Death Song Read online

  For all of us out there who have ever wanted to change the past...

  In order to change the future...

  Copyright © M.M. Crumley 2019

  The moral right of the author has been asserted (vigorously).

  All rights reserved. Published by Lone Ghost Publishing LLC,

  associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of

  Lone Ghost Publishing LLC.

  Andrew Rufus and all related characters and elements are trademarks of

  Lone Ghost Publishing LLC.

  No part or parts of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part, stored in a retrieval systems, or transmitted in any form or by means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise

  (including via carrier pigeon), without written permission of the

  author and publisher.

  Author: Crumley, M.M.

  Title: THE LEGEND OF ANDREW RUFUS: DEATH SONG

  Series: The Legend of Andrew Rufus; 5.

  ISBN: 9798612481072

  Target Audience: Ages fourteen though adult

  Subjects: Apprentices-fiction/ Fantasy/ Juvenile Fiction/ Action & Adventure/ Survival Stories / Legends, Myths, Fables, Lore, Hero's/ Fantasy & Magic/ General Awesomeness and All Things Epic.

  Also available in this series

  THE LEGEND OF ANDREW RUFUS: DARK AWAKENING (Book 1)

  THE LEGEND OF ANDREW RUFUS: BONE DEEP (Book 2)

  THE LEGEND OF ANDREW RUFUS: BLOOD STAINED (Book 3)

  THE LEGEND OF ANDREW RUFUS: BURIAL GROUND (Book 4)

  THE LEGEND OF ANDREW RUFUS: FUNERAL MARCH (Book 6)

  THE LEGEND OF ANDREW RUFUS: WARPATH (Book 7)

  This is a work of fiction, which means it's made up. Names, characters, peoples, places, and incidents (stuff that happens in the story) either are gifts of the ether, products of the author's resplendent imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead or dying, businesses or companies in operation or defunct, events, or locals is entirely coincidental.

  A Special Note to My Young Readers

  When I was a kid I read a ton of books, and many of them came from my much older brother. Some of them I wasn't ready for yet. Some I'll never be ready for! But I read them anyway. Maybe I thought I'd be a wussy if I didn't finish; I don't know. It took me years to learn that if I'm uncomfortable with a book I need to stop reading. Even now, at my ripe old age, I sometimes put a book down.

  You're the only one who knows whether or not you're ready for a book (or a show or a movie). Pretend you're reading a book that all your friends are saying is "amazing and awesome and the best book ever", but you don't like it. Maybe it scares you, maybe it makes you uncomfortable, maybe you just don't like the writing. PUT IT DOWN!!! Even if it's my book. It doesn't make you a wussy; it makes you brave and individual and wise. You'll know when you're ready.

  Happy Reading!

  M.M. Crumley

  Read all the Adventures of

  ANDREW RUFUS

  BOOK 1 DARK AWAKENING

  BOOK 2 BONE DEEP

  BOOK 3 BLOOD STAINED

  BOOK 4 BURIAL GROUND

  BOOK 5 DEATH SONG

  BOOK 6 FUNERAL MARCH

  BOOK 7 WARPATH

  Prologue

  Roanoke was silent. There was no life, no breath, no sighs, no smoky trails, no wooden beams, no bits of cloth, no cinder ash. Whatever had been, whoever had lived there, was gone without a single sign or footprint left behind. The only evidence that anyone had been there at all was the word "Croatoan" carved deeply and carelessly into the trunk of an evergreen tree. That was what they had sometimes called her people, and she didn't want her revenge to go completely unnoticed. They had killed her people; she had killed theirs. And in doing so, she had been born again. Today she breathed. Today she was alive. And they were all dead.

  Many years later, hundreds of years in fact, Grey sat quietly, observing the currents of time. He did not like what he saw. He never did.

  Chapter One

  Andrew Rufus stood on the very edge of the tallest building in the warehouse district and wondered what would happen if he fell. Would the ravens that followed him everywhere save him? Would they have time to save him? Would they want to?

  He wanted to fly so badly. He wanted to leap from the roof and take flight. He'd fly as far as he could; he'd fly and fly until he was free. He closed his eyes with a sigh. He'd never be free. Not here. Not now.

  He felt a whisper of despair and dropped from the building feet first. He landed with a hard thump and started running. He fought the urge to glance behind him. Sometimes he still felt like he was running from them. Sometimes he could still feel their cold, dead hands around his throat.

  He ran and ran and ran. When he stopped, he glanced behind him just to make sure. There were no zombies or zoldiers. There was no Black Shaman. It was just him. Just him in a filthy, stinky alley in the dark.

  Even though a month had passed since he'd killed them, he could still feel their blood on his hands. He could still feel his fear when they had pulled him to the ground. He could still feel his bone gnawing hunger. And it scared him.

  He knew he'd done what he had to do. He'd chosen to survive, and he couldn't regret that. But why? Tomorrow he'd begin high school. Tomorrow he'd pretend he was a child who had never bled, who had never killed, who had never faced evil and lived.

  How he wished it were different. How he wished the Grey Shaman would just leave him there. This back and forth was tearing him apart. He missed them. When he was all alone, he wasn't as sure of himself.

  A raven croaked above him, and he glanced toward the sky. He'd been out much longer than he'd meant to be. He had to get home before his mom noticed.

  He ran down the streets towards home, wishing he was riding Widow Maker, wishing he was anywhere but here.

  Before long he was eating breakfast with his mom. "Coffee's good," he said, sipping it slowly and enjoying the scent.

  She smiled, topping off his cup. "Thanks. I can't believe I thought it would stunt your growth. I think you've grown another two inches over the summer."

  Andrew shrugged. "It's the meat."

  "I'm gonna have to get a loan to keep feeding you," she joked.

  "We could sell Dad's vinyls."

  Mrs. Rufus laughed. "Do you think we could get anything for them?"

  "Probably not."

  "That reminds me, he said he'd be coming by sometime in the next couple weeks to pick up all his stuff." She raised a shoulder. "I doubt he'll actually show, but I didn't want you to be surprised if he did."

  "Whatever." Andrew hoped he did show up so he could beat the crap out of him, but he wasn't going to share that thought with his mom.

  "Andrew, you know I hate that," she said testily.

  Some things never changed, he thought with a grin as he finished off his coffee.

  It was weird how easily they'd fallen back into their old routine. It was hard to believe that less than two months ago she'd been scared of him and had virtually locked him in his room. He couldn't imagine what the Grey Shaman had said to her in her sessions, but he'd love to know.

  "Do you want me to take you to school?" she asked anxiously.

  "No; it's even closer than the middle school."

  "I know, but it's your first day of high school. I feel like I should be there. My baby's getting so big!"

  "Mom! I'm not a baby."

  She pinched his cheek. "You'll always be my baby, baby."

  Andrew rolled his eyes, gave her a tight hug, and bolted out the door.

  He rode his bike slowly down the street. Now that he'd left the house, he was in no hurry to actually reach the school. He watched several matching cars pull out of their dr
iveways and drive towards the interstate. A car horn screeched a street over, and he grimaced.

  He honestly didn't understand here and now anymore. He'd lived ten straight months in the past, and it had marked him more deeply than all his years in the present ever had. He longed for quiet, for stillness, for bright stars at night. He longed to hunt, to be free.

  He sighed, clearing his mind and pushing away his thoughts of the past and Pecos, Doyle, Charlie, and Joe. He had to accept that he may never return. This was where he lived. This was his life. He pulled up in front of the high school and locked his bike in place.

  He stood staring at the entrance for a minute, dreading going inside, dreading the noise and unrealness of it all, but he knew he didn't have a choice. He dragged his feet as he walked through the school doors, then pasted a grin on his face and nodded at the kids he knew. I can do this, he thought. I only have to be normal on the outside.

  He sat through his first class, mechanically listening, wondering all the while what Pecos was doing. Was he hunting the Black Shaman? What would happen when he found her? Would Pecos win? Of course Pecos would win; he was Pecos. But then why had the Grey Shaman involved Andrew? Maybe Pecos needed Andrew there to win for some reason. That seemed stupid, but what other reason could there be?

  "Mr. Rufus?"

  Andrew jerked upright. "What? Sorry; I missed the question." The other kids snickered.

  "I asked you to define past participle," said Mr. Jenkins, the English teacher.

  "Really? On the first day of class?" The other kids laughed out loud.

  "Mr. Rufus."

  "I'm sorry, Mr. Jenkins. Um, past participle is, um, you know, when you've like already done something. It's in the past." Andrew smiled widely.

  "I suppose that is mostly accurate, Mr. Rufus; try to pay closer attention."

  Andrew nodded. Then he imagined riding Widow Maker through a humongous puddle.

  Somehow, in spite of not paying any attention, he managed to make it to lunch time without any more embarrassing incidents. As he entered the lunch room he scanned the crowd.

  He'd assured his mom he'd find some new friends this year since he was on the outs with Chuck and Ed, and he supposed he may as well start looking. He quickly eliminated the entire high school baseball team since Chuck and Ed were on the team. Not to mention he wasn't playing baseball anymore.

  He didn't want to hang out with drama kids, too dramatic. Preppy kids and popular kids were too self-interested and annoying. Science nerds, too sciencey. This was going to be harder than he'd thought.

  He grabbed his lunch tray, and that's when he saw her. Sitting in the far back corner, nose buried in a book. He vaguely remembered her from last year. She'd moved here just a bit before school had ended. There was no one sitting with her, and if he wasn't mistaken, the book she was reading was Wuthering Heights.

  He headed her way, placed his tray on the table, and sat down beside her. She didn't look up. "Is that book any good?" he asked. "I read a line or two once, but I just wasn't in the right place."

  She peeked at him over the top of the pages, blue eyes huge inside a round pair of plastic glasses. "It's a classic," she said flatly.

  "Yeah, but is it good?"

  She blinked. "It's a classic."

  "I get that. But do you like it?"

  She stared at him for a moment before closing the book and putting it to the side. "Why're you talking to me?" she asked.

  Andrew shrugged. "I wanted to know if the book is any good. I've never known anyone who actually read it. Well, maybe I do, but we didn't talk about it."

  She frowned at him. "You honestly want to know about the book?"

  "Honestly."

  "It's dreadful."

  "Really? But you said it's a classic!"

  "I don't know why," she snapped. "It's broody, and everyone is positively self-centered and simply ridiculous. If I wrote a book the heroine wouldn't be such a dingbat!"

  Andrew pushed something unidentifiable to the side of his plate and took a bite of soggy carrots. "Then I'm glad I didn't bother. Why're you reading it?"

  "Duh! It's a classic."

  He burst out laughing, and she glared at him. "I'm Andrew Rufus," he said.

  "I know. You're the boy who ran away."

  "Is that really what they call me?"

  "It's either that or the star pitcher, but I prefer the boy who ran away."

  "Me too," Andrew said with a grimace.

  "Clara Morgan."

  Andrew grinned. "Nice to meet you, Clara."

  She shrugged. Apparently she hadn't decided whether or not it was nice to meet him. "Do you read?" she asked.

  "No, I mean, well; I read a lot last year, but it was all history and research stuff. I don't read any more."

  "Why not? Reading's wonderful! It takes you amazing places you could never go in real life."

  "Don't I know it!" Andrew muttered with a snort.

  "What?"

  "Nothing," he grinned. "Anyway, I just realized what I was looking for wasn't gonna be found in books."

  "What're you looking for?"

  Andrew paused. He didn't know Clara Morgan. In fact, he'd just met her. Two minutes ago to be precise. He certainly shouldn't be talking to her about important stuff. He stared at her for a moment, trying to read her, evaluate her. There was just something about her. He felt like he'd known her forever. And the way she spoke, harsh and short, made him want to smile. He liked her. He didn't know why; he just did.

  "Something real," he finally said. "Unlike this meatloaf," he added gesturing to his plate.

  She smiled, and her smile grew wider until she finally laughed a loud musical chuckle.

  They spent the rest of the lunch break talking about silly nonsense things like cowboy jokes and Mr. Jenkins' continuous use of the word "literally". At the end of the day, Andrew walked her out to her bike and rode two blocks with her, before splitting up to go home. He whistled as he rode. He'd found a friend. She was funny; she was booky; she was perfect.

  Maybe she's too perfect, he thought, stumbling over his bike pedals. What if she was evil in disguise? Maybe she was a spy for the Black Shaman. He wasn't sure that made sense, but now that he'd thought about it, he couldn't get it out of his head.

  The Black Shaman knew when and where he was, but he didn't think she could actually affect things here. The Grey Shaman had said she didn't understand time, but Andrew knew for a fact she could appear in his dreams. And wasn't that a sort of time travel?

  He needed to test Clara, but how? As he was riding past Aylen's house, he slammed his brakes. Aylen could help him. Surely she could tell if someone was evil just by looking at them.

  He rang the bell, and Aylen answered with a soft smile. "Tea?"

  "Sure. How do you do that?"

  "What?"

  "Always know I'm coming?"

  "Just do."

  "Humph; you learned that from Pecos."

  "Maybe Pecos learned it from me," Aylen said with a grin.

  Andrew rolled his eyes. "Can you sense evil?"

  "What?"

  "I met this girl today at school, and she's perfect. I was thinking maybe she's too perfect. If she's evil can you tell?"

  "No. I cannot sense evil."

  "But you're the White Shaman!"

  "I do not see how that relates."

  Andrew sighed. Shamans never understood.

  "Did she approach you?" Aylen asked.

  "No."

  "Did she seem overly eager to talk to you?"

  "No."

  "Did she follow you home?"

  "No." Andrew was beginning to feel a little foolish.

  "Bring her by for tea one day."

  "Okay; thanks." Andrew sipped his tea in silence. "Did you talk to Pecos after I left?" he asked finally.

  "We met not long after you returned from the, what did Pecos call it, zarmy war?"

  Andrew grinned. "He got that from me."

  "Naturally."

&nb
sp; "How were they?"

  "They were fine. Andrew, I know it is hard, but you are here, this is your time, you must be here. Live here."

  "I'm trying." Andrew pushed back a tear that tried to slip out. "But I miss them, and I miss being there. Do you know, do I go again?"

  "I cannot tell you."

  "You mean you won't," Andrew muttered.

  "I won't, and I can't."

  "Fine." Andrew watched a squirrel out the window, and his fingers twitched. He'd only had squirrel once, and he couldn't remember how it had tasted. "Can you help me with the power?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "I don't know. I'm having trouble, not right now because I'm not using it; but before, with them, I kept getting really weak and needing to eat. Meat, specifically meat." Aylen didn't look surprised. "You already knew, didn't you?"

  She smiled. "I am White."

  "But you can't sense evil?" She shrugged, and Andrew snorted. "So can you help me?"

  "I do not know, but I will try. Come by Friday."

  Andrew nodded. "Your brother, he said Meli doesn't understand time, but she can come to me in my dreams; how is that not time travel?"

  "The dreaming is timeless, unrelated to time in any way, disconnected. You could meet anyone in any time in a dream, if you knew how."

  Andrew stared at Aylen in total shock. "What? I mean… are you saying… Okay, if I wanted to meet, say Alexander the Great in a dream, you're telling me I could?"

  Aylen laughed. "No; not you. But I could, perhaps."

  Andrew blinked. "But… But… I mean… how is that not messing with time?"

  "It would be if you attempted to change things. Although dreams can be a bit limiting, and there are very few who can travel through them. My siblings and I are three. There are perhaps a handful of others throughout history."

  "So you can just visit anyone you want? Tell them something or ruin their night?" Andrew was having a hard time processing dream travel. For some reason it seemed even crazier than time travel.