Deep Echoes- final edit ARC TEAM Read online

  The Web of Echoes Series

  Deep Echoes

  A Prequel Short Story

  By Melody Ash

  ARC COPY

  Edition 1

  Deep Echoes

  By RM Alexander

  Writing as Melody Ash

  Copyright 2018

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

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  Editing and proofreading by Dragon Editing and Cliffhanger Editing

  Cover Design by Dereck Murphy

  Books writing as Melody Ash

  Web of Echoes Series

  Deep Echoes

  Northern Echoes — Coming Soon

  Sunken Echoes — Coming Soon

  Western Echoes — Coming Soon

  Familiar Echoes — Coming Soon

  Southern Echoes — Coming Soon

  Fallen Echoes — Coming Soon

  Eastern Echoes — Coming Soon

  Books writing as RM Alexander

  The Only You Series

  The Real You

  The Determined You

  The Perfect You

  The Shadows Series

  Veil of Secrecy

  Dark Crossings

  Revelations

  Birth of the Forbidden—A Prequel Novella

  The Dreams Series

  Matter of Choice

  The Right One

  Dangerous Secrets Series

  Never Again: A Short Story Prequel

  Until Tomorrow

  Forget Yesterday—Coming Soon

  Box Sets

  Restless Hearts

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Deep Echoes

  Chapter One

  The French Chateau rose into view, first with its vibrant blue slate rooftop, then the limestone exterior, a graceful contrast of color breaking through the vibrant green of the North Carolina forests. A hidden treasure now exposed for world review. Caitlin Benoit’s pace slowed, her long legs basking in the rays of the warm southern sun. Other visitors hurried past her, more concerned with getting inside the house than enjoying the view or understanding the history of a Gilded Age estate. She tussled the thick curls she’d inherited from her father—dark brown like his, highlighted by her mother’s gold, Caucasian coloring. Anyone’s quick glance would see a woman with a healthy, year-round tan. She’d inherited that from both parents—a good mix of her mother’s European ancestors and her father’s African roots. And she was equally proud of both sides of her heritage as it helped shape and define her passion for research and exploration into the past.

  But, she reminded herself, this visit to the Biltmore Estate wasn’t work. This was a vacation.

  A break from exploring a history in slave trade around the world in all its ugly incarnations. This was a break, and, she thought with a sigh, one much needed.

  Caitlin stepped into the heavy foot traffic and followed other tourists to the front of the chateau. As she edged closer to the house, her phone rang, and Caitlin rolled her eyes. Just an afternoon to herself—it couldn’t be that much to ask. Should have left the device in the car.

  She pulled the phone from a pocket and glanced at the name; a soft smiled played across her lips.

  “Hey, Sean. You’re lucky I like you.”

  He chuckled. “I knew that, but why?’

  She pressed a finger against one ear to drown out the surrounding voices and laughter. “I’m getting ready to go inside the Biltmore Estate. When the phone rang, I was ready to wring the neck of whoever was interrupting my vacation.” Caitlin smiled sweetly at a man who’d turned around with a raised brow. As he turned and returned his attention to his family, she shook her head. People could be so nosey.

  “Biltmore, huh?” Sean asked. “How do you feel about a side trip?”

  Caitlin stepped out of line, nodded to the people behind her. “Side trip? Why would I do that?”

  “I found something you might be interested in.”

  Her stomach did the familiar flip any new discovery brought with it. Even after ten years of working in the field, new sites still made her blood race. “Oh?”

  To make matters worse, she could hear the smile through the phone. Sean knew he had her undivided attention. “A local builder was clearing ground for a new factory, found the remains of what appears to be slave shacks.”

  The flips erupted into a full-on explosion. “Has an archaeological team been called in yet?”

  “Yeah. You.”

  She laughed. They’d graduated college at the same time and, along with another friend, Jenny, formed a team quickly respected by the archaeological community. Friends, colleagues, and, she liked to think, one of the best teams in the business. They grew together, made mistakes together, polished their skills together, understood how each other worked. Her team. The best there was.

  “I like that. Where are you?” Caitlin asked.

  “Just north of Charleston. Should be about a four-hour drive from where you are.”

  She nodded, glanced at the Biltmore Estate with a passing shade of disappointment, then turned and headed back down the driveway. The vacation didn’t have to be canceled, just postponed. “I’m far too predictable. You knew I’d come running.”

  “Predictable is not a word I’d use to describe Caitlin Benoit, but in this case, I had a pretty good hunch. But just in case you need further incentive, the shacks aren’t all that was found.”

  “I’m already on my way. You don’t have to play dirty.”

  He laughed. “I found a stone. Looks like Hoodoo symbols are carved into it.”

  She trotted the rest of the way to the car. A stone with writing meant a gold mine to treasure seekers. If word got out, she’d never make it on time. “Was it pulled from the site already?”

  “No, it’s waiting for you.”

  “Has it been made public yet?”

  “You know me better than that, Caitlin. Don’t worry. The whole site has been taped off. You have first dibs, so don’t kill yourself getting here.”

  As he finished the sentence, Caitlin’s foot was already stomping against the pedal, tires screeching from the parking space as other visitors to Biltmore stared at her in wonder. “You take all the fun out of everything.”

  “Someone has to. I’ll see you in a couple hours.”

  “You said it would take about four to get to you.”

  “Right. And the way you drive, it’ll be two.”

  Caitlin said goodbye and ended the call, cranke
d up the volume on a favorite mix of songs spanning three decades, and turned onto I-26 East. She settled in the seat, ready for the ride through the Carolina mountains. Her mind raced over the possibilities. A carved stone found at the site of slave shack remains. Hoodoo and Voodoo were both widely practiced religions among early slaves, both faiths a thick blend of Christian beliefs blended with African rituals. The stone wasn’t a big surprise. Simple tools of their faith, like a rock, were easy to hide from the plantation masters who didn’t want their workforce dabbling in what would have been seen as witchcraft. A rock in the corner of a house? Who would look twice at that?

  “But every find tells a bigger story.” Caitlin pressed harder on the pedal, the Jeep barely twitching in response. What remained of the Antebellum South had been romanticized, the best of the slave quarters far less characteristic of what many were forced to live in. Brick houses with well-constructed walls and fireplaces were not commonplace, and the more characteristic wooden structures long since destroyed.

  Studying this period of American history always placed Caitlin in an odd juxtaposition between the two separate histories that coursed through her veins and shared her heart. Maybe that was why it captivated her so much.

  To travel back in time, to see the histories merge into one clumsy choreographed dance.

  “I’d have to be invisible, but it’d be interesting.” She looked across the rich jade forests lining either side of the highway. “But since that’s not a possibility, I’ll keep digging.”

  After all, digging was what she was meant to do.

  Chapter Two

  The four-hour estimation Sean’d given her was an extreme exaggeration, although not quite two hours either. Instead, the trip fell somewhere neatly in between. Right on the edge, where her mother so often said Caitlin liked to live.

  The parking lot was easy to find. Caitlin pulled into a spot and chuckled. As promised, he stood against the car, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips, his long, black hair pulled into one of those man-buns she didn’t quite understand. Long hair on the top of his head, but a hatred for facial hair. Didn’t make a lot of sense to her. Sean was like that, though. A strange set of contradictions. A lot like herself, she guessed. Maybe that was why they got along so well.

  Caitlin climbed from the car and worked her own hair into a ponytail.

  “Any tickets?” Sean asked with a smile.

  Caitlin scoffed. “Of course not. The police love me.”

  “I’m afraid to ask what that means.”

  She waved a hand in the air. “It means I don’t drive fast enough for them to want to keep up.”

  Sean guffawed and stepped away from the car. “When you cut the trip in nearly half, I have a hard time believing that.”

  “Well, when they aren’t looking,” Caitlin said, “it’s a completely different matter. But now you’re just trying to distract me. Where is this site?”

  “About ten minutes up the road.”

  She nodded, pleased it was so far removed from public eyes. “And the legalities of the dig?”

  “Permits obtained, we are clear with the South Carolina’s archaeological department.”

  “Oh, that’s good news.” With the paperwork in hand, a tremendous amount of time would be saved. That’s what made her happiest—no red tape, no wait, just digging in and learning, discovering long-forgotten truths and details hidden in the ground. “Is this Federal or state land?”

  “State.”

  She nodded. Good, that made it even easier. “No signs of being a burial site?”

  “None. I’ve covered all the territory, so don’t worry. Like I said, we are in the clear.”

  And that was why she loved working with Sean. They made a good team, one of the best in the field. “Then don’t keep me waiting any longer.”

  “I don’t know,” Sean chuckled. “It’s fun to see you squirm like this. Let’s talk some more.”

  Caitlin gave him a light punch on the shoulder. “I’ll go without you.”

  “All right, all right. Want to ride along or follow?”

  “I’ll follow. Is Jenny going to meet us here?”

  Sean shook his head. “She’s at another site in Florida and can’t get away. It’s just you and me for now.”

  “Good enough. I’m sure it’s nothing we can’t handle.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking. From what I can tell, the site is a small one. We’ll section it off, explore a little further out, but I think the big find is the stone.”

  “Well, let’s see it. Lead the way. And don’t take every back road to annoy me.”

  Sean smiled the mischievous grin Caitlin loved so much. He was a good friend, always had been, and his wife the sweetest woman in the world. Now with a baby on the way, Caitlin

  guessed Sean would be stepping away from the job for a while, at least until the family grew settled into a new lifestyle filled with dirty diapers and three a.m. feedings.

  “Would I do that?” he asked, green eyes twinkling.

  Caitlin grinned at her partner. “In a heartbeat.”

  “You’re right. Okay. I’ll play nice. Just keep your britches on. We’ll be there in ten.”

  “No one says that anymore, you know.”

  “I do. I’m someone.”

  Caitlin laughed as she got in the car. Yeah, she loved him. But she’d kick him in the shins if he made her wait a second longer than necessary.

  *

  Caitlin grabbed her backpack from the trunk as she scanned an empty field bordered by a thick state forest. To the naked eye, the area was a hundred percent unremarkable. The hip-high grass grew undisturbed, and Caitlin guessed few people did more than pass quickly by on their way into the woods where the scenery would be far more interesting. They didn’t know what they were missing.

  She liked nature as much as anyone, had a soft spot for animals of every size and shape, but her captivation remained locked on what was hidden in the ground, what was left behind by the people who came before her, and before them, and before them. The giant jigsaw puzzle that explained why people were who they were. Those breadcrumbs that led into the human psyche—

  the ones people preferred to forget until something appeared that captured their imagination and sparked emotions.

  A puzzle far more important than the kind hobbyists glued together and hung in frames along the walls.

  Caitlin grinned. For now, the only living humans were herself and Sean. No cars, no audience outside the songbirds hiding within trees draped in brown moss.

  Sean stopped at the base of a thigh-high pile of stone barely visible in the grasses. Though weathered, the angles and edges still resembled the craftsmanship of the carver. She stooped beside the rubble, eyes scanning what was left behind.

  “Like you said, not much left of the structure.”

  “No,” Sean said as he stood next to her. “Probably destroyed after the Civil War, and then forgotten.”

  “Most likely. Happened to most slave quarters.”

  “And over here,” She scanned the inner circle of the remains while Sean reached for something nearby. Caitlin turned her head to face him, one eyebrow arched in consideration as his outstretched hand revealed a circular stone.

  She lifted her eyes to meet his. “That’s it?”

  He nodded, his smile wide. “It’s what you drove a hundred miles an hour down the interstate for.”

  Caitlin rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the rock. Unlike all the surrounding stonework, this one appeared to be river rock. Its sides were cracked and chipped, broken off over the years. On the front surface lurked carvings in a series of swirls and lines contained within an outer ring. “It’s phenomenal. These here,” she pointed to the designs, “they don’t look random, do they?”

  Sean leaned in closer, their faces nearly touching. “I admit, I didn’t study it closely, I left that for you. But no, not random at all.”

  Caitlin stood, eyes following the lines that were
likely traced in white paint at one time.

  “This find is a gold mine, even if this rock is the only thing we uncover.”

  “That was my thinking, too.”

  “We’ll have to study it, see if there’s a special significance,” Caitlin hovered a hand above the rock, gently waved over the carving.

  The air around her grew stuffy in the late afternoon heat, an elastic pressure filled her lungs.

  Like breathing through plastic wrap, stuck under thousands of gallons of water. Her eyes grew wide as she struggled to clear her throat. But her voice was lost, her hands moving in slow motion—frame by frame—in front her.

  Then, with a shallow cough, she found her voice once more. “That was strange.”

  Sean’s voice called out from the distance and then disappeared altogether. Caitlin lifted her eyes and stifled a scream. The open field was gone, replaced by a row of wooden houses. The forest beyond thicker. The tall grasses replaced with a dirt and stone pathway. The air smelled of human waste.

  Caitlin turned her head, the field still beyond the row of cabins.

  It looked right, and horribly, terrifyingly wrong.

  Caitlin dropped the stone at her feet, missed her toes by a fraction of an inch. But she didn’t notice. Instead, she stared at the closest cabin. Somehow, the ruins had blossomed into a full-sized slave cabin.

  “That’s impossible. How…”

  Voices in the distance grew louder, and Caitlin desperately searched for a hiding place. With the only option being the cabin, she dashed behind a wall, breath held as the voices drew closer.

  “Henry, you go near the main house again, and the masta’ goin’ to have you whipped fo’

  sure.”

  The master? Caitlin’s head rang, and mind raced to make sense of the images and words.

  A woman and a child—Caitlin guess he was around eight years old—walked in front of the house next door. The woman, dressed in a long, tattered dress and a headwrap knotted on top of her hair, gently pushed the child along a path that didn’t exist a few minutes ago.