patient board on the wall and saw that her name was Brenda.
She gave me a sweet smile. “I hate to disturb your rest, dear, but I need to take your vitals quickly.”
At my scowl, her smile dimmed a little. I yanked at my shackles. “What did I do?”
“Nothing.” Her voice was equal parts annoying and soothing. “It’s for your protection. You were twisting and turning so much in your sleep that we thought you’d hurt yourself.”
I stared at her because that was clearly a lie. Fuck you, Brenda. Fuck you and all those puppies on your shirt. “I’m awake now. I guess we can take them off.”
“In a little bit,” she said evasively, and I glared. “The doctor will be in shortly.”
Well, good. I sat up as much as possible and scrubbed at my eyes with my hands, trying to look alert. When he showed up, I had a few things I wanted to say, and I couldn’t do that looking like I’d just landed a starring role in Zombieland. Nor was I willing to sleep any longer handcuffed to a bed like a common criminal.
My efforts were for naught. It was hours before I gave up staring at the door. Apparently, the doctor will be in shortly was just nurse code for get comfortable, sucka. I succumbed to a short nap. Then a long nap. I woke up again and flicked through the channels on the TV. As I passed one bland channel after another, I built up a fresh head of steam. I wasn’t a goddamned prisoner. I’d done nothing wrong…well, as far as I knew. I was the victim here. Whatever cop had been in here while I was sleeping had no right to handcuff me.
